Disclaimer: I don't own Code Geass, and I make no profit writing fanfiction about it.

Tags: politics, incest, foul language, harem, violence, AU, racism/classism, abuse

(AN): Well those are some hefty tags so far. But in a 'game of thrones' as it were, there is little else to expect. My primary motivation behind this particular idea is Cal reflector's Lelouch of Britannia, as well as Allora Gale's Dauntless. I'm a great fan of Lelouch-staying in/returning to-Britannia fics. It's just an ideal of the fandom I particularly enjoy. That being said, I don't intend for this to be a copy of those fics. I realize some things are inevitable based on basic world history in the series – i.e, war with the Middle Eastern Federation, Japanese terrorism – but I'm not going to be going back to those fics for ideas.

Onward.

Destruo;

[To] Destroy, Demolish, Pull Down, Ruin

There was blood on his collared shirt, staining the crisp white with a spray of murderous crimson. It had been many hours since the demolition of the Kururugi Shrine, but Lelouch was still unable to force himself to strip and change into the fresh clothing that had been laid out for him.

Nunnally had cried herself to sleep despite the low drone of the aircraft's engines and the ever hovering presence of one of Britannia's knights. Ever since the assassination, his younger sister had been easily fatigued. With the turmoil surrounding the rescue – abduction? – of the vi Britannias in the midst of the first air strikes against Japan, Lelouch couldn't blame her for succumbing to the escape of sweet oblivion.

God knew he could still smell the stink of burnt flesh in his memory from when the first bomb had gone off. But Lelouch couldn't afford to be weak. Not in front of Nunnally as her world collapsed down around her for the second time, and not in the gladiatorial arena he would shortly be re-entering.

Sparing a truly foul glare for the knight standing guard over the two royals with an anxious expression, Lelouch turned his gaze to stare out of the tiny windows along the side of the cargo jet. White mists of cloud wisped by, curling into nonsensical shapes beneath the setting sun. Far below and out of sight, the Pacific Ocean stretched for thousands of kilometres in every direction as the plane fled east like a bat out of hell.

East towards the homeland. East toward that city of lights – Pendragon - that sprung out of the desert wasteland in a tribute to human innovation and conquest of the elements. East towards the Imperial Family, that slavering pit of human ambition and cruelty. East towards their father, the pitiless Britannian Emperor.

Closing lavender eyes, Lelouch drew in a wearied sigh and began to unbutton his shirt. Appearances would very quickly become everything, and the only way to survive in the arena with little power was to submit to the greater predator. Shame burned in the young boy's gut at the thought of debasing himself – of having to kneel down to the monster that he had once considered his father – for a chance to be used as another cheap piece in the great game. But there was nothing else Lelouch could do to protect Nunnally.

Suzaku, I hope wherever you are, that things are going better for you than they are for me.

There was fire in the sky.

The silver fingers of the half moon hanging in the sky paled in intensity next to the burnished orange flames of explosions on the distant eastern horizon. War had come to Japan with a vengeance, and already the native military was being crushed underfoot by the foreigners and their terrifying new weaponry.

But Kururugi Suzaku knew none of this. The green-eyed boy knew nothing of Knightmare frames, and the inherent hopelessness of trying to fight them with conventional infantry. All Suzaku knew was that it was dark, and he was alone, save for the newly expired corpse of one of his father's soldiers rapidly cooling in the Tokyo night next to him.

Shaking fingers desperately scrubbed away the sticky gore clinging to the matte black surface of the handgun the young Kururugi had liberated from the soldier's corpse. Suzaku half-remembered lessons taught about the care of firearms from months past, and cursed himself for paying more attention to the strange foreign prince sitting in at the time than his actual lessons.

"Fuck." Suzaku indulged shakily, flicking the safety on and shoving the pistol in his pocket once he was satisfied it was half-clean. "Fuck." The boy swore again as he stood, peering into the gloom. At any other time Haha-ue would have him scrubbing the dojo from top to bottom for a dirty mouth, but Suzaku sincerely doubted she'd give him all that much trouble considering the circumstances.

What to do now? Planning had never been his area of expertise – Suzaku knew he was too hotheaded for it, and with Lelouch around there was little point in trying when the Prince had been able to think circles around even some of the adults barely trying. It was coming back to bite him in the ass now though, since the last Suzaku had seen of the other boy was his friend's helpless rage when Britannian soldiers grabbed hold of him following the initial airstrikes.

Suzaku couldn't run to his father – he had no idea where the man was, and even if he did, Genbu would most likely be directing Japan's military during the invasion. His mother had taken a day trip to Osaka, and finding Kururugi Kakko would be even harder than finding her husband. So who did that leave?

...Kaguya. There was no reason to think that his cousin and her family wouldn't be home. Aika-oba was a traditional Japanese housewife, despite Daichi-oji being such a high rolling industrialist. Even if his uncle had been caught in another one of his meetings sucking up to investors, his aunt would at least be home.

Except that getting there would mean he'd have to get across Tokyo on foot. Scuffing the tip of his shoe over the asphalt as he stood, Suzaku spared a last sad glance for the dead soldier before patting the gun in his shorts pocket cautiously. Crossing a warzone with nothing to protect him but a half-emptied pistol, and the two fists of a ten year old boy – easy as pie.

Yeah sure, the Kururugi heir thought sourly as he crept from the dank alley.

Ignoring the tired grit in his eyes from lack of sleep, Jeremiah Gottwald stepped out into the warm desert morning of Pendragon and sighed with heartfelt relief. Finally, it seemed something was going right in his life ever since that horrific day Empress Marianne had been gunned down in front of her children.

The Margrave had simmered in months of frustration after the incident, initially urging the murdered Empress' Royal Guard to close ranks and support their deceased Mistress' children only to be shocked when the vast majority of them had shrugged him off. At the time Jeremiah had only been a Second Lieutenant, like every soldier initially enrolled into a Royal Guard, and someone so low in the totem pole wouldn't usually speak up to his superiors.

But Jeremiah had thought their oaths had meant something. That swearing life and limb to protect the Fifth Empress and her children meant more than a decent wage and a gold bar on their shoulders. Apparently not.

His father had always called him too much of a hotheaded idealist.

When the Emperor had sent Marianne's children packing off to Japan, the young officer had flown into a panic. Two defenceless children playing political hostage in a far off land with no one to protect them if the Japanese Prime Minister had woken up with a craving for blood sport. Jeremiah had called every friend, leaned on every favour and spot of blackmail to try and get himself assigned to watch the vi Britannias, only for word to come down through the back channels that his offer was smacked down.

