Hello internet, Neolyph here to bring you Darwin: A Code Geass Story.

Story Notes

Plot Type (Divergence/Alternate Universe): Lelouch and Nunnally are kidnapped and raised in Japan by Marianne's supporters when they learn of her assassination at the hands of the Emperor. There, he uncovers the power of Geass and plans vengeance on his father while crafting a better world for his sister. I will be rewriting certain elements of the Code Geass universe as I see fit to make the story work, although I will usually make the divergence clear beforehand so that its not an ass-pull.

Moral Tone: Grey, bordering on dark. No 'Super Sentai' Zero

Sexual Tone: No explicit lemons, but sexual scenes.

Story Tone: Lelouch and other Code Geass characters as they could have been, freed from the stupid inhibitions that held them back in canon. Political/Military thriller, mixed with Harem romance. Some dark sections, mixed with enjoyable 'fuck yeah' action and Lelouch-esque gambits.

Pairings: Lelouch/Kallen/Milly/Sayoko/Mao the Refrain/Kaguya/Euphemia/Cornelia/Leila/Marrybell/Oldrin. What can I say, I like harems.

If you want to see more of this story, just do the usual follow/favorite/review. It really helps as a writer.

For the impatient, the canon timeline starts in Chapter 4, but certain parts may not make sense without the background chapters. You have been warned.

Without further ado, Code Geass: Darwin...

Chapter 1: Start of Darkness

The European Union tanks glistened in the moonlight, their engines letting off steam barely visible, like the breath of some sleeping creature. Behind them were two rows of their specialized anti-tank artillery, useless against the might and maneuverability of the upcoming Knightmares. Low-altitude scout craft soared over their heads, mapping out the upcoming battlefield.

The Britannian Glasgows crouched low in their cover—an inkwell, a letter opener, and a row of fountain pens—as they waited to ambush the arrogant Europeans. The Glasgow had the agility to dance around the tanks at close range, but with the three-hundred meter no-man's-land between the two forces, it was best to wait for the EU armor to close the gap first than risk a straight sprint.

The attack had almost begun when Prince Lelouch heard someone moving outside his bedroom door...

He took a guilty step towards his bed—then paused, listening hard. The trees in the famous Ares Villa gardens rustled softly in the breeze, but otherwise the night was silent. The servants would know better than to disturb him. Nunnally had just returned from the hospital after...

It wouldn't do for him to think back on it once again. He'd started running through strategic scenarios specifically to avoid dwelling on the real cause for his insomnia.

Lelouch turned back to his desk, and began to move the EU tanks forward while the artillery hung back to provide suppressing fire in the event the Britannian tanks showed their faces—except there were no tanks. The Knightmares sprung from their cover, extended their close-range batons, and tore in to the unsuspecting tanks. The artillery operators panicked at having the latest Britannian technology released on them, making several ineffectual shots downrange but doing little besides scarring the land. Lelouch grinned broadly. It had taken all night to set up this attack, drawing from Kewell's lessons on how Knightmare Frames would revolutionize battlefield strategy.

And besides, it wasn't like this was time wasted. With Mother... gone, Lelouch had no illusions that the Emperor would allow him to stagnate. He would have to prove his worth—such was a tenant of Darwinism. In order for Nunnally to be protected, he would have to know both how to pilot a Knightmare and how to command men.

War was coming, after all.

With the recent annexing of the British Isles by Britannia, a vocal portion of EU politicians were chomping at the bit to defend both their "allies", and more importantly, their financial investments in British industries. It was just a matter of when one of the two powers felt confident enough in their respective stockpiles to strike the first blow. With Britannia finally moving Knightmares to mass fabrication, either the EU would learn of them and attempt to launch a preemptive strike or Britannia would complete them and field them en-masse.

Kewell predicted a rapid seizure of strategic assets within one or two years, with the Knightmares leading the charge.

This was of course the entire reason his mother had advocated against the seizure of the British Isles. She had cut a bloody swathe through Pendragon to put his father on the throne, but she had no desire to go any further than that. It was obvious that such warmongering from Britannia could lead to nothing short of another world war, and she always claimed that she had seen enough blood in her life.

The only thing halting the upcoming war had been his mother's calming hand keeping both sides calm, but with her... gone, Emperor Charles had decided to move forward with the annexation. Now the gears had begun shifting, and wouldn't stop until either Europe or Britannia was in flames.

The last tin Knightmare frame just crashed into the EU artillery when the soft sound came from the hallway once again: jingling, like the ringing of keys.

Lelouch turned, staring at the gap between his bedchamber's double doors. Shadows danced along the walls from the window, and then he heard whispers.

Someone was right outside.

Silent in bare feet, he swiftly crossed the cold marble floor, sliding into bed just as the door creaked open. Lelouch narrowed his eyes to a slit, wondering if Gottwald was checking on him once again. The man had become Lelouch's shadow since his mother... passed, constantly hovering at his shoulder.

Moonlight spilled into the room, making the tin Knightmare on his desk glitter. Someone slipped inside, graceful and dead silent. The figure paused, staring at Lelouch for a moment, then crept toward his dresser. He heard the wooden rasp of a drawer sliding open.

His heart raced. None of the servants would dare steal from him! If there was one thing mother had prided herself on, it was that she attracted loyalty. The servants of the villa would gladly give their lives for hers. None would resort to petty thievery.

But what if the intruder were something worse than a thief? His mother's warnings echoed in his ears… .

You have had enemies since the day you were born.

A bell cord hung next to his bed, but the usual guard stationed outside his mother's room would of course be absent. If Gottwald apparently wasn't outside his room, the closest sentries were quartered at the other end of the trophy hall, fifty meters away.

Lelouch slid one hand under his pillow, until his fingers touched the cold steel of the small blade Schneizel had gifted him. He lay there holding his breath, grasping the handle tightly, repeating to himself Kewell's watchword.

Surprise is more valuable than strength.

Another figure came through the door then, boots clomping, a house guard jacket's metal clips jingling like keys on a ring. The figure tromped straight toward his bed.

"Your Highness! Wake up!"

Lelouch let go of the knife, expelling a sigh of relief. It was just Gottwald, his personal bodyguard and Knightmare instructor. The first figure began rifling through the dresser, pulling at clothes.

"The young prince has been awake all along," Count Soresi's low voice said. "A bit of advice, Your Highness? When pretending to be asleep, it is advisable not to hold one's breath."

Lelouch sat up and scowled. His fencing master, strategic tutor, and etiquette teacher had an annoying knack for seeing through deception.

"What's the meaning of this?"

"You're to come with us, Your Highness," Gottwald mumbled, studying the marble floor.

"Why?"

"Instruction," Count Soresi said with the same infuriating tone he used during fencing lessons. He tossed a pair of Lelouch's trousers and a piloting jacket onto the bed. Lelouch stared at them, half outraged and half confused.

"Like young Mozart," Gottwald said softly. "In her Majesty's stories."

