Smashing Chili Peppers in my Mouth

Marrybell mel Britannia, the Witch of Britannia

Aerial Battleship Great Britannia, over the Toromo Agency ruins

An hour into Operation Dorothy

"~Sometimes I feel like I don't got a partner… ~Sometimes I feel like my only friend- ~is the city I live in, the city of angels~ lonely as I am, together we cry…~"

As the lyrics fluttered out of Marrybell's lips, they sailed under a downpour of hot shower until they arrived at the foggy glasses separating the ordinary outside world from her little slice of heaven. The soothing feeling of warm water coating her bare skin assured the princess of her serenity as long as she never left the bathtub, more and more she was lured into staying within the steamy mist forever.

"…~I drive on her streets- cause, she's my companion, ~I walk through her hills- cause, she knows who I am…~ she sees my good deeds and- she kisses me windy~ I never worry… now that is a lieeee~!"

Inside the showers, hiding behind a single pane of blurred glass, it was the safest haven Marrybell had ever resided in outside of her mother's embrace. However, just like how everything that resembled her mother was now a distant memory, the reason she ventured into Lelouch's private restroom was to wash away the blood of his mistress staining her hair.

To be completely honest, she hated making an enemy out of Lelouch. It wasn't what she preferred, nor was it what he deserved. Making matters ten times worse, she couldn't even trounce him in one swift strike, letting him run rampant somewhere aboard, creating more messes that would hamper her from achieving her final wish.

Lelouch was an excellent emperor, Marrybell had no trouble admitting to it. He was a ruler she could never hope to match up against, that was painfully obvious as well. However, the world had no need for generous kings, the world was in demand for a sacrifice, and that obligation was singing her name from the throne.

"~I don't ever want to feeeel… ~the way I did that day~ -take me to the place I looove… ~take me all the way~!"

She didn't want to be remembered as a usurper to a beloved king. She didn't want to stack the pile of corpses on her conscience any higher. She didn't want to endanger any of her cherished troops in a bid for power. Yet, all of it was something that had to be done, for she was the only one with the foresight to see what must be done.

In spite of all that, Marrybell feared death all the same. A part of her was stuck in an endless scuffle for control over her future, screaming at her to remember the faces she was leaving in her wake, maybe even attending her wake if her body could be salvaged by then.

A part of her thought how unfair it was, seven billion people in the world, and only she was in the position to offer the rest of them salvation from the horror of bloodshed.

"~I don't ever want to feeeeeel…! ~The way I did that DAY~! -take me to the place I LOOOVE~! ~Take me all the WAAAAAY-!" Marrybell slammed her right fist against the abstract tiles of the bathroom wall, her other hand was just about getting sour after raising it over the water for so long. "~…Take me all way~ ayyyy~ yeaa, yeeea- yeah…"

A knock at the door roused Marrybell from her reminiscence, she would have reacted jumpier were she not so dazed in the condensed heat. "It's Oldrin."

"Enter." Marrybell was almost impressed by her knight's boldness, she only lingered outside for twelve seconds before twisting the doorknob.

"I brought you a—" Oldrin froze midway through a sentence, at least she had the decency to be stupefied by Marrybell's hazy figure in the nude after closing the door. "-A change… of clothes."

"You can leave them by the bin."

"…R-right…" Oldrin's awkwardness only encouraged Marrybell's audacity.

"I'm done here, dry me."

"You need help… drying?"

"Do you not see this hand?" The injured girl flicked her left arm over the glass panel rail, giving her preposterous demand a margin of ground. The splashing of water soon died off once she turned off the faucet, lending Oldrin's beating heart the quietness it needed to echo in the washroom.

"Marry, I…"

"Wipe. Me. Down." Teasingly, the princess injected a dose of authority into her drift.

Oldrin instinctively recoiled from Marrybell's assertive attitude, unconsciously mistaking her embarrassment for submission. The skillful Devicer's docility only fuelled the princess' aggression, pushing her to make a braver move. Forcefully, she rammed aside the single pane of foggy glass preventing her body from total exposure. Upon doing so, it became rather apparent that while she was the one naked, Oldrin was the one feeling the shame.

"Are you planning on cleaning me with your uniform? Where's your towel?"

"Err…" Clumsily, Oldrin grabbed a folded piece of cloth from the racks. It took her good couple of tries since her eyes were so focused on somewhere else.

"C'mon now, I'm getting cold. You gonna hang me out to dry instead?" It was rather childish of her, but Marrybell hadn't smirked so genuinely in a long time.

Oldrin held the towel up by both ends, leaning over her slim body as she made an effort to wrap it over the royalty's shoulders. Unfortunately, that was as far as she got before something far more primal within her took over and she crashed her juicy lips onto Marrybell's own.

Greedily, her loyal pilot sucked and licked all over her moist mouth. The caramel-haired deviant's lustful tongue invaded deep in-between Marrybell's teeth and fervidly wrestled her own taser in a pool of drool for pleasure. Lost in the moment, the princess allowed herself to fully indulge in the delicious favour of their passionate kiss until another unquenchable thirst was beginning to boil inside of her.

"My pretty, do you want it?"

"Y-yeah."

