Bismarck remembered the first time he held the young Prince Lelouch. The boy had been scarcely three weeks old, swaddled in a deep violet blanket and tightly clutched to Marianne's chest.

She had laughed at his awkward stance and pushed the infant into his arms and cooed over how adorable he had been. Then, she stretched her arms and began the exercises the doctor had prescribed to her.

He had held the young boy for hours without complaint because he never found the strength to refuse.

The boy had grown up adored. Charles's favor had been painfully obvious. Each time the boy waddled into a room, Charles's expression would soften. He would let his paperwork build up in his office, spending all his time at the Aries Villa.

In hindsight, it was obvious that V.V. would chafe at suddenly being ignored, at being replaced by an infant.

When Marianne became pregnant again, V.V. had stormed into Charles's room, begging him to focus and to not let his attention wander.

Young Nunnally had only made things worse. Her smile stole everyone's heart. With Lelouch, Charles always had to contend with a potential threat: a boy who would grow thirsting for his throne and betray all the love granted to him. Nunnally was too young and a girl. In her, Charles saw Marianne and an innocent future. He had installed a knightmare simulator in the Aries Villa, not for Marianne, but for Nunnally so she could learn as soon as possible.

Bismarck leaned on the wall of the clubhouse window, feeling the cool breeze.

Everything had gone so wrong.

V.V.'s betrayal cut deeper than anyone could have imagined. With it, Charles's heart shuttered. He had no more genuine smiles to share.

And Marianne?

She was a ghost, literal and metaphorical. She slept time away, nestled in a prepubescent girl's body. When she awakened, she fixated on a task at the cost of everything else. Her grief ruled her life.

The woman he loved, who had been a source of life in every room she entered, was no more.

When Charles died, she would follow him; Bismarck had no doubt about that. He would be the only one left, the only one who would remember.

Their son couldn't even appreciate the gift they were giving him.

He had done nothing to deserve it, yet he spat on their kindness. Instead of trying to prove himself of this honor, he was moping, hanging on to those who were beneath him and conspiring against the Empire his parents had given everything for.

As Zero, he had thrown a tantrum, demanding attention, but even after being announced heir he couldn't scrounge up an ounce of gratitude.

Lelouch vi Britannia was unworthy, an insult to his parents' legacy.

Bismarck scowled as sickeningly happy students passed by with excited chitters. Their gaze wandered up the clubhouse, to Lelouch's quarters. They lived in wonder and excitement.

He despised their softness and innocence.

If he was acting as a proper knight, like Charles had requested, he would climb up the stairs and return to watch the brat his emperor had named as the heir.

Instead, he pushed himself off the wall and made his way to the offices. The rambunctious crowd of students parted easily as he swept forward, their little hands trembling in fear.

"Ashford," he barked at the female secretary. She squeaked. "I need to speak to the headmaster, now."

"Of—Of course, my lord!" Her cheeks flushed, and she pulled out the phone and through despicable stammering relayed his request. "He'll—He'll be in his office in a few minutes, my lord. Is there—Is there anything—"

He strode past her, not bothering with her useless rambling. The office was unremarkable as it had been the last time. Nothing in here suited the former Earl of Ashford.

He grabbed the leather chair and closed his eyes blissfully. He had been mistaken. The man had saved the office chair from his old estates. Leaning back, he kicked up his legs and closed his eyes.

"Bismarck," Reuben greeted from the doorway. His eyes focused on his boots resting on top of an old book. "I heard it was urgent."

"You took in Prince Lelouch and Nunnally." Bismarck crossed his arms.

"You said the Emperor commended me in our first… meeting."

"I thought then you protected them. Why would Prince Lelouch have been in the vicinity of mobsters?"

Reuben sighed and closed the door. He grabbed a flask from the bookshelf. "A drink?"

"I am on duty."

Reuben shrugged and set two small glasses on the desk, pouring the whiskey into each. "Lelouch developed a taste for high stakes gambling."

"You should have stopped him. He could've been injured, killed or worse."

Reuben shot him an annoyed glare. "I tried in the beginning, but the boy didn't trust me. He still doesn't trust me. I daresay he doesn't trust anyone, even his sister."

"He claimed it was needed to cover Nunnally's medical expenses. You should have paid for that."

