Disclaimer: I don't own Code Geass.

Pre-chapter Notes:

Greetings,

Wew, it's good to be back in business. I trust that the last six months have been fruitful for all of you?

Onward to the review responses:

Review Responses:

Chapter Two:

I-En-Tee-Jay – I can understand why as it is rather challenging portraying people in such a way that would show that they are being affected by the death of Lelouch while at the same time making them remain in-character. I've been trying to find the middle ground and I hope that I have been doing well so far.

PowerThirst – Thank you for pointing it out, and I hope that this chapter will have some improvement on that. My preferred writing style likes to put in as much detail as possible and sometimes I end up having a difficult time formatting things properly.

KiKi Hayashi – Typo corrected, and if you're willing, don't hesitate to call me on that again should it happen. I don't have a beta so I might screw myself over during my usual night-owl moments. 8D

Chapter Three:

Lord Lelouch – I apologize that it seems that the 'regular' update for this fic is six months since it seems that I update regularly on June and December! But as an apology I hope that the colossal length of this update might make it up to you to some degree.

PXLight – Don't worry, I don't think you're the only one since my other stories tend to jump around a lot, too rather than following a single happening per chapter. Also, in the

event that I haven't answered your question yet as I can't recall: Catherine is C.C.

Taesica – Thanks, Shammy! I was actually rather unsure of how to approach the poem, but I felt that some of the lines would be fitting for the story (of course with due editing) and I'm glad you like it.

Merines Shinku – We'll be finding out what's inside this chapter (mwahahaha). Also, it's not really that different from the original other than the main twist which I've already added in as the part we are in the story was supposed to be the next arc (told in flashbacks) before I started the rewriting. Think of it as my rearranging the order of the arcs so that I don't get bored :D

~TtT~

With all that said, I hope you enjoy this update!

On with the show:

P.S.: actual chapter length is 10, 198 words.

Code Geass: Now and Forever:

Chapter Four:

Black Salvation

"Only one currency is able to change the world.

"Only one currency is able to force the hearts of people to truly change.

"Only through this currency am I able to save the lives of my people.

"And this currency is blood.

"-My blood for victory."

-Memoirs of Eowyn de Britannia, founder of the Holy Empire.

~TtT~

Wisdom is gained by observation, reflection, and experience and those three are usually things that only the living can undertake. The dead should not see, the dead should not think, and the dead should most definitely not feel.

Yet there is sometimes a strange wisdom that only the long gone are able to grasp fully, one that the taste of nothingness is able to grant access to.

And so I say: Let the empty dark consume all that you are, and may you find clarity in its isolated depths.

~TtT~

The killing blow had indeed hurt.

But then again, the fact that a pinprick hurt was enough a reason to understand that a sword wound would hurt as well.

Much to the fallen emperor's chagrin, however, he had failed to brace himself for the aftereffects of the injury.

Blood welled up from the openings in his chest an mid back, quickly staining his robes and pooling beneath his feet and later the surface upon which he lay. His collapsed left lung hindering his ability to breath, and his punctured heart enthusiastically pumping blood to every place in his body that liquid wasn't supposed to, the dying male had fought the urge to vomit blood as the sensation of drowning washed over him.

The darkness that was already clouding at the edges of his vision was tempting; her swaying hips and soft embrace a level of seductive that seemed to rival his witch's.

Lelouch vi Britannia had to pose a valiant fight to suppress the urge to sigh in pained relief when he felt himself halt at his younger sister's side, the sensation of wetness inside his chest strangely fascinating and the odd dripping he felt every time he drew a breath of borrowed air comforting in its foreignness.

After he had given Nunnally the honor of his final words, the emperor let his muscles relax and his mind be free of thoughts and worries.

Shadows and light began to dance around him, with the blues of the sky and the purple of his sister's eyes mingling and fighting the shadow that was growing stronger as the seconds ticked by – the time observed by the blood that was bleeding into his lungs, dripping one drop for every second that ticked by. The fallen king tried to draw a deep breath and felt nothing but liquid life slosh against his throat instead of air.

It would not be much longer until he passed.

He tried to let go of everything that kept him there, those last slivers of instinctual will that kept people fighting to live on: The chance at seeing the peace he created, being truly reunited with Nunnally again, going back to Ashford and being with everyone – despite the adverse chances of that occurring.

…-Staying with Catherine…

So this is what she meant would probably be painful to experience.

Lelouch fancied himself laughing then, laughing the sort of laughter that was commonly done by men that had come to a stage of deep enlightenment about the workings of life. His hands were raised and clutching his head while his eyes rolled skyward in the void that no longer held wisps of blue and purple.

He found it difficult to accept his death, not the likeliness of it but rather all the opportunities that would be lost to him because of it.

And worse still, it was more painful that these urges seemed to have stayed within the deeper recesses of his mind until the moment he was in the very arms of the shrouded horseman.

His eyes darted about as the laughter died down and Lelouch observed the mass of expansive blackness, taking in its void and lack of light; the man could not even see himself within it.

Silence usurped his thoughts after this, for the emperor could neither say nor think anything coherent – or even scarcely human as the idea sunk in.

It was a while – the diseased emperor found it difficult to identify the degree of time; whether minutes or hours – before Lelouch's mind had finally settled down enough to truly ponder the strange mystery that was before him.

The transition from life to death was almost unrealistic; the jolt of surprise coming only when the stroke of grace was made and the realization of his impending demise had really solidified before him and that happened when he was still perfectly aware of the world. How odd it was that all the shock faded to give way to panic as the darkness had encroached upon him so smoothly that the pain caused by his injuries was of no consequence.

And the emptiness that followed his duet with the reaper was a tranquil one.

There was something there, something strange and out of place about the peace that he was feeling that didn't seem right; it was tugging at the back of his mind and telling him to let go of what was left of his consciousness and let himself be pulled fully into the void: body, mind, and soul.

Even in death his instincts commanded him though, the urge to fight back and resist something he couldn't fully understand urging his mind just as powerfully as the unknown tug had been. And following the familiar, the king fought back; doing his absolute best to stay awake until a sole flaw of his character began to resurface:

He was human and so were instincts, and thus, could be worn down as time drew forward.