"Say it, put into words what you want. Say to me what it is you want done between us." Despite the slipping grip on her self-discipline, Marrybell wouldn't let such an opportunity to assert dominance waste away.

"Y-you really want me to say it…?" Peering up at her with eyes beaming in a flare of yearning, Oldrin really was drying her liege with her attire by how tightly she hugged her.

"Yes, tell me. Speak to me what you want." Oldrin avoided meeting Marrybell's glance, her cheeks were burning brighter and hotter than a shot from the Hadron cannon.

"…I want to tell you that…" Judging by the tempo of their cuddle, Marrybell was sure that this was her knight's last pause before crumbling in her palm.

"Tell me…?"

"The lyrics are actually 'I don't ever want to feel like I did that day'."

Feeling like that, Marrybell's character was assassinated.

— —

"Are you… are you- smiling?"

"…No, why would I-" Oldrin couldn't sneak a snicker by Orpheus as she regrouped with the rest of her team, showing no intention of lingering around her brother. "No, I am not."

"Why is your hair wet?"

"Because I… touched water, duh."

"Water- w-what?" Confusion clouded the lower portion of Orpheus' expression, the part not covered by his visor. His head motion darting back and forward between his sister and his commander perfectly demonstrated his befuddlement, too bad for him Oldrin wasn't so willing to share.

"Don't look at her, talk to me instead." Marrybell curbed her Head Knight's curiosity with two or three tugs on his sleeve, dragging his attention away from Oldrin's shrinking silhouette. "Do you like Red Hot Chili Peppers?"

"Like- the band?"

"Yes, of course." Marrybell's most hated pepper was jalapeno, she reminded herself.

"Yeah, I'd say… I enjoy their music."

"Favourite song?" Orpheus contemplated his pick from a wide selection of tunes and the princess observed his subtle attempt to whistle or a stealthy rhythmic tap of his foot, all hints of a deeper cultivated young man beneath the mask.

"It's cliched, but I'll have to go with Californication. The CGI music video… that was pretty funny."

"You wanna know what your sister's is?" Orpheus thought he was being given a choice, incorrect. "It's Under the Bridge."

"That's a solid pick."

"…Sure is."

Having arrived at a conversation's natural conclusion, the two teens mutually flirted with the notion of respecting the value of silence, interspersed by short whistles of melody from Orpheus. How Marrybell wanted to cherish this fascinating minute of harmony, how she tried but failed to ignore the residue of gunpowder in the air after every breath as she quietly sang.

"~Destruction leads to a very-rough-road but it also breeds creation~ and earthquakes are to a girl's guitar- they're just another good vibration~ and tidal waves couldn't save the world from Californication…~"

Her peace and solitude were broken all too soon by the call of duty approaching the fleet captain with a formal salute. "Your Highness, the green woman has recovered." One of Marrybell's many masked Glinda Knights informed her.

"…From getting minced to gibs by the Percival?"

"Would you like to see the cam footage?"

"Did you watch her come back?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"How was it?"

"Absolutely disgusting." Marrybell made her pause for mulling very deliberate.

"…Then be sure I see it." The female pilot offered an acknowledgement in a light-hearted chuckle before leading the way to where the Code bearer was kept, Marrybell and her security detail ensured they were never too far behind.

— —

Marrybell treasured her own life to a certain degree, as most normal humans would, but never overly so. She believed herself capable of bidding the realm of the living goodbye if some of her conditions were met; such as sacrificing it for a peaceful tomorrow. Or if death was looking to be the more preferable outcome on the table, such as facing torture and humiliation at the hands of her enemies.

"…Are there times when it sucks not being able to die?"

"Plenty."

"Like right now?"

"Hardly."

C.C. put on a condescending smirk Marrybell had come to associate with Lelouch's sorceress, smouldering her scornful glare in a sardonic sneer. It must be rather tedious to always be keeping up her charade comes rain or shine; the princess found herself relating to the immortal's need for a façade.

Marrybell circled around the cross C.C. was crucified on, for lack of a better word. Bound by the straightjacket the woman favoured as a fashion trend, she was confined by many leashes of leather to a standing stretcher with her arms spread wide. Thanks to dipping her toe in the pond of supernaturalism, the princess understood exactly how important it was to keep a Code bearer restrained and spared no expense doing so, not that money was an issue to ponder over.

"How long have you been alive?"

"Long enough to know it's none of your business." It was natural for prisoners to be uncooperative, Marrybell begrudgingly accepted that fact.

"Then I must apologize, how can I forget the rudeness of asking a lady her age." Marrybell faked a cough to break the tempo. "Allow me to ask something else instead. Where is Lelouch?"

C.C. rolled her eyes to the back of her head, her blanch sclera acted as a symbol of disrespect to her captor. "Apology rejected."

"Don't make things so difficult for yourself." Wary of the circle she paced around C.C., Marrybell was cautiously attentive to the tiniest twitch coming from her prisoner.

"I honestly don't know what you're expecting." C.C. shook her head, just not overly so due to her constraints. "You have nothing. Not a single thing to hold over me."

"Give me Lelouch… so that I don't have to kill him to save the world."

For a fleeting second, C.C.'s detached gaze flashed a blistering glow as the royalty and the immortal forged a connection through a formless contact. "Keep dreaming, little princess. That's the most you can do."