"With which extensive cash reserves?" Reuben asked mockingly. "I am running a business here. Doctors who do not blab are expensive. Specialists who do that and can treat paralyzing gunshot injuries and psychologists who don't ask dangerous questions are astronomically expensive. Lelouch was aware of that, even if I was discounting the price as much as I could."

"He shouldn't have had to pay anything."

"If I refused, he would have seen it as a trap." Reuben downed the whiskey. "He slept with a gun under his pillow and a knife strapped to his leg for three years. Everything to him is a possible trap."

The boy was supposed to live a cushy, protected life in Area Eleven, pampered by the dependable Ashford. Even if officially exiled, he was still a prince. "I do not understand."

"Then maybe you should not have exiled him to a foreign country that you then invaded," Reuben snapped.

Maybe Lelouch hadn't been exaggerating when he spoke of his time prior to the Ashfords, but—

"That was years ago. He has been protected for years. It should not be haunting him unless you failed in your duties."

"My duties?" Reuben scoffed. "The duties I was not even informed of? His mother died. Then his father cast him out like yesterday's trash."

It had been necessary, so V.V. would no longer see the two children as competing with him for Charles's affections. He had already deliberately maimed Nunnally.

Reuben poured himself another drink. "I cannot imagine how confused and cornered Lelouch must be feeling right now, when I cannot even tell whether His Majesty is meaning any of this earnestly."

"What happened to him?" Bismarck finally asked. Maybe Prince Lelouch wasn't a spoiled, ungrateful and unworthy brat. The alternative was worse. A spoiled child could be disciplined.

"I sheltered him. I was never his confidante. I imagine only Nunnally knows. Lelouch is not the type of person to share his secrets."

Bismarck scowled at the non-answer.

Reuben studied his glass, swirling the whiskey with rhythmic rocking motions. "Why do you care? You have isolated and trapped him in this school for the world to watch."

That had been the plan. The boy needed to be disciplined so he would abandon his childish rebellion. More importantly, the future Emperor could not be weighed down by commoners. He had to rise above them as someone who could be seen but never touched or understood.

They might have underestimated the boy's self-destructive dependence on his so-called friends. Bismarck wasn't even supposed to leave him alone with the student council.

"He worries me," Bismarck answered. "I have been tasked with protecting him, but he is not taking the threat seriously."

Reuben set down his glass, his shoulders sinking. "I see."

"That means something to you."

"Yes, I have watched the boy for years. I may not know particulars, but I've seen his hatred, his fear, his justice. I imagine you only remember the soft child he was, who laughed easily and doted on his sister."

"He still dotes on her." Which would be less of a problem if he was not so obvious about it, advertising his weakness to anyone with eyes. How was someone so easily manipulated supposed to stand firm as the Emperor?

"Doting…" Reuben frowned. "She almost died. On multiple occasions. Doting… Clings would be more apt."

"Will you stop speaking in riddles?"

The corners of his mouth ticked upwards. "Would you have me betray my future Emperor's confidence? If such questions truly concern you, earn his trust yourself."

"It's a security issue. I have to keep him safe."

Reuben laughed. "Then you would've ferried him to Pendragon already. I doubt he needs your protection as much as you think."

The boy was frail, physically inept. As Zero, he had humiliated Cornelia but only through acts of trickery and relying upon geass… "You know he is Zero."

The glass wobbled, then slowly tipped over, spilling whiskey across student records and financial reports.

"I…" Reuben swallowed. "I wondered… He is?"

"As a loyal citizen, you should have reported him," Bismark hissed.

"I already thought I was committing treason taking those two in. Why in the world would I consider myself a loyal citizen, much less advertise my treason to betray my ward?"

"He killed Clovis."

Reuben righted his glass. "I wish I could say it was a pity. It is hardly surprising, given everything."

"Which you refuse to elaborate on," Bismarck spat. His fingers itched for his sword to run the traitor through. His patience was already fried from dealing with one traitorous teen.

The noble daughter of the Stadtfeld family had also turned to treason. Was the air poisonous in Area Eleven to let such dissent brew?

He stood and brushed past the man, stopping before the door. "Careful that your words don't end in your family's premature death."

"If Prince Lelouch doesn't succeed, my family is already doomed. Is it really that surprising that I stand behind my family's only chance at salvation?"

