Clovis' Wish

"I'm going to be in the Chinese Federation starting tomorrow."

"This is sudden..." She replied, picking a petal off one of the rose buds. Schneizel turned from the pond to watch. She toyed with the lush greenery in silence. Her long blond hair framed her features, hiding whatever purposeful expression from view. It was possible that hiding was the performance. She was always less poised at this location. The Aires garden was remained her least favorite, despite the beauty. "Your father already had multiple wives prior to taking the throne." She continued, lifting her cobalt blue orbs to pierce into his soul.

He didn't respond.

Abigail hid her disappointment well, or it was likely she wasn't at all concerned that their engagement would be prolonged again. The last time it was at her request. She came to him the day before her eighteenth birthday, asking if he would wait a little longer. "It's Carson," she said at that time, strangely shy." I want him to be at the wedding. I want him to be there as my sibling, and not just as random guest in attendance."

She was regretting that decision now, pushing the wedding back over a full year so that she could get her bastard brother back into the family. Little did she know the reason why her father was so concerned about lineage, or how her mother's adulterous actions came to light. [1] Her fingers lingered, staring at the newly revealed anther, before she pulled off the last of the corolla. If he didn't know any better, Schneizel would have guessed she was playing Effeuiller La Marguerite, or "He loves me, he loves me not," in English. He knew that was too childish of a game for Abigail. That innocence was stolen from her long ago. Besides, she already saw his answer.

"Kanon will update your secretary on my schedule, once I decide on the duration of my stay." His voice was dull, like the two were discussing business rather than sentiments.

"I will come with you."

"There is nothing suited to you there."

Her eyes narrowed at his instantaneous and unapologetic slight. He quirked a brow, waiting. It wasn't until his scrutiny slipped, and his gaze wandered once again to the water that she reacted. Abigail sidestepped to force herself back into his line of vision. The satin of her dress, between a cerulean and aqua color, shimmered in the sunlight. Somehow the short woman managed to depict an air of acquiescent and demanding at the same time. Years of court intrigue surely seemed to be paying off for her. He could feel the smug satisfaction seeping out of her aura when the diamond brooch on at pinned to her petite, and yet curvaceous hips attracted in his attention.

"Doesn't the amount of time we spend together bother you? I swear we speak more through our staff than to one another." She pouted. Schneizel chose to let the comment, of Kanon being mere staff, slide. He knew that she was just upset. In a way the slip up was endearing. "I'm your fiancé; we are engaged. Shouldn't we act like it?"

Betrothed would have been a better fitting term for her to use. Engagement implied that there was proposed date, something set in stone, or moving towards that end. The stone, a massive rock on her delicate ring finger was present. It had to be re-sized multiple times, of course, as their marriage was arranged when the Lady Chapman was even smaller than her current stature. At least he had a choice in the matter; a match made for political gain, prepared solely to acquire exclusive mining rights of the sakuradite located in the duchy of Oregon.

A smile tugged at his lips at the irony of it all. Lelouch was sent to Area 11, Japan, for the ore. This wasn't the first time he wondered how differently it all would have played out if only Erza broke ground sooner. The destinies of the two royals were tied closer than originally predicted. Only he wished that it would be his younger sister following in his footsteps, and not the other way around. Sadly, the likelihood of a civil war breaking out in the homeland, and he becoming missing in action, was indeed slim, to say the least.

This decision would have to be seen through, so why did he procrastinate? It would be a white lie to say his hesitance was due to heeding Abigail's whims. Perhaps his precarious position prevented him from understanding family loyalty. Still, if he so chose, it would be within his power to coerce the wedding at a particular day, time, location, or any other detail.

"You have been gone so much since Clovis died. I was under the impression that his political agenda was limited to Area 11." She continued, lacing her fingers with his.

Schneizel saw Bruce, her chaperone, become enthralled with a cone shaped topiary out of his peripheral vision. The prince sniggered. Those days of having an overbearing third wheel watching his every move were long gone. Only Bruce's shaved head and black suit remained of the once stereotypical bodyguard. The other man even put on a few pounds over the years. He brought her soft, perfectly manicured and pampered hand to his lips, leaving a satirical peck on her knuckles.

