Chapter One


Chair creaking, Lelouch vi Britannia stood to tread carefully over the thick carpet that had been so carefully chosen and laid out in the sumptuous salon. Morning light quietly filtered in through tall windows before alighting on the gilded furnishings of Her Royal and Imperial Ladyship, Lady Marianne vi Britannia of the Holy Britannian Empire, former Knight of the Round, concubine of His Royal and Imperial Majesty, Emperor Charles of Britannia, and mother of Their Royal and Imperial Highnesses, the Eleventh and Thirteenth Princes and Eighth Princess of the Holy Britannian Empire - though that last part, he was starting to doubt. It had been nearly a year since he'd last seen his mother, and while he was now by all accounts a grown man, he'd have at least expected five minutes from her. Even three, which was gracious of him, considering the cloth that lay over his left eye. Lightly running his fingers over the black fabric, Lelouch looked up at the enormous portrait of himself and his siblings that hung over the marble mantle. Gathered around their mother, they blissfully smiled down at him. He blinked back up at their naïveté.

Then again, perhaps this was a blessing. He loved his mother but to be interrogated by her... All during the long journey to the imperial capital, every night, he'd relived the loss of his eye. To relive it during the day would be an unimaginable torture, excruciating enough to send him back to the frontlines. Even if doing so meant going against his mother's wishes.

With a sigh, Lelouch forced himself to leave his eye alone and turned towards his personal knight, when the doors of Lady Marianne's apartments were suddenly thrust open. Jeremiah Gottwald immediately intercepted and apprehended the intruders, his sword half-drawn, when he realized what had unceremoniously forced its way in. Kneeling, Jeremiah begged for forgiveness as he paid his respects to his lord and master's beloved. Stumbling back from the sheer force, Lelouch buried himself in the mass of silk, ruffles, and jewels that had ambushed him. Smiling for the first time in a very long time, he greeted Their Royal and Imperial Highnesses, Princess Nunnally and Prince Rolo of Britannia.

It was good to be home.

. . .

It was rare for the vi Britannia children to be gathered altogether, now that the last of them had fulfilled their duty to formal education. But upon hearing the news of the attempt, as well as their elder brother's return to the capital, the twins had momentarily pushed aside their duty to the empire, with Nunnally returning home from her ambassadorship and Rolo taking a leave of absence from the military where he'd been following in his brother's footsteps - though with markedly less success. Sitting their brother down between them, Nunnally and Rolo did their best to restrain themselves in both celebrating his return and questioning him about their time apart. But oh, it had been so long since they'd last seen him, and their brother was good to them and so humored all their wants and wishes. Was the war soon to be over? How had he been faring? What had happened? Had he returned for good? What had happened? Did it bother him very much? Oh, Lelouch!

But he was as reticent as ever. Now older, and more importantly, with some of their own worldliness, Nunnally and Rolo saw through his warmth and charm. His distractions, while still able to lure their attention away from him, couldn't hide how haggard he looked and certainly couldn't make up for his grievous injury. But they were also kind, nearly to a fault, and so they helped guide the conversation away from him. Gathered together in their mother's parlor as if they were children again, late morning slipped quietly into late afternoon until the three siblings were finally content to sit in silence.

By this point, Lelouch had expected their mother to join them, but even hours later, she was still nowhere to be found. He asked his siblings if this was usual. Nunnally reported it as such. It appeared that, now having entered the twilight of His Royal and Imperial Life, the Emperor was more inclined to schedule leisure and merry-making where council meetings and official business ought to take place. As such, their mother was seldom seen, and if so, was always seen in the company of His Royal and Imperial Majesty. The news, which might have once irritated him, only troubled the Eleventh Prince.

As per tradition within the Court of the Holy Britannian Empire, Emperor Charles had sired many children throughout his reign, all of whom who had been born and bred within the walls of the imperial palace. There were often stories of visiting dignitaries fainting in shock at the immensity of the palace, which had been designed in part to flaunt the empire's strength and wealth, intimidate those who required intimidation, but most importantly, house the imperial concubines and their children. Since the moment they had been born, each had had been given a single raison d'être - to struggle in the hopes that one day, among their numerous half-brothers and -sisters, they would be selected as the heir apparent and pronounced as the bright future of their empire, who would provide generations more of prosperity and glory. To one day be hailed as King and Emperor of Britannia and to sit atop a throne that appeared would be emptier much sooner than Lelouch had expected.