It was also a specific characteristic that his opponent didn't seem to have.

A second darkness began to draw over his purple eyes at that moment, one that waged war against mind rather than the first of Death that struck at his body's mind with the World of the Living. But as his mind was brought into a lockdown, he heard a voice call to him, subdued, calm, and yet ominous all at the same time saying:

"Now that I have given you the time to ponder the deepness of your insignificant loss, why do you not join me here so that we may speak surrounded by sights less bleak?"

Almost immediately the emperor felt his eyes shoot open, purple oculars taking in the expanse of flaming sky and the tops of gray columns that supported a nonexistent ceiling and roof, all traces of dark emptiness gone from what he saw; back brows furrowed as a sense of both familiarity and uncertainty flooded him.

"Ah," The voice that had called him just then was closer now and completely unhindered by what Lelouch could assume were metaphysical barriers. "You are finally here." Curious, the young man attempted to raise his head so that he could lay his eyes upon the speaker and the former was even more surprised to succeed doing so with ease, his neck supporting the weight of his head as the latter appendage was lifted above the ground. "I trust the transition between states of existences was a smooth change for you, Lelouch vi Britannia?"

Gray slabs of stone lead up to a cloaked figure, the black cloth hanging over his shoulders and unto the floor where it pooled around the speaker while the high collar blocked off half of the white mask he wore. His voice was clear and unobstructed, as though there had been nothing to cover his mouth as he said his words.

Sitting up and noticing that he was still clothed in his white robes – albeit the fact that they were undamaged by the sword that had killed him earlier, Lelouch cast his glance back to the stranger that was looking at him over the latter's shoulder.

"Based on prior events that have occurred to me," The king began, the same instinct that had ordered him to fight the pull of surrender earlier now telling him to understand his current situation better. "I should already be dead." He narrowed his eyes at his sole companion atop the gray stone before adding: "Would that happen to be the case, good sir?"

At this the man Lelouch spoke to turned full circle to face the latter. His white suit taking on the orange tinge of the light and the sky, the black vest and the red shirt underneath seemingly darker in the setting sun while the golden trim of his cloak and the chain that hung across his chest glinted as the light hit them; lastly, a cravat of color matching his jacket decorated his neck while a silver cross was pinned against it.

Waist-length red hair shifted as the unknown man tilted his head to one side in an expression of curiosity that the blank white façade of his mask could not provide.

"Death is a state of existence," his arms were hidden beneath the long cloak. "One was and is able to be regardless of death or life." While Lelouch had been known to make gestures when he spoke – whether he had talked as Zero or as the emperor was irrelevant – this man before him did not move at all. The speaker was simply a talking statue with barely any life in him.

If it was even male, of course; but if voice is anything to go by, it is.

"Does being in such a state disturb you?" The way his companion described death disturbed Lelouch more than the latter would have wanted, but whenever the emperor observed the fact that the masked man's reasoning was logical and that being dead might have affected stranger's opinions, it was more than understandable. "Surely it should not do so any longer."

Lelouch inwardly raised his eyebrows upon hearing the appending clause but managing to recall the importance of keeping outward calm, he replied: "Should it not? Is it not normal for any human being to be bothered by death – if not the state thereof?"

A porcelain chin dipped than rose, the other man's nod slow and emphasized.

"But therein lies the contradiction, emperor Lelouch vi Britannia; you are not human anymore." The speaker's voice was still as soft as it was when the king first heard the former begin talking but there was something else near the end. The way his intonation dropped as he declared what Lelouch now was sent chills up the latter's spine, the composure breaking for a short moment before the monarch blinked it away.

The masked man though, did not seem willing to give the young man a reprieve for as soon as Vi Britannia recovered his wits, the former said something that sent it back into a worse state of scatter:

"Look at the palm of you right hand, child."

It was almost like an omen for Lelouch to hear those words come from the stranger, a warning that told him of a future of ascertained torment that would last him till the end of his days.

And if what I am now assuming is correct, that will be a day long coming.

When he first thought up the Zero Requiem, a part of him thought that his death – manner and method accounted for – was a form of punishment for all the things he had done in those two fateful years of his life on Earth, and he did his best to see it as such rather than the abrupt and painful end that he first assumed it to be.

But upon gazing down to see the maddening red of the Geass crane glaring back at him, the emperor fell to his knees and shuddered unabashedly.

And as he shook in the throes of some imagined second death, the world fell to darkness around him while a mirror image of himself rose from the void and bent down to whisper in his ear the words that shook not only his body but his very spirit as well:

"Death is not a sufficient price to pay for all that we have done; suffer for all time, Demon King, and know that we are bound by this bird for all eternity."

~TtT~

Location: Air over Pacific Ocean, en-route for Area One of Holy Britannia

Estimated Date / Timeline: October 12th, 2018, day of the execution of the Instigators of the Damocles Rebellion

Estimated Time: 7:43pm, approximately half an hour following the destruction of Palace Mortem

Area One, Catherine thought over the name of her next destination.

The history of the continent brought about some memories of Catherine's less successful contracts, one that had not born fruit due to reasons besides the beneficiary's inability to control Geass to its full extent.

She met the promising boy while she was posing as a schoolteacher at Fredericksburg during the year 1797. The would-be revolutionary hadn't really caught her attention at the time – as was rather common with most of the other children she had been teaching – for she saw little ambition in many of them and found little reason to approach them with the contract offer.

It would be several years later that she concluded that there would be little reason for any of those children to be suitable recipients of the contract considering the lack of strife within the colony during the time period.

During her subsequent travels though, she had heard the boy's name come up several times while she had been in Virginia during the year 1803 when she saw him leading the local militia with the rank of major. She resolved then to keep an eye and ear open for news of him for if she did not find ambition or drive within the child – for compared to her two hundred years at the time, that was what he was – with the justification that despite his lack of blatant ambition, he possessed talent and that such ambition came in as time drew its course and fate dealt its hand.