"I have the means to end our era of warfare in a definite… and elegant manner. Lelouch strives for the betterment of our world via generosity and kindness, but he lacks the drive! I am she who can make that ultimate sacrifice! Because unlike him, a life of luxury has yet to mend my aching wounds."

Skeptical of Marrybell's credence, the Code bearer sighed in discontent and tedium. "…Yawn."

"You're testing my tolerance, C.C., realize that I do not—"

"-You really just love listening to yourself talk, huh? Afraid to let you know your voice isn't as precious as you're deluding yourself into believing." Rudely, Marrybell was interrupted. Every instance of enduring C.C.'s derision was akin to shovelling piles of coal into a steam engine, the fuel boiled within her temperament, threatening to overflow.

"…" Marrybell said nothing outwardly, on the inside she was absolutely seething having to put up with the attitude of the immortal.

"I care for naught whatever scheme or plan you have devised in your folly attempt at world peace. In fact, I care not for world peace in the least." C.C. said, speaking in a lecturing tone she didn't earn. "If you want to hear anything from me, hear this. Surrender now, you still haven't done anything we can't forgive. You have acknowledged your king's generosity, partake it whilst the offer remains, lest you seek to confront his wrath."

In response to C.C.'s suggestion, Marrybell gathered the strength in her unharmed arm and backhanded her across the face.

Gleaning by the older woman's expression, Marrybell wouldn't be terrible off the mark were she to assume C.C. was taken back; and by taken back she meant mildly surprised to be slapped. "Your funeral, princess. Or we might feel extra spiteful and parade your body in the streets, it's a coin toss."

Wanting nothing more to do with the irritating Code bearer, Marrybell traced her steps out of the interrogation room and sealed the door behind her.

— —

I forgot my meds on the Grandberry. Shit… fucking shit- shit… There was never a proper time for her mental ailment to make a resurgence. Marrybell didn't even feel like cursing her crippling illness when it introduced itself at the most inopportune hours these days.

"—4-2, follow my laser, seven O'clock, does that look like a Bogey?"

"—Errr… that's a negative, 3-4, it's just scraps. You need to chill out a bit, AO is confirmed clear."

"—3-4 copies. Sorry about that, just a little on edge. Doing what we're here to do and all."

"—That's the way it is, 3-4. All for the greater good, for Britannia."

"—3-4 copies."

Absentmindedly, Marrybell pricked up one ear to the idle chatter of her pilots patrolling the airspace outside the Logres-class floating battleship. Somehow, it was comforting to eavesdrop on her Glinda Knights assuring each other the validity of their mission. Not to forget her own credit, that was the way she trained her soldiers, brave and vigilant, loyal and obedient.

"-DuckTales, got your coffee, we looking at anything?" Setting foot into the combat information center commandeered from the Great Britannia's crew, Oldrin leaned over the Glinda Knight officer and glanced at the multitude rows of displays streaming information to their AWACS.

"Realzies? I was having a laugh about that, cheers." The operator swung back and snatched her drink, a wide smile going from cheek to cheek.

"Yeah, yeah. Now do me a favour and knock Aerosmith squadron off the comms. Don't need them nagging in Her Highness' ears."

"Crystal, I was just taking a fancy to their tosh, no factor." DuckTales reached for the knobs, prompting Marrybell to finally interject.

"No, no. This is fine, I enjoy this… hearing this."

"…As you say." Obeying her leader, Oldrin lurched over to a large monitor under scrutiny by her princess perching on a rolling chair, zealously studying the map as she unconsciously scratched at the scabs forming over the edge of her nasty wound.

"C'mon, Marry, stop that." Oldrin gently slapped away Marrybell's digits in the self-harming process.

"What- what?"

"You're peeling at your cut." Waking from her daydream, Marrybell had a delayed reaction to her unnoticed inclination.

"Oh… but it's itchy."

"You're not a kid, let it heal."

"It's gonna leave a scar…" Marrybell guessed, almost saddened.

"It won't ruin your beauty. I think you'll come out of it looking more badass, in fact." Cozy arms dangled over the royalty's shoulders, Oldrin softly nibbled at the upper ridge of Marrybell's ear, letting the flow of her balmy breath breeze through her ear canal.

Marrybell felt herself drifting into the pleasure of Oldrin's bosom, into an endless sea of warmth and indulgence. Deep down, it was exactly what her heart cried out for, to be swaddled in her knight's embrace, in her loving affection.

However, the captain carefully yet firmly shoved away her blonde ace, they were at the wrong place and moment to coddle in bliss.

"Oldrin, report." Her stern manner shook Oldrin out of her daze, clearly redrawing the line in the sand between profession and pleasure.

"…Right. Yes, Your Highness." The Deceiver didn't resist or resent her commander's demand for personal space. "Frankly… the man's a bloody ghost, Marry. Orpheus' team searched every inch of this ship, all of the secret tunnels. He's nowhere. We don't have the manpower to totally flush him out, not without compromising security."

"How easy it is for me to say 'you didn't search hard enough', Oz?"

"Very."

"Then I shall say no such thing." It would be too easy to simply blame her troops for Lelouch's evasion, but Marrybell was above being an incompetent leader.

