Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova, Nastya to her former master, Ana to her current one. She appeared in the glow of teleportation with a comfortable sigh as she returned to the Bael castle. Working with magicians was always a trying experience. Some more than others. Often it consisted of sitting in a dreary study waiting for her summoner to come to a conclusion she could have told them hours before. Though she supposed the journey was more interesting than the destination for that type. For them, her role was to demonstrate, not analyse. They were the worst.

Then of course there was the more fun type. The young. The inexperienced. The ones who managed to find a hint of real magic somehow and decided to dive in head-first. Those were much more entertaining. The type who hadn't had the fear of death or fates far worse drilled into them by those who knew better. Always eager to engage in the most dangerous nonsense for little better reason than to 'see if it really works'. Like the group she had just left. A bunch of silly schoolgirls who happened to find a real magic book. Gave their little secret club a real magicky sounding name too. Rosenkreuz. Perhaps they didn't realise the name they were borrowing that they thought was fake was in fact as real as the book they had found. Said group probably wouldn't be especially happy when they found out a bunch of malicious teenagers were using their name. But that wasn't Ana's problem.

... Unless the girls decided to make it her problem. In which case the price would be rather high. She wondered if her master would be interested in a few amateur magicians. He did need to fill out his Pawns after all and the group's ringleader did have red hair which seemed to match his tastes. Questions for later if the chance ever came up. She would float the idea by him in the meantime.

But, as her attention had drifted to her master, the reason she was so grateful for the distraction of her contract had returned to her mind along with him. She would never have gone to Zekram's estate even if he had invited her. She never, ever, ever wanted to be in that house ever again. Her near century long nightmare of avoiding becoming that man's toy by the skin of her teeth, that was behind her. Her life now, it was better in every way. Some of her fondest memories were in this house. Beaten only by snippets of her childhood she could still remember and their tour across the world a few years ago. This was her life now. She had chosen to serve Master Lelouch and it was a choice she would make again a thousand thousand times in a heartbeat.

But... The problem lay in where her past and present intersected. Zekram and Lelouch interacted frequently since Lady Misla fell ill. The arrangement they had made. It was a trap. Ana knew it was a trap. But telling Lelouch was pointless because he knew it too. Yet he walked into it anyway. He felt any sacrifice that would come with it would be worth it if it brought back his mother. That sort of all or nothing gambit. It worked wonderfully so long as it always worked.

Ana didn't know, but she had a feeling. After so long spent with Zekram, after Viy had told her so many of his secrets, she had a good read on the man. Whatever trap the ancient devil had set, she had a feeling it would spring at this moment. Right when her master was vulnerable. Right when his greatest weakness was fit to be exploited.

She didn't know if he was back yet. First port of call was to find that out. She left the teleportation room and headed to the nearest window overlooking the driveway. Looking out, she could see the luxury car was parked in the open garage. So they were back. The question became where.

She put a hand up to her ear. "Master Lelouch?" The communication spell had activated so he wasn't too far away, but all she could hear was his breathing? "Master Lelouch, can you hear me? Are you alright?" Again, no answer but his breathing and a sound she couldn't recognise.

She frowned and ended the spell. That was strange. Well, there were only a few places he was likely to be. She started making her way to the library, the most likely on her short list of possible locations. Her smart, short-heeled shoes thudded on the carpet due to her slightly hurried gait. It was perhaps due to this that she was sent a curious glance by a certain black cat. Kuroka's head poked out from an alcove by a statue, only for it to retreat again when she saw who it was. "Kuroka!" No response. Slightly exasperated at people ignoring her at this point her steps grew even heavier as she approached the alcove– "Oh."

Not just Kuroka.

Shirone was sat in the alcove hidden behind a statue, her knees drawn up to her chest, huddled into herself.

"Oh, Shirone, are you alright?" the once princess asked, squatting down as best she could in her heavy dress. "What's wrong?"

