Disclaimer: I own nothing of Code Geass, nor of Guilty Gear, nor to a lesser extent, BlazBlue and Rewrite. I do own this story, and all the inspirations along with it. And of course, the brain where the ideas came from.
The flashing red signs on the screens in front quickly faded into yellow, and then after some seconds, into green. There was the constant sound of clacking keys and electronic beeps.
"Brother Mikel confirms Gear termination. De-escalate alerts."
"Confirm de-escalation. Sending flash to the bases."
Behind the technicians working on the terminals, Kyoshiroh Tohdoh, face bared, barked an order, "Request Brother Mikel to activate the live feed on his Knightmare."
After some moments, one technician called out, "Brother Mikel acknowledges. Receiving transmission feed."
Tohdoh walked up to view the screen closer, eyeing the recording of the Gear's corpse and the many Knights performing purification and extraction ars next to it. Beyond them stood a Knightmare Frame, white-and-gold, gleaming through the interplay of smoke and sunlight.
Brother Asahina made a surprised sound, saying, "It's him again? The boy sure is enthusiastic."
His superior grunted grimly, saying nothing to the comment and nodding for the technician to end the feed. "Have someone be delegated to handle communication with the Ashford mages. We need to create an emergency bypass protocol to avoid these kinds of situations in the future. We cannot be Guardians if we are ourself warded out by those we protect." A Sister next to them nodded and jogged off. Turning his head, Tohdoh ordered, "Summon probationary Knight Kururugi to the Shinjuku branch immediately."
"My lord," gasped Sister Chiba. "Do you mean the Order is going ahead...?"
"It is the decision of the Guardian of Area Eleven. Though some wished to consult with Andes, it is my earnest belief that this is the best action for the local Order to take. He will be a Knight, if in name only until he finishes his apprenticeship." He whirled on his Elites. "The preparations have long been underway. Do you still have some reservations?"
"No, Sir." The four answered promptly.
"I am grateful for your understanding."
With a clink-clank of boots, he and his Elites left the comm-room.
)()()()()()()()(
Princess Cornelia paced endlessly before the wide glass of the observation bay, face lost in turbulent thought. On the other side, the best medical technology and ars-research Britannia could field was hard at work, with a handful of medics swarming around and through various equipment that was connected by arrays and wires to the body of her brother.
The door whooshed open behind her, and the current Viceroy in the Eleventh Preserve did not spare a glance at whoever had come in, though she seemed to know who it was when she commanded, "Report."
Guilford's voice was subdued. "Your Highness, the High Druid's craft has landed. It was a produce transport, as you predicted. We detained the crew following your orders, but it seems after interrogation that they did not know she had been inside their craft."
"And the High Druid herself?"
"The Knights were able to extract her from the cargo hold. My pardons Your Highness, but they had to use a certain amount of force-"
"As long as they didn't hurt an inch of her body, I won't object," interrupted Cornelia crossly. But she was sure if any of the High Druid's "surbordinates" in the Homeland learned of it, those soldiers who'd manhandled their master would be executed. "Continue."
"-and they were able to take her to the guest rooms in the lower levels. She seemed to only stop protesting when I ordered them to tell her you would be coming in shortly." And with that, Guilford ended his report. It was in the succeeding moment that Cornelia turned around, eyeing her Knight passively.
"Yes, I suppose I do have my responsibility as an older sister to see to. But next time, Guilford, don't tell her that. Let her moan and stamp her feet in complaint. To have to resort to using my name... she'll think she's won in the end."
"My deepest apologies, Princess."
"That's fine." She turned briefly back towards the see-through glass, before she swept towards the door. "Update me on my brother this time, if you would, Guilford. I've got to put out some fires." There was already a major amount of fallout, both actual and predicted, coming from the homeland. An important symbol of post-Dark Era Britannia disappearing from out of the noses of her guardians was like a major prisonbreak. The fact that it had happened, no matter the how or why, was enough to get tongues wagging.
She only hoped her sister would see sense long before any causes for further migraine emerged.
)()()()()()()()(
He was blind. He was gagged. He could not hear, nor feel, nor move. All he felt was the distant rush of blood in his veins, and the measured pulsations of his heart.
This noble heart, which held fiercely in his breast pride and glory.
The heart which sang the praises of loyalty.
He must have waited an eternity in that place.
Tick, tock, tick tock.
Time didn't seem relevant in the sphere.
With no light, no sensation, the real had become unreal.
Tick, tock.
It was as if his mind had spilled its palpable darkness to surround and devour him.