"He won't slip through our net. We'll nab him the second he tries to make a getaway. The comms is monitored as well, he'll never get a message out." Oldrin laid a hand on the Viceroy's shoulder, giving it a tender squeeze. "Emperor Lelouch is done, Marry. Your victory is at hand."

"Is that confidence or arrogance, my pretty?" Marrybell challenged her aide's fortitude, it was up to her if she could sustain it.

"I… believe in us, I believe in you. The world is meant to be shaped by your touch. The people are meant to be saved by your love." This wasn't what Oldrin should be declaring, not the Oldrin who stood as a symbol of justice.

"I am supposed to be an evil witch, my pretty."

"Then I suppose Dorothy doesn't have a bucket of water handy this time."

Marrybell applied two fingers to the bottom of Oldrin's visor, shifting it upwards and exposing her emerald green irises. As if staring into a portal leading to infinite possibilities, the young sovereign imagined how wonderful a life together with her companions she could've experienced were she given a fair shot at happiness. What was robbed from her could never be refunded, but if it could at least motivate her to leave behind a better world than what welcomed her, that would be enough to satisfy her ambition.

On death's door… am I? Yet, somehow a part of her lusted after more than contentment, it sought to take for herself what she deserved.

However long their gaze was interlinked, it couldn't last forever. "C'mon, let's get back on task."

"…Right, we still need to track down your brother." Cutely smacking Oldrin on the cheek, Marrybell scooted out of her embrace and slid her chair to where a radio operator was keenly observing all inbound and outbound transmissions for the airship.

"We picking up anything unusual, 0-5?" Marrybell snuck a peek at the radio operator's many screens, too bad she understood almost none of them.

"Negative, Your Highness. If the HVT attempts to contact anyone anywhere, you'll be the first to know. Well, technically you'll be the second- no, maybe third, depending on who he's transmitting to."

"Very encouraging, dearie."

"If he could just give us a ring on the telly, that'll be delightful. Wait- is that right?"

"Telly is television, numskull." Oldrin corrected her subordinate, winning herself a round of mild chuckle in the CIC.

"-Ain't-cha a cheeky bugger, 0-5! Trynna appropriate our tongue?"

"Shut up, DuckTales! Oh-oh, I mean… oi, piss off, you twat!"

Amidst lighthearted teasing and joyful laughter, Marrybell almost forgot what the purpose of her mission was. It was just too easy to lose sight of her endgame in the company of compassionate souls and warm companionship. The good time could easily last forever if the princess was able to fool herself into ignoring the journey she demanded of herself to traverse.

But she could never do that, and thus reality soon caught up. "-Hold on, guys. Quiet it down! I'm picking up an illegal signal here…" Sternly, 0-5 interrupted the chatter.

"Where is the origin?" Oldrin inquired in a similar serious tone.

"Somewhere… aboard. But it's transmitting to… the CIC- right here?!" The radio operator's inaudible gasp caught Marrybell's full attention. "Your Highness! You should take a look here."

The transmission was fizzy at first, a sign of poor signal quality, likely obstructed by the unorthodox location of the unicast and the Glinda Knight's scrambler preventing long-range communication. Once the quality of the feed was replying to an acceptable level, Marrybell almost wished it remained unintelligible for a bit longer.

Damn it…! Always one step behind! On the screen was a view of somewhere interior on the airship, somewhere dimly lit and narrow. Taking up the majority of the space was the one and only Britannian emperor, not nearly as fretted as he should be for being a hunted man.

"—Kept you waiting, Marrybell." Despite a thin layer of dirt daubing over his face and plain outfit, Lelouch still maintained his unchallengeable dignity and poise as a magnificent king.

After receiving a green light from 0-5, Marrybell spoke into the communicator clipped to her ear. "—Not at all, brother. I'm simply glad you decided to present yourself. Care for a bit of teatime while we discuss your terms for surrender?"

While keeping Lelouch occupied on the line, Marrybell garnered the attention of her radio officer with a quick flourish of gestures, expressing in a wordless language. Through hand signals, the royalty asked if she was on camera like her brother, her answer was a solid 'no'.

'Trace him, I'll keep him talking.' Reading the words from Marrybell's dancing fingers, 0-5 understood her message and quickly went back to work.

"—You have run this farce for long enough, sister. I shall still accept your surrender were you to yield now, or else you will rue the day you constructed this grand scheme of betrayal." Lelouch leaned a bit closer to the camera, his expression of disapproval was coated in superiority.

Marrybell sucked in her lower lip, tenaciously grinding it between her teeth. Nobody in the Imperial family could accept a defeat gracefully, that was to be expected. "—C'mon, Lelouch! Let's not flush our precious seconds down the drain over worthless pride! You've lost this one! Come out from your hidey-hole to save me the trouble of calling the exterminators!"

Lelouch waited a bit before responding, letting the moment linger and giving the princess a short recess to cool off. "—What is this victory you so seek, Marrybell? Usurp me… and you can achieve what? Where is there peace to be found amongst the battlefield drenched in the blood you spill?"

"—You should know, Lelouch! We've spilled blood for the same cause! There's no peace to be relished, no salvation to be savoured without putting an end to our cycle of hatred! You've done what you can, brother, high and mighty on top of your throne. Let me handle the rest, to remind you of the suffering you've forgotten."

