Gabrielle la Britannia was an actress by trade and noble lineage, years of stage work across the theatre's of Britannia, and a childhood in Pendragon had made her a fine study in the art of body language and it's intricacies. It was the whetstone that had sharpened her enough to survive in the cut-throat circus known as the imperial court.
It is those long honed survival instincts that now held her in a vice grip, staying her hand and tongue as she watched her daughter, now her sole surviving child, throw herself desperately into the chest of the Demon of Britannia for a crushing embrace.
If the wailing of her daughter, or the tears and snot seeping into his crisp white shirt bother him, he showed none of it. It feels like hours to watch, as a slender hand run through her daughter's golden locks, brushing away her sorrow and fears, as tender whispers soothe her in a way Gabrielle is unable to provide.
Oh Marianne, if only you could see the man your boy has become.
She knows if she breaks, falters in her control for even a moment she may never recover. So she watches as the one person she trusts with her daughter's safety offers her the comfort that she can not.
As she can start to feel the tears pinprick at her eyes before a soft presence comes to rest at her side. A small turn of her chin, and she is met with a vision of lavender and ivory. Eyes that reflect her own sorrow, red and puffy, stare back at her as the youngest of the Li Britannia sisters stands to offer what silent comfort she can.
More minutes pass in relative silence before Laila wears herself out, and has to be escorted inside, guided by Euphemia's gentle hand and soft voice. The guards that trail behind them in sleek black and gold uniforms do not offer the comfort they once did when her firstborn still lived.
With Laila and Euphemia gone, Gabrielle was now as alone as she can be with Lelouch, his ever present shadow keep a respectful distance but their presence is always felt. He had stepped closer, and gently took her hands into his own.
"So long as I draw breath, she will always have a place in my home, and I will see that no harm comes to her. I swear to you, on the memory of my mother and my sister and the love I hold for Clovis." He reassures her. She has never held any doubt in her heart for Lelouch's love for her son, or daughter but it puts her at ease to hear the vow spoken aloud. Realer, binding.
"He loved you," Gabrielle says softly, unable to hold back the tears as she looks into Lelouch's sole amethyst eye, one of the many scars he carries from that night. "He spoke of you every letter, every phone call. How excited he was to display his newest piece to you, how you were helping him with policy, or how he planned to finally best you at a game of chess."
"He had something he was working on," She continues, the words spilling from her faster than the tears. "He didn't tell me anything about it, but he said he was working on a surprise, the greatest gift he could ever give you. He loved you. He loved you, and Nunnally, and Marianne, and he missed them so much, my boy loved you with all his heart and he wanted to see you, and Laila. He loved you, and he's gone. He loved you and I don't know what to do anymore..."
Her knees give out beneath her as she echoes her daughter's performance into the chest of the man who is not her child, but every bit her son.
The guestroom door clicks behind him as Lelouch closes it. Two guards take position at either side of the entrance. He knows it is paranoia that whispers in his mind that he should re-vet every single person in his employ, but that is grief and rage and he will not let them control him.
The only people he allows in his home are those with his implicit trust.
"My prince, it is late." Jean's voice is soft, but firm. Her first priority is as always his well-being, even when he wants to focus on anything but himself.
"Yes, I just.." The sigh that escapes him is tired in a way he hasn't felt in years. Some naive part of him thought he'd finished losing loved ones years ago. Reality has a way of making fools of us all, he thinks to himself as he lifts his head to regard his faithful captain. The sentence hangs in the air, unfinished.
Jean's frown is creased with worry, and her hand is out-stretched towards him. Her own purple eyes, a shade lighter than his own look at him and he reaches out to take her hand. She gives him a gentle squeeze, and he draws what strength he can from the gesture.
"It will not be an easy task, but I trust you two with the Lady Gabrielle's safety and health." Lelouch turns his head to regard the two guards. Sandra Yurkman, and Fredrick Edwards. Two veterans of the Italian campaign, used to being given impossible tasks and succeeding. "If she starts to become a threat to her own safety, or god forbid Laila's. I am to know immediately."
The pair nod in solemn unison, and it is enough of a weight off his mind that Lelouch allows himself to be lead to his own bedroom by Jean's patient hand. It is his shield's silent, grounding touch that stops the silence from whispering more poison in his own mind.
His own door clicks behind him, and locks automatically. He doesn't need the help, even with the lights off, but Jean assists in undressing him, and when he's finished he returns the favour, their clothes tossed to the floor as they crawl into bed.
Under silk sheets, Lelouch pulls Jean close, their legs entwined together and Lelouch allows himself to just breath in her presence, to forget about the events of the day as he wraps her in a hug, if only for a moment.
Eventually he loosens the embrace, and Jean pulls back just enough to be face to face with him. He can't see her in the dark of his room, the currents blocking any moonlight, but he knows she is reading him like a book.
"Sleep," She says, in as close to a command as she'll give him before she rests her head on his chest. "You'll need it for Area Eleven."
She's right, but his mind has started to turn, thoughts of justice and plans for revenge churning out in rapid succession. He will sleep in time, for now he indulges in thoughts of the hell he will unleash come morning.
Notes: And so we begin. If you can't tell from the prologue and the tags, this is going to be some rare pair nonsense, with some classic Britannian incest mixed in for fun. Also, the tags will be updated as relationships become relevant, so keep an eye out or have fun guessing, cause I think at least one planned relationship might be controversial, idk. Anyways, hope you enjoyed!