Lelouch frowned, remembering mother's favorite tales about the great composer's upbringing. Supposedly Mozart's tutors would wake him in the middle of the night, when his mind was raw and defenseless, and thrust musical lessons upon him. It all sounded rather disrespectful to Lelouch.

He reached for the trousers. "You're going to make me compose a fugue?"

"An amusing thought," Count Soresi said. "But please make haste."

"We have a Knightmare waiting at the usual airport hangar, Your Highness." Gottwald's worried face made an attempt at a smile. "You're to pilot it."

"A Knightmare?" Lelouch's eyes widened. Piloting was one part of his studies he'd gladly get out of bed for. He slipped quickly into the clothes.

"Yes, your first night lesson!" Gottwald said, handing Lelouch his boots.

Lelouch pulled them on and stood, then fetched his favorite pilot's gloves from the dresser, his footsteps echoing on the marble floor.

"Quietly now." Count Soresi stood by the chamber doors. He cracked them and peered out into the hall.

"We're to sneak out, Your Highness!" Gottwald whispered. "Good fun, this lesson! Just like young Mozart!"

The three of them crept down the trophy hall, Sir Gottwald still clomping, Kewell gliding along in silence. Paintings of Lelouch's ancestors, the family who had ruled Britannia for hundreds of years, lined the hallway, their subjects staring down with unreadable expressions. Every footstep was magnified by the stillness of the villa, and questions echoed in Lelouch's mind.

Wasn't it dangerous, piloting a Knightmare at night? And why was his fencing, strategy, and etiquette teacher coming along? Count Soresi preferred swords and maps over soulless Knightmares, and had little tolerance for only technical nobility like Gottwald. Gottwald had been knighted for his combat prowess, not his family name.

"Kewell …" Lelouch began.

"Quiet, boy!" the count spat.

Anger flashed inside Lelouch, and a curse almost burst from his mouth, even if it ruined their stupid game of sneaking out. It was always like this. To the servants he might be "the young master," but nobles like Kewell never let Lelouch forget his position. Thanks to his mother's common blood, he wasn't fit to hold any place but seventeenth in line to the throne, despite it being common knowledge that his mother had been the Emperor's true love. His father might be ruler of an empire of six hundred million souls, but Lelouch was heir to nothing.

Kewell himself was only a count—nothing but a few farmlands to his name, just a bit of dirt really—but even he could feel superior to the son of a commoner. Lelouch managed to stay quiet, though, letting his anger cool as they stole through the vast and darkened banquet kitchens. Years of insults had taught him how to bite his tongue, and disrespect was easier to swallow with the prospect of piloting ahead.

One day he would have his revenge. Mother had promised. Of course, that was before...

-Break-

By the time they reached the airport in a car Kewell had waiting outside, Lelouch's only concern was tripping in the darkness. The moon was less than half full, and the unlit tarmac stretched like a black sea across the surrounding. At this hour even the lights of Pendragon had died out to a mere inkling.

When Lelouch saw the Knightmare, a soft cry escaped his lips.

It almost stood taller than the cargo plane next to it, its two metal feet standing proud on the concrete of the hangar's floor. It looked like a demonic warrior skulking in the darkness.

This wasn't some training Ganymede or Glasgow—it was a real engine of war. As a matter of fact, he couldn't even pick out what specific model this one was. It resembled a Glasgow, but the chest-piece protruded more, it appeared to be armored more, and it's head was more streamlined with what looked like an advanced factsphere.

Before tonight Lelouch had piloted only unarmed Glasgows and Ganymede training models. Even with his tenth birthday almost here, mother always insisted that he was too young for proper war machines.

"I'm supposed to pilot that?" Lelouch heard his own voice break. "I don't even recognize the model!"

Jeremiah Gottwald's gloved hand patted his shoulder heavily. "Don't worry, young Mozart. It's just a Sutherland. It's a new prototype they just put into pre-production. Essentially, it's a Glasgow with heavier armor and advanced systems. It's to become the new commander unit."

Before Lelouch could reply, another car arrived in the hangar. He heard Kewell begin swearing under his breath.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, looking nervously towards the unknown new arrivals.

This nervousness turned to petrifying fear when he witnessed two members of the House Guard exit the vehicle, one carrying an unconscious Nunnally. The other reached back into the car and removed her wheelchair.

"You were supposed to have already arrived with her," Kewell hissed at the two penitent-looking guards, "You've ruined the timetable."

One of them looked up, embarrassed, "The chloroform wore off midway through the drive and she started struggling, my Lord. We had to pull over and reapply it. Should have figured that after that lengthy stint in the hospital that drugs would have less effect on her..."

Lelouch took an involuntary step backwards, bumping into Gottwald. He looked up into the face of his protector, shocked to see that he was doing nothing to apprehend two men who had just admitted to drugging Nunnally.

Once again, his mother's words rang in his head.

You have had enemies since the day you were born.

Mozart. He'd been lured out here in the dead of night, willingly bypassing the loyal House Guard, by an analogy to Mozart.

He was an idiot.

Looking about that hangar, he began calculating possible escape routes. Unfortunately, none of them allowed him to both bypass Kewell, Gottwald, and the two guard while also rescuing Nunnally. It didn't matter in the end, as he felt one of Gottwald's steel-like hands come down on his shoulder as the other brought a rag that smelled like chemicals over his nose.

As his consciousness started fading, he could just barely make out a soft, "Apologies, Your Highness."

-Break-

Lelouch awoke with a start to find the stoic face of Dr. Thomas Asplund hovering over him. Why was the Ares Villa's in-house physician in his bedroom? Had he fallen ill? It wasn't until his eyes focused on the unfamiliar ceiling and he caught a remnant odor of that foul-smelling chloroform that he remembered his kidnapping. His eyes darted about, trying to both grasp his location and how to escape it, but a calming hand from Thomas brought his attention back to the man hovering over him.

"Calm yourself, your highness. I'm simply ensuring that the drug has no lingering effects. I assure you, you're completely safe and in the hands of allies."

Despite his suspicion of the situation, Lelouch couldn't help but let his tightened muscles relax slightly at the man's words. Dr. Asplund had always possessed an impeccable beside manner, able to calm even the most anxious of patients. He'd been at Nunnally's bedside when she awoke to discover both her blindness and lameness. Aside from some tears shed, he'd kept her from falling into total despair.

If that same man was involved in this whole affair, he could at least trust that it wasn't entirely malevolent. Dr. Asplund rose, straightening his white coat and smiling down softly.

"I'll let the Count know you're awake. He'll explain things."

As the doctor left he room, Lelouch took a moment to gather his bearings. His head was still somewhat foggy from the chloroform, but from the large ramp and humming of engines, he deduced that he was in the enormous cargo plane that had been parked in the hangar. It was a good kidnapping, he figured, as far as kidnapping can be considered good. The St. Darwin Airport was one of the few places near Pendragon that someone could pilot a Knightmare, so luring someone out there with one and then forcing them into a plane was rather efficient.

As a matter of fact, it seemed precisely Kewell's brand of efficient.