It didn't bode well.

But all this, Lelouch kept within himself. Nunnally and Rolo too had grown up within these halls, but like the majority of their half-siblings, they were content with the privilege they had been born into and weren't greedy for more. There was to be no scheming for them except within the role of pawn, which would never happen. That, he would personally ensure. They had no business knowing of such dark clouds on the horizon when not a drop of rain would touch them.

"Ah!" Nunnally clasped her hands together. "Have you seen Euphemia?"

"Is she here?"

"She returned just yesterday, but we haven't been able to see her on account of her returning so late," replied Rolo.

"Wouldn't it be the most pleasant and wonderful thing if we saw her altogether? We might even be able to have dinner together. I hope she's not busy with work."

"She's probably in the garden with C.C.," said Rolo.

C.C. A name he hadn't heard in some time, that he'd said aloud even less. Though he'd more than made up for that with his thoughts. During his time away, Lelouch had had no shortage of letters, oftentimes having to pick and choose which to reply to first. And though he'd always been glad to hear from Nunnally, Rolo, Euphemia, and even occasionally his mother, among the practical reams of paper that had been sent to him, it had been the letters from C.C. that had eased him best. During those few minutes while he read her letter, as he took in her casual insults and irreverent story-telling, he'd been deaf and blind to those wounded shrieking outside his tent, the mud caked up to his knees and the blood to his elbows. The sludge of war was so easily erased by the slant and curve of her handwriting, until he'd been nothing but what he always was when with her - a young man. Nothing more, nothing less, and the most wonderful thing in the world. Simply a young man with a young woman to taunt and goad and poke back at.

As they left the sanctuary of their mother's suite, Lelouch offered his arm to his sister and placed the other across his brother's shoulders. Merrily, they made their way through the cavernous halls and past curtsying maids, towards the awe-inspiring gardens of the palace. The Eleventh Prince did his best to keep his pace steady. But even so, as they approached those gardens, he couldn't help the smallest smile.

That witch.

. . .

Suzaku Kururugi, personal knight to Her Royal and Imperial Highness, the Third Princess of the Holy Britannian Empire, Princess Euphemia li Britannia, drew his brows together as he dutifully carried out his oath to the empire and his liege by carefully tearing off appropriately bite-sized pieces of bread. He was sitting incredibly close to her, with their sides almost touching. In fact, whenever Euphie turned around to shower the ducklings with bread, the skirt of her gown did brush against him. Suzaku flushed, though he tried to pretend it was from his layers of clothes in the summer heat.

At the opposite end of the small rowboat, Princess Euphemia's lady-in-waiting scrutinized the knight from the cool shade of a parasol. When she caught his eye, she smirked at him. Continuing with his charade, Suzaku pretended not to notice, but for a political figure, as reluctant and as minor as the one he made, he was terrible at lying. If he blushed any more, his face would rival his princess' lovely hair.

Euphemia too flushed when her hand brushed Suzaku's but let it linger on the roughness of his palm. Her knight smiled at her shyly as they floated among the lily pads and swans, both vastly unaware of their surroundings, until the sudden squawking and wild flapping of a mother had returned them to reality. C.C. set down the wooden oar as she released the swan to swim in peace. The couple looked after the savage bird for some time as if both were surprised to find themselves in the presence and company of other living things. How long would it be, she wondered, before they returned to their little fairy tale? They'd been doing it quite often these days, but more importantly, they'd been doing it quite often in the view of scheming eyes. The least they could do, she thought to herself, was do it behind closed doors like everyone else did. At least to save her the trouble of having to save them.

C.C. resolved to warn Euphemia, but later, when they were alone. Beyond the couple, C.C. knew best of anyone how troubled the princess had been by her overwhelming feelings toward her knight, and though her friend was unaware, she sympathized with her. Maybe a little too much, but that was her own issue to deal with. Even so, while she would do her best to protect them, there was only so much she could do to protect them from themselves. Euphemia must be warned. Just not now, when they didn't know who could be hiding behind a nearby hedge or tree.

Closing the parasol with a snap, C.C. stood. Lightly, she smacked Suzaku away from the princess before elegantly taking his seat. Reopening the lace umbrella, she held it over them as the knight settled on the opposite end of the boat with the oars. Adopting a cool smile, C.C. turned to her lady.

"Perhaps it's time to return. You need time to dress for this evening."

"I suppose you're right..."

