Prologue: A Father's Farewell

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Holding a hand over her flat abdomen that hid all trace of a human being growing within her, she turned away from his steely gaze. Not out of fear. No… She simply couldn't bear the fact that she had lied to him again. Lied for what could possibly be the last time. The difference this time around, was that he called her out on it.

And why shouldn't he? Her lie concerned him as much as her.

"This is another matter entirely. You don't have the luxury of time to concern yourself about what would happen in the following months—"

She caught him eyeing the flat plane beneath her breasts; could see that an image of her cradling her swollen belly was materializing inside his head. Imagination. It's what he had left, after all. Should Zero Requiem succeed (and it had to for the sake of all they'd sacrificed and the blood they spilled), he wouldn't be around to see the progression of her condition in the following months.

He would never set eyes on the child she would deliver into his new world. She suspected it was a thought that bothered him immensely, because his gaze snapped back to her face shadowed with half-hidden melancholy.

The prominence of his frown grew ever more apparent the longer he stared at her. "They're mine just as much as they are yours. Don't you think I have a say in this?"

She sighed, reaching for a throw pillow discarded at the end of the couch to cover her nonexistent baby bump. "Yes, you do. For the two weeks that you have left."

Whatever he had been about to say, he stopped and kept his mouth shut. The gears were turning in his mind, and she could tell that he was considering it — toying with the idea of revising their strategic objectives. First, Nunnally. And now this.

Was Fate so cruel and so intent on torturing him? He supposed he could add it to the growing list of punishments for his sins. Just when he'd thought he had nothing but the Requiem to occupy himself with for the remaining 2 months of his life after that fateful battle, he chanced on uncovering his lover's secret.

"How far along are you?"

"Five weeks…"

She observed his hunched form, unwilling to utter words herself as she watched him mull over the facts. A part of her (the one that was to be a parent), wished he would reconsider, and perhaps even make changes to suit the unexpected turn of events. But then—

"I can't stay… I— I can't delay it either, even for them. We decided not to stop this when we found out Nunnally's alive. So I can't—"

He trailed off, and folded his hands in front of him; not meaning to, but it was a mockery of a prayer of sorts.

Just because one more life was in the brink of beginning, he couldn't make exceptions. The progression of his revolution ensured that his actions weren't just for his little sister any longer or his loved ones. He owed it to the world now — to everyone that lost their lives in the global ruckus he'd caused for world peace. If he failed or wavered the slightest bit, Suzaku had been right in saying the Zero Requiem would lose all meaning.

It was too late to stop… Too late to make alterations.

Every preparation had been made, and was being made to seal his fate and put the demon emperor to death. In two weeks…

Her resigned sigh caught his attention, and he slowly turned to see her clutching the throw pillow closer, resting her chin atop it. "I know. And I understand."

He came around to embrace her then — give her the solidarity they both needed.

Perhaps it was odd then, but neither spoke more about the subject. She didn't want to bring up her pregnancy, and he was left to imagine what life could have been like for them both. For the next 13 days, he threw himself into finalizing everything for the Requiem, and she moved to a different bed chamber in the estate they occupied while they stayed in Japan, the Imperial Crown Colony.

At the dawn of his last day on Earth, he came to her room in the wee hours of the morning. She stood at the balcony that overlooked the deceptively serene estate grounds. True enough, they hadn't spoken of their baby, but for the last 13 days, he knew she had been silently enduring morning sickness and the other pressing symptoms that guaranteed a new life growing inside her.

He felt horrible for keeping up appearances and for feigning indifference to her situation. Even if they both knew he was doing it for both their sake, it didn't mean he liked it. It didn't make the nasty taste of failure in his tongue disappear.

She was wearing the opulent gown he had commissioned for her ever since this entire ordeal started. It did look fetching on her. Although, he found it quite funny that she never wore that gown (covered all over in the characteristic red eye motif of his short regime) back in Pendragon. He only saw her don it a few times (now, being one of them) while they were in Japan. For odd reasons, she had favored her old straitjacket.