Seething with resentment, the only thing the young noble could have done was throw himself into his work and hope to climb high enough and have enough influence to protect Empress Marianne's children. Jeremiah was tired of failing. Tired of waking up in the night to dreams of that bloodied staircase in Aeries' Villa. Tired of knowing that the woman he swore to protect with his life died without him even knowing at the time, and the children he swore to guard were off defenceless in a foreign country.

One promotion and months of networking later, Jeremiah had been able to wheedle his way into the sudden rescue mission that the Emperor had authorized shortly before the invasion of Japan proper. The new silver bar adorning his shoulders felt like a brand of loyalty, and the Gottwald nobleman was happy to wear it.

Scanning the horizon sharp orange eyes in a cursory glance for threats, Jeremiah nodded to his silent subordinate that it was safe for the two royals to disembark the plane.

Perhaps it was rude to only acknowledge the composed presence that had swept up the runway as soon as they landed after he'd cleared the area of threats, but Gottwald was so far beyond giving a damn what any of the other royals thought at the moment. Turning sharply, Jeremiah swept into a low bow that was appropriate to their relative social standings.

"Lord Privy Seal."

"First Lieutenant" Lavender eyes pierced into the Margrave with calculating intent before Schneizel el Britannia dismissed Jeremiah as genuinely loyal to his young protégé. The Lord Keeper of the Privy Seal had Kanon look into every dirty little secret of every soldier assigned to retrieve the vi Britannias the moment he'd learnt of the assignment. Gottwald had come up squeaky clean – at least in terms of his genuine good will towards the former Fifth Empress' children.

Turning his focus to the shuffling shadows at the top of the ramp, Schneizel schooled his face into the charming smile that the media had come to know and love during the short years following his political debut.

"Schneizel?" came incredulously as Lelouch pushed his sister's wheelchair down the ramp. The sudden address drew the blind royal's attention as Nunnally craned her face from morosely facing her lap to facing forward with a fragile smile.

"I was always partial to Don Quixote myself." The White Prince smiled winningly before crouching in front of his crippled sister's wheelchair. Ignoring the mutter of "I refuse to anyone's Sancho Panza." Kanon gave, Schneizel carefully grasped one of the blind princess' soft hands.

"Hello Nunnally."

Nunnally seized Schneizel's hand with surprising strength, betraying the little girl's true need for comfort and stability even as the princess donned her own mask. "Hello Schneizel, have you been well?"

The look of silent, impotent fury that flashed through Lelouch's eyes informed Schneizel all he needed to know. Neither of his young siblings were whole, and the two children were only too aware of all they had lost. The knowledge ignited an unfamiliar burn behind his eyes, and it took a moment for the White Prince to realize that he was angry.

For all that Clovis called him a cold-blooded reptile, Schneizel did feel. Buried deliberately deep so as to not compromise his efficiency to be sure, but the White Prince could feel just as strongly as any of them. And what their father – no, The Emperor – had done to these children was monstrous. Not at all unexpected considering the man's penchant for pure Darwinism, but monstrous all the same.

If Schneizel hadn't already been determined to seize the throne, he might have been inspired to treason all over again. Schneizel had a capacity for enormous Machiavellian cruelty, and the Duke of Gloucester could freely admit it. But the shameless and ultimately pointless cruelty Charles zi Britannia had yoked on his children? He had no taste for that particular sadism.

"I am well now that you have returned, little sister." Schneizel returned gallantly before standing and setting a hand on his younger brother's shoulder. "Come now, we have some unpleasantness to take care of with the Emperor before I take you two back to my estate."

"We're going to live with you?"

"What do you mean we have something to take care of?"

The siblings blurted simultaneously, causing the White Prince to raise a slow blonde brow. "Of course you'll live with me Nunnally, I'm going to look after you two. And Lelouch, you really didn't expect I'd leave you to confront the Emperor alone, did you?"

The suspicious look Lelouch gave him said, yes, he had expected exactly that.

"Announcing His Highness Schneizel el Britannia, Second Prince of the Holy Britannian Empire, Lord Keeper of the Privy Seal, Duke of Gloucester, and Fourth in Line to the Imperial Throne! And His Highness Lelouch vi Britannia, Eleventh Prince of the Holy Britannian Empire, Duke of Monmouth, and Seventeenth in Line to the Imperial Throne!"

If Lelouch had not already been a steeled bundle of nerves, the last tidbit would have thrown him into gaping shock. As it was, the ten year old's bow almost stuttered to a stop before Schneizel gave him a gentle push forward to keep moving. No weakness, and no hesitation.

The black haired prince remembered quite clearly his vocal and very public renunciation of his rights of succession. Lelouch was not seventeenth in line to the throne, thank you very much. Though he would take the Duchy, considering it was one of the only things that bastard had given his mother. But the only thing the Eleventh Prince could do at the moment was walk forward and sink into a kneel beside his older brother.

Crossing their arms over their chests in a gesture of fealty, the pair of princes bowed their heads and spoke in clear, carefully confident unison. "Hail, Your Majesty." Lelouch spared a glance upward through his dark bangs, only to see the Emperor staring back at him with a bored expression.

Save for the challenge burning in those violet eyes, so like Lelouch's own. And Lelouch knew in that moment that it was no mistake that he had been announced the way he had been. It was a deliberate gauntlet thrown down in his face. It was enough to make him heady with resentment, as if the Emperor had looked down at him from an ivory tower and smirked.

'Do you see boy? You do not even have the right to throw away the things I have given to you.'

"Rise." One bored word echoed through the silent throne room.

As the two princes climbed back to their feet, the on looking collection of Royals and nobility didn't even dare to breathe a word of gossip. It was one thing to quickly and quietly trade a few words when one mundane concern or another came before the Emperor and his Council, but one very public and very bloody example had ensured that none would dare disrespect their absolute monarch when Charles zi Britannia took personal interest in some affair. And if the focused stare over a deceptively bored face was any indication, the Emperor was very interested in the return of his prodigal son.

Nevertheless, it was to his older son that the Britannian monarch turned to speak to. "What's your business here, Schneizel?" The callous purple gaze that marked the Imperial Family pinned the blond prince.

Lowering his head in a submissive gesture, Schneizel ignored the urge to glare at his father's polished boots. "Your majesty, I have come to petition for custody of my siblings. Now that Empress Marianne has been lost to us, Lelouch and Nunnally have no guardian."

The Emperor waved him off with an impatient hand. "I have no interest in this matter. Do as you will. Now begone."