Her rational self knew it was futile trying to persuade Lelouch into seeing from her point of view, to relinquish his position of power which he rightly warranted. However, Marrybell wasn't above being a sensory woman, if it was possible, even if marginally, she wanted to convince the Emperor to understand how alike they were at the core.

"—There's nothing you can do to better the state of being for the people, certainly not by starting another war."

"—Then this is to be the war that ends all wars."

Again, Lelouch chose silence as his immediate reply, allowing Marrybell to enact her true objective as the radio operator informed her of her brother's location under the deck near the bridge. Marrybell stabbed a finger over her tablet, transferring the call to her phone for mobility before she gathered her troops to track down the elusive king.

"Ready it up, we're moving out." Oldrin echoed Marrybell's unspoken order, leaping to her feet with her rifle slung over one shoulder. "-Oreo 2-1 to Butterfinger 1-1. Possible location on the HVT, forward-side Bridge, we're coming to you."

Insulating her earphone mic from the swelling racket in the background, Marrybell irritably listened for Lelouch's counter-argument on the other end. "—Do you believe us to be similar of origin, Marrybell?"

"—And motives! Are we not quite literally cut from the same cloth!? Propelled by our father's negligence, by our heritage's acrimony; we take up arms in opposition to the system's oppression!" Marrybell may have lacked the opportunity to take action as Lelouch did in his rebellion, but that didn't make her discontent any less pure.

"—That's wrong. You're incorrect, sister." Lelouch rejected the young princess' assertion. "We're no more kindred than apes are to humans, to compare us is to make a mockery of the very notion of recognition itself. It's a disgrace. It takes delusion and conceit, added on top of foolishness to come to that conclusion."

Lelouch's abusive affront to her belief almost staggered Marrybell's trek, she was stumped for a response as his stare pierced her from across the screen. "—W-why would you- you have no right to say that to me! You!"

"—I have forged an army out of insurgents, a nation out of fantasies. Starting from nothing, from zero, I climbed out of the pits of depravity and claimed the Britannian throne. In contrast, without backing from the system you say you hate; without support from the father you insist you detest, you have achieved nothing for yourself." Accused Lelouch, leaning in ever so slightly closer to the camera, making his presence so much more overwhelming with a simple movement.

Discourteous slanders coming down from the king himself cut deep, especially when it was interlaced with snippets of facts the princess couldn't deny. A stake of humiliation and contempt drove itself through Marrybell's fragile spirit, flooding her sentiments with cowardice and anger.

"—Everyone can find determination from their last night's dream. Everyone can cheer with the crowd whilst listening to a motivational speech. But are you someone capable of inspiring people to dream for a world you've envisioned? Or can you speak your mind to the masses without a pre-written script?"

"—I-I can! I have done so! I have my achievements to be proud of!" Marrybell felt like a sore loser for jumping to her own defense, but there was a limit to how much shame she could endure in one day. "Don't you dare discredit me like so, Lelouch!"

"—Without our father, there would never have been Glinda Knights. Without your heritage, you would have remained significant."

In spite of all his allegations, Lelouch wasn't too far off the mark. For too long Marrybell was a mindless doll trampling over others for the sake of fulfilling a falsified ambition. When her father's Geass wore off by pure coincidence, she still couldn't let go of her established might, let go of the Glinda Knights built on Britannia's wealth. And that brought her here, deposing the Empire's ruler with his own endowment.

"If you were worthy of this, Marrybell. You would've been the one to put down our father." The corner of Lelouch's lip bent up, a disdainful smirk. "As things stand, you don't even know why he is who he is. Why he did all those things to us, to you."

He's… he's not wrong. I'm not… I'm no hero. Marrybell's rationality reminded her of traits such as humility and reason, but her instinct and mental instability opted to feed her unadulterated rage instead.

"—I… I'll make you fucking eat those words with a bucket of bullets, LELOUCH!" Screaming into her earpiece and glaring daggers at her wrist-strapped device, a portion of sanity had abandoned Marrybell.

Marrybell pumped her fist twice in the air, the hand gesture for double time. She hasty broke into a sprint, a storm of footsteps behind her quickly kept pace. Ironically, some of Lelouch's taunts were starting to slip her by in her fury-fueled rush to reach him, only after they had already taken their effect.

Barely remembering to mute her microphone as she burst into the bridge, Marrybell grabbed the nearest member of Fireteam Butterfinger and demanded her prey's whereabouts. "Where is he!? CIC should've tracked him by now!"

Frightened, the ill-fortuned Glinda Knight timidly pointed at the hatch where Lelouch initially disappeared from.

Far from level-headed, Marrybell made the charge to unlatch the floor panel and dive down into the tunnels, but Oldrin seized her by the elbow before she could commit to such a foolhardy attempt all for the sake of her ego. "He's gotten to you, Marrybell."

"He's-! He-! He's clowning on me! I won't stand for it!"

"Get him outta your head. Slowly, breathe, relax, collect yourself." Calm and composed, Oldrin gently massaged Marrybell's shoulders, careful not to press down too hard on her injured side. "We'll take care of it."

Somehow, the sight of her beautiful knight's demeanour always managed to ease and subside Marrybell's sickness. She was her most precious medicine. The royalty wouldn't be exaggerating if she professed that her life depended on the brilliant Devicer.

