Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4765070.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      F/F, F/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      Code_Geass
  Character:
      Nunnally_vi_Britannia, Lelouch_Lamperouge_|_Lelouch_vi_Britannia,
      Marianne_vi_Britannia, Kururugi_Suzaku, Kururugi_Genbu, Jeremiah
      Gottwald, Kouzuki_Kallen, Kouzuki_Naoto, Clovis_la_Britannia, Villetta_Nu
  Additional Tags:
      Angst_and_Porn, Explicit_Sexual_Content, Lolicon, Rope_Bondage, Violence,
      Feels, Coming_of_Age, Sexual_Experimentation, Illegal_Activities
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-09-09 Updated: 2015-09-15 Chapters: 2/? Words: 7726
****** Black Bird ******
by ayaheartright
Summary
     In a world where Nunnally is three years older than Lelouch, rather
     than three years younger, things go quite differently.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
***** A Mother's Request *****
When she pulled on the teal hydrangea knobs of the second drawer of her
dresser, Nunnally expected to see an arrangement of folded slips, organized by
length and color. The one she was searching for, having pretty Chantilly lace
on the hem with small Swarovski crystals sewn in, was usually on placed in the
center, despite it not being the designated location the head maid decided. “A
place for everything and everything in its place,” she would scold. The young
princess doubted that an army of Northern Leopard frogs was supposed to be
placed in with her lingerie. 
“Ick!” She screamed, shoving the white painted hardwood shut as quickly as her
adolescent speed and strength would allow.
 One escaped, or rather, came too close to being squished, and she
instinctively hesitated, giving the greenish-yellow skinned amphibian a chance
to jump out. At least her reflexes were sharp enough that the feeling of the
thing on her exposed torso was avoided. Through the sound of her pounding
heart, more from being startled than fear, her brothers' sniggers were heard.
She didn't have to think long in order to come up with a short list of
suspects. Really there were only two: her older half brother, Clovis, and her
younger full-blooded brother, Lelouch. The duo was seen playing in the pond
early that morning and the night before.
A quick glance at the dirty laundry hamper gave her no solace. The white wicker
basket was empty. She debated whether reaching in a pit of frogs was worth
having a soft layer between her body and the scratchy tulle of the skirt, even
if it wasn't the one that reminded her of adult undergarments the most. Nope.
Opening the armoire, and feeling the underside of each article of clothing, the
one that seemed to be the comfortable was pulled down -- a knee length cream
colored number with peach trim and matching ruffles on the bottom.
Nunnally frowned, looking at herself in the mirror. She looked like a child.
Her short stature and small-undeveloped frame only made things worse. Taking
the long wavy dishwater blond hair at her temples, the girl French-braided both
sides. The style looked better with Cornelia's thick lilac colored hair, but
she felt more mature mimicking the débutante.
"Nunnally, dear, I'm heading out now, and won't be back until late. Please
don't give the maids a hard time while I am gone." Mother called after tapping
at the door.
Nunnally's eyes widened and she dashed away from her reflection. "Wait!" She
said, opening the door just as Marianne was about to leave. "I'm coming too,
right?"
"Not this time." Marianne smiled, bending down to be eye level with her. She
hated that habit. At the age of twelve she shouldn't be treated like her
sibling, even though Lelouch was already approaching her height. "Soon. But not
yet. Can't you just be my little girl for a little while longer? Besides it's
going to be reallyboring."
Nunnally doubted it. Marianne found almost everything about court life to be a
chore, which was one of the reasons she was chosen to tutor rambunctious kids
in etiquette. As a former Knight of the rounds, the woman would rather be
spending her time weapons training. On several occasions she was known to
provoke a fistfight among the other courtesans, all while having a Mona Lisa
smile plastered on her guilty face. Once she even brought out a knightmare; at
the time Lelouch was being teased and he never took criticism well. Needless to
say, the woman's mama bear tendencies took over at the sight of her son
sniffling. 
Out of her peripheral vision, Clovis and Lelouch were seen spying from around
the corner of the hallway. The elder one was wearing a cobalt blue tuxedo with
gold filigree embellishments at the neck and sleeve. His eggshell ascot scarf
was pulled up, stifling his giggles. The other gloved hand was held over
Lelouch's mouth, assuming the nine year old was about to burst into laughter.  