Speaking of the Devil, Kewell came strolling back in with Dr. Asplund on his left and Gottwald on his right. He pulled over a small chair that Asplund had been occupying earlier and sat himself down in it. Lelouch stared at him for a moment, unable to read the Count's expression.

"It's time for an explanation, then," Kewell began.

Lelouch chuckled at the understatement. What they were doing was treason. Worthless to the Emperor or not, his father would still have these men drawn and quartered on mere principle if it got out that they'd kidnapped an Imperial Prince.

"I should think so..."

His instructor abesntly stroked his goatee with one hand as he seemed to struggle with how to put what he was about to say.

"Your mother," he finally decided, "she made preparations in case... what she feared finally occurred."

Lelouch narrowed his eyes—he was in no mood for Kewell's usual word games.

"In case what occurred?" he demanded. His patience for this entire ordeal was wearing thin. He was still only tentatively sure that this was not a genuine abduction, only assured of that by Gottwald and Asplund's involvement. Dr. Asplund didn't seem the sort to be swayed by offers of money or power. Rumor was that the man was an unparalleled biologist, but had given up dozens of career opportunities that would have made him a millionaire to instead become the lowly in-house physician of the Ares Villa. Gottwald's loyalty to both Lelouch and his mother was also unmatched. He'd personally seen the man gun down two dozen kidnappers that thought taking him for ransom would be a good idea.

Kewell sighed, "It would be best to wait for your sister to get hear. This pertains to her as well." As he spoke, one of the House Guards rounded the large pallet obstructing Lelouch's view of the rest of the cargo plane, pushing a wheelchair containing his sister.

"Nunnally," he whispered and exhaled in relief. His sister was alright.

"Lelouch?" she asked, looking around. Her hearing had certainly become more keen since... the incident. "Are you there? Are you alright? Where are we?"

Instinctively, Lelouch sprung out of his cot, but the sudden movement caused his head to start spinning and he collapsed about a foot from it. Gottwald immediately rushed over and lifted him back up gently.

"Are you alright, Your Highness?" he asked. Lelouch brushed him off and stumbled back to his feet, making his way over to Nunnally as he ignored the constant wooziness.

Dr. Asplund clicked his tongue disapprovingly, "It's not a good idea to be moving so soon Your Highness. Not until the drug has fully worn off."

Lelouch barely heard the man as he scanned every inch of Nunnally to ensure that she was unharmed. Her hands groped blindly at his face, feeling it and reassuring herself that it was him.

He took her hand and started tracing circles on the back of it with his thumb, "I'm right here Nunnally. Right here. Everything is going to be okay."

At his words, she slumped in her wheelchair, the tantrum that had obviously been building up swiftly dissipating.

"Where are we?" she asked, tilting her head to and fro as she tried to decipher the unfamiliar sounds surrounding her.

Count Soresi took this as his cue, "A plane, Your Highness—bound for Japan."

"Japan?"

Kewell nodded, although that was lost on Nunnally, "Yes. Japan is one of the last few countries on the planet that remains unaligned with one of the three superpowers."

"Why?" Lelouch demanded, "Why did we suddenly need to visit Japan?"

"We're not visiting, Your Highness," Kewell replied with a voice belittling Lelouch's deductive capabilities. "We're fleeing your mother's assassins."

Lelouch glared, "You're lying. Mother's assassins were caught and executed. They were pro-EU terrorists."

"Think about it, Your Highness. Why would EU terrorists kill the one woman keeping Britannia from invading the EU? It makes no sense," Kewell prodded.

"You can hardly expect terrorists to act rationally," Lelouch shot back.

"That's an excuse and you know it, Your Highness. I taught you better than that. Think critically—who would benefit most from your mother's death?"

Lelouch racked his brain, but only one logically sound conclusion arose. "Someone that wanted war between Britannia and the EU. Someone pushing hard for it, but being impeded by mother."

"Good, Your Highness. Now, who does that fit the most? Someone with the power to not only have mother killed, but also make it look like EU sympathizers? And who would benefit from a sudden overwhelming outcry from the commoners over their Empress being killed by the EU?"

The answer immediately came to Lelouch, but he wanted to deny it. It couldn't be. He knew the Emperor was harsh, but assassinating his wife simply to push forward another war?

He didn't want to accept it, but yes, that did seem the sort of thing his father would do. The man only valued people for the value they offered to him. If someone ceased to actively benefit them, he had no qualms about discarding them in an advantageous fashion.

Kewell looked down at him with a slight look of sympathy marring his usually scornful features. "You see it, don't you, Your Highness? With your mother assassinated by EU terrorists, it paved the way perfectly for the war. The common soldiers all rallied around their dead empress. Army recruitment is the highest it's been in decades."

"That..." Nunnally interjected, "that can't be true. The Emperor loved mother, right?"

Lelouch just sighed as he squeezed Nunnally's hand. He'd never had the heart to tell her just what sort of man their father was. As far as she was concerned, the reason she'd only spoken to the Emperor twice in her life was that the man kept himself so busy running the nation. Instead, the truth was coming out—their father simply didn't care, not about any of his children until they proved their worth to him.

"No," he finally confessed to his sister, "he didn't. Not really. Or perhaps he did in his own twisted way. To be entirely frank, I'm not sure which is worse. Mother and I did our best to keep it from you, Nunnally, but you've never truly seen what our father is like."

Nunnally broke down, unable to reconcile her image of a distant but caring father with the heartless monster Kewell and her brother were portraying for her. It ended up being a solid half-hour before they could calm her down enough to continue their explanations.

"So if the Emperor, "Lelouch decided at the moment Nunnally shed a tear over the man's actions that he would never refer to the man as "father" again, "had mother... dealt with, why are we just now leaving Pendragon?" It seemed incongruous. If the Emperor had done away with mother, Gottwald wouldn't stand for it. It wasn't in his protector's character.

Lelouch took a small dash of pride in being able to spot the briefest flash of shame of Kewell's typically unreadable face before it vanished.

"We were blinded by the same cover story as you, Your Highness. We were only informed of the true nature of the assassination days ago. We spent the remainder of the time preparing to escape. Your mother feared the worst may occur, and set up a safehouse in Japan."

The evasive answer was not lost on Lelouch, "Informed by who?"

"I'm afraid that would be me, Your Highness," Dr. Asplund interjected with his calm and steady voice. Supposedly the man had an older brother who specialized in mechanics, and was the polar antithesis of Thomas' stoic demeanor. Lelouch shuddered to meet the infamous Lloyd Asplund. "I had my own... personal suspicions regarding your mother's demise. I pulled some stings to have her autopsy files pulled, and noted that they had been rather shoddily doctored. Through judicious blackmail and some other unpleasant means, I acquired the original copy of the file, which indicated towards a professional Britannian assassin team."

Lelouch gave Dr. Asplund a wary look. He knew the man was experienced, but he didn't want to know what kind of medical training the man had that he could easily identify the indicators of one of the infamous Britannian silencer squads. The knowing yet detached way he said unpleasant means alsosent shivers down his spine.