Schneizel murmured a low "Yes, your majesty." Rising to his feet in a graceful gesture, the Second Prince retreated to mingle in the whispering crowd of nobility. Lelouch would have to speak for himself, and the only thing Schneizel could offer him was the silent support of his presence.

Raging internally, Lelouch mirrored Schneizel's earlier deference and found himself staring at the Emperor's boots. So caught up in his turbulent fury, the Eleventh Prince almost missed Charles' cutting tone.

"State your business."

"Your majesty." Lelouch forced out, wincing at the strained note in his voice before forcing a more modulated pitch. Rudeness would gain him nothing but danger to himself and Nunnally at this juncture. "I, Lelouch vi Britannia, have returned."

"What of it?"

Bastard. The young prince simmered silently. The pitiless monarch obviously was contented with his pride over any sort of parental concern. "And I humbly beg your forgiveness for my words when last I came before you. They were unbefitting of a Prince of the Empire." A collective hush hung in the air as the court circled the unfolding events for political benefit.

"You are forgiven." Smugness curled through the Emperor's voice, the facade of benevolent royalty so obviously fake as to be amusing for him. "I see that you have learned your lesson in respect, boy. Now begone from my sight. Waste no more of my time on this matter."

"Yes, your majesty." Lelouch muttered, rising to his feet but maintaining a submissive pose as he retreated from the throne room. Gritting his teeth against the urge to simply scream at the uncaring bastard that sired him, the Eleventh Prince fled.

Lelouch took three steps into his brother's study before collapsing against the wall like a puppet with his strings cut. Warmth encircled him as Kanon scooped up the tired prince and dumped him unceremoniously on Schneizel's nineteenth century Venetian chaise. Turning away from the pity he saw in the personal assistant's face, Lelouch pressed his face into the cool fabric and groaned tiredly.

"You and I both, dear brother." Schneizel smiled amicably, even as he unstopped the crystal decanter of brandy on the mantelpiece and poured himself a generous dollop of alcohol. Throwing it back with the ease of an experienced connoisseur, the White Prince poured a second glass before throwing himself into his armchair in an ungainly sprawl.

Dismissing Kanon with a nod, Schneizel sipped carefully as he observed the boneless form of his favourite sibling. Part of him wanted to simply wrap the vi Britannia's up in warm blankets and shield them from the world. Or at the least give Lelouch some time to emotionally recover. But that part of him was quickly silenced by the ruthless politician in him that knew now was the best time to place Lelouch on his board.

"So." He began in a bright and cheerful tone. "I suppose it's time we start discussing our revolution?" Lelouch rolled about so quickly at the blatant mention of treason that the boy got caught up in the tangle of his ruffled purple cape.

"I'm not your pawn, Schneizel". Lelouch declared coldly, narrowing his eyes into a burning glare. It was hardly a secret that the Second Prince was a strong contender for the imperial throne, despite Odysseus and his two sons. "Don't think simply because you're my legal guardian that I'm going to dance along on your strings."

Sipping another mouthful of brandy, Schneizel set it aside to lean forward earnestly. "When did I suggest that you were going to be a pawn to me, brother?" White fabric was smooth over his knees in a gesture of faux anxiety. "I have in mind to make you a king."

Lelouch snorted, shuffling himself upright and propping his feet up on Schneizel's antique cocktail table. The Eleventh Prince smirked mirthlessly at the unrestrained wince that crossed his brother's face when his shoes scuffed the polished surface. "Dispense with the platitudes. You and I both know that there can only be one king. It's hardly in my interest to put you on the throne and then get assassinated to tie up loose ends."

A brush of cold fury crossed Schneizel's expression at the accusation of such blatant inhumanity. But the Second Prince could hardly dispute that in certain circumstances, he would do away with a sibling. Even one as enjoyable as Lelouch. That was neither here nor there, however. "You forget that life is not a chess game little brother. There is no reason two or more kings cannot co-exist, provided that they're not going to sacrifice each other in the name of blind ambition."

"Now." Schneizel continued, holding up a hand to silence whatever retort Lelouch had been about to offer. "When I offer to make you my equal I mean it. I've known you since you were in the cradle, Lelouch. You've never been given to power hunger or ambition, or treachery for that matter. We have compatible goals, and there is no reason you and I would ever need to come into conflict. Much less deadly conflict."

"I still don't understand why you'd offer anything to me." Lelouch replied after a long beat. "You might know me Schneizel, but I know you too. I know you desire the throne itself, regardless of whatever moral platitude you've conjured up to justify it to yourself."

Thinning his lips at having his very deep-seated and very real convictions dismissed as platitudes, Schneizel wrestled his ire under the cool control that made him such an effective politician. "Maybe so, Lelouch. But it's better to have you as my ally - you could be a very fearsome enemy. And more than that. Out of all our siblings, you act like me. You think like me. There is no one else I could rely on to make the choices I would make when I myself am elsewhere."

"Dismantle Darwinism."

"Pardon?"

"End the promotion of 'progress' over basic humanity by the government." Lelouch elaborated. "Dismantle the Numbers system when you become Emperor. If you can do that, I'll join you."

"Done." Schneizel smirked openly at the shock that crossed Lelouch's face. "Surely you don't think that Britannians as a whole agree with our father's social policies? I'll even give you Japan to sweeten the deal. It's far less than I was willing to offer for your cooperation."

Sighing in resignation at both the inevitability of the defeat of the country he'd grown to love and at being so shunted into his place as a political piece, Lelouch gamely screwed on an expression of anticipation.

"When do we start?"

Lelouch woke from his nightmare of burning flesh with a disoriented shout. The door burst open a second later as a turquoise haired knight barrelled into the room. Orange eyes darted frantically about the room in search of threats before settling on the sweat soaked prince.

"Are you alright, your highness?" the man asked cautiously. Shoving his handgun into a holster at his hip, the knight stood stiffly, betraying his military training.

"Yes." Lelouch growled out, voice hoarse from screaming. "Get out."

The knight offered a searching gaze before bowing low. "Yes, your highness." The door shut behind the man with a click, silence filling the air.

The Eleventh Prince dug his palms into gritty eyes. God must hate his family. Mother dead, sister blind and crippled. A cruel and absentee father. Born into a social class that loathed the commoner blood in their veins. First and second homes lost to blood and murder. His only true friend likely dead in a ditch, or wandering through a war zone.

"Damn it, Suzaku." Lelouch muttered to the empty room. "Damn it."Heat burned in the back of his eyelids, and the boy only dug his palms deeper into his eye sockets to prevent the spilling of tears. Weeping had never gained him anything, and he couldn't afford to give into weakness now. Nunnally needed him to be strong.

