Disclaimer: I own nothing of Code Geass, nor of Guilty Gear, nor to a lesser extent, BlazBlue. I do own this story, and all the inspirations along with it. And of course, the brain where the ideas came from.
"Don't screw with me-!"
Despite everything: the pain of being burnt alive, the sensation of falling down into an inescapable abyss, or the roar of primal fury that fought to escape his chest, Lelouch still held on to his indomitable will, his rejection of the reality that sought to consume him.
Unknown to him at that moment, Lelouch had achieved one of those obscure branches of ars, the rare form of resistance, which virtually made one immune to all ars and its residual effects. It required a lot of will detached from the inescapable prison of the body, or an extraordinary spirit that would not bend, no matter the magic. Either method led to the same effect: a total rejection of the offending ars, to the extent of nullification or complete reversal.
It had been the only thing to save him on this unfortunate day.
He blasted back into consciousness, and as if suddenly remembering to breathe, sucked in a huge breath. He gazed wildly around him, recent memory temporarily forgotten as he struggled to restore feeling back to limbs that would not heed his commands to move.
"Oh? You survived that command, Gear? Your level must be quite high. How tenacious. Die!"
Another blast, recalling the first one in his memory tore into his chest, but it immediately rebounded, sending a spark of yellow into the roof of the cavern. He heard a gasp. The impact caused a few rocks to fall around him. Memory returning, he focused on the voice, and raised his head to look at the girl-
And she blazed in front of him, like a terrible sun, for one wanted to look away to spare one's self, but could not, for fear of losing this one chance altogether, and so he stared into amber orbs that shone brighter than any gem, on hair that writhed and coiled around her like sentient green snakes, on a visage so pure, so free of pain or fear, that he would do-
He blinked once, his eyes refocusing on the girl- woman. She looked just as he remembered, save that she was awake now, and her eyes stared bewitchingly back, causing him to stand up, hands clutched over his head and chest.
"Who-?"
Another blast of pain hit him, centering on his legs, but he shook it off as one might a cat, and the ars fizzled into nothingness. He then caught sight of what was surrounding his legs below: one thin violet, transluscent circle that lent a glow to the darkness of the cavern.
"Are you a Perfected Artificial, then? Have they finally succeeded in remaking his bane?"
Most of what the girl said didn't sound in his ears like normal speech might, instead causing a ringing static sound as if from a radio. But his brain could understand well enough, though he had no answer to the woman's question.
The girl stepped close with the sinuous grace of a dancer, looking up into his face as he stood rooted on the same spot. Then she looked down, and Lelouch saw her trace the circle around him with her eyes. She gave a start.
"Impossible. That signature must mean you're a Pure. But-"
The words caused a pain that rang in his skull, and his mind pored through a dozen half-remembered lectures on non-human speech- And then she asked him, in words he could now understand, "Who are you, child?"
"I- I am Lelouch Lamperouge?" Why did he say it like that? "I... am Lelouch Lamperouge," he repeated firmly, in a voice he discovered to be hoarse.
"Lamperouge...I know not the name. A bastard? Who were your parents, boy? How long ago were you born?" The girl had put a finger to her lips thoughtfully.
At that, flashes of a memory long since relegated to the sentimental part of his mind he liked to share with Nunnally came before his eyes, visions of a great fire, of several women who were only there to take care of him and Nunnally, of anticipating Nunnally's birthday, of being surprised by the maids and Nunnally when he returned home one evening, on a particular day...
"I do not remember our parents. And I am but sixteen years of age, so calculate that on your own." Lelouch opened his eyes. He had recovered much of his glacial exterior. He made to push his glasses up, but found that they were not there. "We are the last of the Lamperouges. Their remaining retainers took care of us after our parents' death, possibly from some intrigue in the homeland or sheer accident, and we came here seeking refuge from the Ashfords, old friends of our family, after the last servant finally took leave from our service."
The girl tilted her head as if she did not believe him. Her hair cascaded from her shoulder like an emerald waterfall. "Know you then the Emperor? Or any of the Imperial family?"
The Imperial Court, now that was a strange thing to bring up. For him, the existence of the Britannian hierarchy was as a distant and overseeing entity, sharing the impression with many of the sons and daughters of Britannia who were not of noble blood. And most of all, though they idolized the Imperial Family or praised the Emperor every week on their national anthem, they beheld them only as such, idols or gods who lived in a faraway place.
For who could not? Great Frederick had united the world against the Gears. His descendants had ensured the Holy Britannian Empire's dominance over the sphere, through Ars and Knightmare. It was from them that the idea of the Sacred Order of the Guardians had been born, a world-wide coalition that subtly conquered the remaining kingdoms of the European Union and the Chinese Federation through its international members who owed no fealty to any nation, but to the world. It had been an idea of a previous Emperor to divide the world further through the Order's designation of the Sacred Preserves. And it had been Emperor Charles zi Britannia who had single-handedly foiled the Gaia terrorist group's attempt to start a massacre through a band of renegade Gears lured to the capital, impaling each of the Gear's heads on a pike for the national terminals to see.