The mind of many secrets.
Many failures.
Tick tock.
Long ago, in a memory he could not reach, there lived-
And the shrill cries pierced the vast emptiness.
The greatest Knight who ever lived.
He served under her.
Tick, ti-
And he failed her.
In the darkness was a sphere. He swam around it, reaching out with hands that did not exist, with a vision cut off from the light. It slipped past his fingers, slipping, slipping-
He will not lose himself.
He is-
Brave, Valorous, just-
He is loyal!
For he who tastes and lives in the glory of the instant, there is no victory, no defeat, there is no death-
"Jeremiah Gottwald, you are summoned to the Judgement of the Rounds. The Throne's Justice is swift, and so is its Mercy."
Sound at last. He was pulled from the damp, dark abyss. He thought he saw a vision of a bear, jaws frozen in a blank roar.
"We have Bound you to face your fate, and now we Unbind you to eat of the Fruit of Justice. So Three witnesses."
A flash. Now a two-headed stag, silver antlers gleaming like melting ice. A chorus, a choir of voices.
"Goddamn pain to have to go through all this ritual bullshit every fucking time. I won't have minded if I could've gotten a hand in the execution again, but you had to give it to the kid."
"Be silent, Ten. Respect the Ritual!"
Red red REDRED- The jaguar's spots are stained with blood.
"The one who will Bind your fate approaches. Respect she who walks in the shadow of the Throne, its chosen executioner. Six, the Duty calls to you."
He sees a vision of a cold, hard, patterned shell, inside which hides a warm heart.
"Six acknowledges. Margrave."
Tick, tock. His heart beats ready.
"The Fate I grant you... is-"
"Wouldja hurry it up?"
"That's quite enough Ten!"
The growl is like a thundercrack. The twin-headed dragon sleeps.
"-The Fate I grant you...is a death that is not death. A life that is not life. Flesh bound in steel. A god within the machine. Thus you shall serve, until The Other Side claims you. So the Executioner states."
He imagines he hears the slamming of a gavel.
"The Throne's Justice is Swift, its Mercy without Doubt."
The clanking of chains.
"A merciful verdict? I feel like I've been cockblocked."
For but an instant, Gottwald thinks he sees twelve statues, aligned in a circle.
Then the curtain is pulled down.
And all, forevermore, is silence.
)()()()()()()()(
"Hey, Marr, you think we need to inform Her Majesty?" the soldier prodded his fellow guard. The two eyed the sight before him apprehensively.
"Ain't gonna stick my neck out to be chewed out by the Valkyrie," snapped the other soldier, who kept his rifle poised as he stood at attention. He was ignoring the steady , relentless growth of various green vines and roots emerging through the walls, that were also breaking past the measly ars-barriers placed over the room. One gangly root managed to ensnare the first guard's feet which the man spent a frantic second shaking off.
Inside, former Princess Euphemia was humming a pleasant tune to herself, oblivious to the vibrant, colorful mini-forest her song was growing right in the middle of the gray, dull room. The table and chairs had been consumed by the overgrowth, reconstituted into its base wooden components. The chair on which the High Druid had been made to sit had warped into a wooden pedestal, almost the same one that she left behind at the faraway Grove.
"So that's the High Druid's power huh?" said the second guard stiffly, only moving his mouth to speak. "I've heard stories...and the things during the history briefings, but I've never imagined to be this close to the real thing."
"It's like a one in a – damnit not again – once in a lifetime chance for you huh?" The first guard had almost shot himself in the leg trying to dislodge the roots that had come to replace the one he'd driven off a moment ago.
"I guess now would be the right time to move. Wouldn't want to become a human tree," remarked the other guard, who promptly marched to stand at the other side of the corridor. "I certainly wouldn't appreciate- Your Highness!"
The Viceroy had appeared right next to them, seemingly materializing from thin air. She was followed by Lord Guilford, who nodded to the guards as the Princess marched up to the door made out of enmeshed plants, wearing a vague expression of displeasure.
"Euphie, could you stop singing for a bit? It's Cornelia."
The humming instantly ceased, followed by the "door" instantly opening, revealing the High Druid standing there, spreading her arms wide and crying, "Sister! Oh it's so good to see you at last!" She blinked. "Huh? The room turned all green."
The guards would not hear the ensuing conversation, as Guilford had ushered them outside, murmuring something about being caught between a rock and a hard place.