Throwing himself out of bed, Lelouch hastily stumbled into the shower for a quick scrubbing. It was only just after six in the morning, and he was still tired from running nearly two days sleeplessly since the invasion of Japan. But the only thing waiting for him between the sheets was more subconscious horrors.

Lelouch cast a gimlet eye about the room as he stepped back out of the shower. No need to give the man a show if the knight had returned to hover in his bedroom. The room was alone however, and the Eleventh Prince quickly padded across to open the armoire.

It was a testament to Schneizel's arrogance that he'd had bedrooms and clothes stocked for his vi Brittannia siblings before they had even been brought back to the homeland. Evidently the Second Prince had been so confident in his ability to convince the Emperor to make them his wards that he hadn't even waited for a set deadline of their return.

Pulling on a pair of black trousers and a white button up shirt, Lelouch raked a hand through his still wet strands in an effort to grant them some semblance of order. He gave it up as a bad job. His mother was dead and his sister was blind, and at this point, Lelouch couldn't be bothered to give a damn what anyone else thought of it.

When Lelouch wandered out into the corridors of Schneizel's manse, the knight that had burst in on him after his nightmare immediately stepped up behind him and began to follow. The feeling of eyes digging into the back of his head was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Whirling about, Lelouch craned up to stare right back at the man. "Who are you, and what do you want?" He snarled. Taking in the look of surprise that faded to shame, the Eleventh Prince raised a brow as the man lowered his head in obeisance.

"Margrave Jeremiah Gottwald, Your Highness. I was a member of Empress Marianne's Royal Guard." Lelouch closed his eyes at that, beating back the roaring in his ears and that lonely clenching of his heart that cried out mother, mother. "I failed Her Highness, to my everlasting shame. I humbly beg your forgiveness."

"You are not forgiven." Glaring up at the knight, Lelouch took vindictive pleasure in the deepening pain in the man's eyes. "Get out of my sight."

Jeremiah went.

"You're still sleeping on the couch."

"Oh for heaven's sake, Marianne."

Twisting the last curl into his 'ridiculously archaic' coiffure – as his favourite wife was so fond of describing it – Charles zi Britannia left the white strands alone to stare at his not-so-deceased Fifth Empress.

It still struck him like a knife in the ribs at times. To turn about unconsciously expecting to see Marianne's pale features and vibrant violent irises lit up with her unique brand of wicked humour. Only to find the typically apathetic face of Anya Alstreim wearing his wife's emotions on her face instead.

Some measure of his inner turmoil must have leaked out, because the amusement drained away to be replaced with a look of melancholy. "Ah Charles." She murmured, still high and clear with a young girl's voice. Marianne leaned ahead to wrap one of his large hands in Anya's elfin grip. "When are you going to stop blaming yourself for Vincent's foolishness?"

"I don't." The 98th Emperor of Britannia denied. And his didn't. Charles had trusted Vincent. Trusted his immortal older twin brother not to lie to him or betray him. They'd grown together under the long shadow of murder, rising through loss and the Emblem of Blood to rule the realm together. It still cut deep to remember having to encapsulate V.V. in order to contain the murderously jealous blonde. The only other way would have been to steal Vincent's Code. But neither Emperor nor Fifth Empress had any particular hunger for immortality.

"Then what are you moping about for?"

Charles narrowed a stern glare at his wife. "I'm not." The Emperor was a non-demonstrative man. So it didn't matter that Vincent's selfishness had robbed them of decades of trust between them. It was irrelevant that he and Marianne had lost however many of their uncounted mortal years it would take to successfully clone his wife a new body to Geass into. Or that C.C. had stabbed them in the back by up and vanishing one day with nary a trace. Charles most certainly did not mope.

The look Marianne gave back was full of disbelief and scorn. "Whatever you say, Mister I'm-a-big-bad-Emperor." Placing one hand on a prepubescent hip so she could wag a chiding finger up at the tower Emperor, Marianne only added to the image of dissonance created by her actions in Anya's body. "Don't think I'm going to let you off easily for what you did to my Lula and Nunna."

Rolling his eyes at the thoroughly stale argument, Charles turned away to straighten a wrinkle in his collar. "I've told you as thousand times woman. It'll toughen the boy up." The Emperor had seen the desolate rage in their son's eyes despite the little prince's attempts to pretend otherwise. That kind of fire would hopefully temper the snivelling brat into a fine man. Someone had to follow him on the throne, and most of his other children were utter disappointments. "As for Nunnally, I've never so much a raised my voice at the girl. If anything, the time away from court was good for her, and the Kururugi's were as an acceptable place as any to ship her off to."

"And I've told you a thousand times that your parenting skills leave much to be desired."

"Schneizel turned out well enough."

"Schneizel is a pantywaist with a god complex!"

Well, Charles couldn't truly disagree. His second son had a rare genius about him, but the boy had no desires or real passions of his own. It was like water ran in Schneizel's veins. The boy had none of the thirst for battle or urge for conquest that would mark an impressive Emperor. In fact, if not for the mandatory paternity tests all newborn royal children were subject to, Charles would doubt he'd actually fathered him. However, to admit that would be allow Marianne to win. So the Emperor chose a different track.

"Cornelia is strong. Even you can't disagree with that."

"So she is." Marianne agreed mildly, buffing her nails over her blouse. "Which makes sense considering I had a far bigger hand in raising her than you did."

"I'm going to the throne room."

"You're still sleeping on the couch tonight."

"Good." The Emperor muttered as he stepped out the door. "Seeing as how I'm no pedophile, I might even have a decent night's sleep.

"Charles!"

Lelouch looked tired. Beaten down. Ragged. Tired. Old before his time. The only positive quality Clovis could ascribe to him at the moment was that at the least his favourite brother did not look defeated. Bent under the crucible his life must have become, but not destroyed by it.

Waving off a hovering maidservant, Clovis dismissed Schneizel's staff with an imperious glare. They'd been served a fine earl grey, and there was no immediate need for any further service. The Third Prince had no desire to have the Second Prince's little spies fluttering about, even if he doubted much would pass within Aquarius Villa that Schneizel didn't eventually find out about.

"It's been a long time, little brother." Clovis cut in once the door clicked quietly shut. It had been a long time seen he'd seen the ten year old. The last he'd seen his brother had been a week before Aunt Mari's assassination. The vi Britannia children hadn't even been permitted to stay for the funeral before they'd been whisked off to Japan.