"With this startling information, I thought of who I could definitively trust. Gottwald and Soresi immediately came to mind. When they learned of the information, they enacted your mother's security plans. The House Guard signed on as well."

"How many?"

"All of them," Gottwald answered with a hint of pride in his voice, "well, all twenty that served under your mother. The other ten or so that replaced the ones killed in the attack couldn't be trusted."

Lelouch's eyes widened at the number. He was a bit awed that twenty men he didn't even know the names of would willingly abandon their country and lives in order to protect him. Of course, there was also the logistics of housing and feeding twenty men—plus the additional expenses of himself, Nunnally, Gottwald, Kewell, and Asplund.

"How can we afford this? I can see mother setting aside an emergency fund for such an occasion, but her assets were frozen during the investigation. They wouldn't be accessible."

Kewell smirked, rising from his chair and approaching one of the massive tarp-covered pallets that filled the center of the cargo plane.

"Did your mother ever tell you that after the Ashfords helped her rise into the Emperor's favor, she invested billions into their foundation? Of course, they held the stock in their own names but the money was there. With their development of the Glasgow Knightmare Frame, which has just received a near-trillion pound order, they are now quite the wealthy individuals."

Lelouch nodded, the Ashfords were long-standing allies of the Lamperouge family, politically and financially. As the inventors of the Knightmare, they were now wealthy beyond their wildest dreams. Of course, this came from the war caused by his mothers... untimely passing. He didn't hold suspicions for the Ashfords, though. Reuben Ashford had been the closest thing he had to a grandfather, and Milly his best friend.

His heart ached, as it slowly sunk in that he might never play with Euphy, Cornelia, Schneizel, Clovis, or Milly ever again—Hell, he might never see them again. Never again would he hear Milly call him that detestable nickname. Never again would he confidently decide that this was the chess game where he would best Schneizel. Never again would Nunnally and Euphy get in an argument over which of them would get to marry him, not understanding the adult implications of what they were saying.

Kewell's voice sprung him back out of the dark hole his thoughts were descending into, "Economics lesson, Lelouch. When major empires go to war, what happens to the price of rare commodities?"

"The price is jacked up as global investors seek a tangible investment to protect their money," Lelouch answered automatically. It took him a moment to process, and then his eyes widened in understanding.

Kewell's smirk was starting to look painful as he pulled the tarp off one of the pallets and opened one of the many crates underneath. Inside were stacks of gold bullion. He opened another to reveal the glittering and unmistakable sheen of diamonds packed into foam casings.

"As we said, Your Highness, your mother made arrangements."

-Break-

The safehouse was... not quite what Lelouch was expecting. He expected an isolated farmhouse or some God-forsaken cabin in the jungle. Instead, he was confronted with a rather sprawling, if run-down, estate. It even had a patch of open ground just large enough to land the cargo plane, even if the pilot was cutting it a bit close.

As the ramp lowered, the House Guards were out first, rifles raised. They had failed their empress once already—they would not allow her children to be taken in an ambush. Once they cleared the ramp, one of them piloted out the pre-production Sutherland, using the advanced factsphere to sweep the surroundings for snipers and the like. Only when all scans came up negative did the others exit.

Lelouch stepped off the ramp, Gottwald at his right shoulder and Count Soresi leading the way towards the estate building. Dr. Asplund followed behind, pushing Nunnally's wheelchair.

"What does it look like, Lelouch?" she asked in a soft voice. Lelouch almost started when she spoke. Ever since the initial outburst on the plane, she'd been unusually silent. Perhaps with mother... gone, she'd held on to the idea that she had at least one parent left, even if a distant one—now that hope was shattered. The two of them really were the last of their family.

He paused a moment as he formulated a response to her question. To be honest, the safehouse was very well set up. It looked like an abandoned nobleman's estate, with a crumbling perimeter wall covered in ivory, and blackout boards covering the windows. The small courtyard was overrun with weeds and the paint was peeling all along the house.

Of course, appearances were deceiving. His mother had commissioned this safehouse, after all. It was well placed, near a road but not a main one. They'd see next to no traffic. The perimeter wall was, although crumbling, still functional—no holes were exposed, the sole gate looked to be reinforced, and he could see slight hints of support beams embedded within the stone to strengthen it. The untamed ivory along the top of the walls, upon an enlightened examination, concealed camouflaged yet deadly razor wire. The dilapidated exterior of the house combined with the blackout boards would ensure that nobody would expect the house to be occupied.

Of course, none of this translated well to a blind girl hoping for a beautiful new home. Instead, as they approached the house, he fabricated a painting of a fairytale dreamscape: Strong, safe walls, a noble and grand chateau, open land around for miles just perfect for rolling around in, flowers of all kinds littering the fields.

Any guilt he felt at the deception evaporated as he saw his sister smile for the first time since their rapid egress from Pendragon.

-Break-

The interior of the house was, fortunately, much better than the original. After unlocking the half-dozen various locks on the front door, the House Guards swept the place for squatters. Upon finding none, the rest followed in. Aside from the lack of natural light, it was really quite pleasant. Apparently, the house was still tapped into the local power lines, so electricity was not a problem. Once the breakers were flipped and a few burnt-out bulbs replaced, it was fully illuminated.

Marianne's hand in commissioning the house could definitely be felt as it reminded Lelouch greatly of the Ares Villa. The decor was certainly along the same themes as his former home. It was a shame that the need for the house to appear unoccupied prevented the making of a garden. Nunnally would have loved one for sure.

At least this time he didn't have to exaggerate the house's positive qualities to Nunnally. She seemed genuinely delighted to hear him describe their surroundings. She giggled when he took on the tone of a real estate agent describing the various amenities, hamming it up as he tried to pitch the mansion to her. Gottwald smiled at seeing him lure his sister out of her melancholy mood.

Honestly, the only real downside of the house was that it was not designed to be wheelchair accessible, first causing problems when Kewell led them down to measure the estate's resource stockpile. Gottwald had to carry Nunnally while Lelouch folded and carried her wheelchair down.

Lelouch was rather impressed by his mother's sense of forethought. There was enough preserved food, water, and fuel for the generators to outlast a multi-year siege. Thanks to the heavy, reinforced door and thick concrete walls, the enormous basement also doubled as a panic room and fallout shelter. They'd have to buy some supplies from the locals of course, but that shouldn't raise too much suspicion. Britannians had interests in every nation on Earth, after all. The presence of a few was hardly cause for notice.

As he and Nunnally were rather jet-lagged, he quickly fixed food for himself and her. Gottwald, Kewell, Asplund, and the rest could handle food on their own time. Perhaps when he had sufficient time, he would fix a meal for all of them, but he could visibly see Nunnally's exhaustion. He excused them from the examination of the house escorted her upstairs. Gottwald followed at his shoulder, only parting to assist him in carrying Nunnally to the second floor.