"Euphie," Cornelia began evenly when they were completely alone. She remained standing on her side of the corridor, rightfully wary of the mysterious powers the title had granted her sister. "Grove empty, the Circles spinning in cartwheels to hush things up, our siblings concerned, and now whispers in this very base! Do you have any idea what you've allowed to happen?"
"Um," her sister paused to think, as an overhanging vine wheedled itself into her hair. "All of the above?"
SLAP!
Cornelia's snarled, finding her outstretched palm had hit a protruding, wooden branch that had not been there before. The Princess quickly withdrew her arm to cross it over her chest. "Explain," she demanded curtly.
"Sister, are you angry?" Those innocuous blue eyes brimmed with concern.
"Yes, I'm angry. I'm angry, I'm scared, I'm glad you came here without getting hurt. I'm feeling a lot of things, dear sister." She again brought her hand up, but this time, turning to caress her sister's cheek. "I suppose it was some impulse that led you to take this fool 'adventure', and I can allow that as a nurturing experience for your life as a High Druid. But after this you must return to your duties to the Grove. Didn't you make a promise?"
"I made a lot of promises," replied the High Druid, who tilted her head in a display of recall. "First there was to never to speak to Father again, never to talk back to the elders again-"
"No, didn't you promise to do your duty as High Druid as I'm doing my own?"
"Ah, of course! Now I remember. I did promise that," Euphie bounced on the balls of her slender feet. "And that's why I'm here sister! I'm here to perform the sacred rites which are required of the High Druid."
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm gonna heal Japan!" Euphie proclaimed. "I kept hearing about how it's such a cruel, ugly, sad place sister, and I simply could not choose another place to turn my eyes to."
"Euphie, are you mad? Disregarding the fact that this is not Britannian territory, so the High Druid has no authority here, there is also the matter of that renegade Gear, Zero! Twice, Euphie! He's attacked twice in a month. And twice the Order has tried and failed to thwart him. Area Eleven is no place for your miracle-works sister."
"But, but, I'm sure if we were able to talk with Zero, we'd be able to work towards a peaceful-"
"Do. Not. Speak treason!" shouted Cornelia, and at that moment, Euphie finally faltered under the force of the outburst. "Zero is responsible for the deaths of many good Britannians. Zero is responsible for his maverick destruction that has caused the Empire to lose face! Zero- Zero is responsible for maiming our brother Clovis!"
A heavy, ringing silence followed. A harsh, frigid wind seemed to blow between the two. Euphie clasped her hands before her, a faded, wilting flower.
"I'm sorry," Cornelia said quickly, the emotions she'd ridden on quickly discarded.
"No, it's nothing to worry about. How is Brother?"
"The medics cannot say. There's a strong shadow ars crawling within him that's proving hard to diagnose and remove. But he will live,for now."
Euphie seemed to mutter, "that's terrible", but it seemed lost in the sounds of the shifting, writhing overgrowth behind her.
"And that's why," continued the Valkyrie, a stony glint in her eyes, "You have to cease this fool adventure and return to the Homeland. You being here is a risk I'm not willing to negotiate. My analysts are telling me there is a great chance of Zero going after the Viceroy next, and I'm not having you drawn into the conflict, Euphie. Now, it's not too late. Nothing exists that cannot be fixed in some way, and I believe the elders will have no reason to impose sanction if you're seen to be completely contrite-"
"So that's why!" Euphie suddenly declared, raising her voice higher than her sister's. Cornelia was forced to stop talking, surprised. "That, sister, is the reason why I can't just return yet. Zero must have many reasons for acting this way, but maybe it's because all he sees in the world is as a gloomy, stark place! If there'd have been great, green forests, or lush mountains and clear, blue water gleaming in the summer sun, Zero wouldn't have had to go and do bad things!"
"Wait, Euphie, you can't assume Zero's-"
"It's decided!" Euphie shouted again, overriding her sister's protest. It was then that Cornelia noticed the exploding mass of green behind Euphie, making her instinctively step back. She, who had never backed down in the face of mortar and ars was doing so now just because of her sister! "This will be my first Act as High Druid, sister! I hereby declare- No, everyone should hear this!"
"Euphie, where are you going?" Cornelia cried helplessly as she weaved a barrier ars to keep out the endless stream of rapid growth that now spilled over to the corridor and were steadily boring holes in the floor and ceiling. "We haven't finished this-" Her order fell on unhearing ears as the High Druid was carried by the green tide, and a few moments later, after the ceiling had finally caved in, was plucked up by her arms upwards through the growing hole.
"ALERT! ALERT!"