The Lady Discord dealt that hand in the year 1815 when Britannia's emperor at the time: emperor Edwin des Britannia passed the Stamp Act without prior consultation with the Zar family of advisors which had been serving the dynasty since the empire's founding nearly two millennia prior.

C.C. had felt it in the air then; the seeds of dissent had been planted and all she had to wait for were the rains that would let them sprout.

Two years following, 1817, the chick she had been investing in made the first move that would earn him a contract with her: Emperor Edwin's continued disregard for the advice of the Zar and the nigh unending flow of younger member's of parliament appeals toward the insolent ruler's avarice brought about the enactment of the Townshed Acts that further increased taxation on the areas ruled by the Holy Empire at the time; such a decision caused Washington to finally enter the growing fray with his proposal of a boycott of Britannian goods, but it all came to a head a year after in 1820 when the Boston Riot occurred as an indirect result of the stationing of additional troops there due to the aggressive nature of the colony's opposition to the aforementioned act.

The set of acts were repealed but the damage had already been done; rebellion was sparked, and Catherine knew then that her opportunity would be coming soon, especially when she saw Washington's reaction to hearing the news of the Boston Riot.

1825 marked the last bit of preparation her recipient candidate needed for her to actively seek him out; George Washington was appointed Commander-in-Chief by the Continental Congress, the leaders of the rebellion.

He was ready and all she needed to do would be to establish the contract then wait for things to fall fully into place.

Despite his acceptance of the Geass and his application of it to achieve constant victories against the Holy Empire for the following four years, a twisted bout of irony caused avarice to end the war as it had begun:

With the granting of peerage as an incentive, Benjamin Franklin betrayed Washington to then Baron Roberto Zar; the latter had volunteered to 'clean up the mess that Emperor Cornelius's son had so ignorantly made,' and had soundly defeated Washington at Yorktown.

Of course, Catherine decided to cut her losses and abandon Washington in favor of hunting down another contract, but not without following the general when he was brought to Britannia to stand trial before the empire's Supreme Court under the charges of sedition and high treason.

This trial, though, also served as the event that marked the abrupt end of Edwin des Britannia's reign as he was publicly insulted by the Baron Zar prior to being ousted by the former's half-sister Maria die Britannia, the resulting scuffle ending with the deaths of George Washington, Edwin des Britannia, and all the members of parliament that supported the laws that brought about the rebellion in the first place.

C.C. held the her partner's portfolio close to her chest as she heard the shuttle doors open, the sound pulling the woman from her thoughts and forcing her to face reality. She found herself pondering the soundness of Jeremiah's judgment at deciding that opening the transport's hangar while the latter was in flight was a safe thing to do despite the fact that the aforementioned gate was not supposed to be opened anyway.

Before any of her ponderings could be verbalized however, Nonette's Knightmare extended its feet and landed atop the hangar floor with an echoing jerk that would have knocked Catherine off her place had the knight not positioned the machine's fingers around the witch so astutely.

Not really wanting to remain in the vulnerable position that was being in between the palms of a weapon of destruction, the witch swiftly vacated her de-facto seat while taking care to keep her head held high and her steps measured.

It wouldn't do her well to appear weak before strangers, despite the fact that she was quiet aware of who Nonette Enneagram was.

Catherine eyed the Knightmare kneeling before her, observing the way it seemed to differ from majority of the designs she had seen since the had first witnessed the popular machine enter the fields of battle: The way its face was almost human-like in appearance, the golden upper part of the head giving a distinctly feminine feel with the soft curves from the nose to the top of its forehead where black hair was cropped into a topknot and fell in one onyx stream to the floor; in contrast, the lower half of the head had nothing human about it, a tapered purple plate that hooked up as it got closer to the chin and the pair of red tusks that jutted out the said plate's sides almost made it appear demonic.

The rest of the Knightmare's body followed such a theme: like the upper arms smooth and lustrous while appearing deceptively weak while at the elbow turning into a jagged latticework of red and purple that led to a pair of enlarged, five-fingered claws with tips colored a disturbing shade of sanguine.

Behind her, C.C. heard a hiss which she immediately attributed to the opening of the lone door that lead to the hangar.

"Milady!" without turning from the novel machine before her, Catherine could easily identify the voice of Edmund Dantès, the young nobleman that had rather recently come under her service. "Are you alright?" The twenty-five-year-old then moved to insect his superior more closely when the witch raised her hand to keep wave him off.

"I am uninjured, viscount;" C.C. did not lift her gaze from the entry plug of Nonette's Knightmare, awaiting the soldier's emergence. "I appreciate your concern, but I believe that I shall be fine for the moment," She took note to keep her voice seem as collected as she could, not wanting to show her fatigue to either of two other occupants of the hangar. "Although if it makes you feel more secure, doctor, perhaps I shall allow you to check up on me once everything has finally settled in."

In the silence that served as intermission between the empress's words and the yet-to-be-said reply of Dantès, the imperials heard the distinct hiss that signaled the opening of an entry plug hatch.

Despite the distraction and lack of eye contact from the noblewoman he was addressing, Dantès made to reply: "Very well, milady; I shall be on call once you are ready to receive visitors."

Dantès waited for her reply as he kept the emerging Knight of the Round within his field of vision.

C.C. then said: "I would prefer to be left alone in the meantime, viscount Dantès;" She sent a cursory nod to the knight when the apparently older woman finally placed both feet on the steel floors of the hanger. "There are things I would like to discuss with lady Enneagram, and it would be in my best interest to discuss such things in private." The witch wasn't certain if Dantès would be offended by her sharp dismissal or unable to understand her unsaid acknowledgement of his informing her of his decision to remain on standby in case she might require his medical expertise.

She was quickly relieved of these silent uncertainties though, when he bowed to her and took his leave.

Satisfied at hearing the unseen locks of the hangar door latch into place, Catherine took this time to do what the woman before her had probably been doing since they had escaped Palace Mortem: sizing each other up. Now, C.C. was quite certain that the knight would not recognize her for what the former was; no, only Bismarck had even the slightest chance of being able to, considering the fact that Enneagram couldn't have been involved with any of Charles's and Marianne's projects during the ninety-eighth emperor's reign.