Abigail didn't know the half of it. That idiom was flattering, considering Schneizel was unquestionably left in the dark too. It was only recently, since the death of his half-brother that a flashlight appeared in the form of a hidden file. While visiting the Warwick Place, Gabrielle, overcome with grief, confided in him that she "couldn't send a maid up to his room, but was afraid to see what her son was hiding up there." Clovis had always looked up to Schneizel, and although never participating in specific fetishes, did have a philandering streak.

He didn't envision finding anything incriminating in that bedroom. The decoration was the same as when the two were children, with comprehensible additions. Few spots of chocolate brown and gold walls were left barren. Whether covered with paint splatters from when he was quite young, or exquisite murals made during later years; it was all to be expected. Not even the theater props, saved due to some sentimentality, surprised him. He suspected that Clovis' spot for saving souvenirs was hadn't changed either. Therewithal, at the ripe age of seventeen, still in secondary school, was when Clovis volunteered for the position of Viceroy, and set off for Area 11.

"I want to make Area 11 somewhere peaceful for Lelouch and Nunnally to rest," was his thinking.

Remembering it made Schneizel sick.

He was about to leave with small stack of playboy magazines, and photos of women in "swimsuits," when a particular shade of chartreuse jumped out. It was on accident and only once that Schneizel was unfortunate enough to run into the teenage girl at the Aires Villa. She was some friend of Marianne's, a commoner of extremely low blood most likely, since both were secretive in their meetings. It was odd, to say the least, that Clovis would hold on to such a photograph. Even odder was the fact that it seemed recent.

The girl glared at the camera, possibly upset that her backdrop was white washed walls, and not a beach scene. A gruesome scar just under her right breast caught Schneizel's attention first. It was awful, using the archaic, literal use of the word - to leave one filled with awe. The puffed purple keloid scar wasn't to his brother's usual taste. Ordinarily, Clovis preferred his women to be flawless, something they both shared - except Schneizel wouldn't have minded creating such a mark himself.

C.C.'s photograph was separated from the rest, and placed in Schneizel's breast pocket. What an odd name; it wasn't even a name. [2] Simple deduction reasoned that to be the case, considering it was scrawled on the back with a set of number. An identification code would be his best assumption. Then again, he never assumed. Schneizel knew this to be the case as it was the only logical explanation.

There was another person with an affinity towards being called by initials alone. A child called V.V., who brashly suggested Schneizel call him "uncle" the one and only time they met. The interaction took place during Marianne's funeral. At the time Schneizel paid no heed to the boy, believing him to be another one of Marianne's elusive confidants or like Anya; a child placed that was to be placed with the Vi Britannian family for etiquette training.

He always found it peculiar that woman was the one conducting such lessons. She was nowhere near the model courtesan, to say the least. Lulu was indeed a carbon copy of one who gestated her. Or he imagined her to be. Charles barely gave the children time to blink before sending them off to Japan.

Abigail persisted in her prattle. He was only half listening; that was a generous and erroneous appraisal. Schneizel maintained enough presence to guise his wandering mind. At some point the conversation, thankfully, shifted from secrets, and back to planning. Wedding planning was her topic of choice, as always.

One would think they were done with such trivialities by now. Weren't women supposed to have these events planned since childhood? So why did she insist on rehashing details repeatedly? The only logical explanation was boredom. There was no other motivation to discuss flowers again.

"Iris." He interpreted. "Instead of roses for the centerpieces."

"Let me guess, purple ones?" She grated.

"Am I really that transparent, dear?"

Abigail rolled her eyes, letting some of that lustrous character shine through her facade. She was more entertaining this way, and he hoped her airs would disperse after the ceremony. They would need to find other conversations of choice. Schneizel could barely remember the last time they chatted about a point that was not politics or parties. He could only wonder if married life would be more or less dull than his current antics, not that he planned on being faithful.