"…Okay… alright." Recalling her elegance and nobility, Marrybell consented the continuous stream of air flowing through her lungs to pacify her restless aggravation. "I… am I worthless, Oldrin?"

Narrowing her eyes for a short second, the caramel blonde wholeheartedly studied her liege's countenance before lightly slapped Marrybell's pinkish cheeks. "Only when you're sulking around. Now c'mon, forget about what he said. Sit this one out, I'll drag him up for you."

"Do me proud, my pretty." Oldrin replied with a reliable nod. Leaving one last pat over Marrybell's forehead, she proceeded to work.

"-I want this rat hole cleared out, obviously it wasn't done properly the first time. There could be boobytraps, lead-in with a swarm of drones." Oldrin issued her set of commands and keenly oversaw their expeditious implementation.

Some commander am I… Barren of purposes that couldn't be performed by her troops, Marrybell uselessly ambled over to the stairs leading to the entryway and plump down on her butt. Fumbling to refocus her wits on where it could be of use to her effort, the orange-haired captain woke her smartphone from its slumber and was once again greeted by the unimpressed frown of her half-brother.

Lelouch apparently also employed the patience of a saint as one of his attributes, observable by his inclination to wait for Marrybell's response after the interval of silence she imparted to their debate in her hurry to subjugate him.

Marrybell fidgeted with her mute button, flipping it from on to off. However, as she did so, she realized she was emptied of jibes for her brother. All she had left was the uncomfortable awkwardness that often loomed over the atmosphere after a sour fight the day before, and despite all that Lelouch condemned her with, she still held onto her respect for him.

"—… Lelouch… my plan will work. If you'd just let me explain—"

"— -However much you hope to pretend such a case may be your version of reality, it's inevitable the blinders you call inspiration will come loose eventually." Marrybell was more floored than insulted by what Lelouch said. Instead of coming off as another denunciation, his sentence just didn't make any sense.

"—No- what? What're you even talking about? I wasn't done—"

For the second time in a row, Marrybell was abruptly interrupted. It almost sounded like Lelouch had no interest in letting her participate in their conversation. "— - In lieu of your absurd plan, I can offer naught but a deplorable laughter to my dear sister. Have you any consideration of what somebody might—"

"- —Sooome~BODY once told me the world is gonna roll me! ~I ain't the sharpest tool in the sheeed~!" It was her turn to unexpectedly cut off Lelouch, the princess bestowed herself the honour as she yelled.

Marrybell's disruption appeared at a completely unjustified juncture of Lelouch's speech, tagging along was a chuck of discordant singing to boot. It was bound to evoke a reaction of some sort out of anyone sensible, somebody like the Emperor.

However, Lelouch totally ignored her outburst and continued talking, what he was saying became instantly irreverent.

"AGRHA—!" At the top of her lungs, Marrybell screamed, any pitch louder and no doubt her vocal cord would have ripped itself to shreds. Curse him…! That Lelouch! It's a goddamn recording! How dare he play me like this…! Like a child-! Like a fucking IDIOT!

On the tip of her tongue resurfaced the awfully familiar taste of defeat, pungent and bitter. Through her frustrated howl at the sky, Marrybell had to wonder how she kept snatching defeat from the jaws of victory like some ridiculous version of a Scooby-Doo villain. Her deeds were meant to carry weight, her actions were supposed to have grim consequences.

"Oldrin! He's not there, it's all a trick!" Stumping a path over near the throne where Oldrin tinkered on a laptop in a pile of electronic gadgets on the floor, Marrybell clenched her jaws tight to seal the leakage of her abhorrent disgust at herself.

"Our drones almost reached the transmission point, what's going on?"

Briefly, Marrybell choked on her words, unsure of how embarrassed she should be for letting herself be outplayed. "He- I was never talking to the real Lelouch, he predicted what I'd say and recorded it."

Oldrin contorted her features to form an indescribable expression. "He can't be that smart."

Then am I just that stupid…? Her self-assessment didn't cure her looming feeling of insecurity.

Nevertheless, she couldn't allow herself to become a blundering fool so obtuse that she would wallow around in her pity and doubt instead of improvising a method to vanquish her disadvantage. Don't let him get to you, think of a way out… think of what a smarter person would do.

Marrybell turned her gaze over to Monica. More specifically, to the briefcase chained to the Round's wrist. The F.L.E.I.J.A football, it was called; within the container were all the necessary tools for the Emperor to launch the WMD from anywhere on the planet. When she first revisited the bridge, she made sure the suitcase was still firmly cuffed to the mind-controlled knight, and now she made sure of the same thing again.

Without Lelouch, that thing is a toothless tiger… and he'd certainly like to de-fang me. That left only one potential vulnerability in her takeover that the monarch would like to exploit by driving her into his trap.

"Oldrin, contact CIC."

"…Contact CIC and?"

"Just to see if they're still there." While uncertain of her design, Oldrin obeyed regardless.

"—CIC, Oreo 2-1 to CIC. Requesting status update." The call went silent, not a peep of sound. "—CIC! Respond, CIC. Come in!"