It had been the first time in his seventeen years that he'd known choking, disconsolate rage.

"So it has." Lelouch agreed, gulping down his tea with all the grace of an uncouth commoner trying to leave the table as fast as possible. Clovis' sense of respectability winced inwardly. If not for the distress he knew that Lelouch was concealing, Clovis would have been stung by his younger brother's obvious desire to flee from him.

"Where is Nunnally?"

"She's with Euphy at the moment."

Which was good. As much as Clovis longed to see his little sister, the Third Prince had his hands full enough with the sheer task that would be putting Lelouch back together. Euphemia was kind and cheerful and likely everything Nunnally would need at the moment. Lelouch would require something more. The Eleventh Prince had already made the decision to shut everyone out for their protection and his. What utter nonsense.

"And Cornelia?"

"Speaking to Schneizel about something or other."

"Hmm." Daintily sipping his tea, Clovis gave a strained half-smile and rose to his feet. "I brought a gift for you." Gingerly scooping up the oilskin wrapped package that had been nudging against the arm of his chair, he stalked toward his brother.

"What is it?" Lelouch asked, all watchful wariness as the older prince crossed over.

Pushing the tea set out of the way, Clovis settled the rectangular package in front of Lelouch. "You'll see." Oilskin peeled back, and Lelouch made a strangled noise. It was a painting.

Ever since he was a child, Clovis had adored art. The Third Prince had no head or passion for military tactics, economics, or history. But even in the crib Clovis had been delighted with the messy squiggles he could make on the walls with his food.

Gabrielle la Britannia had noticed, and from there his mother only encouraged the interest. The finest tutors in Britannia had taught Clovis how to put ink to canbas. He'd learned to direct a symphony by the tender age of eight. By eleven, Clovis was writing essays on Milton and Dante to be published under the pseudonym 'Louis C. Martell'.

What the Third Prince had given the Eleventh was the first work of his hands with the mark of his true name. The beginning of what would be many artworks to bear the name of Clovis la Britannia.

Aries Garden.

Marianne vi Britannia stared back up at them. Sitting at a table in one of the lush aerial garden that made the Imperial Villa at Aeries so notable, the image of the Fifth Empress had her hands folded in her lap. Violet eyes were alight with the same humor that curled one corner of his rosy mouth.

Nunnally and Euphemia sat curled in the grass at Marianne's feet. The two princesses were happy and whole, both turned out to stare at the viewer with identical expression of innocent cherubic joy. It was Nunnally as she used to be, with eyes that could take in the world and working legs to explore it with.

In the background Lelouch and Clovis roughhoused beneath a great sprawling oak. The painted Clovis was stepping away, a black rook piece clenched between his fingers and with his mouth open in the beginnings of teasing laughter. The painted Lelouch reached out in an effort to capture his elder's elbow, mouth curved into a reluctant wry smirk that was identical to the one sported by his mother.

Life and innocence and joy, such as their broken family would never see again. All the bittersweet imagery mingled with the pain of loss and frozen forever in a tableau of colour and oil.

"I can't." Lelouch choked out, throwing himself back with a note of desperation in his voice. A thick sob bubbled up from Lelouch as he twisted away from the image of what they'd never have again.

Leaning over the back of the chair, Clovis wrapped his arms around Lelouch's thin shaking shoulders. "It's okay Lelouch." He muttered, low and soothing. "It's okay to cry."

Lelouch broke, filling the air with fitful gasps and quiet sobs.

"He's not your friend anymore."

Every time Suzaku thought of Lelouch, he remembered General Katase sneering down at him. The Kururugi heir had vehemently protested when the man raised the question of executing the vi Britannia children in retaliation after the invasion. The look his father had given him had been full of disappointment, and his father's advisors treated him like an ignorant child. As if he didn't know the political purpose that would have led to his best friend being executed.

It was the first time in a week he'd seen his father, and that was when Suzaku became glad Britannian special forces had taken his friends away. Regardless of how degenerate Pendragon was and how much of a snake pit the Imperial Court was, at least it wasn't full of angry and murderous Japanese.

Three weeks after the Second Pacific War began, Suzaku was in Kyushu with Kaguya and Aika-oba. It hadn't taken much effort at all to convince his cousin to join him in spying on the room where his father and generals were meeting. Hence why they were huddled by the door, with a hand on their mouths lest they breathe too loudly and alert the adults that they were listening to the conversation.

"Loses are mounting. Tohdoh managed to pull a victory out of thin air at Itsukushima, but we've lost every single skirmish before and since then."

"Damn Glasgows... any possibility of building some of our own, or at least throwing something together to take them out?"

"No dice. The Britannians have made a point of targeting our manufacturing, and that damned Kirihara went and defected a few hours ago."

"Fuck." Came a third voice, drained and annoyed. "I need a drink."

"Kubouin and Munakata went over to Britannia yesterday." The Prime Minister pointed out as glasses clinked audibly. "The Brits have annexed Hokkaido entirely, and half of Honshu is burning. Food production and armament manufacturing is in the gutter. We're coming apart at the seams. At this rate, the Brits can simply sit back and starve us out."

"Kusakabe's been bloodying them up there. It's a bit difficult to sit back with some prissy wine and watch the 'subhumans' starve to death when your forward bases are exploding in the middle of the night."

"If we can hold out until the Federation or the Union intervenes, we might still be able to win this. The supply situation is dire, but it's not critical yet. If we don't take any more losses, we can still leg it for a few months on military rations."

Genbu's voice lowered to a disappointed growl, forcing Kaguya and Suzaku to strain to hear him. "I've already tried that avenue. Ambassador Huang made quite a show of jerking us around before running back to China with his tail between his legs. Mitterand was clear from the outset not to expect anything from Europe. We're alone."

"Not necessarily," a fourth voice pointed out. It was the voice of a far younger man than the others that had spoken so far, and Suzaku placed it as Tanaka Kiichi, Japan's Minister for Foreign Affairs. "The longer the war drags on the greater the chance is that the Union or the Federation will change their minds. China has been less than sanguine about the establishment of Area Ten, and Europe has been at odds with Britannia since Napoleon. If we can inflict some defeats on the so-called 'unbeatable' Britannian war machine, there's a great chance of inspiring aid."

"You'd be trading one master for another. This is a war over Sakuradite, not simply Britannia's usual imperialism. Everyone wants a piece of what we have, and they'd only chase the Brits out for their own slice of the pie." Genbu sighed wearily. The floor creaked as people shuffled about the Prime Minister's study.

"So what are we supposed to do then?"

"We fight to the end."