However, Catherine certainly recognized Nonette. Even though it had been a good decade since she had last laid eyes on the woman, the now Duchess Nonette Enneagram had aged gracefully irregardless of the soldier's involvement in the military: She wore her hair shorter now; no longer the waist-length it was when she and Cornelia were just entering the academy despite the former woman stubbornly opting to braid whatever part of her pale green hair she could: the little tassel hanging in front of her left ear.

"I bid you a good evening, Lady Enneagram." C.C. took the initiative, not feeling the need to take in too many of the other woman's features. "I admit that thought I had not been expecting your assistance in my escape from the palace earlier, I would like to thank you for it."

There were many facts that Catherine was aware of: starting from the general opinion the world had of her partner to the certainty that she wasn't very well-known to anyone outside of the officers of the Black Knights and those that directly served under House Britannia. Thus, it would have been expected that Enneagram not be aware of the witch's role in court and leaving the aforementioned knight unable to come up with an adequate opinion of C.C. on such sort notice to formulate a perfectly adequate reply.

The immortal, however, had been impressed when the knight took the odd greeting in stride while not even delaying her reply by more than a few seconds.

"I bid you a good evening as well, madame," Nonette sent C.C. a bow that betrayed neither mockery nor respect as the former emphasized the title. "I also apologize for my late arrival and inability to help you sooner."

Catherine would not let herself be moved by the soldier's apparent stoicism towards her; nodding in affirmation of the greeting, she quickly replied: "While your apology is accepted, Knight of Nine, I am surprised that you had actually bothered to come to our aid at all tonight." She leveled her golden eyes with Enneagram's silver ones, the witch's icy stare unwavering despite the former's exhaustion.

Trusting had always been among the things C.C. had most difficulty doing; taking into account her history over the course of her five hundred years of life, it wasn't all that surprising. But despite all the lies she had witnessed during her life, she had come to value the importance of trust.

Nonette Enneagram was a Knight of the Round, loyal to the crown when Charles zi Britannia had been in power.

It would not be easy to trust her.

"I was of the assumption that none of the Knights of the Round that had served during Charles's reign would be supportive of Lelouch's rule – barring Kururugi, of course."

~TtT~

When Nonette had departed from her faction's temporary base while riding her Knightmare: the Morgause, she had expected to evacuate officials and household helpers that had been residing within Mortem and take them Area One where they would be able to wait things out until the rest of the world had recovered its balance from the fall of Lelouch vi Britannia.

For the most part, everything had met her expectations to the end that she had been helping officials – in actually, just one official – escape the inferno that had once been the palace. The knight had been more than a little surprised, however, at finding a woman that was neither dressed in servant's uniform, noblewoman's dress, nor female's sleeping attire; in fact the woman she had found running into the balcony had been dressed in a prisoner's jacket.

That alone was strange enough, for whatever sources she had stationed within the immediate premises of the palace reported that the prisoners were kept at a different location from where Lelouch had chosen to reside during his stay in Area Eleven.

This left Nonette contemplating several things: The woman had not been present among the persecuted scheduled to be killed that afternoon, and her informants never mentioned any type of security vehicle that was commonly used for the transfer of prisoners enter the palace grounds over the course of the last few months.

But those points added up to very little, only confirming that the girl was not among the rebels, but possibly a personal prisoner of the emperor.

Unfortunately, she had been thrown for a loop when she heard the male from earlier – Dantès, if she so recalled correctly – speak to the younger girl with the sort of reverence reserved for those of higher standing.

The actual evidence was there, and Nonette knew that regardless of whether the girl before her had been a captive of the Demon King at some point, it was also apparent that the latter held a certain amount of power within the household.

The question she was posed just served to seal the deal; to have the loyalty of a Knight of the Round to the emperor questioned was usually grounds for great: commonly the charging of either the accuser or the accused of high treason.

Nonette found herself insulted at the accusation; she had always considered herself fiercely loyal to the crown, but the knight also admitted to the validity of the posed question considering the fact that his majesty had just been killed today without her or any of her forces being of assistance.

With this thought keeping any negative, instinctual reactions at bay, Nonette attempted to asses the woman before her further, wondering why that trace of anger came with the query if the younger female had been a prisoner of the late emperor.

She was a tiny thing, a little over a full head shorter than Nonette with tiny hands and feet; a richer shade of green hair falling to her waist and golden eyes that glinted in both superiority and confidence. It all begged the question: Who is she?

"I am loyal to the crown, madame, not who wears it;" After the lengthy pause between question and reply, the knight gave her answer. "As long as a rightful heir to the throne leads the Holy Empire, I will serve under that person's rule." Nonette knew she was gambling, professing where her loyalties lay to a person who – as far as the Knight of Nine was concerned – had questionable affiliations, but despite her cheerful demeanor outside of work, the duchess was not fond of having her beliefs questioned and she was known to act accordingly when they were.

The madame remained silent for the first few seconds after hearing Nonette's reply, deigning to stare at her with those golden eyes while one emerald brow rose in curiosity.

"Loyalty is always best proven by actions as opposed to words, lady knight. Just today his majesty was slain, and when his body was brought to me by Jeremiah Gottwald, I did not hear of your being there to help his lordship." Nonette observed the younger woman's jaw clench as the latter spoke of the assassination that took place earlier today. The madame turned away, her fist seeming to clench under the long sleeves of her coat. "Why come to our aid now, when our leader is no longer with us?"

When the madame finished speaking, the knight's brows rose as the latter's eyes opened wide at hearing the former's words.

Jeremiah is here? Nonette wasn't sure if she should have been as surprised as she felt, considering she had learned of Jeremiah's connection to the late ninety-ninth emperor months ago, even preceding the Damocles Rebellion. But Jeremiah's presence served to present another fact: In all of the years that Nonette had been an acquaintance of Jeremiah Gottwald, she had admired his nigh undying loyalty, which was as deeply-rooted in his character as it was in hers.