"He's going?!" She whined. Clovis straightened, letting go of Lelouch after
being addressed. "But he acts like kid, putting ---." The pre-teen stopped mid
sentence because nobody liked a tattletale.
"Attendance in court is by age, and not maturity. Clovis is 17, making him old
enough to be there. Besides, the dress Cornelia is wearing is extremely low cut
and revealing. What you have on right now is perfect and makes you look
beautiful."
She looked over at Clovis, expecting him to be fighting to contain himself, and
was surprised at what she saw. The struggle was there, yet of a different
nature. His complexion was a mix of ashen and flush, caught in the act of
staring. His eyes were narrowed. She didn’t understand when he looked away,
mumbling something incoherent. Well, that wasn’t correct -- She had an idea; it
was still inconceivable. More likely was that he was just teasing her again.
 “Please?” She asked, giving her best puppy dog eyes. 
“Oh cut it out, sis. If Mom doesn’t want to go herself, I’m sure she doesn’t
want to have to watch you too.”
“I’m old enough to watch myself!” 
“No fighting you two,” Marianne warned.
Nunnally watched dejected as her mother and Clovis broke off from the group,
and headed down the long stairs at the end of the hallway. Marianne looked back
once, smiling, and waved goodbye. She looked stunning her blue ball gown with a
button up top and white lace collar. It wasn't revealing at all, so the woman's
argument, that Nunnally should "stay home because the attire at these things is
too scandalous for a little girl," was a convenient excuse.
"Come on," she called to Lelouch with a huff. 
"Why?"   
She grabbed his hand, dragging the boy towards the exit. "We are going to sneak
out and watch."
 "Again, why?" He wondered, probably planning on spending the rest of the night
playing video games. "I don't need to come too." He grumbled, tripping when
they reached the street. 
The event was held at the Belial Palace instead of the ballroom at the Imperial
Palace because of Cornelia's disgruntled compromise with her own mother,
Victoria. The eighteen year old woman would have preferred to have it at
Nunnally's home, Aires Villa, since the gardens were vast enough that she could
easily hide in them. Truth be told, she would have rather not had a debutante
at all, but that was impossible as the second Princess, Nunnally reckoned.
If it were her, the younger princess would have wanted it in the main hall, and
as fancy as Guinevere's ball. Nunnally was seven at the time, and able to
attend as a flower girl, as the traditional ceremony marking "female
beginnings" resembled a wedding. Considering that point of the party was to
present a women as a suitable age for marriage, the tradition made sense. It
was stunning with beautiful dresses, tuxedos, flowers, music and lots of
dancing.
Cornelia requested an evening tea party, with the least amount of frills
possible. The five course meal, with the guest of honor sitting on a dais to be
viewed, as altered to a simple buffet table with finger foods. Subtle music
played to create an ambience, and not to entice men to request a dance. Maybe
that's why her mother said it would be boring. Nunnally dutifully ignored the
simple fact that the party didn't even start until an hour before her typical
bedtime. 
She still wanted to participate.
Nunnally peeked through the pine trees lining the end of the gardens. She
didn't dare go any farther at first, as the ornamental trees and topiaries were
strung with lights. Small orbs were placed on designer candlesticks to
illuminate the flowers, and lanterns hung on a wire, appearing to float in the
sky. The decorations were whimsical, which was so unlike her older half-sister.
She couldn't stop her giggles from causing her shoulders to shake. Lelouch gave
a quizzical look and yawned, either from boredom or being tired, she didn't
really care.
A small group of imperial wives were gathered by the fountain, drinking
champagne and gossiping. She crept closer, dragging her grumpy sibling, careful
to stay in the shadows. Curiosity killed the cat, and Nunnally was curious to
hear the conversation. Whenever she asked her mother what the women talked
about, the question was always deflected. Instead she would go on about the
food.
"Well I'm glad Victoria finally put her foot down with her daughter." Gabriel
spat, taking another sip of her alcohol. "To think she idolizes that women."
Elizabeth chuckled. "Well at least she is having an coming of age party,
despite her insistence of going to military academy, saying these things are
worthless." 