With more than a hundred brothers and sisters, it would be arduous to appoint a black sleep of the royal family. After a while subsequent siblings mattered less and less; the expectations placed on Edmund's tiny shoulders, born just last week, were minimal. It would take a lifetime of strenuous service and skill to bring the boy to the status of Carine, who was fairly useless in her own right. Perhaps Odysseus would be a better example. He was favored simply for existing, and no real action. There was a slight chance there was more to the mediocre prince than what met the eye; it was unlikely. Nevertheless, with the discovery of Clovis' position as a pompous idiot being, at least partially, a ruse, Schneizel was forced to consider other possibilities.

It was hard to imagine that his-half sibling was the cardinal of this occult religious order. Harder still was coming to terms with the reality that geass actually existed. Up until this point his deductions were based solely on the findings regarding Code-R, a vaguely documented project that dealt with genetic manipulation. At first the lab reports read more like fiction. Schneizel accepted the supernatural because it gave him hope that his own selfish endeavors would be satisfactory. His most recent test subject, Orange-kun, was indeed pumped full of C.C.'s cells anticipating that Zero's identity would be revealed at some point during the process. An ulterior motive perpetrated every plan.

"Charles won't be happy to hear that you found this place."

Schneizel smirked at the small boy, surrounded by cloaked disciples, waiting for him at the end of the long hallway. The child chilling on oversized chair looked exactly as the second prince remembered. So it was true. At the time of their last meeting he was too flustered and immature to notice the resemblance. Both parties possessed beach blond hair, and should he have grown, Vincent's facial structure would have mirrored his own. They looked similar enough; it was an innate illation.

There was nothing innate about immortality.

"It's been a while, Uncle. Have you gotten taller since we last met?"

An asinine expression cut through the code-bearer's cool exterior before the twinkling of his eyes was replaced with a steel glare. V.V. seemed to be fighting the urge to stomp his feet. A grown man trapped in the body and maturity level of a ten year old - it was interesting indeed. The tale of Peter Pan was wanting of realism. "All children, except one, must grow up." It would appear that line described a mental state, and not physical attributes. Even geass could not avert time from taking its toll on the heart and mind of the one afflicted. It was biological development that prevented V.V. from properly articulating his growth.

"Was this the reason you volunteered to act as ambassador to the Chinese, to find me?"

"Being outwardly conceited is undignified." Schneizel chided, once again moving down the long underground corridor. "My role of Prime Minister has a laundry list of duties."

"Don't scold me."

"My apologies."

Schneizel stopped himself from giving the explanation that he "wasn't very good with children," knowing that it would only worsen the situation. He liked to play games and take risks, but only up to a certain point. Waltzing into the Geass Directorate was treacherous enough. The Emperor's warning from seven years ago, to "leave well alone," rang in his ears. Here's to hoping that his conjecture regarding the circumstances of Marianne's death were correct - that the bad blood between his uncle and father was diluted only by a shared goal, and not long lasting love.

V.V. silently shooed his entourage away. It was undetermined whether or not Schneizel was meant to follow suit; his only companion was Kanon. There were no secrets between the two men. Plus very few people knew that the Earl was a trained assassin. His uncle clearly took Kanon's serene trustworthy smile at face value, considering he didn't contemplate his situation long before pulling the small lever that opened the lavishly large entrance to the underground city.

On the other hand, there was little for the immortal to fear. He could suffer a dagger to the forehead and be unscathed. The weapon need only be removed for the cells to regenerate, closing the wound nearly instantaneously, compared to the rate of healing those without the code could conceive, that is. Danger undoubtedly meant something considerably different to those possessing the code. Schneizel felt a chill run down his spine, causing his toes to curl as he walked, at the memory of what was contained within the files of Code-R. One would easily assume that V.V. could live through the trials the witch endured as well. Certainly he had every right to act foolhardy.