Lelouch briefly considered setting Nunnally up in her own room, but as if sensing his thought she requested to sleep with him instead. After the day they'd had, he couldn't blame her—so he placed her gently on the bed in the Master bedroom. Changing into his bedclothes, he slid in next to her, running a comforting hand over her sandy hair. One of her hands blindly groped towards him, until it finally found his hand. Her grip was unyielding, her forcefulness attesting to just how scared she really was. Lelouch had no comfort to give but to squeeze back.

-Break-

For the third time that night, Nunnally had a nightmare. She had started out fitfully tossing and turning, working her way up before eventually devolving into screams and hysterical sobs that had Gottwald and five other guards busting in with guns drawn at every incident. Lelouch would immediately dismiss them and return to consoling his sobbing sister.

Seeing his sister—the living incarnation of kindness and compassion—reduced to this state by the Emperor, Lelouch felt his blood burn. Nunnally had always been the focus of his life, from the day mother first brought her home from the hospital and let him hold her he'd sworn that he would do everything in his power to make her happy.

And the Emperor had slowly burnt that promise—that dream, to ashes around him.

The image of his sister lying broken on a hospital bed, barely clinging on to life had permanently etched itself into his memory. All of it was because of the Emperor. Schneizel had often read to him famous classics centered around revenge, such as Hamlet or The Count of Monte Cristo. He perhaps wondered if the fire coursing through his veins was what those famous paragons felt as they started down the path of darkness.

Another crack of thunder shook the estate as a raging storm hammered Japan. Driven by unseen specters, Lelouch slid out of bed and made his way to the large, blacked-out window. With a slight heave, he moved the blackout board aside and stared into the heart of the whirling tempest surrounding his stronghold.

"Appropriate," he thought. Of course, the great epics of revenge seldom ended well for the protagonist. Perhaps he was better likened to Faust, a man who sold himself to evil to pursue his own goals. The details of the tale varied, with some versions ending with Faust being dragged to Hell by Mephistopheles, while others have the wily Faust outwitting the Devil himself and leaving with both his prize and payment. Britannia, being a nation the idolized greatness, of course propagated the version of the tale ending with man conquering some pseudo-mystical force. Lelouch had always preferred it himself as well.

As Lelouch observed the wrath of a nature assault the countryside, something changed in him. It was as if the water pouring from the heavens were washing away the accumulated layers of boyhood and youth. Whatever naivety he possessed—whatever innocence, it was gone. Left behind was a cold shell of pragmatism. Highlighted by his sisters quiet sobs and the crash of thunder, Lelouch's course was set.

The Emperor would burn, but not quickly. His nation would crumble, his supporters would die or abandon him, his touted Social Darwinism would be turned against him as a greater evil engulfed him. As his world burned and he laid on his knees in the ashes, he would gaze up to cry against the gods and instead lay eyes upon the architect of his destruction: Lelouch.

He would bide his time, gather strength, and wait for an opportunity to present itself. With the approaching war with the EU, Lelouch knew that Britannia would commit some tactical error, likely over the deployment of Knightmares. Some weakness would be exploitable. He would just have to wait a few years.

-Break-

It was two years later that Lelouch was awoken in the middle of the night by an aerial bombardment. He'd gone to bed exhausted after a full day of history lessons from Kewell, science from Dr. Asplund, and worst of all, physical education with Gottwald. Fanatically loyal as the man was, he was an absolute taskmaster in his capacity as an instructor.

Still, he if he was to bring down his home country, he could not afford to be complacent. He had to strive and improve, especially for Nunnally's sake. The world the Emperor wished to bring about was not one that would tolerate weakness—not one that would tolerate his beloved sister. She was the only family he had left in the world, and he would bring it to its knees before letting it call her worthless.

The pre-dawn explosions shook the manor, causing Lelouch to fall out of bed. Still dressed in his night clothes, he resisted the immediate urge to remove the blackout board from the window to peer outside. If the place was being bombed, the last thing needed in the early morning was for the house to look occupied. He had to check on Nunnally and get then get everyone downstairs.

He dashed out of his room, not bothering to change. Sliding to a halt outside his sister's door, he threw it open to find Gottwald already inside, setting Nunnally into her wheelchair. Gottwald threw a brief nod, which Lelouch returned. Lelouch was somewhat self-sufficient, but Nunnally would require help to evacuate.

"What's happening, Lelouch?" the still-sleepy Nunnally mumbled. She had always being a heavy sleeper, and she hadn't been following the news as closely as Lelouch and the others. Britannia had been hitting Japan with increasingly absurd trade demands, clearly trying to provoke a war as an excuse to secure the nation's Sakuradite deposits to support the recently-declared war with the EU. Expecting an imminent invasion, Lelouch, Kewell, and Gottwald had spent the last several weeks gradually moving all signs of habitation into the basement. Only the beds remained on the above floors, as they were too large to move and had been there anyway.

"War has come, Nunnally."

As Lelouch, Nunnally, and Gottwald rounded the corner leading to the stairs, they encountered Kewell, Dr. Asplund, and four House Guards—all fully dressed—running to meet them.

"We should get to the basement, Your Highness," Kewell said as another explosion shook the manor, much closer this time. Lelouch couldn't argue with Kewells logic, and led the way to the reinforced door of the cellar. Gottwald picked up Nunnally with ease and Lelouch grabbed her chair, neither even breaking stride as they descended into the bunker. Several of the house guards were already down there, setting up cots or monitoring the radio for pertinent news.

Soon, all but four of the guards were downstairs—the last four performing a full sweep of the manor to ensure all signs of habitation were erased. Once they made it down and gave the all clear, Kewell slid the heavy metal door shut and spun the dial locking it in place.

Dr. Asplund went over and started up the small bank of computers rigged up to the series of hidden cameras monitoring the exterior of the mansion. Several feeds had been knocked offline, but thanks to redundancies in the system there were no full blindspots along the approach to the manor.

Few cameras had enough of an upward angle to view the sky, but through those that did Lelouch could see flocks of bombers raining indiscriminate bombing down on the local countryside. He felt a small shudder of emotion as he calculated the bombing area and realized that they were directly over the nearby town of Nakagawa. Most of the manor's supplies were purchased there, and Lelouch had been on several trips into there—some with Nunnally. Under the guise of tourists, the locals had been exceedingly polite even with the rising Britannian/Japanese tensions.

He just prayed that enough of a warning had reached them before the invasion that they'd managed to mostly evacuate, but he knew that it was an empty hope. Britannia had long ago adopted the German Blitzkrieg tactic, launching brutal surprise attacks designed to infiltrate enemy lines before an alarm could be raised. No warning would have gotten out, especially this close to the coast.

After getting Nunnally set up on a cot, he placed a pair of headphones loaded with soft classical music over her ears. There was no reason for forcing her to listen to the sounds of the countryside being slaughtered.

Lelouch meanwhile pulled up a chair and dragged it next to Asplund, who looked down at him with a disapproving but understanding expression. The young man put a single hand of support on Lelouch's shoulder as they continued to monitor the screens.

It was going to be a long night.