Physical pain was imparted upon the human body as an instinctual warning to stay away from harmful factors, but Marrybell's sense was so numbed by her ire that she couldn't notice the tip of her nails digging into her palm, where the bandage was meant to protect. Crimson blood spurted from the reopened wound, trickling down her sleeves to her elbow and dripped onto the floor.

"He's after the missiles… CIC doesn't have enough security. Send a team now." Marrybell squeezed a single sentence through her gritted teeth before the inner storm of her madness smashed against the shore of rationality, eroding them away with every splash.

"Marry- Marrybell! Stop that! Don't hurt yourself!"

"GO! Get someone to check CIC! Orpheus- anyone! GO!" Oldrin flinched at her princess' forbidding ferocity, it was a side of Marrybell she seldomly illustrated even under the direst circumstances.

"—Oreo 2-1 to KitKat 1-1 actual. Potential compromise of CIC, investigate immediately." Oldrin pressed on her earpiece as she talked to a squadron leader on the other end, trying to ignore the pressure of Marrybell's scrutinizing glare. Breathing down her steadfast knight's neck only served to add a blend of contrition to the pink-haired royalty's brew of emotions, how desperately she sought to flip an imaginary switch in her head to pour it out.

While Oldrin was busy organizing a team to follow Marrybell's order, the princess herself remembered a much simpler way of confirming her dreadful suspicions as she strode towards the Knight of Rounds' station. "Krushevsky, show me an overview of our F.L.E.I.J.A inventory."

Monotonously, Monica swiped a finger over the touchscreen, quickly bringing up the relevant listing Marrybell inquired. Yes or no. One or zero. Did he fuck me or did he not?

One peek ended up being all it took to learn the truth, although digesting what felt like another slap across the face also ended up being a hard pill to swallow.

"Damn it… why can't I WIN…! WHY!?" Furiously, Marrybell slammed both fists down on the control panel, painting a whole half of the keyboard on the left in a fresh coat of vermillion fluid. The stabbing pang came back with a vengeance after the adrenaline temper wore off, forcing Marrybell onto the floor as she clenched her injured hand, streams of tears flooding out uncontrollably.

Lelouch sabotaged the Sakuradite used to fortify the F.L.E.I.J.A, exposing the volatile mineral to the neutralization composition of its Eliminator, rendering the entire stockpile of warhead aboard the airship nothing more than millions of wasted Pounds.

I'm so fucking screwed…! She lost a vital trump card to her own ineptitude, an ace in the hole squandered without ever entering the board.

"Oldrin! Where's my security team! Give me something here!" Witnessing her downright self-torture, Marrybell's aide-de-camp rushed to her side in sheer panic.

"M-Marry- Oh-my-God, Marry! W-why're you doing this to yourself!? P-please just- just…" Oldrin's hands quivered frantically, unsure of how to deal with the tremendous amount of blood straining Marrybell. "-Medic! I need a medic here ASAP! Hurry!"

The panicking Devicer shouted a command to the surrounding pilots, but she was interrupted by the princess' iron grip clasping her cheeks, forcing her to focus on her two orbs illuminated by hostility.

"Update me!" Regaining restraint on her trembling frame, Oldrin obliged.

"F-Fireteam KitKat is en route, one minute. A-and err- and…" Oldrin glided her digits over the PDA on her wrist posthaste, looking for any news Marrybell couldn't afford to miss out on. "There's also… wha-? Bogeys…? Impossible!" A pause in confusion. "Marry, there are reports of KMFs taking off from somewhere on this ship, they must have an undisclosed hangar!"

"How many?" Marrybell dragged herself up to the console half covered in blood, a combat medic worked to re-bandage her hand as she typed away.

"At least a dozen, maybe more! We don't know who's piloting them."

"Intercept them, shoot'em all down."

"But- they could be our—" A horrendous glare from Marrybell shut down any of Oldrin's complaints. "U-understood." Her vice-commander conceded, saying nothing more to her liege.

Marrybell almost missed the tainted glance of concern briefly glinting from the corner of Oldrin's eyes as she tapped on her device to establish a connection with Grandberry. "-Oreo 2-1 to AWACS Road Runner. DuckTales is offline, transferring all guidance control to you. Pass on the following order to all airborne units: destroy all Bogeys that just launched from the Great Britannia. I say again, all Knightmares that just took off from this airship are Bandits, neutralize them."

The infuriated captain patched herself into the comms of her knights, the damage done by her ignorance had taught her an unforgettable lesson. On the encrypted channel, Marrybell overheard the Grandberry AWACS notifying all her units of the updated mission perimeter, soon followed by a ripple of acknowledgement.

No cost too great, Lelouch. Outside the windshield, a flight of Knightmares swooped down toward the underbelly of the Great Britannia, leaving behind only nebulous contrails as proof of their existence. The pilots of the recently airborne enemy frames could very well be Geassed members of Marrybell's own crew, but she couldn't afford the luxury of rescuing those without the capability of self-preservation.

"—They're shooting at us. Those movers are fair game. Aerosmith 2-2 engaging."

"—There's one on me! I can't- I can't shake'em!"

"—Relax, 3-2. Your bum is covered."

"—C'mon, hit…! Alright! Aerosmith 1-3 splashed one Bandit."