"I know only the Emperor: immortal beacon, mighty conquerer, vanquisher of our foes, the protector of our purity," recited Lelouch from a litany in his memory. A headache seemed to form in his head. "All praise to him. All hail Britannia."
Something flashed in the girl's eyes, narrowing in anger or annoyance, he cared not. "I will have the truth from you yet. Take this chance to give it now, while my humor is better."
"I have no blasted idea what you're talking about, damnit, who are you?" The girl stepped past him, and he heard her dainty steps on the stone.
"Insolent child. You walk a delicate line towards endless suffering." Her footsteps seemed farther now, though Lelouch still could not cause himself to move. "I am not twisted, but should you displease me further, you will learn the lessons of pain. Though I cannot kill you, I can make it seem that you are."
Something cold splashed on him, and he shivered at the wetness that now seeped into his clothes. Immediately after an outburst of fire erupted from his back, but as he could not move, he found himself screaming at the sensation that was spreading through his body.
The woman watched from behind as the sick, red glow of the burning Lelouch filled the cavern. The flames died as the boy's cries subsided, and while he lay gasping and panting, naked as the day he was born, she placed a hand on the small of his back.
Lelouch straightened instinctively at the utterly alien sensation, it was a different kind of cold that wrought shivers through his body. He didn't even have the thoughts to mind his nakedness, nor of the strange ars that had prevented the fire from burning his skin, leaving him with but the sensation of having been burnt alive.
"Wh-what are you-?"
"Sshh." The hand traveled up, down, left and right, into places he'd never shown to any other human, and down into places only he'd ever touched, and it made him grit his teeth, cursing all the while the fates for this predicament, cursing himself for having the foolishness to blindly enter a cavern without preparation.
"You have quite the stable illusion, Gear." The woman's soft, haunting voice said from the darkness behind him.
"I am no Gear woman. What madness have you?"
"You cannot fool these eyes; these eyes have seen much. And these see the illusions on you, the illusions you have set on yourself, to be able to pass for what is proper among the 'normals'." Lelouch stiffened when the girl's face popped up right in front of him, their noses almost touching. The girl stared unflinchingly at his face, and the boy's only reaction was a defiant glare. "You do not harbor a lie in your eyes, little one. Perhaps I am in the wrong. Mayhap your illusion is your reality, and will be a sad thing for you to throw away.
"You are interesting. I give you two choices. Walk away, and think on the illusion I am about to break, giving me your answer when you are able. Or refuse my intervention, and be sealed here in eternal ignominy until the world breaks."
"What nonsense do you speak? I am under no illusions mad woman! My eyes are clear to see!"
"Choose!" the girl said imperiously. "My favor grows weak. I do not want to choose for those that can choose for themselves, but if I must, then I shall."
"I do not know, nor do I trust you, woman. Prove yourself to me, before I make this fool 'choice' of yours."
"'Prove'? How utterly human you sound." She leaned in to press a hand on his chest, right over his heart. He felt its work rise as the coldness of her fingers seeped into his skin. "Poor Gear, to be so utterly deceived, to the point that your thoughts have been thoroughly corrupted. Very well, this choice I make for you. Do not make me regret it. Be ready." And then she kissed him.
He heard something break, and he realized it was him.
Down and down
and down he went
Past tumbledown shacks
and alleys of tarnished gold
and he saw
The Imperial Palace, resplendent in its glory. Pendragon, it is said, will never age, nor ever die, until the last Emperor gives up his vow.
Springtime, he thinks, and it is oh so pleasant to be out here in the garden-
"No..."
-and someone is there, together with Nunnally, his Nunnally, unchanging-
-and the sun smiles on their play, the innocence-
-it breaks his heart, to see her cry-
"No!"
-Prince Lelouch-
-am Lelouch vi Britannia-
He strides in full princely regalia, the purple mantle falling squarely on his shoulders. He fancies he hears their glances, as if he sees their chatter.
He takes his place, sitting on the Royal Table, together with a throng of other Princes and Princes and their Mothers-
"NO!"
-someone congratulating him on his growth, soon he shall go to Europe, where he shall learn of the practicings of the Order-
-she's always talking to him, because it seemed that whenever he is in the room, it is always him she looks out for, him she only sees-
He is a looming presence, a titan in the guise of a man. Ever neutral, he never favors nor shows displeasure, should the youngest err or the eldest succeed-
-I am Lelouch vi Britannia-
"I..."