-Break-

The next few days in the bunker were torture for Lelouch. The invasion had mostly passed them over, with only a lone Britannian squad backed by a Glasgow giving the manor a rushed and cursory search before departing. When the X marking had been spray-painted over their door indicating to further Britannian patrols that the house was clear of occupants, everyone inside let out a sigh of relief. Dr. Asplund, Kewell, and Gottwald had already celebrated by getting the first full-night's sleep in days, but Lelouch couldn't sleep.

Over the past few days, through the cameras, they'd seen two groups of fleeing Japanese families gunned down by Britannian Knightmares. Lelouch had demanded to go out and look for survivors, but for once Gottwald and Kewell had managed to agree on something and forbade it. As loyal as Gottwald was, he still blamed himself for Marianne's death, and stubbornly refused any action that would endanger his two remaining charges.

But now, Kewell and Gottwald were asleep, and Lelouch was watching the cameras alone. Through the low lighting provided by the full moon, he spotted a Britannian squad rushing by on foot. The cameras didn't have microphones to hear them, but he could see that they were performing a search for someone in the nearby woods. They were visibly frustrated about something, likely an inability to find their target.

Several tense minutes passed as the soldiers combed the woods, but eventually they decided to move on. Lelouch let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding that they didn't find whoever they'd been chasing. He didn't need to sit helpless as another innocent was shot down before him.

As his eyelids drooped with exhaustion, he almost missed the image of someone slipping down from a tree.

His exhaustion faded away to nothingness at the sight of this individual collapse against the trunk of a large tree, partially hidden by the nearby shrubbery. Lelouch tapped a few controls on the keyboard controlling the cameras and zoomed the one viewing that section of the woods in as far as it would go.

The fleeing individual—a teenage Japanese woman, it seemed—was panting in exhaustion. She touched her stomach and flinched, drawing away her hand. In the faint moonlight, Lelouch could make out that it was soaked red. She was out in these woods in the middle of an invasion, wounded and alone; it looked like she was on her last legs. Either she would bleed out during the night or that Britannian patrol would come back in the daylight and finish the job.

Regardless, the outcome was this innocent dying.

"Don't do it," he could hear Kewell's voice warning in his head, "You'll be jeopardizing everyone here if you do. Think of Nunnally."

He glanced in his sister's direction, where she was still sleeping fitfully. Her most common nightmares these days were about the incident that cost her vision and mobility—the incident where she'd been shot repeatedly and left to die by Britannian assassins...

He was thinking of Nunnally, and of what she would want him to do. If he could keep this young woman from dying, it would be the smallest step towards creating the world she deserved.

His decision made, he crept as quietly as he could towards the section of the basement containing the supplies—haphazardly stacked next to the pallets of rare goods they'd shipped in on the cargo plane they later stripped down and sold to a scrapyard. The Sutherland Knightmare frame they'd brought on the plane was still in the woods under several camouflage tarps.

After several seconds of searching, Lelouch finally found one of the many medical kits stored in the basement. Dr. Asplund had been teaching him basic medical treatment, and Lelouch felt confident enough to at least patch up a gunshot wound. As an afterthought, he also tucked a silenced pistol in his waistband. Gottwald had made a point of ensuring his marksmanship by taking him on several hunting trips in the forest. Lelouch had little doubt about his skill with firearms.

On silent feet, Lelouch crept up the stairs and cracked open the bunker door, which was mercifully on well-oiled hinges. The night air was frigid as he exited the manor and made his way for the woods. He stopped at the edge of the road, hunkering down and searching to the left and right. When he couldn't see any movement, he dashed across the opening and into the security of the small embankment the marked the entrance of the forest. Evidently, he wasn't being as silent as he thought he was when he saw the girl against the tree tense.

She reached into the sleeve of her black outfit, likely for a weapon of some sort, but the movement caused her to jerk in pain and she gave up. Lelouch could see the fight leave her eyes as she visibly resigned herself to death. He stood up and moved into her line of sight, holding up his free hand to show that he meant no harm. Her eyes narrowed at his classical Britannian features, before widening to confusion at both his age and the medical kit in his hand.

"Britannian?" she asked in Japanese. Lelouch's Japanese was rough, as he rarely spoke to anyone outside the manor, but he and Nunnally had listened to enough Japanese radio together to at least understand it.

"Britannian," he confirmed in Japanese, before once again indicating towards his hands and the medical kit to show his sincerity, "Friend. Help."

She looked him up and down, and he felt her gaze seep into his being. They were the eyes of a killer, he realized, and he barely resisted the urge to finger the pistol in his waistband.

"Friend," she finally agreed, letting go of the tension she'd been holding. Lelouch took that as his cue to kneel down next to her and open the medical kit. He took a cursory examination of her wounds, Dr. Asplund's voice in his head narrating the physical audit.

"Numerous lacerations along the extremities, likely from running through the wilderness for extended periods of time while being chased. Disinfect and bind. Twisted ankle; compress with ice and elevate. Numerous abdominal gunshot wounds; carefully remove metal fragments, disinfect, and stitch shut until better medical treatment can be sought."

The gunshot injuries seemed the most pressing, so he began with them. Knowing that what he was about to do would be painful and not wanting to alert that Britannian patrol if it was still skulking about, he removed a pad of gauze and motioned for her to bite it.

At her raised eyebrow, he answered, "Pain," and she nodded in understanding.

He started with the tweezers, dousing them in alcohol to disinfect them before using a lighter in the kit to burn it off. It was difficult to see in the low-light, but he didn't want to risk a flashlight in case the soldiers spotted it.

The next fifteen minutes were grueling, as he excruciatingly removed every bullet fragment he could find in this woman's abdomen, not particularly helped by being unable to convey more than simple instructions into Japanese. He'd gotten about three-quarters through when he felt her tense, and a twig snap a second later. He cursed; Gottwald or Kewell must have noticed his absence.

"Well, well, well," came a voice accompanied by the telltale sound of several safeties clicking off, and Lelouch froze in horror, "what have we here?"

Four flashlights clicked on in time with Lelouch's slow turning around, but the blinding glare didn't keep him from making out the Britannian squad with assault rifles trained on him.

"Looks like I owe you ten pounds, James," the sergeant said, "thought this bitch slipped by us. Turns out she was just hiding like the rat she is. But what's a lost little Britannian boy doing here? Aiding the enemy, it seems. You aren't the son of some Eleven-lover, are you?"

Lelouch gulped, moving to shield the teenage girl behind him with his body, "My name is Alan Spencer, my father is a Duke."

The squad members shifted, but the sergeant called his bluff, "Let me see your I.D then, boy."

"It's in my back pocket."

At the soldier's sneer and nod, Lelouch reached for the silenced handgun in his waistband. He was quick on the draw, and the soldiers likely wouldn't be expecting someone his age to be armed. He'd be able to drop at least one—maybe to if he was lucky before they finished him off. Might provide enough of a distraction for the girl to flee, but that was unlikely. She was wounded and the adrenaline had long worn off.