The aerial combat continued as flickering triangular symbols on Marrybell's monitor, dashing and racing across the screen as she typed many sets of commands to be enacted on by her troops. It was expected that her handpicked knight should be capable of holding their own against a rogue unit, one that was meant to serve as bait.

A vulnerability had naturally formed in the defense ring enclosing the floating airships, a weakened sector where her forces were sparse and openings were abundant. Marrybell lacked the manpower to plug up the broken formation, a factor that Lelouch surely considered before he sent his forces to the battlefield as a distraction.

It went without saying that Lelouch was painfully aware of where her encirclement found itself lacking. Now, whether he would choose to utilize the opening and make his daring escape was an altogether different question. And also, if the jeopardy of death could deter him.

Run if you dare, run if you so dare, brother.

And to her mild surprise, he did.

"Marry, we have an unknown signature taking off from the aft at high speed, presumed KMF. Referencing the database now." Oldrin informed the princess of the same data she taught herself off the overview map on the console.

"It's the Shinkirō." Marrybell unceremoniously stated.

"…How can you be sure?" A puzzled Oldrin wanted to ask more but was interrupted by mumbles in her earpiece, transforming her character from bewilderment to amazement. "We just confirmed it, it's the Shinkirō."

The slick black Knightmare was scudding away from the aerial arena, not a care in the world for what Marrybell's pilots threw at it. The pink shield protecting its rear deflected away all munitions fired to hinder its escape, seemingly having no troubles disappearing into the vast sky.

Let's hope this works… Marrybell whispered a silent prayer. Lelouch is only human, he can't be invincible. With her inclination for worry tucked away, she made a call. "—It's all you, Killer Queen."

From within the dense clouds in the Shinkirō's path, the Percival ruptured its vapour shroud and darted for the transformable Knightmare. The Shinkirō managed to block a point-blank blast from the Radiant Wave Surger, sacrificing a portion of its shielding to shake off the crimson claw.

It wasn't an elegant or brilliant plan, rather stupid, in fact. But if it worked, then it isn't too stupid.

Two Knightmares dashed and juked, engaging in a lethal dance against the blueish backdrop of the overcast sky. However, piloting a command unit unsuited for close-quarter combat, Lelouch couldn't last forever when the close-range Percival and its aggressive pilot gunned for his neck, especially if he couldn't bring himself to kill his beloved Round.

It only took one slash of the glowing talons from the seventh generation KMF hitting home to bring the inflight strife to an anticlimactic end, tearing through the Shinkirō's pink shield and digging into its vulnerable armour. Lelouch was forced to eject from his burning Knightmare unless he welcomed the impending explosion swallowing him whole. The cockpit block followed the pull of gravity downwards until its parachute popped open and glided it to a bumpy landing.

"Splashed! Destruction of the Shinkirō confirmed." Oldrin sounded downright relieved, and Marrybell couldn't help but absorb a part of her solace.

Please, please just fucking die, Lelouch. I'm so tired of your shit. Marrybell sighed, noting herself to ensure that her brother's downfall is made permanent. "—Killer Queen, confirm your kill."

Marrybell was by no means exuberant to order Lelouch's death, but after bearing witness to his ploys and tricks firsthand she wasn't letting him exit stage left only if he felt like it. Besides, she somehow doubted she could ever enjoy a full night of sleep again if she didn't make sure the Emperor won't be taking his revenge.

The Percival decreased its altitude, maintaining afloat just above the treelines of the forest and hovered over to where the cockpit landed. Holding her bated breath, Marrybell watched through the Knightmare's forward lens as it approached the final resting ground of Lelouch's escape attempt. When it came into clear view, the Percival descended further and landed.

However, that was as far as it went. For unexplainable reasons, the Knightmare froze still in the middle of the forest, accumulating uneasy turmoil in the heart of its observer on the capital ship's bridge.

"—Killer Queen, identify the occupant of that cockpit block and eliminate him. Acknowledge." When Marrybell demanded a reply recognizing her command, only meaningless static answered. "—Callsign Killer Queen! Kallen Stadtfeld, respond!"

Apprehension and fear were creeping up from the pits of Marrybell's stomach. When Kallen's voice finally connected, what she said validated the princess' dreaded hypothesis.

"—No… no, no-no… oh God, I-… NO! L-Lelouch! Lelouch- Lelouch! Please- no, NO! LELOUCH!" Kallen had broken free from Marrybell's spell, at the worst time imaginable.

"C'mon… give me a fucking break with this shit!" Had Oldrin not seized her arm, Marrybell was going to swat her injured hand onto the keyboard for the second time in a dozen minutes.

— —

Author's note

Wow, the longest chapter yet, gonna have a very short AN this time. I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. This's kinda my ideal structure for a chapter, starting off calmly and ending with a bit more intrigue. I really tried to make Marrybell a sympathetic antagonist for this arc, showing many aspects of her character to make some readers care a tiny little bit about her, hopefully I'm somewhat successful.

Quickly replying to Masquer Q's review about Lelouch goofing last chapter: Yeah, man, I can't defend myself on this one. Sorry again for ass-pulling a bit that one time, the sibling's relationship will be explored more in the future so that Lelouch trusting her doesn't feel so jarring, but it's what it is.

Thanks everyone for checking this one out, try to have a good time these days.

Thanks to Marche V for correcting a spelling error.