"Then you better hope that your taciturn responses do not lead to his demise."

"Wait—" Reuben reclaimed his seat. "I will say two things, and that is all I will say."

Bismarck watched him sharply as he used a towel to soak up the spill.

"First, everytime Nunnally fell ill, I was terrified of not only losing her but Lelouch as well."

"You cannot—"

Reuben raised his hand with an irritated glare. "Secondly, the young man you arrested, Suzaku Kururugi, is very close to Lelouch."

With her roommate home for the weekend, Shirley turned Lelouch's gun over in her hands in the privacy of her dorm. It was worn, the barrel scuffed with use.

The morbid part of her wondered how many lives it had taken before she killed that Britannian officer.

Her throat tightened, and she closed her eyes as the bang echoed through her mind. She hated this. She hated that Lelouch had drawn into himself even more, that even now he was unwilling to tell them his secret.

She hated that he would be leaving in four weeks, ferried back to Pendragon, forever out of her life. She hated that a murderer like him would get to sit on the throne with her father never avenged.

She felt relieved that he would be gone, stealing these painful memories from her and preventing her from spiraling further into darkness.

If he hadn't been announced as heir, what would she have done?

Would she have turned Lelouch and herself in, cutting both of their lives short? That would've destroyed her mother. Maybe she could have covered up her part in the Britannian officer's death, letting the guilt of her deception eat at her as she watched Lelouch's execution.

Would he have even been executed; he was a royal.

Or maybe, she would have gone to him, begged him to make sense of her world thrown askew, fully become a traitor, join him in his eventual doom.

A tear ran down the barrel of the gun, and she hurriedly wiped her eyes.

He would be leaving; she did not need to torment herself with such questions. No matter what she did, he would be fine. The only question was if she should confront him with the truth or bury it.

What even was the truth? Lelouch had spouted off a story about being exiled and then insisted that the Emperor schemed his death.

It didn't make sense!

But the Emperor would never collaborate with a terrorist like Zero, right?

A knock on her door drew her out of her reverie. She stared at the gun, debating whether to stash it into her bag again. Instead, she pulled out her father's gun holster and strapped it around herself, beneath her shirt.

The knock grew more insistent.

The weight of the gun felt right, an echo of her father's marksmanship lessons. What would he want her to do? He was the truly wronged party, not her. She and Lelouch had never truly been friends, merely coworkers on the student council. Her eyes burned.

"Coming!" she snapped as they pounded on her door. She blotted her eyes and yanked open the door.

Three boys from the journalist club stared back at her. "Ah, Shirley Fenette. Boyfriend troubles?"

Shirley: Cute. Kind. Innocent. Would never harm a life.

"My father just died, you assholes!" she shouted, slamming the door in their face.

He blocked it with his foot, pushing his way into her room. "I apologize. I understand this is a difficult time for you, but—"

"You're never sorry, Richard," she hissed. "Get the hell out of my room."

He lifted an eyebrow. "Or what?"

Her nails gouged into her palms. She would not hit him. She was not that kind of person. "This is the girl's dorm."

He lifted his hands. "Easy, easy there. I only wanted to ask some questions."

One his cronies pushed forward, lugging a small familiar case.

"Are you recording this!"

Richard grinned. "Only for archival purposes. Now—"

"Out!" she screeched, shoving him forcibly back. "Tell your stupid club that my father's death is none of your business!"

"How uncouth." Richard dusted himself off exaggeratedly. "Come on! You're one of the few people who know Lelouch! And Cardemonde threatened to run over Jim with his motorcycle."

"And Milly kept eyeing me like she wanted to eat me," the other boy whispered, shivering.

"Oh, grow a pair," Richard admonished.

"You wouldn't say that if she bit your nose!"

Shirley crossed her arms. "So you think I'm easy?"

"Well… yeah?" Richard shrugged. "Stadtfeld's still sick, and she's technically a noble so…"

"I'm done here," she turned around.

The boy with the microphone pushed his way between her and the door.

"It's just an interview. You see we heard from some you were dating? Except he kept ditching you. Or that he's a virgin and scared of intimacy. Did he dump you because he is sleeping with his sister?"