If Gottwald is here, then everyone in this ship is a friend of the empire.

Of that Nonette was certain.

The second fact that the knight then deduced from the words spoken by the madame was that Jeremiah had brought his majesty's body to her when the remains had been recovered; it was considered practice among Britannia's nobility that when remains of any lord were found, they were presented to the person closest to the aforementioned position.

Based on what information Nonette had collected regarding the emperor's household, the death of the Knight of Zero, Kururugi Suzaku should have made Gottwald the acting leader, despite this, the last had presented the master's remains to the person Enneagram was facing now and that told the female knight one thing:

She, Nonette Enneagram, the essential prodigal knight of the Holy Empire, was facing a younger woman that quite possibly answered to only Emperor Lelouch himself.

In light of this revelation – yet still unsure of the type of respectful gesture to present to the apparent lady before her – the duchess opted to perform the safest type of salute towards a noble in higher favor: she knelt with her right palm over her heart and her head bowed as she stammered her apology.

"I humbly ask for your forgiveness with regards to my previous lack of respect, milady, as I was not aware of your position before now."

With eyes downcast the way they were, Nonette was unable to observe her lady's reaction to the sudden apology besides the notable silence that followed the former's own statement.

It would be a full minute before the woman she would come to refer to as Lady Catherine of House Britannia had deigned to speak out a message that she had never expected to hear.

"Stand, Knight of Zero;" The girl's voice held the kind of commanding nature that she would have not expected of a sixteen-year-old; it was like the girl was a queen already. "For though your loyalty has not yet acted in his majesty's interest, your words have shown an enthusiasm few have displayed." The clicking of heels against steel plate caused the knight to look up and gaze at the leaving form of her mistress as the latter continued: "And due to the fact that you can no longer prove yourself to the emperor, prove yourself to me instead and perhaps I shall honor you with the sight of things very few shall ever witness so closely."

The door then closed behind her, leaving Nonette to her contemplations, and as the resolve to serve this nameless woman began to grow at the bottom of her heart, Duchess Nonette Enneagram stood as she recited a verse from a poem that she loved so:

"She shakes the peacock gardens as she rises from her ease,

"And she strides among the treetops and is taller than the trees,

"And her voice through all the garden is a thunder sent to bring

"- Black Azrael and Ariel and Ammon on the wing."

A bow, then, towards the door that the madame left through; and with the flash of a determined gaze before following, she said:

"Yes, your majesty."

~TtT~

Location: Royal shuttle cockpit, air over Pacific Ocean, en-route for Area One of Holy Britannia

Estimated Date / Timeline: October 12th, 2018, day of the execution of the Instigators of the Damocles Rebellion

Estimated Time: 8:01pm, approximately six minutes following the arrival of Nonette Enneagram at the Catherine's shuttle.

It was in times like these – where he was forced to work for longer than most others would have deemed reasonable and required to work harder than most others would have deemed sane – that Jeremiah Gottwald was thankful of his being part machine; he could work longer hours and tire less easily, and complete tasks that would have required the cooperation of several other people to see to.

But even then, he was still partially human and that meant that he was still bound by certain limits.

Since becoming a cyborg over a year ago, Jeremiah had never been exposed to the culmination of physical, emotional, and mental stress that he had just had to deal with over the course of the past week. Beginning with the final preparations for the Zero Requiem's finale to dealing with his master's death – both the anticipation of and the aftershock of such an event – and finally having to help everyone living in Mortem get out alive and making it to the prime Imperial Residence before anyone decided to pursue.

Simply enumerating everything in his head brought a sigh out of the man, and he struggled to keep his attentions on the multiple screens and readings being presented before him from the beeping and blinking panel on the dashboard.

Satisfied with what he had found, the knight allowed his head to against the chair's back and sighed again; at last they were far enough from Area Eleven that he could let the auto-piloting system take his place.

No longer having to worry about keeping his eyes on the figurative road, Jeremiah Gottwald trained his gaze across the aforementioned panel, eventually passing over the screen that served as visual output for communications with outer ships.

He was more than a little worried when he had been forced to leave the hangar because the entryway threatened to be barricaded with burning debris, thereby leaving C.C. trapped inside the palace with no way of immediate escape from the hostile province once the night had passed.

For all that Gottwald knew: his lady Catherine's ability to take care of herself and get things done, he knew that it was important that none of the household be separated from the group for the sake of their safety and the safety of the plan.

But still, lady C.C. had managed to prove herself well capable of showing up once she felt that it was a good time for her to do so, and he did his best to remind himself of that as he was preparing to take flight while leaving Lady Catherine behind inside the burning palace.

Of course, this didn't mean that he wouldn't welcome a more assured way of getting Lelouch's partner to safety.

Strangely enough, this wish of his had come to reality when he received a sudden transmission from an un-affiliated Knightmare bearing the identification name 'Morgause.'

Much to his surprise, it was someone that he hadn't spoken to since their graduation from Britannia's Military Academy: Duchess Nonette Enneagram, the Knight of Nine.

She had queried him on whether there were any more people trapped within the palace and then requested permission to enter the hangar and drop the rescued persons off once she had saved them. It was at this point that Jeremiah found himself appreciative of the shuttle's odd design of having the cockpit's visual transmitter only function one-way and thereby preventing Nonette from seeing his face or even recognizing him.

He wasn't in the mental disposition to deal with the fact that she had been the last batch-mate of his from his past that he had seen or heard off since Princess Cornelia.

It was one of the furthest things from a nice thought to have, believing that there were only three or four of his generation left serving under the Holy Empire, and if possible Jeremiah didn't want to think about it any more than he could.

Allowing another sigh to escape him before getting up, Gottwald decided that it would be wise for him to get some rest before he was called to duty again, regardless of how little of the said rest he could get. He considered himself fortunate that his quarters for the duration of the trip were so close to his current workstation – just next door, in fact – as he took the seven steps required to get to the one of the two doors that led out of the room: The first, the one located at the very center of the wall that lead to a long hallway and the second that lead to his room.