"Lulu's mad, nya," was the quiet response, mumbled into the catgirl's knees.

The silence drew on, making it clear there would be no greater explanation coming from the younger sister. So the elder spoke up for her. "When your master arrived home, Shirone wanted to play, nya. He shouted at her and gave her a fright."

"Didn't shout," the smaller girl corrected, "Didn't need to. He was just mad. He was scary."

There were many things Ana could infer from that. Most prominently that the meeting with Zekram had indeed gone badly and that she needed to speak with her master. For now, "Sweetie, you know he wasn't mad at you, yes?" The elder Bishop brushed her thumb against the younger's cheek gently. Just the slightest touch that Shirone would lean into. "It was just a very bad time. I'm sure he feels very guilty for startling you like that."

"Munya." Ana couldn't tell if that was even a word, buried as it was when Shirone hid her face again.

The princess let out a sigh, with something halfway between a helpless smile and a guilty frown. "I'll make sure he comes and apologises properly when he can," she promised. Whether it was made to Shirone, Kuroka or both wasn't entirely certain, even to her.

"Hmmm..." was the only response the black cat gave.

"Shirone?" Ana prompted one last time, receiving a golden eye looking sideways at her through white bangs. "Do you know where Master Lelouch– Where Lulu is now?"

The young girl shook her head. "Kallen knows, nya. Went with him."

Right. That made sense. "Thank you, Shirone."

"Nya."

Offering that same helpless half-smile to the elder sister, Ana got her feet back under her and stepped away from the alcove. "Kallen?" she called, casting the communication magic once again.

"Who said that?!"

The Bishop winced. Right. Hadn't gotten to teaching her that yet. "Kallen, it's Anastasia. I'm talking to you through a kind of telepathy magic."

"That's a thing?!"

"Between members of the same peerage, yes," she explained hastily so she could get to more important matters. "Where is Master Lelouch?"

"He's er, he's... I don't think he wants to be disturbed."

Commendable but misguided. "Is that what's best for him at this moment?"

"... He ordered me not to disturb him."

"Then don't. Tell me where he is." A beat of silence. "I'll find the both of you sooner rather than later regardless, Kallen."

"... I'm outside the training room in the west wing, ground floor."

The training room on... Oh. That was less than ideal, and concerning. "I'm on my way."

The Bishop marched her way across the castle to the opposite side, paying little attention to the servants she passed. One of them gave her more than a little extra space as they passed one another. Was she that unsettling? If her master was upset perhaps she needed to school herself a little better. She stopped a corridor away from the training hall, took a settling breath and resumed her march at a more measured pace.

Kallen stood outside the training room door at parade rest. Ana knew it wasn't the time but she couldn't help but imagine how cute the redhead would look in some sort of proper uniform. Oh, but then Ana would need to wear one too, wouldn't she? Maybe a version with pants for Kallen and a skirt for Ana? Sara would probably go for it. Oh and little Shirone with her little ears poking out of a service cap would be so adorable! Ooh, that was too good an idea to forget about. Now wasn't the time but she would definitely come back to it later!

"Ana," Kallen greeted her with uncertainty.

"He's in the destruction-resistant room," Ana stated the fact of the situation.

Kallen frowned. "Is that what this room is? I thought it was just another training room."

"It's just another training room," the princess agreed, "One designed for the express purpose of training the power of destruction without collateral damage. Lelouch trained in there as a child under his father's instruction. He also very much doesn't like it." Her eyes tracked past the door guard to see the door. No sounds could be heard through it but that only made sense. It was enchanted so thoroughly to not leak anything out. That was the point. "You can therefore understand my concern that he's sequestered himself in there alone."

"I can't let you in."

"For now, I just want to know what happened." From there she could determine how bad it was. Whether she would need to get in.

And as Kallen told her, she found that yes, it really was quite bad and she would absolutely need to see her King.