The place reminded Schneizel of the movie "The Mole People," although he couldn't quite pinpoint why. Not only was the 1956 flick was only seen via MST3k, or Mystery Science Theater 3000, a show Kanon and he enjoyed in their youth. [3] The layouts were not similar in the slightest. Only the height of the ceiling was reminiscent. One need only add a synthetic sky in order to complete the illusion of London prior to Napoleon's occupation of the city. [4]

Schneizel breathed a sigh of relief when the trio passed a modernized version of a traditional old jailhouse. Rotting in a cell was not on his to-do list for the day. V.V's lack of a desire to detain them suggested they were not foreseen to be foes.

"This doesn't mean that I trust you." V.V. stated.

His actions abetted those words. The pint-sized leader of the organization lead Schneizel and Kanon down the streets, cutting through laboratories when necessary. If the startled looks on the scientists were any indication, they didn't receive house calls very often. Clovis also made little mention of this area of research in his diary.

The likelihood that the artist couldn't comprehend the details would have been his first guess, however, that corollary was no longer based on self-evident fact. Clovis knew more than he left on. Sure, he was a schmuck at strategy and tactics. Chances are his inability to gamble is what killed him, or rather, caused Zero to mercilessly end the Viceroy's death.

What a waste of a wish.

"Sakuradite may be the most powerful crystal in terms of weapons technology. I won't work for what you are really aiming to do here." Schneizel said, finally referencing his working theory of the nature of the geass order, when they passed a particular station.

A fire engine red haired technician openly gaped at his evaluation. The young man was just out of grad school, by the looks of his demeanor and physical attributes. His nails tapped nervously on the granite countertop of his workspace. A Petri dish, presumably containing trace amounts of the mineral being researched, sat beside a Leica M165 C high-performance stereomicroscope. The molecular structure shown on the screen of the computer to the person's right solidified his suspicion.

On the outside this base was deemed as a military research facility for anyone digging deep enough to come across insufficient data. The Britannian government actually was colluding with the Chinese Federation. After all, his negotiations earlier today pertained mostly towards how high of title would be given to the eunuchs for their participation. Still, how the pieces fit together was still beyond his reach.

The study of material sciences was not what he anticipated. Code Ragnarok specialized in extracting DNA from C.C., and finding multiple applications for the atypical proteins. Immortality was one area of research, and the reason why Clovis kept photographs of the woman after heinous investigations. Few pictures survived of the subjects unfortunate enough to be injected with the beta solution after they were exposed to comparable carrying out of tests. Enough remained for him to firmly say it was not going well at the time of her attempted transfer.

Another, more successful area, was fabricating geass with medical augmentation. Unlike contracted powers, these were limited to bodily advantages, such as enhanced speed. The side effects, and a dependency on the drug, delayed mass distribution to the military. [5] The failure to synthesize geass without genetic implantation also was a setback, despite there being no shortage of ways to farm from C.C.

Neither of these looked to be the inspiration for cells to be shipped to this site. Had they switched gears since the last report, or was he witnessing something entirely different? There had to be a common factor.

"It may be called the philosopher's stone; the name means nothing. Amethyst would be better at amplifying psychic abilities." He continued. [6]

V.V. tensed momentarily, leading them to another building devoted to crystallography without a response, and one that was more to his calculations. The test subject here was his uncle, although he did not undergo unethical experimentations. More so the aim was to compare the structures between his proteins and C.C.'s, in hopes that a way to create a second code could be found. His uncle voiced discontent at the results. What little Schneizel knew of molecular biology was applied to coming to the same conclusion: There was no way to effectively clone a code-bearer, and altering V.V.'s genetics undoubtedly wouldn't activate the Sword of Akasha either. The system wasn't susceptible to such trickery.

"The rest is just dorms for the scientists and those whom I have given geass." Schneizel quirked an eyebrow before it all clicked. This place was a breeding ground, of sorts, documenting the correlation of the wish with evolution of the power. "As far as I can tell, there's nothing else here that would interest you, nephew, unless you want to ask for my gift."

"No." Schneizel sneered, catching even Kanon off guard with the amount of genuine emotions exposed. "There is nothing I desire that is outside my reach. I don't believe I would have a very powerful ability. You might not trust me, Uncle, yet I have faith you will not inform my father of our visit."