Opening the door and entering the new enclosure, his eyes landed onto the room's other occupant; he nodded to her and said:

"Good evening," He told the young woman sitting on the wooden chair partnered with his desk. The room had a remarkably un-technological feel to it despite the fact that it was located in one of the empire's most-advanced transports. Perhaps this had been done to relieve the captain of the feeling of being enclosed inside a metal box all the time, but Jeremiah discovered himself to fatigued to be bothered with such contemplations. "I trust that the earlier parts of our flight weren't too rough for you, lady Alstreim?"

The petite, pink-haired teen cast her cherry eyes up from the little machine she always carried around to look at him. She tilted her head to one side in apparent thought, making Jeremiah believe that she wasn't certain of the right thing to say in such a situation.

It was that or he was to assume that she wasn't comfortable with being cordial with someone she had considered an enemy just a few months before.

Ultimately, she sent him a reply in the form of a small nod that came with the words: "I bid you a good evening as well, lord Gottwald;" She spoke as though whispering to him. He observed then how quiet the room was besides their soft-spoken conversation. "And no, the earlier parts of the flight weren't too rough for me, but that is considering the fact that I am more accustomed to the turbulence of a Knightmare in flight."

Gottwald could think of no better response to such a statement besides sending the girl a voiceless nod. He allowed the silence to sink to a comfortable level as he then decided to lay down on the bed while she deigned to continue her perusing of her gadget's – it was a camera-phone if he could recall correctly – contents; it's soft beeping noises and the sounds of their respective breathing the only thing breaking what should have been an awkward, if slightly oppressive, silence and of that the male knight was grateful for.

Eventually, another biological need took hold of Gottwald and he decided to voice this out in consideration of Alstreim's own bodily state:

"Do you happen to be hungry, miss Alstreim?" He leaned against his arms so he could look at her properly as he said this, his visible eyebrow raised in query. "I think I shall go down to the mess to get a bite; perhaps you would like me to bring you something?" Jeremiah knew that it would be unwise of him to bring her out of his room as someone might catch sight of her and report her presence in the ship to Dantès who might then report it to lady C.C., or perhaps even the lady herself.

He did not want to explain the Knight of Six's presence as of yet in light of what had transpired today.

Alstreim, it seemed, had already considered her answer as he was engrossed in his own contemplations and gave him an answer just as he had begun to pay attention to the world around him again: "No thank you, sir."

Gottwald then stood up and straightened his outfit as he acknowledged her answer: "Of course; still, if you are feeling tired – and I am rather sure you are – you are welcome to take the bed." He nodded in the direction of the bed he just got up from. "I don't think I will be using it much during the course of the trip." It was only half-truth of course, as he knew that they were figuratively out of dangerous waters for the time being and he finally had time to get some shut-eye, but he doubted she would be aware of this fact.

He was already at the door when Alstreim spoke again, stopping him just as he was about to turn the knob and reenter the cockpit to take the other door into the hallway:

"Wait," She said, her voice no longer the whisper it was earlier. "There's been something I've been meaning to ask you, lord Gottwald." The male froze then this statement was presented to him, knowing full well what questions she wanted to ask and what their asking would entail.

Jeremiah let go of the knob and turned fully to face her before answering: "Ask away, miss."

He was sure that she noted the slight steel in his stare as she met his eyes; she was measuring him up and preparing what words to use rather carefully.

He watched as she snapped her phone shut and set it atop the desk before raising her knees to her chest and hugging the aforementioned appendages closed to her in a fetal position. Resting her chin on her knees, she took a deep breath and posed her question:

"Why did you let me escape with you after I followed you back with the emperor's body?" There was another deep breath before she shook her head, following up the first question with another one that had troubled her just as much as the first one had: "Not only that, but you had spared my life at Damocles when you had every chance to take it. Why? Why do it? Why me?"

Gottwald gave pause at the presented questions, wanting to take his time formulating a logical explanation for an irrational action. He could most certainly admit such a fact to himself, his taking in of sparing of Anya in the heat of the battle months ago and his taking her in just hours ago were irrational in the sense that they had been enemies and enemies did not come to each other's aid in such situations.

But sometimes even irrationality and madness followed some rhyme or reason, as difficult to find those reasons may be and Jeremiah hoped that he was capable of unraveling the mystery for both their benefits.

"Perhaps," He began, trying to get himself in the rhythm of making a convincing speech that both of them would believe. Gottwald sat himself down on the bed and rested his elbows on his knees before continuing: "You may not believe it, but I do have a sense of Honor in me. I found little reason in allowing you to die a pointless death by leaving you inside the palace when we heard that it had been set on fire. As soon as I got to the hangar and began preparing the ship, I had told Dantès to take charge while I ran back to my room to get you." He stopped speaking for a few seconds, eyeing her intently with his visible brow raised once more. "Though I am forced to ask what brought on your desire to follow me – an obviously loyal follower of the emperor – back to the palace in the first place."

Alstreim closed her eyes after he asked her this; appearing to be asleep while her knees supported her head as she sat.

"Maybe I'm just like you, lord Gottwald;" The girl replied, her eyes still closed. "Maybe I just do things while not knowing why I do them, which is also contradictory to my being like you." She took a deep breath while still keeping her visage's outward composure. "I do not know; I haven't been acting on rational thought very much since you gave me my memories back at Damocles."

Once again, the male found himself staring at her in fascination, surprised at the fact that she as well had been driven to him by lack of proper reasoning just as he had been driven to help her by such.

He scoffed quietly at the irony, continuing with his explanation:

"Sparing you had been partially caused by guilt or perhaps pity," His answer caused her eyes to snap open and her pink eyebrows to shoot up. "When I found out that you were rendered consistently incapable of recalling all the things that happened to you, I felt that you had been living a life that lacked any sort of fulfillment for you could not recall anything that you had achieved.

"Perhaps I had not been able to bring myself to take the life of someone that had experienced so little. But really, I do not know. Maybe we are the same in that aspect, Miss Alstreim."