"I don't really get it," Kallen admitted. "Like, the old man's being a cock but it's like, couldn't he just not marry this Rias girl then? I mean it's a bit shite but better than losing his mum."

It wasn't that simple but she wasn't sure she could help Kallen understand that with just words. "Zekram... He likes to... Pick at people. He peels away at who they are, finding the vulnerabilities they have, then using those weaknesses to unravel them entirely. In the end they become dolls. Playthings and tools stripped of what they were until he becomes the centre of their world."

She had seen it happen. It was a process that could take decades or more depending on how strong the individual was and Zekram's tastes favoured the strong willed. It was this she had used against him to keep herself safe. Viy helped her see the cracks in his creations. His repurposed slaves as imperfect as the people they had started as. She picked at these new weaknesses to let the person they were shine through again. And then... He would break them again.

This was the survival game she had engaged in for eighty years. She made herself too interesting to break by fixing his broken toys so he could break them again instead. Over and over she had allowed the light of their soul to shine through. Offered them just the faintest ray of hope in the understanding and expectation that Zekram would delight in snuffing it out again. And the worst part was, she could see what he was doing. She would give him temporary amusement enslaving his favourites all over again but in the process... Zekram didn't understand Viy but he understood her more than well enough. She gave him hopes to snuff out. She gave him dreams to crush. All to keep his predilections directed at someone else for a little longer, and yet with every pawn she sent into renewed suffering she gave away a piece of herself at the same time.

He hadn't needed to dismantle her sense of self like he had the others. What need was there when she was doing it all by herself? It may have taken longer but she would have broken all the same given enough time...

"Ana?"

She startled, blinking, her eyes darting around until they found the redhead giving her a concerned look. "Ana, are you okay? You were a bit–"

"I'm fine," she promised, sounding just a little too forceful to her own ears. "I'm fine. Just, got lost in my thoughts for a moment." She cast her mind back, trying to remember the thread of the conversation. "Yes, um, Zekram is doing what he does to his servants," she forced herself not to let her mind drift again, "But for Lelouch, he's likely doing it with a mind to just stripping away his weaknesses. In his twisted mind, I imagine he thinks of it as doing our King a kindness."

"Getting rid of weaknesses doesn't sound so bad," Kallen admitted, "But doing it by holding his mum's life hostage is pretty fucked."

"Everyone has weakness," Ana stated with certainty. "There is no such thing as a being that doesn't have some sort of vulnerability. Weakness is what it means to be alive." She shook her head. This wasn't the time or place for her personal philosophy brought about by Viy's companionship. "As for Lelouch's weakness... He... He has a pathological need to pursue the happiness of those he cares for. To him, Misla dying is unacceptable. Rias being forced to choose between her happiness and her family is also unacceptable. Misla's situation is more immediately severe, but the chance of an acceptable resolution is far lower." She swallowed as she allowed herself to dip into her memories of Zekram again. "I can't be certain... But I believe Zekram's ideal outcome would be Lelouch choosing Misla, yet failing to save her regardless, failing everyone. It would crush him, but it would harden his heart, and that's all Zekram cares about."

"You're joking!" That was the exact wrong thing to say, and it must have shown on her face because Kallen immediately back-pedalled. "That's rotten! Doing that to his own grandkid, it's bloody abusive! He... He'd seemed nice enough..."

It felt cruel to tell her what Ana already knew. The reason he had seemed so nice as he asked Lelouch's Queen so many questions about herself. Sowing the seeds to be reaped in the future. It wouldn't be the first time. "Kallen, I'm going in to see him."

Much as it clearly pained her, Kallen shook her head. "I can't let you do that."

Ana didn't want to use force but if she had to, she would. Boosted Gear or not, Queen piece or not, Kallen wasn't a match for her. Not yet. Still, "Kallen, what is your role as his Queen?" she asked. "Are you here to follow his every order to the letter? Or are you here to look after his wellbeing even when he won't?" She pressed on as she saw the redhead's uncertainty come through stronger on her face. "You know as well as I do, leaving him in there to torture and blame himself will only do more harm than good."