"What makes you think I am just going to let you leave here?"

"Because it's in your best interest. I'm more useful to you free then detained, and I have no incentive to divulge what I've learned today."

He didn't wait for a reply. The absence of one signified that his argument was well received; no personal prevented their leave. Kanon exhaled loudly when the duo was once again on the surface, and assaulted by an adequately timed gust of sand laden wind. The trek to his private plane was brief. They were already "in town," so to speak, so the high speeds of the Avalon were unneeded.

In addition, the point of a secret base was to remain secret. Even the elements agreed, clearing the evidence of their footprints at the entrance. His uncle would keep their visit a hidden from the Emperor for the time being. Indecision was written all over poor Vincent's features. The "man" had one fatal flaw - his immortality. He would never grow out of being juvenile and unsure.

"Only you would walk into the lion's den and come out unscathed." Kanon muttered, tending to his hair in the mirror.

The interior of the jet contained a full bar, and Schneizel prioritized a stiff drink over smoothing down his unruly strands. He poured two rocks glasses of scotch, leaving one on the top of the stainless steel mini-fridge. The sleep inducing cream-colored couch was calling his name, but there was still work to be done. Coffee would have calmed his nerves, providing a pick-me-up as well. It was unfortunate he despised the bitterness of the drink. Instead the uncomfortable captain's chair was given the task of keeping the insomniac from dozing off.

He used the small camera of his laptop to quickly make himself once again presentable as the Skype call connected. Kanon wasn't satisfied, it seemed, since his assistant turned the swivel chair, and worked wonders. A confused sounding Bartley stuttered, imagining god knows what from his limited vantage point on the other side of the screen. Only a quick peck was shared after his lover gave an approving nod, and left to pilot back to the Forbidden City.

Schneizel need only provide his John Hancock before he could crash on his king-sized bed on the Avalon for the entire trip back to the mainland. Some sex surely would penetrate his and Kanon's slumber.

"I've completed negotiations with the Chinese Federation, so I will be going back to the mainland," Schneizel said, and swiveled his chair forward, resting his cheek on his curled fist. He medically tapped at the transmission box on the monitor. Something must have gone wrong, considering no new reports were waiting in his inbox. The general's disposition was unchanging, and his flat voice said more than words. The words that were spoken, a question if Orange-kun was to remain in Area 11, prompted his own inquiry. "Yes. What do you think?"

"There is a limit of what we can do in Area 11."

"I see." Really, for a seasoned soldier, Bartley was fairly spineless in the face of royalty; Kururugi contained more courage on Kamine Island, when confronted with yet another court-martial. "I'll make a call to the Rosenburg Laboratory. Will you send the subject there when I've made arrangements?" His tiny grin turned down to a frown.

"Understood, Sir. Also, about the ruins on Kaime Island…."

"We'll talk about that when Area 11 is under control. That's what the SAZ is for. We should really thank Euphemia. Thanks to her, it looks like everything will go according to plan."

Footnotes: [1] Super spoilers for Dauntless

[2] reference to episode 6(?) of the anime

[3] I need this back in my life!

[4] I have no clue if this is really what the geass order looks like. I watched R 2 ep 14 and the layout looked like boring blocks.

[5] Nightmare of Nunnally reference

[6] Spoiler for "To Shatter Stones," in CM.

I'm a little nervous about this chapter. Even though it doesn't seem to say anything, there are a lot of spoilers in here for Dauntless (although this fic is going to diverge a lot from Allora Gale's one. I meant to just steal a character and then I created this whole back-story in my head) as well as Checkmate. I didn't even list them all. There might be some for Feminine Rebellion too, but that is in a different sequence of events, and isn't going to go anywhere near this fic (who would, it's scary!) but I may or may not keep the workings of the Geass Order the same. I am quite indecisive.

Read and Review! I quit my job so now I just have school, parenting, and fanfiction writing to worry about xDD Sending me love (or hate) reviews keeps me motivated to update BTW.