Her brows lowered in satisfaction at hearing his reasoning behind the presented answer to her second question. She no longer looked as surprised and Gottwald felt that he even noticed a bit of empathy there; it was difficult for him to tell for certain. Alstreim neither asked him any more questions nor asked for further elaboration on his motives and the pair lapsed into a peaceful silence that – this time – was not intruded upon by the labored breaths of a tired man or the incessant beeping of a phone's keypads.

Eventually though, it had come to a point that Jeremiah impulsively asked Anya a question that had popped into his head approximately three minutes into the quiet they had settled into:

"It is over you know, the rebellion." He didn't need to see her nod in agreement to know that she was aware of this fact as it should have been inside her head since she had been incarcerated months ago. "With that said, what do you plan to do after all this is done? I doubt you'll still need to – or even want to for that matter – be a knight for the empire."

He saw her shoulders rise then fall slowly before her voice rang out through the silence: "I'm not certain as being a knight is all I've known for the last ten years. I wouldn't know what to do with myself if I wasn't needed for that sort of thing any longer." Jeremiah considered this reply, instinctually wondering if she would still follow him as she was doing now after events succeeding the requiem had finally settled down.

Should he make the offer?

"Though I am unsure of what you may think of this, but perhaps you might like to stay with me while you think about your plans after this is finished?" He saw her head tilt to one side despite the fact that her eyes still remained closed. "I know that this may seem unbelievable coming from a stranger, but since it seems that we have both been acting on irrational impulse as of late, perhaps figuring this out together would be for our mutual benefit? Although you will be stuck with me before you can exercise your power over that choice as I still have duties to attend to, and you won't be able to leave Palace Britannia till I am discharged."

If she had been considering this earlier, that last line certainly stopped her from continuing to do so now.

"-Duties to attend to?" She looked at him with her cherry eyes. "What would be there to do with the emperor dead?"

"Even if he is dead," Gottwald replied to her. "The empire still needs to be run, and his majesty had taken great care to leave instructions on how things are going to be handled should he pass on earlier than intended."

She was silent for a few seconds.

"Are you going to be the one to carry these things out?" Alstreim asked him. "I know of no other heirs to the throne besides Shneizel or Nunnally and I know that neither of them would be designated Lelouch's successors."

Jeremiah shook his head to her assumption, saying: "Not I, but Lady Catherine."

Anya's brows furrowed together at the unfamiliar name.

"Lady Catherine? I have never heard of such a person before."

Their eyes met after she said this, Gottwald deciding to send her a slightly mischievous smirk during the course of the one second silence that passed over them before replying:

"You will meet her in due time, Miss Alstreim, considering the fact that she is going to be your host during your stay with me at Palace Britannia."

She nodded in acceptance of his answer and both male and female fell into another strangely comfortable silence as the subject came to a close.

Five minutes later, Jeremiah stood up and stretched his arms while taking slow steps toward the door, saying:

"Now, I'd say that I'm feeling even hungrier after all this business with escaping a burning palace. I'll be in the mess getting something to eat; would you be alright if I brought you something as well? I know that you said that you didn't have much of an appetite but I would feel much better if you ate something considering the fact that you probably haven't eaten anything since this morning before your supposed execution."

He watched Anya remained silent for a few seconds, really considering his offer now as opposed to her immediate declining minutes earlier; her eyes searched his in an attempt to understand why he was so insistent on her eating. As though finding an answer, she later sent him a shallow nod and finally said in reply:

"I wouldn't mind the meal but if it is alright with you I would prefer not to dine alone tonight."

To this request he bowed his head and turned around, not showing her the slight smirk on his face.

"Of course," his voice was laced with a lighthearted mockery that he was surprised to hear from himself. "I shall be back with your supper, milady Alstreim."

And he was off, his liege's recent passing and the sudden reminder of the fact that he was one of the last of his generation in the military of Britannia the furthest thing from his mind.

~TtT~

The world weighs down upon you, yet duty gives you not the opportunity of showing weakness.

Take this short reprieve, then, to gather your wits before resuming your earlier course.

But make no mistake; stand you must and stand you shall when the time demands your action once again.

~TtT~

Location: Catherine de' Celeste's quarters in the royal shuttle, air over Pacific Ocean, en-route for Area One of Holy Britannia

Estimated Date / Timeline: October 12th, 2018, day of the execution of the Instigators of the Damocles Rebellion

Estimated Time: 8:10pm, approximately fifteen minutes following the arrival of Nonette Enneagram at the Catherine's shuttle.

"Anarchy is watching us from the skies above; like the Lady Discord, he awaits my demise like carrion bird awaiting its next meal.

"If you are reading this letter, Catherine de' Celeste, then the meal has been prepared and both he and his lady are diving in for the feast.

"What I need you to do is to make the most of the noise that come when those two eat and while the world falls enamored by the uproar, you must take the world's tunics and walking sticks while it is unawares so that the world may be forced to pay you for loaning yours.

"But bear in mind that time is not something that you have; the carapace consumed by those two creatures will not last forever and thus they, too, will screech silence.

"You have one hundred days to do what must be done.

"Recall that you promised me your cooperation in this, and I ask that you do this in my unmentionable name.

"And if you are not my Catherine, then consider yourself fortunate enough to be privy to these words, and I pray that you take the contents of this letter to your grave.

"So sayeth Vi Britannia."

As C.C. put down the letter, she mused at how similar Lelouch and Charles were no matter how vehemently the former denied any such similarities in public; the witch could still recall the times that ninety-eighth emperor had been poetically mysterious in her presence, and the ninety-ninth sovereign shared his father's talent for conveying things without saying them outright.

Lelouch, however, did admit the similarity to her once, albeit in privacy of their shared quarters.

Catherine sighed as she put the first letter – the portfolio contained four envelops and an address book – on the desk, mentally analyzing the letter's contents.

Prior to opening the letter, C.C. thought that Nunnally would take power quickly following Lelouch's passing while the former would simply work in the background.

Contrary to that initial assumption, this short composition told her to do something rather different from what she had first expected: Lelouch wanted her to take direct command of the empire, and while this was something that Gottwald and many of the people in the shuttle had apparently expected her to do considering her obvious closeness to the late ruler, it was not an outcome she had ever imagined.