"It's not like it made a difference with your daughter, Guinevere, who also
insists she has no interest in being married." Flora teased. "She's old enough
that you can't even blame Marianne for her tenacity."
"That woman got pregnant when Guinn was the most impressionable."
"Wouldn't that make her more likely to be married then?" Sophia laughed.
"Marianne wasn't even old enough to be presented, not like she ever would have
been, when she married the Emperor. I still think we all would have been better
off if that child remained a bastard. It makes us all look bad to share titles
with a commoner."
"Oh hush, Sophia. You've only been an Empress-Consort for four years. I've had
to deal with her for nearly fourteen, and let me tell you, she was a lot more
unruly just after his majesty took the throne. Probably bored that there was no
more feuds to be fought."
Nunnally's cheeks flushed in anger, hearing her family talked about in such a
way. She knew that Marianne's background wasn't the most aristocratic, to say
the least, but shouldn't that be something inspiring? Marianne "The Flash" was
an orphan, her parents, Nunnally's grandparents, died because they were in the
wrong place at the wrong time. They got caught up in a battle between two
Lords, and became casualties along with most other people in the town.
Marianne lived in an orphanage until she was seven, and then moved around to
different foster families. She didn't like to talk about it much, but on few
occasions Nunnally snuck downstairs while old friends visited. The girl pieced
together a background based on short stories told while sharing shots of hard
liquor, not champagne or hundred-year-old wine. At fifteen Marianne joined the
military, figuring her combat skills from living in shady areas might as well
be put to good use. The Ashford family, especially Reuben, sure noticed when a
spitfire got promoted within the ranks of the Duke's personal army so quickly.
The rest, as they say, was history.
The woman supported Charles, the current Emperor, then 37th in line after his
parents' assassination, during his insurgence. She became an honorary Knight of
the Round after the coronation, and would have continued to serve the Empire in
uniform if she didn't find something even more important to take up her time.
Nunnally.
She was conceived during "The Emblem of Blood." Her mother and Father were
married at his coronation, when he presented Marianne, along with Sophia,
Isabella, Victoria, and Gabrielle as Empress-Consorts. Of all her Father's
wives, her mother was the only one not wed due to political reasons. In order
to prevent future quarrels for the throne, he took a wife from his benefactors,
binding Britannia together. As time went on, it seemed customary for nobles of
high ranking to marry into the royal family. 
Nunnally thought the story beautiful, and not something worthy of gossip.
"Sis, why are they ---" Lelouch began.
""Let's go look in the windows. Mother was right.  It's boring out here."
Lelouch shrugged, clearly uninterested, likely not even listening if the artful
arrangement of pine needles at his feet were any indication. They crept past
the group, and Nunnally resisted the urge to throw a big rock in the fountain,
splashing artificial blue water all over their custom-made party dresses. The
women's outfits were so pretty it would have been a shame to ruin them.
Nunnally searched the perimeter of the ballroom until she found an open window,
pushing the floor length stained glass open far enough so she could to slip in.
Lelouch went in first, turning to help her push up, and over the sill. The type
of dresses bought for her was useful for something. Nunnally doubted she could
have climbed in wearing a big poofy gown. Marianne joked that some of the
courtesans were dresses so pompous that they needed help lifting them to use
the toilet.
They dove under a nearby dessert table, and Lelouch finally showed some
interest. "What are you doing?"  Nunnally hissed, seeing her brother shove
several pieces of clafoutis in his mouth. He reached out, and over the white
linen tablecloth for more.
"Eating."
"Thanks, Captain Obvious. You're going to get us caught."
Lelouch rolled his eyes, uncaring as long as he got sweets past his bedtime.
She was worse than him, lifting the edge of the cloth to look out. Otherwise
her vision was limited to shoes, which weren’t worth the risk of a scolding. 
The indoor decorations matched the garden, with twinkling lights wrapped inside
white fabric, extending out from the many chandeliers. Most of the older guests
sat on vintage wrought-iron chairs that must have been brought in special.
 Courtesans were everywhere the eye could see, and their age difference didn't
make them stick out like a sore thumb, there wouldn't be a need to hide. While
most of the other wives gossiped, Marianne seemed to be enjoying herself
talking with the Knight of One, Bismark, who was her oldest friend in the
Palace. He too fought for her father before taking the throne, so it was
understandable. Nunnally's eyes widened when Lelouch crawled under the circuit
of tables, heading straight towards the group.