"The ducklings will still be ducklings come tomorrow. Suzaku."

Dutifully, he nodded, and they immediately set course for the small dock. They were about halfway there, when Euphemia suddenly gasped. Reflexively, Suzaku appeared near her, his hand on the hilt of his sword, when the princess stood up. Taking hold of her knight's shoulder for support, she waved her arm wildly as she called out to the three figures making their way to the dock. Squinting through the heat, C.C. saw what had excited the princess so. Snapping open her fan, she turned away as the warm air washed over her face in waves.

The boat jostled against the dock's stout legs as royalty crowded the small walk over the lake edge. Much like her half-siblings, Euphemia refused to bother with etiquette and propriety as she gathered up her dress and leapt up onto the dock, where her favorite brother thankfully caught her - albeit with a stumble. Tucking her hair behind an ear, C.C. gathered up the parasol and basket of bread the princess had abandoned, alongside her own parasol and skirts in preparation of disembarking, when hands appeared to relieve her of her burden and delicately help her onto wooden land. C.C. looked up as her hair fell loose from behind her ear.

Taking quick note of his eyepatch, C.C. asked him how he'd managed to escape. He stepped closer and leaned down as if he hadn't been able to hear her over the ruckus of the rest of the group. She took in his familiar scent. Lavender, bergamot, and sandalwood. Now much closer, his frown vanished, replaced by a teasing light in his eye.

"A lifetime of practice," he answered.

"It's good to see your sense of humor wasn't lost alongside your eye."

But before His Royal and Imperial Highness could retort anything back, he was discovered again. Lelouch finally pulled his hand away from hers as he fended off his sister's worry. Smiling to herself, C.C. watched them for a moment before growing bored. Expertly, she wove her way through the royals, where at the end of the dock, she greeted Jeremiah Gottwald with a nod. Shielding herself from the sun with her parasol, she quietly hummed to herself as she made her way to some poor, feckless gardener to whom she would pass off the Royal and Imperial Basket of Bread to.

So he really had returned.

. . .

Impatiently, Lelouch listened as a long string of titles were read aloud to the crowded throne room. They were all his, the titles, but they were also a load of nonsense and a waste of time that prevented him from returning to the edge of the court, which was where he'd preferred to linger for the past 23 years. That is, if he wasn't allowed to excuse himself from it altogether, which, seeing as how this particular celebration was in honor of his return, didn't seem very possible at this very moment. Word had traveled far and wide, and worse, fast. It seemed the Imperial Court was here in nearly complete attendance, which was a rarity. From the archway he stood under, he sought out his mother. She was standing close - extremely close - to the throne. If she wanted, she could very well reach out and touch it. He should've known.

Catching his eye, Marianne vi Britannia smiled at him. Her eyes, as well as the eyes of hundreds of others, stayed on him as he was finally allowed to make his way to the far end of the massive room where their emperor sat in all his grand glory. Doing his best to contain the urge to roll his eye, Lelouch bowed before his emperor and father, in whose name he'd laid waste to countless cities and lives - the price to be paid for escape.

Charles spoke briefly to him before releasing him out into the wild. Such was always his way. The emperor could go on diatribes and tirades if the mood so struck him, but the mood rarely ever did so, and if there was one thing Lelouch had inherited from his father, it was a dislike for these assemblies. But they were a necessary evil, necessary in maintaining social power, so both father and son played their parts, did what was asked of them, and quickly retreated from center stage, which was admittedly a rather impressive feat for a man whose dominion was made up of three-quarters of the world.

Of course, on this particular occasion, it was quite easy to hide behind the sensation of the return of one of Britannia's most elusive royals. As Lelouch was thrown to the wolves, nobility surged around him as each sought out an audience and acknowledgement from the crown that was so rarely seen. He was only given reprieve when his mother approached him, saving him from being crushed under the sheer inconsideration and collection of several hundred different political agendas, all of which depended on forging a personal connection with this particular prince. Even if he was damaged goods.

His back turned to them all, Lelouch properly greeted his mother for the first time and a full day since his arrival in the capital. Bowing, he kissed her hand before kissing both her cheeks. She smiled at him graciously. Her fan flittered, making her black diamond earrings dance and catch the light of the impressive chandelier, though its brilliance was dim relative to her smile as she scolded him.