But as he looked at her now, with her back turned to him and in the gray light of his final dawn, he could admit that she looked positively regal. A fitting empress in her own right, had he reigned under different circumstances.

Today wasn't an ordinary day…

So when he approached her from behind, dressed in the pristine robes that bespoke of his tainted glory and majesty, and she turned to face him with centuries-worth of pain compounded into her weary expression, they both shed the thin veneer of boldness and pride. Stripped themselves to the simple man and woman that they actually were.

He surrendered to the outcry of his own feelings and tenderly wound his arms around her, pressing her to the folds of the snowy clothes that would later be stained in red. Pushing away thoughts of his own death, he squeezed her firmly but carefully, only too mindful of their baby sheltered in her womb. Her hands clutched his robes as she fought the escape of her own tears.

"Forgive me…" He pleaded into her crown of green hair as his fingers tangled in her tresses.

Lips quivering, she nodded into his chest. She understood. And no matter how painful it was, she could do naught but submit to destiny's design. He didn't like it anymore than she did, especially after they both found out. This was why she lied about it when she first found out, why she refused to tell him about her condition. It complicated things, and made it more difficult than it needed to be. He'd done so much and was going through plenty already. She didn't want him to bear the guilt of leaving behind his own child too.

He stroked her hair lovingly and kissed her forehead — right in the middle of her code.

"I'm glad in a way. At least, before I die as a villain, I can leave knowing I helped bring one good thing to the world in the end." He smiled sadly when she lifted her face to look at him — so much quiet sorrow in her lovely bullion eyes.

"He will know you. He will revere his father. I promise you." She murmured as he pressed their foreheads together and nuzzled her nose affectionately.

The world may forever hate Emperor Lelouch vi Britannia, but not her son… Not their beautiful little Prince. Very few people will honor his secret legacy, and she'd make sure their child would be one of the few.

"A baby boy, then. How do you know?"

She managed the littlest of smiles while he held her face and stroked her cheeks with his fingertips.

"I can just tell."

The somewhat haughty statement earned her a sly smirk. Always so sure of herself. It was in-character of his Witch to profess something she believed in with the utmost certainty.

She stayed in his arms as they both watched the sun rise, both inwardly counting the minutes they had left before he had to go, and before she planned to change back into her straitjacket and go to a nearby chapel to pray to a divine being she wasn't entirely sure even existed. Standing in the light of his final day, she softly spoke and for the first time, told him her fears and her dreams for their baby. He listened intently and happily (ignoring the shadow of death not far away) as he savored one of her last gifts to him.

He would never lay eyes on his own child. He could think of his son now instead, picturing a raven-haired little boy with his mother's face and his mother's eyes — traveling to school with a backpack bouncing in his wake, playing with new toys and reading books from cover to cover, eating snacks with his friends, held securely in his mother's arms as he slept, living safely and happily in a peaceful world his father recreated.

For Nunnally; for Suzaku; for Shirley, Rivalz, Milly, Nina, and Kallen; for Euphemia and Rolo; for his Black Knights; for every innocent life caught in the struggle; for the world...

For C.C. For their baby boy. For their happiness. He had to see it through, no matter how severely it crushed his heart.

Dropping to one knee, he smoothed his palm over her abdomen, his lips quirking up ever so slightly at the tiniest beginning of a baby bump — invisible and still containable within the confines of a fitting gown. And because it was his only chance to, leaned over and kissed her where the swell of pregnancy would soon manifest in the coming months.

Rising to his feet once more, neither of them mentioned the clear tracks of tears glimmering faintly in the corners of their eyes or on their cheeks. In a broken voice, he told her how much he loved her and their unborn child. Her own confession of love quivered underneath the weight of her sadness as she cupped his face and returned his last kiss.

In the light of a cloudless and beautiful sky, the Emperor stood with his beloved, and wept for the loss of fatherhood, for the little Prince he would never meet, and for the new family he was being forced to abandon for the greater good.