Chapter 2

Like a Bird...

The first thing that came to Luciana vi Britannia as the dopey haziness began to dissipate like brushed aside cobwebs as she woke up was that she was in bed. The second thing was that this was not any bed she was familiar with, as it was far too firm and the sheets too plain for anything she'd find acceptable; ignoring the faint scent of fresh oranges. And finally, there was the fact that she was dressed in a t-shirt far too big for her feminine frame.

A surge of panic fluttered in her chest, driving away the last vestiges of fog as cold logic started creeping in, taking stock of her situation. Judging by the fact that she was in a rather expensive bed was a good beginning. The second was the fact that outside of the groggy, cloudy feeling that nagged at the back of her head with some physical weakness that was indicative of Refrain usage, there was nothing further of note. Furthermore, the fact that they took the time of putting in a different set of clothes, yet retained her undergarments meant that whatever interest there was in here wasn't of the immediate sexual nature, thankfully.

So, that whittled down who may have her, and the fact that Kallen, Naoto, or Milly weren't at her bedside ready to chastise her meant that it was someone she likely didn't know, as she had a very small pool of friends.

But the fact that they didn't seem to be interested in posting a guard, nor chaining her, provided her at least with an opportunity.

Slowly, and as quietly as she could, she removed the bedsheets from her self and rolled herself over, placing her feet upon the expensive carpeting. For a moment, she sat there, letting the blood flow back to her legs and getting a feel for how they would respond once she put her weight upon them.

Unfortunately, they felt as jelly-like as she expected, which meant that it had only been a handful of hours since the Refrain had worn off. Just what the hell had she paid those idiots for if they could not ensure that she was not bothered? Was nothing sacred, she raged as she placed her weight upon them and fought to keep her balance.

Not wholly satisfied that her legs would be there for her if the need to exfiltrate was necessary, but not wanting to risk taking more time in the event that whoever her captor was had designs for her, she settled on her feet. That successful, she took in her surroundings, hopefully to find any clue on whoever it was that held her.

Unfortunately, though, none was forthcoming. Despite the obviously expensive bedset, there wasn't really anything personal on display. No photos, no items of personal achievements, in fact, the room seemed rather sparse, almost…

She frowned, not liking the conclusion she was coming to. Either her captor was military, because everything here screamed a spartanistic mindset, or they were extremely organized and impersonal, choosing not to flaunt themselves in their very quarters. And rather unfortunately, she was leaning towards the former.

So, whoever it was, was likely male by the scent, military, with money, which meant nobility or old money, as a military salary could not cover the thousands of pounds that she was sitting upon. So whoever it was that had her, likely recognized who she was, and what she meant.

Fortunately, that gave her a bit more room to operate, even if she despised the fact that fact that it was only in her moment of weakness, that she was now reduced to using what she had sworn to never use again.

That decided, she slowly rose on wobbly feet, and carefully, and as quietly as she could, crept to the door. There was no point in trying to find something to defend herself, as it was likely that whoever had placed her in that room likely had ensured she would have no way to defend herself. Carefully, she opened the door and peered out, making sure to avoid making any unnecessary sounds that could tip off her captor that she was awake.

It was only a short while until she heard voices, one male and female, and judging by the raised pitch of the female voice, it was more of an argument than a discussion. But what was being said was enough to freeze her.

"I don't know how much longer we can hide this, Jeremiah. Clovis has already been demanding answers as to why you launched that raid. It won't be long until he summons you."

"And what do we tell him," came the angry response, "that we somehow found the Third Princess of Britannia, drugged out of her mind on Refrain, in a facility that caters to the rich for whatever they please. Tell me how he is going to take that?!"

The silence was telling, as she crept closer, looking around the corner at the two people. Eyes widening as she recognized who the woman was, as the silver hair, mocha skin, and distinctive uniform told her all she needed to know.

And if that was Villetta Nu, then the other person, judging from the name drop of Jeremiah, could only be Jeremiah Gottwald, commander of the Purist Faction in Area 11.

If it was any other person in her situation, it was likely that this would be the moment that panic would onset. However, if anything, it caused her focus to sharpen. So as she brought herself back around from the corner, she quickly ran through her options, finding most of her choices were unpalatable and would likely lead to her being returned to Britannia.

She was burned, there was no way to avoid that. Unless she killed everyone involved in her capture, then the news of her survival would spread. And the fact that she did not have immediate information on who it was that was involved, there was no point in planning for that measure.

No-

That was when Jeremiah stepped around the corner, intent on checking upon his charge, his eyes widening at the same time Luciana's did, having not heard Jeremiah rise from where he was seated.

"Y-Y-Your Highness," Jeremiah stuttered, before suddenly dropping to a knee before her and bowing deeply, adding only more to the strangeness of the situation, "please forgive me."

Well, she certainly wasn't expecting this. Far from it, she had been expecting that the head of the Purist Faction would immediately try and force her back into the room she was in, or something else. She certainly wasn't expecting the type of bow that a liegeman would do.

The question became, as she stared at him, eyes wide, was what she should do in response. A thousand different scenarios flew through her head. But for the life of her, she couldn't think of a response that would take advantage of this situation.

So when lacking intelligence, you seek it.

"Please, rise Lord Jeremiah. I do not know why you ask for forgiveness."

Rising to his feet, she found herself further surprised that there were tears trekking down his eyes.

"Your Highness, I was a member of the last Empress Marianne's guard. It was at her grave that I swore with my blood to protect you and Princess Nunnally. I loved your mother too much to offer anything less."

Nunnally, she thought to herself, closing her eyes. The sounds of screaming and the smell of burnt flesh reverberating in her very soul. It took everything not to go back there. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes, staring straight at the man, searching for any sign of deception, only to be met with none, only resolute dedication.

The more jaded part of her, the part of her that had been profoundly broken in the fires of the Kururugi Shrine, could only laugh with glee at the opportunity that was presented before her. However, there still remained some of that innocence, dying embers really, that openly sobbed at the idea of safe harbor. Of someone who could rescue her from the vast wilderness she had been trapped in, desperately surviving at the cost of everything else that had been her. It was a part of her that she loathed now, but still could not bring herself to truly kill off.

It was only as Villetta Nu came around the corner, that her decision was made for her.

"Would you protect me from all threats, both foreign...and Britannian?"

While Villetta's eyes widened slightly at the insinuation, truthful as it was, that Britannia had somehow wronged her, it was Jeremiah she found herself more focused upon. The narrowing of his eyes, the setting of his jaw, and the slight shake to him told her all that she needed to know that the man's actions were honest.

"All of them," he said solemnly, "my sword, my shield, my very life, it is all yours to spend, Your Highness. Against all your enemies."

She released a breath she hadn't even known she had been holding, a feeling burgeoning in her breast that could not help but acknowledge, to both her disgust and joy: hope. Even with all she had done, all the actions and plans she had put into play, this was truly the one that felt the most natural.

It was like a bird finding that its cage's door had been opened.

And it was at that moment, that the door to the condominium was kicked in, and several men stormed into the apartment, weapons at the ready.