"All your time away - you've forgotten how to win on the most treacherous of battlefields. You'd do well to remember your lessons, Lelouch. One of the most important chapters of your life is about to begin, and I won't have you fail before you've even begun. We have great plans for you, and it's time to enact them, now that you've retired. Your father and I have been discussing which lady would be most advantageous for you-"

"Retired?"

Lelouch could hardly keep his voice controlled. But he was ignored as they were abruptly graced with the presence and attention of His Royal and Imperial Highness, The Second Prince and Prime Minister of Britannia, Schneizel el Britannia. Schneizel descended upon them like a god might among mortals, though nearing Marianne vi Britannia, even some of his otherworldly aura was diminished. With a sweeping bow, the handsome prince humbled himself before those beneath him.

"I'm pleased you've returned to us, Lelouch."

"Schneizel," he curtly replied.

"I was disturbed to hear of your injury. I've personally ordered for an investigation. Rest assured, Lady Marianne, the terrorist will pay for his transgressions."

Of their little coterie, Schneizel had belonged the least. While he and Cornelia were the same age, Cornelia had had Euphemia to connect her with those ten years her junior. But Schneizel? As an only child, it was a curiosity that the elegant prince would choose to spend his days in the company of mere children. Imperial children, but children all the same. Many had speculated that Lelouch vi Britannia had been the cause for Schneizel's company of choice, and while only Schneizel himself knew why, for once, the Court may not have been completely incorrect. But even so, even if that was the simple and sole reason, Lelouch had never quite trusted Schneizel. Not as a boy and certainly not now.

Schneizel eventually let them be, moving on to other, more interesting prey than ones he'd been toying with for five minutes. Lelouch watched him carefully until he was well out of earshot before forcing his mother back to the issue at hand. Voice low, he lowered his head to speak into her ear.

"Retirement?"

"You didn't expect to return, did you? Not after sustaining such a dreadful injury, and especially when there are other, better ways and places to make good use of your natural talents. There's a considerable need for mind and manpower in managing what territory we do have, my love. In particular, minds as sharp as yours. No, no, absolutely not. I won't have you undo the work I've done. But we'll discuss this all tomorrow. For now, enjoy the ball. Why, it seems Nunnally wants to dance with you."

His mother slipped away, and powerless to stop her, Lelouch took it upon himself to dance with Nunnally, then with Euphemia, then once more with Nunnally before successfully extracting himself from the dances by feigning a flare-up with his eye. Pulling himself free, Lelouch hid himself away in summer night. Pacing along the terrace, he looked out across the palace's sprawling estate and at the city pressed right up against its farthest edges. Electric lights glowed at him, few and sparse between, as such magic novelty were afforded only by the wealthy. From his vantage point, they looked incredibly lonely. Vulnerable. Weak.

"Were you aware?"

Jeremiah stepped away from the doors he'd been guarding. Kneeling, he replied he had not and asked for forgiveness for failing in his duty to protect his honor. Lelouch waved him away. His frown deeply engraved on his handsome face, the prince turned away from the city to the horde of aristocrats swarming inside, like one massive body of entitlement and selfishness. Suffocating, he pulled at his cravat. Removing his swallow-tailed coat, he hung it over the parapet as he leaned against the stone.

God save him.

. . .

Celebrations died quickly and earnestly according to the wishes of the guest of honor, as well as the demands of attending mass the following morning. Lelouch watched from the terrace, a lone figure, as dukes, baronesses, knights, ambassadors, and mistresses filed out of the palace to scitter and crawl back to their own make-believe dominions. Heaving a sigh, he returned to the now empty throne room, prepared to retire for the evening, when Suzaku appeared out of thin air.

"Some of us are gathering in the War Salon. You should join us."

Sensing his reluctance, Suzaku put his arm around his shoulder.

"It'll just be your favorites. I promise. And you didn't spend nearly enough time with Rolo, you know. He's feeling left out."

"...Shouldn't you be with Euphemia right now?"

"Rolo's with her."

"I didn't know you were one to take your duties as her personal knight so lightly."

Suzaku's expression darkened enough to unsettle even him.

"Euphie asked me to fetch you."

The two stared at each other as if waiting to see whether the other would fold. But Suzaku had the upper hand - two upper hands, in fact - in enticing the prince with his siblings. A known weakness but one he was unable to deny. Lelouch sighed.

"Fine."