And they did. Japan fought one long and bloody month as Britannia's knightmare frames ground the nation into the dirt. It fought until Kururugi Genbu was found one morning with his own dagger in his guts.

Three months after the surrender of Japan, Duke Richard Festarr of Westermont was made Viceroy of the newly established Area Eleven. Lelouch would remember the day eternally.

The Eleventh Prince woke to the news as he was eating a light breakfast of buttered toast. Nunnally was still abed, the young girl being a later sleeper than her brother, and Lelouch didn't quite have the heart to shake her awake yet.

Staring at the television with rage, Lelouch seethed and seethed and seethed.

Conveying the newly appointed Viceroy through the still ruined streets of Tokyo was a military parade in the manner of old Roman Triumphs. Duke Festarr smiled winningly for the camera, his crisp uniform spotless with the emblazoned insignia of a full general prominent on the man's shoulders. The noble that had commanded the invasion of Japan was afterwards rewarded with governance of the newly formed Area. In the end, it was just more salt in the wound for the conquered Japanese.

It was a disgusting testament to the victory of the Empire and of glory to its Emperor. It was also, Lelouch conceded grudgingly, an effect statement of power to bolster the morale of occupying forces and dishearten the still active guerilla rebels.

Seizing the remote, Lelouch turned off the television with a last sneer of disgust. The young royal turned a morose gaze down to the last bite of toast in his hands.

Four months of watching the news. Four months of nary a peep about Suzaku or any of the members of the Kururugi Clan, sans the ex-Prime Minister. Genbu's suicide had been quite the shock to Lelouch, who had been sure the gruff but kind man had been the sort to fight to the end. For pride, if nothing else.

Even Genbu's death failed to make much of a splash in the Britannian media outside of the political cartoons that derided the man's so-called barbarism and cowardice. As far as the Britannian Empire was concerned, Genbu had no connections or family to speak of. Concerns about family were a human thing after all, and in the view of Britannia the Elevens were just animals. There was no need to consider the children of a beast after the monster himself had been slain.

Shoving the last bit of bread crust in his mouth, Lelouch pushed aside his maudlin musings. He had exams to write, and get worked up and depressed over the monstrosity of Britannia and his father wouldn't be conductive to his success.

Schneizel had been rather insistent that Lelouch bulldoze his way through as many educational certifications as he could. No one would happily follow a boy without a high school diploma into battle, or agitate in favour of a prince that had yet to complete some amount of studies to prove his intelligence. Education was simply another form of social capital, and from the highest noble to the lowest commoner, Britannia loved a winner.

Hence completing his middle school exams a few years early.

Abandoning his used dishes on the kitchen counter – Schneizel's housekeeping staff would take care of it – Lelouch wandered back out into the halls of Aquarius Villa.

Gottwald stepped up behind him. The knight had become a near constant figure in Lelouch's life since returning from Japan, and no matter how sharp Lelouch's tongue became or how degrading his insults, Gottwald only winced and bore on. The sheer loyalty given despite the constant abuse was humbling, and more than that, it made Lelouch ashamed. He wasn't acting like the person his mother had tried to raise him to become.

If he were anyone but Lelouch vi Britannia, he would have long since apologized for his abdominable behavior towards the man. But then again, if he wasn't Lelouch vi Britannia it was highly unlikely that Gottwald would have ever come to serve him anyway.

"Come along, Jeremiah." His tongue was thick and graceless in his mouth. Apologies were impossible for the Eleventh Prince. Acknowledgement was all that his ego could bear to give. Lelouch had come too fast and too far in attempting to close himself in a steel fortress to reach out sincerely to another.

"Yes, your highness."

Gottwald would probably understand anyway. The man seemed to have a tendency to do that.

"Bleh!"

"Nuna!"

Smiling behind the rim of her teacup, Cornelia watched her two younger sisters bicker in their typically good-natured way. It was nice to see Nunnally acting more and more like her old self as the horror she'd experienced during the start of the Second Pacific War grew more distant. It had been the same after the assassination of Empress Marianne – Nunnally seemed to possess a surprising resilience and ability to bounce back after trauma so long as she was supported with kindness and love.

Children were truly amazing things.

Though that statement could be pre-emptive, considering that unlike his sister Lelouch had refused all attempts at providing professional therapy in favour of pretending he was made of steel. It worried Cornelia. She might be twenty years old and only a newly minted Colonel, but the Second Princess had seen her fair share of soldiers cracking under the strain of their own emotions.

"Don't you think so, Nelly? Euphemia cut across her older sister's musings with a grin. The Third Princess' grin widened into an outright smirk as Cornelia blinked in befuddlement, obviously having drifted off and having no idea what she was talking about.

"Uh, yes. Of course."

"Really? Well, let's go then!"

Hopping to her feet, Euphemia gave a happy whirl before trotting off. Cornelia stared after the Third Princess in vague confusion, before striding around the table to push Nunnally after their sister. She loved Euphemia, but that didn't mean that Cornelia understood all of her queer whims and odds flights of fancy.

"You weren't paying attention, were you?"

"Of course I was."

Nunnally blew a raspberry, shaking her head in mock exasperation. "We both know that's not true, Nelly. If it were, you'd have never agreed to take us shopping for new clothes." The Fifth Princess picked mournfully at the skirt of her white frock. "Why you hate it so much, I'll never know."

Cornelia almost stumbled in horror. Clothes shopping? She was a woman like any other, and appreciated dressing nicely. But the Second Princess was more than aware of the sheer terror Euphy could be when it came to looking for new dresses. Everyone had to try everything on!

Puffy frills and billowing skirts? Ridiculously tight corsets and pinching pins? Fluttering seamstresses wringing their hands and forever offering adjustments? Bows and ties? Matching this style and that style into horrendous eye-gouging combinations? And always the pink. Pink underwear. Pink socks. Pink dresses and pink bows. It haunted her dreams.

"I refuse."

"Too late!" Euphy gleefully shouted.

In.

Out.

There was no smell. There was no pain. There was no light. He was encased in pure darkness, collected and cramped in black metal so tightly there was barely an inch to move any of his limbs. The only sound was his own ragged breaths, cycling in the dark silence, and his pulse, blood leisurely pumping through his timeless veins.

Charles...

V.V. blinked, wetting his dry purple irises in one of the only moves he could still make. Something so pathetic and mundane was all the freedom that was left to Vincent. Lie in the dark with his eyes open or closed. Flicker his empty sight uselessly about. Breathe slowly or breathe quickly.

It was madness.