Her hand brushed his leg and he turned back to see silent thanks in her eyes for what he'd attempted to do for her—even as she resigned herself once again to death.

No, Lelouch wouldn't let that happen. This wasn't how he was going to die, gunned down by soldiers in the wilderness. Even if it was, he wasn't going down without taking at least one of these bastards with him.

He flicked the safety off the gun—and started slowly pulling it out of his waistband—when two silenced shots rang out. With precision accuracy, they dropped the two soldiers on the flanks of the squad. The remaining two spun around, rifles raised to confront the threat. Lelouch didn't let the opportunity go to waste as he drew his own gun and placed a bullet in both of their skulls.

The sudden silence in the cold night air was one of the most intense Lelouch had ever experienced, before the bushes rustled and a furious Kewell Soresi emerged next to Gottwald. Four members of the House Guard accompanied them with their assault rifles, along with Dr. Asplund.

"Kewell—" he started.

"Don't you dare try to justify this, Your Highness," Kewell hissed at him, "Your sister has a nightmare, wakes up to find you for comfort, and finds out that you are gone, running around the woods and jeopardizing everything we've worked for—and you try to justify it?"

"She was wounded—dying!" he retorted, "I wasn't going to watch over the cameras as a woman died in front of me, a hundred yards from where I was. You may be willing to hide safe in our little bunker, but I'm not!"

"You still don't get it, do you? This is about more than you, Your Highness. Do you realize what you are? You are a greater symbol than you realize. To the commoners of Britannia, you are a symbol of hope, of rising above their station and becoming something greater than what the nobility deigns for them. You are the blazing symbol of everything the Emperor stands against. Gottwald, Asplund, myself, twenty soldier's of your mother's guard, we have all abandoned our lives, families, and fortunes to keep you safe, Your Highness, because we believe in what you stand for, and what you can become. And you want to throw all that away to help some girl in the woods?!"

Lelouch was stunned by the man's words, not having taken into account the sheer gravity of what being the Commoner Empress' surviving son would actually mean to the average citizen. It didn't make him regret his actions, however.

"How long do you think I will remain a symbol if I duck my head into a bunker every time something dangerous happens? If I wish to see there world changed, I must change it."

"Not if it puts you in danger," Kewell argued.

"'There is nothing more difficult to plan, more doubtful of success, nor more dangerous than the bringing about of change.' You taught me that, Kewell, or were you just reciting platitudes?" Lelouch demanded.

Kewell's face contorted into anger at having one of his lessons turned back against him, before he seemed to regain control of it.

"We will discuss this further at the manor, Your Highness—where I can scream at you without fear of bringing down half the military on our heads," he finally concluded with a voice promising a lecture of god-like proportions, accompanied by hours of grueling fencing drills.

"What about her?" Lelouch asked, pointing the the Japanese woman he'd been treating, who had been watching their argument in pained silence and confusion.

"What do you think?" Kewell sneered, "She's been treated enough to survive. She can go on her merry way for all I bloody care."

Lelouch glared, before turning to Asplund, "She's been shot five times, is suffering a twisted ankle and numerous lacerations. I've not even finished removing the bullet shards. If I don't finish removing them and stitch it, she'll bleed out within an hour. She certainly can't move."

Dr. Asplund narrowed his eyes at Kewell, before kneeling down to take his own examination of the woman's wounds. With a sigh, he turned to two of the House Guards.

"Pick her up," he ordered.

"Belay that," Kewell ordered back.

Dr. Asplund glared at the Count, "His Highness is correct. This woman won't survive past the hour if we leave her. She'll die."

"Then let her die," Kewell ordered harshly, "If she sees the inside of the safehouse, our entire position will be compromised. Everything we've worked for since leaving Pendragon will be for nothing."

Lelouch glared at Kewell as well, but felt he was too emotional to formulate a proper argument against his instructor. Fortunately, Dr. Asplund did it for him.

"You know His Highness will never allow that. You swore an oath to Her Majesty, same as I did—same as all of us did. Our lives and loyalty belong to Prince Lelouch and Princess Nunnally. Are you saying you'll violate that oath?"

The air stilled in the tension, and the four House Guards along with Gottwald stiffened. Kewell glanced towards them, before seeing that he had lost the argument, "You know I won't, Thomas. However, I was also charged above all else with keeping His Highness protected. I will disobey him if that's what it takes to keep him alive."

That didn't seem to sit well with Gottwald or the House Guards, as they continued to shoot Kewell suspicious glares as one of them scooped up the Japanese teenager.

"I understand you logic," Dr. Asplund stated, "but the damage has already been done. When the sun rises and these bodies are discovered, they'll know that our location is compromised anyway. Our only recourse if packing up to leave as soon as possible."

"We don't have the vehicles to stealthily move the valuables in that safehouse," Kewell argued, "It would be better to bury the bodies."

Lelouch shook his head, his strategic mind finally entering the conversation, "Britannian soldiers are fitted with G.P.S trackers. Once they go offline, they'll start scouring the area and eventually find us. What we do have is a Sutherland and a Count. They've just started inducting the Sutherland as the elite commander unit of the Britannian army. No knight would dare stop a convoy of trucks escorted by one. We could disguise ourselves as a logistics caravan and relocate."

Both Asplund and Kewell turned to him in shock, as if they'd forgotten he was there.

"That..." Kewell thought hesitantly, before sighing, "that could work."

"Let's head back then," Lelouch ordered, indicating towards the woman he'd rescued, "before she bleeds out."

-Break-

To say that the last few days had been rough for the sixteen year old Sayoko Shinozaki would be an understatement she would likely have killed whoever spoke it over. When the Britannian bombers had first struck their mountainous clan hold, half of the infamous Shinozaki clan had been killed, and the other half scattered when special helicopters began dropping in those unholy metal abominations.

Among the dead was her own mother, the head of the Shinozaki clan. As heir, it had been her duty to regather her sisters, cousins, and all other women of the Shinozaki clan—to rebuild it.

Then she had slipped up, missed the signs of an incoming group of soldiers. She'd managed to kill twelve of them before running out of kunai, and another four with her bare hands before they'd put enough bullets into her to force a retreat.

They'd chased her doggedly for days through the various wildernesses of Japan, alternating squads so that her pursuers would remain fresh while she grew increasingly weary and tired. During the chase, she'd been clipped twice more with bullets, and a failed attempt to leap over a creak had resulted in a twisted ankle. On the third day, late in the night, she could feel her strength fading.

She'd managed enough of a lead on her pursuers that she leapt into a tree and concealed herself as best she could. Deep down inside, she knew that she would not survive this night. Even if her pursuers didn't kill her, her steadily dripping injuries would. She held her breath as the patrol passed, despite the pain it caused her bruised ribs. It wasn't until they were long past that she released it. Her descent from the tree was less a descent and more a controlled fall as she collapsed against its trunk. The fight had gone out of her, but she comforted herself that at least this way she wouldn't die at the hands of the Britannians.