Suzaku grinned. Lelouch couldn't help but smile as they left the servants to clean up after them. Lelouch was content to let Suzaku fill their silence on their way to the east wing of the palace. It had been some time since he'd last spoken to him. The memories were faint by now, but he could still remember their school days together. They had pushed each other to fulfill their potential, to strengthen their own weaknesses, which had led Suzaku to prestigious knighthood and Lelouch to personally participate in battle. As wiry as the Eleventh Prince may appear, he had the scars to prove it. And now the lack of an eye.

Inside the intimate salon, Rolo, Euphemia, and Nunnally were already in the midst of a card game in the stylings of the imperial, where instead of money, secrets were wagered as they were much more useful to those who none were wealthier than.

Lelouch chose to simply observe their game, not wanting to spoil their fun. Even they knew it to be true, the devastation he would wreak upon them were he to engage, so they let him be to silently watch. Having gone through all possible scenarios and pathways to victory for Nunnally, Lelouch glanced around the room. He'd sent Jeremiah away for the evening. Constant vigilance for hours on end was an inhuman thing to ask for but an inhuman thing he asked for all the same, just as they all did of their personal knights. The least he could do was send him to bed when able. But Lelouch had been expecting C.C., and... Well...

Suzaku had misled him.

With little else to stimulate him, exhaustion suddenly crashed upon him. Stifling a yawn, Lelouch cupped his face, careful not to shift or disturb his eyepatch, and slumped against the arm of the sofa. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he inhaled deeply before letting it out slowly. Well, if she wasn't going to be here and if Nunnally was going to continue refusing to play her queen, then he could very well amuse himself on possible exit routes.

Lelouch had only come up with 5 possibilities when the door opened to reveal C.C., who'd captured the imperial chef and a small silver cart overflowing with delicacies and sweet treats. There was a round of cheers as cards were thrown down, hands revealed, and the game quickly abandoned. Lelouch remained seated on the sofa, his body too heavy to bother. C.C. soon detached herself. It appeared that, for once, she was being rather considerate of him as she brought with her an untouched cup of some sort of custard.

It was Bavarian cream - a dessert he'd had a particular fondness for but hadn't been able to enjoy in some time. Had it been a few hours earlier, it would have pleased him immensely. It was a shame; it could be another 100 years before C.C. did something for him, much less something so sweet and of her own volition.

Or two seconds. Glancing over her shoulder to make sure the others were sufficiently distracted, C.C. neatly set down the cream and quietly and swiftly walked towards the back corner of the parlor, where there was a door partly hidden away. Lelouch looked after her as she quietly unlocked it. Seeing her carefully close the door after herself, he glanced back at his siblings, who were still sampling the small buffet of treats. Heaving himself off the sofa, he followed after her.

It was a very small space. So small that it was less of a balcony and more of alcove. There was just enough room for a small stone bench, of which she'd already taken half of. Lelouch dropped himself into the empty space beside her. Leaning back against the cold stone wall of the palace, he closed his eye as the tension slowly seeped out of him. He was still tired but it was more bearable. He opened his eye. Such was the power of a witch. He smiled to himself.

Overhead, the stars, which had once looked so coldly upon him, regarded him kindly as they gleamed like jewels. But their brilliance was ignored as Lelouch looked beside him where C.C. sat, picking at her nails. He must've been more honest than he'd intended to be because when she finally looked up at him, her hands stopped. They sat quietly in the near dark. Behind her, through the glass panes of the door, he could see the silhouettes of their friends laughing drunkenly.

She reached up to touch his face, finally, though she paused just before. Her touch was light. Too light. But it was also real. Momentarily closing his eyes, Lelouch drew the feeling into himself and the deepest recesses of his soul before opening his eye and smiling at her.

"Its not like you to be so gentle. What is it that you want to ask of me?"

He couldn't help himself. It was their habitual defense. But seeing her forgo it, it dawned on him how badly it must've shocked her hearing about his eye, the explosion, the attempt. She had been the first he'd written to, partly because he knew her to be capable of calming his siblings, but partly because that very moment, as his soul had nearly been ripped away from his body, she'd come to mind. The letters he'd never sent her, the words he'd wanted to tell her but never had for fearing of opening doors she didn't want to walk through but couldn't close either. But what of her? What of the nights she'd gone through, as sleepless as his, as she wondered if he was still alive, if he was well and still the boy she'd grown up with? If he'd be able to keep his promise to return.

C.C.'s hand fell away to land unceremoniously on his leg. She turned away from him before her hand pulled away. Lelouch looked up at the stars.