Darlton was quick to find his liege, who was crouched on a bare part of corridor that had been spared from the explosion of green. "Your Highness! What's happened?"
"We're under attack! To battle!" shouted a voice in a Knightmare from outside, and Cornelia could hear the sounds of guns charging and feel seithr being tugged this way and that.
"Cancel those orders." The Princess could feel the rapidly growing headache gnawing at the edge of her consciousness. "It's just a fool girl's whim. Have everyone fall back to within a fifty-meter radius around this center. Stragglers who get caught will not be saved." As Darlton barked his liege's orders over the open channel, Cornelia stood, eyeing the roiling mass resignedly. "That's going to take a long time to clean up. It's good that you won't hear me Euphie, so I'll say right now that you are a pain. A major pain."
"Greetings, sons and daughters of the Empire! I am Euphemia, chosen handmaiden of the earth, the High-Druid!" boomed Euphie's voice from above. Outside, the soldiers who were falling back were seeing an awe-inspiring towering edifice of green steadily growing upward, until it nearly filled the base's night skyline of the Preserve. "I come with a pledge and a plea! As High-Druid, my first act will be the restoration and rejuvenation of Area Eleven into the blooming, beautiful land it once was! I hereby declare, that it shall be the duty of all true, earth-loving Britannians to help me in the best ways they can on this endeavor, and to help spread the word to everyone – that we can all work hard together to bring harmony to the world once more. Together, we can achieve a great, many things! We must preserve our blue and natural world!" This was punctuated by a grand, green blooming, as a burst of branches emerged to form a canopy over the girl, showering the base with fresh, crisp leaves.
A Knight was quick to shout an "All hail Britannia" which was soon taken up by the rest of the gathered soldiers. There was an undeniable charm present in the High Druid, with some recalling the rumors about the High Druid having been an Imperial Princess. The fact that their supreme commanding officer, the Viceroy, wasn't giving stand-down orders only fueled the cheers on, and the ascended Euphie seemed to bask in the praises that rained around her like a gladdened tree.
"Your Highness, are you sure this is alright?" asked Darlton, worry evident. "If this goes on to reach His Majesty's-"
"I'm fully aware," Cornelia snapped, a disapproving look sent her sister's way. "For now, I shall be neutral. I do have other tasks to see to. But then, it will only remain for Euphie to stand up to the hardship that will soon come for her. If she can endure that, then I shall no longer have complaints. She's old enough now, anyway." At that, her expression morphed into a brief wistfulness which quickly faded when her eyes flicked to the rubble. "And as Viceroy, I've a lot more on my plate than my sister's rebellious phase." She turned to her Knight. "You will be sure that's cleaned up, right?"
"Yes, your Highness. They shall do the best they can."
"I'll thank the crew later for their patience. Perhaps we should prepare a Euphemia bracket in the budget from now on," thought the Princess out loud. "If she's staying here, there's bound to be more incidents."
"I'm sure the High Druid can control herself in the future, my lady." said Darlton drily.
)()()()()()()()(
Lloyd was chuckling over something on his datapad, a marked difference from his analytical attitude when he'd just pored over the Slash Variable Pack's results. "Now if that ain't a marvelous display of the mystical side of ars..."
"What's the matter, Lloyd sir?" asked Cecile, who was overseeing diagnostics on the Pack in question, retrieved from the Lancelot after its Devicer had returned it to their center the day previous. There had been traces of Gear remnants that had to be cleaned and collected for data from the lone sword that had been used, and Lloyd was scrupulous enough to pointedly ignore the way Cecile had pinched off a few millileters of material from the official collection. The Earl knew his subordinates well, scant as they were.
"You remember the High Druid rumors? Well, turns out it wasn't so unfounded after all. Lady Euphemia's just caused quite an uproar over at the base." Lloyd tossed the datapad aside when a flash report came into the terminal before him.
"But there's been no official announcements!" remarked Cecile, shocked. She paused after a line of data to look over her shoulder at the Earl. The High Druid was of high enough personage that it was almost equal to the archmage of a circle or an Imperial Heir or Heiress arriving. There had to be, as was proper, a ceremony of sorts when they ventured outside the Homeland.
"That's what makes it juicy!" quipped Lloyd, and the man laughed again, shaking his head. "Juicy like the Gear data we managed to recover before the Guardians could. There'll be commendations from the Prince for this- wait, what the-?" The Earl had uttered a loud shriek, which alarmed his assistant enough to cause her to turn in her seat. "What's the matter sir?"