Just as she felt herself fading from consciousness, she heard the faint sound of someone moving. Her eyes snapped open to scan the perimeter around her, and her eyes locked with a silhouette in the moonlight. She reached into the sleeve of her garment to retrieve the last keepsake of her mother—an inscribed kunai that marked her position as heir to the clan—when it finally stuck her that it wouldn't matter. She would die here regardless of whether she killed this Britannian. She would still be a failure.

Then, the silhouette did something unexpected; it held up its empty hand in a gesture of peace, while the other was holding some sort of briefcase. Was this some fellow Japanese refugee?

But when the figure stepped fully into the moonlight, she saw him for what he was. He looked to be a few years younger than her, but was unmistakably a Britannian. On the case he held was a red cross, the universal sign of a first-aid kit.

She was very confused, but she decided to play it safe and play to be exactly what she appeared to be. Her training in assassination involved infiltration, so she spoke fluent Britannian, but she spoke in Japanese anyway.

"Britannian?"

The boy seemed to shudder under her gaze, something understandable given her profession, but finally nodded and repeated his nationality. He wasn't half-Japanese then, either, if he identified as Britannian but was helping a Japanese. It seemed he didn't speak Japanese either, from his broken attempt at explaining his intentions to render first aid.

At her consent, the boy began expertly assessing and cataloging her wounds. She took the opportunity to examine the boy in full. He was tall for his age, thin too—albeit with the very beginnings of muscular definition. From the way he was checking her over for injuries, he was highly educated, which would fit with his obvious noble upbringing.

He handed her a bit of gauze to bite down on for the pain, even if it was not needed for someone with her training. Shinozaki assassins were trained to never show pain.

However, the pain of him digging the bullet fragments did distract her enough that she didn't notice the return of the Britannian patrol until they had already arrived. As she lay defenseless on the ground, she was surprised to see the boy moving to protect her. He was quite fearless and honorable, staring down the soldiers and refusing to give ground. She felt she owed it to this boy to at least thank him before their demise, and she did so after a weak tap on his leg.

As he looked into her eyes, and a resolve drew itself up within his own purple eyes, she found herself spellbound by the sheer determination, bravery, and intelligence contained within.

The boy turned back to the soldiers, and she saw him reach for a pistol in his waistband. He intended to go down fighting then. She found herself unwilling to look away, feeling that this boy deserved to have someone who cared witness his fall.

Then two of the guards dropped. The boy didn't hesitate a second as he quickly drew and finished off the other two guards as... more soldiers emerged from the trees?

The conversation the followed shocked her. She had been rescued by a Britannian prince? It seemed that he was in opposition to the current Emperor's regime, and stood a legitimate chance of changing it. Her first instinct had been to kill the boy for being the son of the one responsible for the murder of half her clan, but as the conversation continued, and he refused to leave her to her fate, that decision began to change. She did owe this boy a life-debt, and clan honor demanded that she repay it with her own life and loyalty.

Perhaps... perhaps swearing herself and her clan to one with the drive and ability to conquer their invaders would be beneficial, even if it was a Britannian. It was tradition for the Shinozaki kunoichi to swear themselves and the clan to a singular Master and their cause. The last Master of the Shinozaki clan had passed a four years ago, and Sayoko's mother had yet to choose a new one before the attack. As clan leader, the decision would now fall to her. It was unorthodox, but foreign Masters had been chosen in the past...

As she thought back to the boy's eyes and all that she'd seen in them, she decided. This boy had within him the intelligence and cunning to fight his enemies, the bravery and honor to lead a clan, and the drive to see it all through. The Shinozaki clan had found a new Master.

Maybe, just maybe, this boy had the ability to change things.

-Break-

Once the adrenaline had worn off in the manor's bunker, Lelouch collapsed into oblivion. It wasn't until he awoke the next morning in a nearly empty cellar that the full events of the previous day sunk in. He looked down at his hands, at the nearby pistol, and it finally dawned on him that he'd killed two people last night. It was self-defense, but he'd killed two people.

He recognized the feeling churning in his stomach, and managed to make it to the cellar's bathroom before vomiting. A soft hand laid itself on his back, and he looked up into the face of the woman he'd saved last night. The concern and understanding on her face was clear, but he waved her off as he rose to his feet. He didn't need a woman with multiple gunshot wounds worrying over his guilt.

It seemed Dr. Asplund had done his job well, as the woman seemed in much better shape than the previous night. Her wounds were treated and bandaged, her ankle was in a splint with ice, and she seemed to be dressed in one of the female House Guard's spare uniforms.

As he fell back down onto his cot, he noticed how empty the cellar was. It seemed that every non-replaceable element of it had been stripped down and removed.

Was everyone getting ready to leave? Where was everyone?

He rose, and decided to check the upstairs. As he opened the door, he nearly walked into Gottwald.

"Your Highness," he greeted Lelouch, "Good morning. I was just coming to wake you."

"Where is everyone?" he asked, still very confused. He looked back to notice that the Japanese woman was standing at his shoulder, similar to how Gottwald usually did. Gottwald shot the woman a wary glance, but it seemed some understanding had been reached between them as the man didn't comment on it.

Gottwald indicated towards the exterior doors of the manor, "Outside, Your Highness. We're leaving."

Lelouch was confused, before remembering the argument with Kewell and his resolution. He honestly didn't think they'd have arranged for their relocation so quickly. They must have been up the entirety of the night to arrange the necessary transportation to move everything they'd brought onto the cargo plane. This amazement compounded when he stepped blinking into the midday light to find eight large military cargo trucks embellished with the markings of the Britannian military.

"We took a squad during the night and raided a forward supply convoy," came Kewell's voice from the front truck. "We had luck and surprise on our side, so we managed to seize the trucks and some APCs without an alarm getting out. With the chaos of the invasion, we should have a few days to reach our destination and dispose of the trucks before command even realizes they're gone."

"Where are we relocating to now?" Lelouch asked as the House Guard ran about preparing the final touches.

"Tokyo."

Lelouch furrowed his eyebrow, before understanding, "Ahh, Britannia would have seized it first in the invasion, so it's been secured much longer—and with the size a single supply convoy could quite easily disappear into the new Britannian populace."

Kewell nodded, pleased that his pupil understood the strategic logic behind the decision, before narrowing his eyes once again at the sight of the woman still standing stoically at his shoulder. She hadn't said a word since he awoke, and he hoped that she at least understood somewhat what was going on. The last thing he wanted was to accidentally kidnap a refugee. Given Gottwald's acceptance of her being near him, however, it seemed that at least some understanding had been reached.

"I should mention, Your Highness," Kewell growled, "that this very long roadtrip of ours will provide ample opportunity to properly chastise you for your blatant recklessness and disregard for your safety last night."

Lelouch paled at the Count's words, but stood firm at the thought of the teenage girl standing behind him. Regardless of the endangerment, his actions had saved her life. The kinder, gentler world Nunnally envisioned was just the tiniest step closer.

As the final signal was given and the large convoy set off for Tokyo—even as Kewell's lecture rang through his head—Lelouch knew that he didn't regret a thing.