"If Mom is over at that table, it must have the best snacks." Lelouch beamed,
know out full well what she was thinking.
The conversation seemed more interesting there, based on the company. Nunnally
smoothed out her hair seeing Remont, forgetting that her Father's newest Knight
wouldn't notice, and followed Lelouch. "Good evening, your highness." He said,
approaching Marianne.
"Good evening, Remmie. I trust you've settled into your new post well? You look
like you were soaking up some sun in Area 9." 
The young man blushed at the nickname. The change was barely visible under the
pink tint of his sunburn. Nunnally was gawking enough to notice the minute
adaptation. "I do enjoy the temperate climate there." 
"It's unfortunate that the second Prince Schneizel is doing so well at
dismaying rebel activity then. You might have to return to the capital soon."
Marianne teased.
His blush deepened, overpowering the sunburn.
"Are gossiping about me again?" Schneizel asked breaking off from a
conversation he was having with a marquis woman. She curtsied as he apologized,
walking over to the cluster. "Hello Bismark, it's a rarity for you to attend
these mixers. Are you finally looking to settle down?" 
The old war hero grunted. "And you?"
"I suppose I'm like Marianne. I'm more interested in the food."
"Aha! We are actually here to support Cornelia as she turns down countless of
proposals. It should be entertaining."
"So you haven't eaten your weight in clafoutis?"
"Don't tease me. I hear your first year as Prime Minister is going well. Poor
Remmie still hasn't learned how to surf yet." 
"I will attempt to be less efficient with colonization, however, after creating
blackouts everywhere except designated cities, crushing the native currency,
and forcing census participation to receive rations; I fear the local
population just isn't interested in rebelling any longer. I suppose I could
allow some chocolate imports to be stolen, just for you."
"It's what fueled me through many bloody battles when Charles was fighting for
the throne."
Marianne was the only one who dared to call the Emperor by his first name in
public. 
Trumpets interrupted the conversation, as Cornelia was finally making her
entrance. Mother gave a sympathetic smile towards the discontent debutante,
clearly unappreciative of her party. Her expression was tense, even after
taking the hint. Dark red lipstick and smokey eyes painted the older teen's
face, bringing out her indigo eyes. Her usual hairstyle, temples braided back
with the rest down, was altered to a formal undo variation. She looked weird.
Even the eggshell white with lace with dress lost its beauty on her. Perhaps
that was because of the deep V, nearly to Cornelia's navel. More likely was the
fact that the person gliding down the stairway didn't look like the playful
tomboy they all knew.
Cornelia was beautiful in pants suits and no makeup. Whoever dressed her may
have suspected that eighteen year old would look even more lovely showcasing
her feminine features. That person was wrong. She just looked uncomfortable
being on display, stumbling in too tall heels. Nunnally thought it was silly.
Her half-sister was already the same height as many of the male guests.
Lelouch didn't seem to care, moving on from clafoutis to chocolate truffle
candies. In the back of her mind, Nunnally registered a big black glove,
signature to the Knight of the Round, handing confectionery under the table.
Her eyes were glued to the guest of honor, who begrudgingly made small talk.
It wasn't until Cornelia reached Jeremiah, a new guard at Aires Villa that her
eyes lit up. Perhaps she spied his background too, and was as fond of the young
man as Nunnally. He was a Noble by birth, but wished to "earn his stripes," so
to speak. Marianne was his role model -- that much was clear the first day he
took over the evening post after his studies as the Imperial Colchester
Academy, the same military school Schneizel attended.
Cornelia smiled, speaking of such things as war strategy, elitism, and
expansionism. Nunnally scrunched her nose, not comprehending why two people who
admired her mother so much would be racist. Granted, the woman was full blood
Britannian; she still had nothing to show for her success sans tenacity.
Maybe Nunnally was just too sheltered, and this was another thing that she
would "understand more with age." If getting older meant she would learn to see
others as less than human, then there was one reason she would prefer to stay
young and naive. After all, she couldn't even smash a frog.