"... You know how to help him?" the redhead asked.

The princess smiled. How to help put someone back together after Zekram tried to break them? Oh yes, indeed. After all, she had decades of practice. How nice it would be to feel good about it for once.

The door to one of the most secure rooms in the castle opened. And in walked not Ana, but on little frozen feet waddled a little snow golem. Ana watched from around the doorfame as it approached her master so focused on the destructive energy he was marshalling against an unseen target. The little creature continued walking at an angle around Lelouch until he was within sight of the young devil. His control over the malevolent energy faltered as he caught sight of the three foot tall construct made entirely of snowballs. He watched as the chilly little creature continued to waddle into the field of debris his power had left behind. Stopped. Waved with its stubby little arm.

Ana watched as he turned his perplexed expression toward the door. Toward her. She waved with her fingers, a sad smile on her face as she entered the training room, closing the door behind her.

"Ana..." He spoke her name. But there was clearly nothing to follow it. For once her erudite master was entirely at a loss for words.

"Did this help?" she asked, gesturing at the pile of broken things partially unmade. She patted her amusing little creation on its head as it returned to her, then dissolved it, let it dissipate as water vapour.

"... No," he answered after a moment, shaking his head. "No it didn't. It made it worse."

"It never helped me either," she admitted as she continued to approach him. "It felt good to grow stronger. A natural inclination when I became a devil. But it doesn't help. Power can't save you from him. All he needs to know is what hurts you and he'll know exactly how to make it hurt as much as possible."

"I hate him." His voice shook with tightly restrained fury. "I never thought, I never dreamed I could hate someone even close to as much as I hated that man. But Zekram..."

Tense and intonation, they told Ana that her master wasn't speaking of Zekram when he said 'that man'. She wanted to know, as she always did. Viy's presence grew stronger but she begged him to stay away. She didn't need his eyes. Not now. Not for this. Her curiosity was nothing compared to helping her master heal. Not just to be the boy she had come to know. But the man she had been given hints of when she first met him. The man who had the power to take the world and the kindness to give it up for those he loved.

Zekram was a monster. He was ancient. he was intelligent. He was experienced. He had watched empires of every species rise and fall. And yet for all of that, he couldn't see what Anastasia saw. The hatred and love that motivated Lelouch to see empires dance in the palm of his hand. And Zekram thought stripping it away would be for the better.

Experience could never account for what one simply didn't know.

The century old princess took her master into her arms. As she held him, he didn't cry. His will wasn't fragile that he would break down in anguish. He had known despair greater than this. But as he relaxed into her hug, she felt the seething rage ebb, some of the tension leave his body. Silently, she led him out of the training room, sending Kallen a grateful smile as she did that the redhead returned.

Down the hall she walked with him as he tried to school himself. To put out a strong front for the castle staff. Ana had no idea how successful he was. After getting to know him so well over their years together there were a litany of tells of his true disposition. But still they walked, Ana gently leading him to his room to rest. Once there, she shut the door behind her and magically sealed it. She didn't want them to be disturbed.

She helped him get ready for bed. There was no fight coming from him. No attempt at bravado for not needing her help. No assurance she didn't need to go so far. For once, with not a word of protest, her master let her take care of him. Undress him, then undress herself. Since their master-servant relationship had taken a turn for the slightly intimate, they rarely slept clothed anymore and almost never separately.

Tonight would be different though.

Lelouch had sat on the bed waiting for her to be ready before sliding under the covers. But once she was ready, once he moved to do just that, she held his hand. Kept him where he was. "Ana?" he asked, confused, emotionally exhausted.

She lowered herself, perched herself on his lap, her arms around his neck. "Lelouch," she so rarely spoke his name nowadays without her self-appointed title affixed to it. "What he wants you to be, that isn't who you need to be."