While she was appreciative of his apparent confidence in her very rarely displayed abilities, Catherine couldn't help but question Lelouch's judgment on the matter. And as she tried not to think of the fact that he had died just earlier that afternoon, the witch slumped into her chair with one arm hanging down and the opposite hand covering her face.

The problems that she would face by being given this role would be quite numerous indeed.

The first being the fact that the already few that knew of her existence barring the people inside the vehicle she was in were already dead. This would prove to be a problem in the fact that it would reduce her credibility as Lelouch's successor in the eyes of the court, for how could she be capable of running the Holy Empire without knowing its ins and outs?

It would have been just like Marianne, only worse.

Marianne vi Britannia had been wife of Charles zi Britannia, and she had even been declared his prime consort.

Catherine? She wasn't even married to Lelouch despite the servants' constant referring to her as 'queen.'

This would prove to be a problem and it needed to be solved immediately as it would be from the solving of this issue that all the other solutions would come.

"Damn you Lelouch," The woman began muttering before turning to lean on her right and bringing her knees to her chest. "Had you been intending to drop this duty on me this whole time?" C.C. felt her jaw clench in frustration before she continued. "Besides, where do you expect me to find the kind of influence needed to keep Britannia on a leash?" She immediately reached toward the black, leather-bound address book and threw it across the room to where it landed on her bed.

Catherine grunted: "Just about all the contacts inside that thing are either dead or disloyal; there's no one there that would help me because they knew you because they're either afraid of the consequences or they can't even make the necessary decision anymore."

She felt herself snarl and saw herself reach for the collection of four letters. C.C. felt as though she were in a dream, not really in full control of herself at that point while the familiar chill from Palace Mortem crept up her spine again while she watched herself from afar doing things she didn't really want to act on.

The witch had already held the three letters in her hand, not really noticing the odd heaviness of one of them despite supposedly being paper.

Although, she did notice the distinctive – if only slightly muffled – clink of metal hitting metal when one of the envelopes hit the wall to her far left; there was a light jingle that she heard when the said envelope fell to the floor.

She could not move; she refused to, seemingly unbelieving of what she just heard and what her mind was suggesting to her. Why had she not noticed the odd weight when she first brought the letters out of the portfolio? Why did she only notice it now when she had once again allowed herself to contemplate running away like she had done all those hundreds of times with her previous contacts.

C.C. could admit it to herself now, even after Lelouch she felt that urge to run when things would no longer be beneficial for her; old habit died hard.

I am quite possibly losing what little of my sanity is left.

It was a full minute before she moved to pickup the envelope.

The additional weight would have been negligible to anyone besides herself, but the mental burden even contemplating the possible contents of this container seemed to make it heavier in Catherine's mind.

Her thumb pressed against the bulge, feeling it sink when two of the objects inside moved apart.

She fell to her knees as she immediately opened the letter, her shaking hands causing some of the contents to slip out and fall to the floor.

C.C. stared at the pieces of gold before her, rings both of them: one about as thick as the nail on her pink finger was wide with three rosette-shaped onyx pieces reflecting the little light that came from her lampshade on the desk.

But its importance was dwarfed by the second ring.

It was plain of everything besides its golden glint, about as nondescript as any sort of ring can get. But it had been its simplicity that caught her eye; something she hadn't thought of ever receiving since she had actually been sixteen years old over five hundred years ago.

Her hands reached out, hesitant; almost afraid to touch the two pieces left to her by the Demon King. She touched them, felt their weight, confirmed and reveled in the reality of them.

It was then that she felt the courage to reach into the letter and unearth its two remaining contents: two folded pieces of paper.

Catherine felt impatience grip her as she opened the larger one, immediately recognizing it after all her experience with forging legal documents during her affiliation with the Black Knights.

Lelouch had already filled out all the necessary information, even managing to produce the minister's name and signature.

Only her signature was lacking to legally bind the document.

The date on the piece of paper read the fifth of May.

For all intents and purposes, signing the dotted line would officially mean that she had been Catherine ce' Britannia for the past half-year.

Her left hand rose to cover her mouth while the certificate and the rings were held in her right. Retrieving her pen, she signed her birth name – something she hadn't done since losing what she considered her humanity.

She never noticed the tears streaming down her cheeks; no, she was too preoccupied.

Placing the marriage certificate on her desk and putting on what were apparently her engagement and wedding rings, C.C. took out the tiny slip of folded paper that was the envelope's last treasure. Inside it was a note, reading:

"Forgive me?"

On the surface, it was an apology. Underneath, it meant so much more.

The damn broke then.

And Catherine ce' Britannia, ninety-ninth empress of the Holy Empire, clutched her left hand to her forehead and wailed sonorously at the loss of her husband.

Notes / References:

Eowyn - According to Britannian history, Eowyn was its first king following the founding at 0ATB.

Calendar - It should be noted the calendar used in Code Geass is specified with A.T.B. or "Ascension Throne Britannia" which begins fifty years prior to the calendar we currently use today, hence the fifty year offset.

George Washington – I decided to make use of his suggested connection to C.C. to add a little more to her back-story and for my own evil purposes, allow me to begin introducing one of the more prominent roles in the story.

Lepanto – Once again, I have used it as the poem recited by Nonette Enneagram during her scene.

Azrael – Azrael is the Angel of Death according to Christian beliefs. (I feel oddly distant from my religion with the way I say this.)

Ariel - Archangel Ariel is the angel affiliated with the elements, and in some cases the angel of wrath.

Ammon – (I have not found any references for this name; although I would appreciate if any of you found such a reference.)

Post-chapter Notes:

Wew, this one was a monster to write, six months fighting writer's block, dealing with real life, and doing the necessary research for this chapter while wrestling with the rendering of the entire outline.

At least I have this ten-thousand word update to show for it.

What do you think of the title? Does it seem to match the content of the chapter?

Well, I hope you enjoyed the read, and I hope that you are kind enough to leave this exhausted male a review or several.

Sincerely,

Toph the Trickster