She snatched the microphone from the one boy's hand and hurtled it against the wall. As they watched, shocked, she ground the shattered remains under her heel. "You know nothing, so you better shut your dirty mouths."

What was she doing? This wasn't her. But she was so furious, angry. And to say such shameful things about Nunnally—

She wanted to be angry. Maybe if she screamed, people would actually listen to her instead of dismissing her every time.

"Oh by the Emperor"—Richard rolled his eyes—"you really do love him! How stupid can you get? He is a prince; you're a commoner, and not just that, your parents are nobodies. He was always high and mighty. We're nothing but amusement to him."

She took a deep breath, trying to contain her tears as his words cut deep, digging into her own insecurities. "He is going to be the Emperor, Richard. I would watch your words, lest you end up like Julie."

He snarled. "That's exactly the point. He's not fit for the throne. He's a murderer!"

She flinched. If only that wasn't true.

"I am going to prove it to everyone, and you know things. You have to know!"

"Did you ever open up a history book?" she asked quietly. "How do you think the Emperor claimed the throne? How do you think he has kept it?"

"You—"

Honestly, that hadn't been something they covered in history class in much detail. The insinuation had been there, hidden between the lines of the Crown's victory over various revolts.

Lelouch had loved to rant on the topic, lambasting their textbook and teacher. If he worked up a frenzy, his tirade would begin toeing the edge of a treason.

In hindsight, was it such a surprise that he stepped over the line to actual treason? Out of everyone at their school, he intimately knew how his family worked.

"I'm done here," Shirley said, pushing past him. "Try to corner me again, and I'll happily report your insults of the royal family. You are not just attacking our Vice President."

The moment she stepped out of the dorms into the bright sun, her knees began to tremble. She could not believe she had just said that, threatened someone. It was exhilarating. She hated it.

How should she actually respond? She couldn't tell Lelouch that the journalist club was circling him like a pack of sharks. She would not be able to bear another death on her conscience.

Telling any of the Britannian soldiers would have her laughed at or end with them being arrested and publicly flogged.

She clasped her hand over her mouth as bile rose. She needed to get out. She needed room to breathe, to scream.

Her father would be so disappointed in what she was becoming.

"I heard your argument with those rabble," a snotty voice said. Caspian, one of the rare nobles on campus, smirked. "You have strong convictions."

She nodded hesitantly, her hands rising up to clasp her bare arms. Caspian, son of Viscount McLeod, was known to be rather dim and in possession of a rather nasty temper.

Generally, he kept to himself, socializing only among the limited pool of nobility at the school. The only exception was when it came to dating.

"May I buy you a drink?" he asked.

"I'm sorry, but…"

"You're shaking." He stepped forward, draping his jacket over her shoulders. He was the gallant sort, one of his few redeeming features. "I should report those hooligans for trespassing. Commoners truly have no manners."

Her mouth dried, her forced smile growing even more strained.

"You have the bearings of a lady," he quickly added. "The student council has always possessed a certain grace, a byproduct of Miss Ashford's tutelage, and she was raised a lady. Shall we?"

She looked around desperately, searching for any of her friends to help extradite herself from the situation. He was a noble. To say no would bring her endless courtyard felt oppressively empty. "I guess…"

"Wonderful." He offered his arm. "So you have known Lelouch for a long time. He never tolerated people well; he must like you."

Her heart thundered.

Bismarck stared at the empty cell and crossed his arms. "Where is Kururugi?"

The guard squeaked, as if he wasn't a soldier under the Holy Britannian Empire. Truly, Clovis had let his administration rot.

"Well?" he demanded.

"PrincessEuphemiademandedthatwelethimgoandthreatened—"

"Who?"

"Princess Euphemia!" The soldier cowered.

The Emperor would be displeased when he learned that Bismarck had left his post at Lelouch's side and gone beyond the boundaries of Ashford Academy, but he could not do his job properly if he did not understand the boy.

The image of a spoiled child was rapidly fading, and Bismarck was afraid of what would solidify. What Lelouch and Reuben insinuated had to be a lie.

Except he had seen hints of that self-destructive fire, his willingness to destroy everything, including himself. It had to be the spoiled rambling of a child who never learned better.

If it wasn't, he had to convince Charles that this truly had been a massive mistake. Someone like him could not sit on the throne.

The future Emperor could not long for his own death.