Lloyd pointed, open-mouthed, at the terminal screen, and when Cecile got up to look she too couldn't suppress a gasp. "A Knighthood? So early?"
"'Unbelievable!' is what I want to say-" said Lloyd tremulously, "But I choose 'dastardly cunning'. The Prince did mention this possibility – however faint – but I can't believe they actually did it."
"But Suzaku hasn't even graduated from Ashford yet," said Cecile, very much confused, "Doesn't it say in Order policy that they can't bestow Knighthood on the unprepared?"
"Well there is a trite little allowance in their Magnum Librarium. The Prince has taken special care to have each paragraph and statement of that charter analyzed, and it seems there's a little section concerning Knighthood in which a Preserve's Order may invoke a rite to conscript any qualified individual in times of need. The Prince guessed they would try to do the same, and now it seems they really did." Cecile hummed, trying to make sense of the implications of Suzaku Kururugi's early knighthood.
"So much for that idea," shrugged Lloyd, who pressed a button and brought up the display on his Lancelot. "The Prince had hoped that we would first win Kuru- no, my mistake, it's Sir Kururugi now – his loyalties to Britannia before he graduated. But now that we've been preempted..."
Cecile saw that it basically meant an Order Knight, for the first time in recent history, would have free access to a Britannian secret prototype. They could try looking for a new Devicer, but on that point, Lloyd had been adamant that unless the Rounds could be summoned, there was no other for his Lancelot. The security implications, she surmised, would get Intel running in outraged circles. "But had the boy really been that qualified to have been approved by all the Legion-Masters here? There must be something to him that's made him smell like lovely heaven to them if they're willing to pull a very delicate string to have him inducted." To that, Cecile had no reply.
)()()()()()()()(
A Knighting was usually a pompous, decorated affair which involved elevating as many initiates to the sword and shield as they could cram in the base under a clear, spring morning. It drew crowds from all over a Preserve, for the purpose of acquainting the people with their newest protectors and, as snide writers commented, to also partake in the after-ceremony festivities, which usually included generous, table-laden feasts of all dishes from every corner of the world. There would be games aplenty, oftentimes pitting civilian against Knight in tests of wit, strength and will, the most memorable of which were the Knightmare jousts.
Each Area also had its own traditions: for example, a Knighting in Area Eleven was usually begun at sunrise, when the initiates would be made to face the distant, clouded sun to remember their vows on the fallen land where once the sun rose gloriously. The festivities were as festivals, with stalls featuring every near-forgotten Japanese delicacy that could be reinvented.
But now, all of it would have to be bypassed in favor of a quick, but no less important ceremony to usher in the Eleventh Preserve's newest Knight: Suzaku Kururugi.
Tohdoh watched his future apprentice approach slowly, walking on the bare stone floor, with a sea of ordered legions of armored Brothers and Sisters facing him with the initiate walking through the central aisle. The Legion-Masters in their best armor were at the back of the formation, with flag-bearers holding the emblem of their Order high and proud and recorder techs towards the very back preparing to inscribe this moment in Guardian history.
Suzaku was the only unarmored person, wearing only a cloak of simple, unstained white. He held before him a sword, polished, blunted and brittle, and for all other appearances looked like a grim man about to move in for the kill.
But Tohdoh could see the excited fire in the boy's emerald gaze. There was something of his father there, the will to uphold justice at the cost of himself, but also something vague and hidden – like a stressed mirror that had forgotten to break. That was a question he desired to ask the boy later. The boy looked proud under the ars-lighted fires, as well he should be.
The vows were short – customary, for all intents and purposes, as a formality. No Knight reached this stage without vigorous research and observation into his character and motivation, and most of all, skill, and there had been enough of that, or so the Legion-Masters of Area Eleven had decided, from the day he'd come in for evaluation.
"May the world hear our pledge," intoned the Legion-Master in charge of anointing the Knight, and the rest of the room followed his lead in renewing the basic vow of the Guardians: "In the darkest hour and brightest moment, our lives for mankind!"
Suzaku had reached the area where the Legion-Masters waited, and as one, the assembly moved forward, drawing their ceremonial swords to bear at the boy. Suzaku didn't flinch at the sudden movement, and didn't follow the bared steel as they were lifted high above the heads of the Legion-Masters. Behind him, most of the other Knights did the same.
"Kneel, initiate, and ready your steel."