Who are you? Someone asks, and she is tiny with chubby hands and big, rounded eyes-
-and someone is there, together with Nunnally, his Nunnally, unchanging-
-it breaks his heart, to see her cry-
"...know..."
He barges in, all pretense and decorum and protocol forgotten. He strides into the throne room, his power blazing up and crushing the spirits of those who are there, save for him.
Why have I not been assigned the investigation? Conflict of interest be damned, this is my mother!
Leave.
How could you do this, Father? You are the Emperor, you can still do something!
Worthless spawn.
Do you even care for Nunnally? She cries and cries everyday! Do you care for me? Did you care for her? Did you even love her?
Worthless...
"HOW DARE HE?" Lelouch roared, breaking the connection. He was not in the Throne Room in Pendragon, he was not wearing his princely attire, he was not a Prince, but a man standing in a cavern, having kissed a brazen girl. "HOW DARE HE! He cast us away, for that! I am no fool, Father, and you take me for one?" His power blazed, shaking the roof and the foundations of the cove. The girl stood, unmoved.
Yes, he remembered now. How could he have forgotten? Such an insidious ars, to bind his memory at that very moment, making him lose himself! To make him forget that he was a Prince of Britannia, the First Son of Consort Marianne, one in a long line of heirs to the Grand throne of the eternal Empire! But more than that betrayal, he had forgotten that his mother had died. He had forgotten his purpose! He had been made to forget, to start anew, a veil so elaborate pulled over his eyes that it felt so real!
"The truth..." he murmured, eyes widening. He looked at the woman, who was waiting expectantly. "Was this the illusion you spoke of? That I had a past? If so, then I thank you."
"The silly memory seal wasn't the only illusion, dear prince," said she, emphasizing the term delicately. "It was never anything but a minor crutch to the true illusion. It was an illusion that you seemed to even possess, even before the seal."
"What? What are you talking about now?" Lelouch asked, echoing his past self's question.
"Look at yourself. Little Gear, there is no hiding from the truth."
A part of him dreaded any sort of revelation, for he knew, just as it felt unnatural for him to be feeling wings unfurling behind him, so did it feel brutally shocking to see darkened skin over his body, and claws that mocked him in their monstrous length. His breath hitched, and Lelouch shook his head in denial, seeking the woman's eyes.
"What have you done to me?"
"The truth. Your body knows it well, and even your human-addled mind cannot deny it. Welcome back to the living, little Gear."
"But no-" Yes. "This can't be-" It is. "You lie-" You know you are lying. "I'm human." The word seemed alien to his lips, as foreign to him as the name Lamperouge was now. Belatedly, he discovered that he could move when he fell on his knees, tears of realization dwelling on his eyes. He looked up at the woman, whom he knew that despite looking every bit and inch like a woman, was hardly one, for now he saw what lay beyond, what was within.
"Do you understand now?"
He punched into the ground, finding it cave easily to his fist, growing cracks that spread like a tree into the cavern. A dozen different sensations came to him, but one emotion dominated: despair.
"Sometimes the greatest truths are the best to lie about." Her honey-filled voice sounded distant. "I shall hear your answer after you've collected yourself. I have waited too long for someone like you."
Only a single word escaped him as he pounded fist after fist into the cavern, causing the entire world to shake around him. Only one word that wrought fresh despair as he was slowly buried under age-old, sea-touched rock: "Nunnally..."
)()()()()()()()(
The rescue operation was carried out swiftly, with a heli being summoned to the scene of the devastation. Suzaku was first to find a trace of his friend, pulling him out after pounding aside the boulders on top of him with his fist.
He, and a number of other students in the council, was relieved to find his friend was unhurt.
They were surprised to find that he was awake.
"Lelouch, we're here. Help's arrived. Don't worry." A stretcher came, borne on the winds by a worried-looking Nina. A handful of able-bodied Japanese pushed aside some more boulders to clear a path. Kallen gave a war cry and shattered the biggest boulder with a well-placed kick.
His friend was whispering something, but Suzaku had no time to dally. Shirley had cast her trademark healing ars, but Lelouch still seemed too far gone despite having no visible bruises or marks on his skin. His head lolled from side to side as he was carried to the heli, overseen by a Milly who wore a cramped face.
"Suzaku..." He heard his friend whisper, and as he walked alongside the stretcher, he leaned in to his friend's mouth.
"Yes? Lelouch?"
"Nunnally..." his friend said faintly.
"She's fine, Lelouch. You don't need to worry about her."
"You are a fool, Kururugi... Always have been. Always will be-" And with that, the youth closed his eyes, succumbing to the sleep ars the medic had cast on him. Suzaku looked at the departing heli with a perplexed expression,
"Somehow, this wasn't how I pictured this day to end," someone remarked from the back. Looking up at the cloudy night sky, he had no choice but to agree.
AN: Things seem to be entering the first phase. Thanks for reading.
Merlin out.