Surely, surely, it had been years since he'd locked in this accursed capsule? Surely Charles didn't intend to leave him imprisoned for eternity? Even if Vincent had lied to his brother, surely affection remained? V.V. would surely be released after his brother felt he'd served some suitable punishment for attempted to do away with that meddlesome wench Charles called his wife?

Without Vincent, the Geass Directorate would crumble. Oh Charles would seize control of it and weaponize their experiments, but without V.V. there was no way to bestow further Geass Contracts. C.C. had up and vanished after it became clear Marianne had no desire to fulfill her wish.

He wished he'd spoken more to the green haired witch. Perhaps she could have taught him how to mentally connect with one of his many contractors. Charles and Bismarck would never aid him, but one of the little tools he'd gifted with power in the Directorate would have jumped to obey him.

It was the only move left to him. Spinning his focus about the dark recesses of his own sanity, Vincent grit his teeth in the void.

Charles, I'm coming for you.

No one - not even his own brother - was allowed to get away with striking out at Vincent. No one.

"Good day, your highness."

"Good day, Lord Stadtfeld."

Dropping the phone back in its cradle with a click, Schneizel scooped up a white pawn chess piece and began to roll it between his fingers in thought.

Nathan Stadtfeld was the Second Prince's newest acquisition. The noble was the only living male-line descendent of his grandfather, the elderly Earl of Stadtfeld. Just shy of thirty, the nobleman would have been famous in noble circles for the scandal of going native and marrying a Japanese woman during a business posting in Osaka had had the Stadtfeld family not firmly crushed any rumours about the activities of their prodigal son. Nathan would likely have been easily forgotten about, if not for the sudden death of his uncle from suicide after his cousin became a casualty in the Invasion of Japan.

Suddenly the maverick nobleman had become the only hope for the two hundred year old family to continue into the next generation. The first of the Stadtfelds had been one of Emperor Ricardo von Britannia's 'soldier sons', or the new noble families the Emperor had raised in reward for military service in the dark days after Napoleon had chased the Britannian Remnants out of Britain.

Earl Stadtfeld had been quite insistent that his grandson return to the fold, abandon his 'mixed breed spawn', and marry a Britannian woman of appropriate breeding. Nathan had, of course, refused vehemently. The young noble had barely enough funds squirreled away to flee to Europe or China with his bi-racial family, though they would have been forced into poverty. Which was where Schneizel came in.

Naoto Kozuki became Nathan Stadtfeld the Younger, and Kallen Kozuki became Kallen Stadtfeld. Rin Kozuki became the never married maid of the Tokyo-based businessman, and Katherine Howe became the loving wife of Nathan Stadtfeld the Elder and the 'devoted mother' of his two children. The elderly Earl of Stadtfeld gained two male line heirs to replace the two he'd lost, with the taint of his great-grandchildren's Japanese ancestry was carefully buried with altered documents and photos. And of course, all concerned parties became indebted to the Second Prince.

Now all that remained was to decide what to do with the newest piece he'd acquired for his board. Twirling the white pawn again in his fingers, Schneizel gave a nonchalant shrug before dropping it amongst numerous other white pieces on his enormous custom-made board. Silent support seemed the best choice for now.

It would be many years before Schneizel moved against the 98th Emperor. Who better to usher in an age of world peace than the pristine White Prince that had overthrown the cruel and imperialistic Charles zi Britannia? And if in the years before the White Prince took the throne from him, that magnificent and terrible conqueror rose Britannia to become the world's hyperpower – well, who could complain?

Who better to rule the world?

'NEW TRADE DEAL PREVENTS GLOBAL WAR!'

Tossing the newspaper away with a snort, C.C. rolled her eyes before turning away from the news stand and stepping back into the press of the crowd. Charles had managed to win again, it seemed. And all without the overt or obvious use of Geass to coerce the other nations into bowing to the 98th Britannian Emperor's every whim. He truly was an interesting child.

C.C. allowed herself to be swept along by the moving press of bodies that made up the daily pedestrian traffic of Hong Kong. The stink of obvious fear that had hung over the Chinese Federation was finally dissipating. Perhaps the High Eunuchs wouldn't have cared about it, but few of the commoners were motivated to die by the droves for the sake of Sakuradite that had little impact on their daily feudalistic lives.

The child Tianzi was of course, a non-player in all the politics involve.

Yellow eyes flickered lazily about, assessing a dismissing people by the dozens. C.C. was on the prowl for a new contractor to fulfill her one true wish, but no one so far had struck her fancy as a possibility. They were all too mundane and normal. Raising her handpicked child up to be a killer had proved to be an unmitigated disaster in the case of Mao, so C.C. didn't even truly have the option of growing her own contractor, so-to-speak.

Decisions, decisions...

A faint tickle built up in C.C.'s temple as Marianne began her daily ritual of attempting to break into the Code Bearer's mind. Ever since Vincent had gone and attempted to murder the Fifth Empress because of his admittedly hilarious (at least to her) brother complex, there hadn't been a Code Bearer around to generate living weapons for the Britannian Empire. Almost all of the superpower's military victories could be attributed to the power of the state and Charles' rare genius, but it was the Geass Directorate that acted as the Emperor's black hand to create opportunities for him.

Which was all irrelevant to C.C. Marianne had been amusing enough, for a contractor. But the lime-haired woman hardly felt anywhere near obligated to drop her own mission in order to help Marianne and her hubby out. Britannia would just have to move forward on its own.

C.C. had a contractor to find and pizza to eat.

"My apologies, your highness. I've been unable to find out the fate of the Kururugi family through any of my sources."

"I see."

Jeremiah watched as his liege bit his thumb in thought. Lelouch was sprawled out in a leather swivel chair behind a looming desk that was truthfully too large for the Eleventh Prince. It made the boy look like a precocious infant. Not that Margarve Gottwald would ever dare tell his liege such an insulting thing.

There were only the two of them in Lelouch's study after all. It was his master's prerogative if he wanted to drown in oversized furniture away from the public eye.

"I suppose I will have to just ask Schneizel."

"Yes, your highness." Jeremiah agreed somewhat helplessly, because truly, what else was there for him to do? Suggest the Eleventh Prince not make use of his current benefactor? The First Lieutenant still didn't understand why his lord was so adamant about locating an Eleven – the former Prime Minister of Japan's son at that – but it wasn't for him to question.

Only to obey.

Stepping away from his post by the door, Jeremiah stepped in behind Lelouch as the boy trotted out of the study he'd been gifted by his elder brother and followed the prince through the halls of the Villa. Even so young, Jeremiah could see the expressions and charisma his liege had inherited from Empress Marianne. Fervently, the knight internally once more that he would protect the Eleventh Prince against every enemy.