As vows were made, as oil and image-fire was poured on the boy, as all sorts of "enchantments" were placed on him to re-enact the Founder's tempting, Tohdoh was angered to see the boy's unwavering face accept it all, all in the name of-
"For what shall you serve?" the Legion-Master asked gravely.
"Justice."
He only hoped the boy would speak more frankly upon his apprenticeship. That face, no matter how it was unwavering as steel, held secrets that should not burden a Guardian, that should not burden any man as young as Kururugi. If untempered, the secret would devour the boy whole.
A round, wooden shield materialized in front of the initiate, and for an instant, Tohdoh saw the hesitation. Then the boy snapped the sword in half, blood streaming through the gashes in his hand, and then reached for the shield. The shield dispersed, showering the wounds with a healing ars.
"Arise, Brother Kururugi. The world and mankind awaits you, sir Knight. May you never discard and forget your vows on this day, or may justice strike you down where you stand."
Shield in hand, Suzaku rose and turned to face the crowd, which as one raised its fist to sing, "Glory to the Knight! Glory to the Guardians! Glory to the Founder and his Sacred Order! Hail Suzaku Kururugi! Hail the Guardian of the Eleventh Preserve!"
)()()()()()()()(
"The thirst of loyalty is strong in the Knight."
With these words, secret teleportation relays reserved for the usage of high-ranking individuals activated all over the Northern Homeland, its telltale glow misted from prying eyes by a heavy concentration of seithr. Immediately, hopeless individuals who were doomed to a slow, gnawing death that were taught only the most basic ars magus set to unifying their powers to perform the one grand teleportation ars. A thousand individuals hidden all over Britannia exerted, and the massive spell quickly and quietly brought the matter that composed Anya Arlstream, Knight of Six, to the Imperial Capital of Pendragon.
"Welcome back, Your Grace," said a mage who stood on standby beside the arrival circle. A blast of white had materialized the armored form of the Knight in the middle, as she quickly waved the concerned techs and mages aside to push towards the outside. "Would there be anything-"
"There is nothing. Thank you. You may continue." came the voice without inflection, as the Knight's light, pink hair, bathed in a layer of sweat, emerged from behind the dematerializing helm. "Access code ArM – 606 Rounds Six. The data is in here." She threw the mage a chip, which the latter accepted gratefully. "The Empire appreciates it, sir Knight."
Without replying, the Knight now clad in only a light, brown flightsuit with the ceremonial robe of the Rounds exited the relay station, gesturing immediately for the small, blue transport platform that whizzed up to her feet.
It took an hour to reach the palace, and another more spent in bringing her reports to the Emperor himself.
The Throne was silent as it always had been, imposing and brooding. The Eye, as ever, looked elsewhere.
After the Emperor bade her leave, the Knight, a warm, joyous feeling rising from within her breast to smother her in excitement left for her final destination.
Abroad she was a Knight of the Rounds, carrying out the Throne's orders with skill and conviction.
Here, inside the very heart of her most precious place, she was as a giddy, young child, returning home after a long day at school. For Anya, the emotion was one she rarely had reason to indulge in, the emotion that she never showed anyone, not even her fellow Rounds - until she returned here.
"My lady, I've returned!"
"Welcome back, I've really missed you." A warm, welcoming hand was raised, and the Knight fell practically on her knees to receive it on her head. Anya screwed her eyes tight in absolute happiness, her cheeks turning the color of her hair. "I've missed you too."
"Will you be going soon?"
"Not for a while. The Emperor has bid us all return to the Homeland."
"I see. I'm glad to be able to spend a little more time with you."
"Yes," replied Anya, and there was genuine feeling there, tears nearly bursting itself from her joystruck heart. "I'm glad too."
AN: Took a bit longer to finish because Cornelia/Euphemia scenes are hard for me to emulate. It's purely because I don't have a real-life or fictional comparison to accurately brush their relationship into existence, with my own observations of Vivian's relationship with her sister being more of a Euphemia/Nunnally thing. I believe that one has to take extra care to preserve characters' qualities even in intimate situations as much as possible, and thus the inevitable clash from the contrast between the purple/pink-haired siblings was difficult to write. I had to go back and rewrite the announcement scene many times even after having written the rest, There was a far longer argument scene in the early stages, which again conflicted with the canon view of the sisters' relationship, and then again a fairly exhaustive duel showcasing Euphie's and Cornelia's powers, but that only seemed to show that Euphie in this fiction is a battle-ready character, and that the fiction thrived on battle scenes. (which she's not supposed to be and which this fic is not) Scrap, scrap, scrap.
Thanks for reading!
Merlin Out.