"Has my mother spoken to you about my retirement?"

"No, she hasn't."

Familiar lines creased his face as he frowned. Unable and unwilling to bring them back to the topic she had pulled them away from, Lelouch turned to the familiar comfort of war.

"Their thinking is flawed. I'm needed on that campaign, and this," he gestured to his eye, "isn't so serious as they'd like to believe."

"Are you so sure?"

He looked at her as she sat up with her chin raised high. Giving him a sidelong look, she haughtily tossed her silky hair. He drew in the intoxicating scent of citrus and vanilla.

"You are aware that you have an obsessive compulsion for control? I can hardly imagine what you'd be like as emperor. Rather than an iron fist, you'd rule with white knuckles."

Lelouch caught himself. She knew best of everyone, even among his siblings, his disinterest towards the throne. Mustering up a smile, he leaned forward.

"More than the pressure of white-knuckling everything, the worst part might be that damned Divine Right of Darwin."

"Oh? What's not to like about bedding as many women as you please? It's the sort of pleasure that's burnt down empires and made weak men of great ones, and you have an all-powerful, all-knowing being commanding you to have it in excess. Unless...?"

"I don't want to hear that from the likes of an old maid."

"Old maid?" C.C. scoffed. "Don't you know this old maid, who so happens to be younger than you, has had to refuse offers of courtship? And not just on one occasion or from commoners."

Here, Lelouch paused. He looked down at her hand from where it rested in the small space between them. Squeezing his hands together, he looked out over the manicured lawns.

"I'd...heard rumors. About you and Suzaku."

"How'd you manage to hear of that all the way there? Is there truly a war going on?"

"...Is it true?"

C.C. looked at him, her head tilted to the side, as she smiled. But when she saw his expression, the teasing light eased, though the smile stayed. Her hair had taken on a new color in the wash of moonlight. It was all he could do from reaching up to touch it, like he'd so wanted to earlier today.

"Even though I know you hate it here," she said softly, "I'm glad you're retiring. I don't want you leaving any more pieces of yourself out there."

His gaze softened.

"After all, just think of the poor vultures, getting sick on the bitter taste of your parts."

And so they returned to the way things were meant to be. They leaned back against the palace wall to wait peacefully for their friends to tire themselves out and run out of amusing things to do or say. Though neither moved farther away from each other, content with where they were - finally only just mere inches from one another.

. . .

Dawn had already broken when he was finally allowed to drag himself into his apartments. In a matter of a few hours, he'd be woken to prepare to go to mass. As he stripped himself of the layers of silk and linen that had been forced upon him, as he cleaned and dressed his eye, he thought back on the day. His first day on the imperial grounds. He'd been reminded so quickly and thoroughly of all the things he'd hated about it, of his desire to leave the scrutiny behind - or at least to buy into the illusion that it could be left behind. But with it, he'd also been reminded of all the reasons to stay and to enjoy doing so - Nunnally. Rolo. Euphemia. Suzaku.

C.C.

It was all good and well to invest time into securing their freedom, to fight for them, to protect them and bring more glory upon them. But wasn't it even better to spend that freedom together?

The servants had followed Jeremiah's instructions well in preparing his bedroom. But just in case... Just in case, he gingerly lay down on the four-poster bed. Looking up at the canopy, he waited for exhaustion to overtake him. But it was too soft, too plush. Too quiet. So he settled down on the ground beside his bed, where a makeshift bed had been prepared for him. Stretched out on the cold, hard ground, he looked up at the fresco through the weak morning light. His mother had said that his father had chosen it for him, the great Greek myth that'd hung over his head since birth. Before he'd left for his first campaign on their ever-changing border, Lelouch had had 18 years to memorize that mural, to ingrain into his psyche the Argonauts' bloody trail. And for what? The fur of an animal, albeit a mythical one? Then again, there had been stupider quests for stupider things.

Turning over onto his side, His Royal and Imperial Highness, The Eleventh Prince of the Holy Britannian Empire, Lelouch vi Britannia, Duke of Aries, Earl of Damocles, Baron of Geist, and Second General of His Royal and Imperial Majesty's Armed Forces, reclaimed his rightful place before the Altar of Aquila. As he so belonged.

And now for some well-earned rest.


A/N: I do have a second chapter already planned out as well as an excess of time, now that I've graduated. So in the words of the Magic 8-Ball, outlook good (for a continuation).