The door to Princess Euphemia's quarters was cracked open, and he paused at the giggles floating through the halls. There were two voices. He truly hoped that the insanity at Ashford had not spread so far.

The universe was out to disappoint him. Inside, sprawled out on her bed amidst plastic bags of fast food, Princess Euphemia and Suzaku Kururugi were watching a video together.

"What is this?" Bismarck asked.

Her eyes widened, and she jumped in front of the Eleven, spreading out her arms as if she could shield him.

"This isn't what it looks like," the Eleven stammered.

"Fraternizing with royalty? Yes, it is. And Euphemia, you should never have allowed such familiarity from a Number."

"I was the one who initiated."

"Then you are a fool." His glare sharpened on the Eleven behind her. "Come here, Eleven."

"Yes, my lord." Pulling free from Euphemia's hands, he rushed forward and knelt on the floor. "I am at your service."

"But you apparently cannot stay in your cell."

The boy swallowed. "I apologize, my lord."

"No, he doesn't," Euphemia cried, hurrying forward to place herself between them. "I was the one who freed him. Or do you expect him to disobey a direct order from royalty?"

"He is a soldier. He was arrested under my command. Only the Emperor can countermand that. You know that, Princess Euphemia. You forget your place."

"Lelouch asked me to!"

Of course the boy had because he did not make sense.

Bismarck pushed past her, grabbing the Eleven by the arm. "He is not the Emperor yet. Now, move, boy, and be thankful that I do not castrate you for your impropriety."

"No!" Euphemia shouted, running after them as they left her bedroom. "He didn't do anything wrong. I won't let you hurt him!"

"He is an Eleven!" Bismarck snapped.

"He's an Honorary Britannian. If it weren't for him, Zero would've captured Cornelia. Lelouch asked me—"

"The Emperor had separate orders and he sits on the throne still."

The Eleven fidgeted, his gaze resolutely focused on his feet.

Her lips pursed, a dangerous glint entering her eyes. This was a side of the sheltered girl that he had never seen before. If only her backbone wouldn't present itself in defense for a worthless Eleven.

"I will take him as my knight," she declared.

"Are you mad?" Bismarck shook his head. All teenagers were mad. "Let it go, girl, before I charge him with attempting to seduce a princess of the realm."

She flushed bright red. A tinge of red colored the Eleven's ears through his unruly mop of hair.

With a violent yank, he continued his fast pace out of her cheerful quarters.

Her panting breaths hounded his steps. At the final door, she threw herself into his way. "Please, Sir Bismarck. Please do not punish him for my transgressions. He did nothing wrong, I swear. I was the one who initiated. He has been a perfect gentleman the entire time and—"

"Move, princess," Bismarck demanded. "You will accompany me."

"What?" she whispered.

He rolled his eyes. "To inform your sister of your reprehensible infatuation. You are clearly beyond reason."

"No, please," she begged, tears brimming in her eyes.

"That is an order."

Caspian grinned as he led the girl past the guards and out of Ashford Academy. She wasn't his type, too boisterous by far. What mattered was her connection to the declared heir.

He was not going to let a boy with such filthy blood in his veins ascend to the throne.

"Where are we going?" she asked quietly, her voice betraying her nerves.

"Oh, it's just around the corner. It's a rather out of the way place."

Commoners truly were fools. He had thought he could mobilize Richard and the other resentful boys to do his dirty work for him. They could only dream of defamation, a truly ridiculous endeavor.

If they found anything actually incriminating, they would be killed. To oust Lelouch vi Britannia, they needed to kill him.

Fortunately, there were others united in the cause of keeping the throne pure.

Still, the commoners served their uses as distractions and to discover others more open to radical action. The guards were focused on external threats; they did not see the storm brewing inside.

She shuddered as he dragged her into the alleyway and up to a dingy bar.

"I don't think—" she whispered.

He yanked her forward, into the room.

"Lord Peter Charmant." Caspian bowed. "It is an honor to have you."

Peter Charmant's smile was all teeth. "And this is the young lady."

"What is this?" she asked, pulling away and bumping into the men blocking the exit.

"A chance to save your country," Lord Charmant offered. "To kill the Imposter Prince."

Welcome, Bismarck, to your existential crisis.

So the goal from here on out is every other week updates. :)