He looked into her eyes. Though he had seen and felt it all before, it was a tempting view to ignore. And yet he did it all the same. She was his only outlet for sexual release and he still cared for her mind, for her self before her body. "I don't want to need to be anything anymore."

"That isn't true," she denied him gently, her forehead touching his. "You have never been a man without a cause. It may not always have been grand, but it has always been something. And always rooted to the one weakness he wishes to destroy." Gently, she tilted until her lips were against his, just for a moment. "You care, Lelouch. Not about everyone. Not even about most people. They don't matter to you. Only the few who find their way into your heart. And those few... You would burn the world to cinders to make them happy. You would render yourself to ashes to make sure they can smile. That isn't weakness, Lelouch. That's a strength Zekram could never imagine."

"I don't want to do it again." This time there was a tremble in his voice.

Again. A confirmation of what she suspected. "Then don't. You don't need to go that far. But fear, that is a weakness you need to lose if you want to safeguard the happiness of your loved ones. You can't fight for them if you fear yourself and what you might do. Just giving of yourself, they wouldn't want that. Do you think they would be happy, knowing what you gave up for them?" It had been intended as a simple rhetorical question. But it was written on her master's face how it hit something far deeper than she intended. "The you who would give endlessly of himself is the you I can't bear to watch. But the you who would work and fight tirelessly for those he loves... That's the Lelouch I fell in love with."

"Ana... Ana, I–"

"Don't need to say it," she hushed him with a kiss. "It's enough for you to know. You are loved, my master. And as someone who loves you, we don't want to see you hurt for our sakes. Never."

"Ana..." He spoke, breathed her name once again, only to go silent as she moved herself forward, up, then slowly...

"Ah," she squeaked quietly as she felt him. Felt his intrusion. Felt that sacred barrier break. For over a century her chastity had remained intact. Survived the Bolsheviks. Survived the devils who turned her. Survived Zekram at so great a cost. To be gifted here to her beloved master, a gift to prove her love for him. Rivulets of red slithered down between them, staining his manhood as he made her a woman. His woman. His servant in whatever way he needed until the end of her days.

His hips jumped, pulling a startled cry from her as her sensitive folds were suddenly pierced even deeper. She took hold of his shoulders so she might carefully lower herself, indulging his impatience. Every inch of him burned as it passed deeper inside her than any had ever been. Her body quivered with the pleasant pain, the untold intimacy of her first time with her dear master.

But she was struggling.

And he could see it.

"Ana..." He grabbed her by her backside, lifted her off of him. For an instant, heartbreak. Only an instant as he laid her on the bed beneath him and re-entered her far more gently. As he took her lips with his. As he touched her in all the ways he knew she liked from his many explorations of her body. Whether or not he felt love for her, he made love to her. Gentle, tender and sweet as his body rolled against hers. As his manhood penetrated her in smooth, gliding strokes. The pain a faint memory in the face of the physical and emotional pleasures of the now.

His pace quickened. She gasped and moaned, her arms and legs wrapping around him to draw him closer, as though being skin to skin wasn't enough. Her moans turned to pleasured yelps as his pace increased again. His hips moving in a desperate, frenzied rutting that the princess was only too glad to endure while it drove her to her own peak.

She could have sworn she felt the pulse of it inside her, a moment before he drove himself fully as deep into her womanhood as he could. Then the warmth that bloomed inside her as he reached completion right after she had. All she had in that scant few seconds was the feeling of shared bliss with her beloved master, his seed emptied into her waiting womb.

Would she bear his children? It seemed an implausible dream for such to be the case in this moment. But it was also a thought that brought her unexpected joy.

Her master, he looked barely even awake as he hovered over her. Realisation of what they had done was the only thing keeping him conscious. Questions of whether that changed anything.

Questions that did not need to be answered tonight. Gently she put a hand on his head and pulled him down to rest against her breast. "Rest now, my master. Everything can wait until morning. Tomorrow will be a new day."