Even if that enemy was the Emperor himself.

Lelouch knocked twice on the door to Schneizel's study before letting himself in without bothering to wait for assent. Slipping in behind the prince, Jeremiah spared a wary glance for the Second Prince's assistant-slash-assassin Kanon Maldini before shutting the door with a quiet click.

"And what brings you to my humble abode today, little brother?" Schneizel queried with a winning smile. Jeremiah didn't trust that smile. Schneizel el Britannia may truly care for Empress Marianne's children, but the man had so much ice-water in his veins Jeremiah could never be sure what the blonde prince was truly feeling.

"I want you to locate Suzaku Kururugi for me."

Schneizel's purple eyes narrowed, a frown tugging down the corners of his mouth before shaking his head slowly. "I refuse." Snapping his fingers to cut off the tirade Lelouch was going to launch into if the enraged expression on his face was any indication, Schneizel huffed. "Just what do you think would happen if Imperial Intelligence located the only son of Japan's Last Prime Minister? I assure you that boy is on someone's kill-on-sight list."

A tense muscle jumped in Lelouch's jaw as the younger prince clenched his hands into impotent fists. Jeremiah turned away from the flash of desolate rage he caught in his liege's eyes, fixing a faint grimace on the Lord Privy Seal. "So I should just sit around and do nothing?" Marianne's son grit out after a silent minute, forcing the words out.

"Precisely." Threading his elegant fingers together fingers together, Schneizel leaned forward with an earnest look on his face. "If your friend remains alive, Lelouch, don't you think it would be for the best to keep him that way? This is of course, assuming the son of the last Prime Minister of Japan would even be willing to continue a friendship with the son of the Emperor that destroyed his country. It would be better to wait several years to give the Kururugi family time to safely fade away from the spotlight before you go and dig them back up again."

Lelouch's nostrils flared in a final expression of anger before the prince slammed down the emotionless mask he'd been adopting more and more as time went on. The raven gave his brother a short nod before turning about sharply and departing Schneizel's study.

"Such an impatient boy, don't you agree, Lord Gottwald?"

Jeremiah barely restrained the urge to give the Second Prince a dirty look.

"Attention all passengers. Please remove all audio device and fasten your seatbelts as we prepare for landing."

With his fingers instinctively craving a thick roll of rich tobacco, Ruben Ashford clinched the seatbelt around his waist before sinking back into the cramped airliner chair. It was noticeably poorer than the quality he'd grown up accustomed to, but as the slightly threadbare nature of his tweed jacket might suggest, the grey-haired man wasn't a noble any longer.

Sighing at the ever-present reminders of his family's loss of status, Ruben ignored the popping in his ears that signalled the plane's descent. Truthfully, Ruben was too old and worn out to care about his own status any longer. He still possessed the accumulated fortune of the Ashford family, and could easily enjoy a quiet and comfortable retirement until he died.

But that would leave his grandchildren out in the cold. Ruben was far more aware of the stratification of social classes in the empire than any commoner looking from the bottom up was. Growing up and being taught to teach the majority of the nation as faceless masses truly hammered that in for him. Which meant that Ruben was very aware that while nobility might mean little to him, it meant safety and security for Milly.

The spunky little girl was truly the apple of his eye, and Ruben couldn't quite restrain the fond smile that pulled across his face. If he had to compare her to anyone, Milly reminded him more than a little of the vivacious and tragically deceased Empress Marianne. Even if introducing the commoner soldier to the Emperor had gained the Ashfords enemies that had barely waited until the Fifth Empress was cold in the ground to strike, Ruben didn't regret a single moment of it.

But it did mean that he'd have to lean on old friends and call in dusty favours in order to marry Milly above her current social class. It was most unfortunate that with the loss of his titles came the loss of his ability to easily get messages to the Royal Family. Lelouch was a kind boy the last time they'd met, even if Ruben found the Eleventh Prince to be frighteningly intelligent, and he'd likely grow up to be a fine young man if the vipers of the court didn't corrupt him first.

Ruben would have been glad to entrust Milly to such a man. Not until they were both at least thirty years old of course, and even after marriage he'd have hung the boy for even considering laying lecherous hands on his granddaughter.

"Welcome to the New Tokyo International Airport. You may now unfasten your seatbelts and proceed in an orderly fashion off the plane."

Ruben huffed in vague amusement. Ah well, out with the old plans and in with the new. He'd come to Tokyo to take a look around and consider laying down roots in the newly established Area Eleven. There were always opportunities for those with the stomach to search for them after a recent conquest.

Perhaps building an Academy would be nice...

(AN): And there we are, 10,000 words. Quite the investment. I've been picking away at this first chapter for months. A few hundred words here, a scene there. Blame AlSmash and 'Fire and Ice' for me kicking everything off the table to churn out the last 4000 words of this today.

Anyway, I hope this chapter doesn't come across as enormous filler to you guys. While politics and warfare will eventually eclipse it as being the main portions of the story, the character study is still very important, I feel. Especially given the harem tag.

Harem Tag – Ah, harems. 99% of the ones you'll see out there are pure author wank. Once upon a time I even swore to myself that I'd never write anything but a purely monogamous pairing. But then I started Deadlock, and well, things took a strange turn. I still think that Imperium will probably be the only harem fic I write (unless I actually write a fanfic of a harem manga, I suppose). I struggled with the decision (not really) and eventually decided that Code Geass is one of those odd stories where I can say the harem idea does occupy a scale of realism. Charles zi Britannia has 108 wives. I can't see that happening unless I extrapolated a society that either views that level of polygamy as indicative of imperial power, or it's enormously misogynistic. Given the tradition of female soldiers, I'd have to blend the two when I'm getting a picture of the Britannian Royal Family.

So yes, as far as I'm concerned Lelouch will get a harem. Will it be some lovey-dovey "Everyone wants some of my D lol" sort of deal? Absolutely not. In Britannia, I would assume that it functions as a way of forming lasting political alliances for the Emperor, so it would be illegal to marry more than one person unless you were the monarch. In which case, you better marry as often as needed to shore up your political position. So there will be varying degrees of love, jealousy, and political need as far as Lelouch's relationships go.

Incest Tag – this is pretty unashamedly homage to Game of Thrones. I realize that it was likely only slightly more common in real world royals to do the nasty with your sister(s) than it was for real world commoners. That being said, that's kind of boring. So let's get the incestuous hotbed going.