Jeremiah hooked Cornelia's arm around his. The black of his tuxedo made her
pale dress and skin look even whiter. Nunnally panicked, pushing Lelouch back
further under the table, and dropping the linen. The two children were as plain
as day from Cornelia and Jeremiah’s vantage point. "Aren't you stuffed
already?" She asked, grabbing his wrist as he tried to procure more candy. 
"No. I'm a bottomless pit like Mom." He argued, struggling.
"Lelouch stop it. You're going to get us caught!" 
"Oh come on Nunnally. No one cares, obviously, because you're practically
halfway out of from the table gawking." 
"Am not."
"Are too!" 
"Am not!"
Are t---!"
He stopped mid-sentence when the table was flipped over, causing all the china,
candies, and pastries to tumble to the floor. The shatter of glass and ceramic
was drowned it by Marianne’s hysterical laughter. The woman covered her hand
with her mouth, and yet it echoed throughout the silent space nonetheless. "I
saw movement and didn't know." Jeremiah explained. His face was redder than the
hair on Remmie's head. The hue was a stark contrast to his blue hair and amber
eyes. Nunnally would have said he looked silly with his sword drawn, with one
arm outstretched to guard Cornelia, with such a flabbergasted expression.
Nunnally was certain no one could feel more embarrassed as she.
"I told you two no arguing." Marianne chastised once she calmed down enough to
create words.
***** End of Tranquility *****
She wasn't punished.
After Nunnally and Lelouch were sent back home, the two children waited.
Lelouch slept in her bed, nervous of what their mother would do or say. As far
as discipline goes, Marianne was never very harsh. She was efficient though,
capable of picking the most irksome retribution with ease. The last time
Nunnally snuck out she had to spend an entire week with Carine, Laila, and her
other siblings between the ages of three and five, and have her portrait
painted with them all wearing matching dresses. Needless to say, trying to keep
half a dozen preschoolers still that long in itchy outfits that looked like
sparkle rainbow vomit was not easy. Marianne hung the thing in the front hall
for months.
"What was done was done, and there is nothing we could do about it." She said
to Lelouch directly prior to rolling over, shoving his legs off her. He always
wanted to wrap his arms and legs around her like a giant stuffed animal. "Stop
it. Go to bed."
He couldn't sleep from stress, sugar or both. Lelouch tossed and turned,
annoying her to no end. In the middle of the night she reached her limit, and
sent him flying to the floor. He grumbled, rubbing his sore backside when he
stood. Nunnally sighed, sprawling out over her entire bed, happy to finally be
able to get some rest. She would deal with her mother in the morning.
The morning after never came in the sense Nunnally expected. The sun rose as
always, creating a beautiful mixture of pinks, purples, oranges, and light
blues; before that something dreadful happened.
A few minutes after Lelouch sulked out Nunnally heard something unreal.
Gunfire. She clutched her pillow, and placed the soft structure over her head,
blocking out the noise.
This had to be a dream. Why, exactly, she was imagining such a scene was beyond
her. She breathed into the confined space; her exhales feeling uncomfortably
warm against her cheeks. Nunnally didn't want to think about the vividness of
it all. Pinching her arms didn't help. It only made everything more real. She
didn't want to acknowledge that if she were sleeping her heart wouldn't be
pounding so loud in her chest, her legs wouldn't feel like jelly, and she
wouldn't have bit her lip to the point of drawing blood. Her senses were too
sharp for the sounds to be fake.
A bead of cold sweat travelled down her brow before she had the courage to
leave the room. It was eerily silent. No matter how well Nunnally's eyes
adjusted to the dark everything seem to jump out at her. The shadows of
furniture in the hallway were ominous, frightening even. She felt like the
numbers of her height were transposed; somehow she shrunk to three foot five,
and not the other way around.
"Mommy?" She called out for the first time in years, rounding the corner to the
staircase. The lights were on, and she had to squint to adjust to the
brightness. Nunnally shielded her eyes, wishing they remained covered once the
spots went away. She gasped, and the hands that were covering her eyes went to
her mouth. "Mommy?!" Her scream was a mere whisper.
Marianne was sprawled out face down halfway up the staircase. A pool of dark
blood seeped out from under her blue gown, extending down several stairs. Her
long waist length raven hair was disselved, wet and sticky from the substance,
fanning out over most of her frame. There was so much of it; blood, that is.
Nunnally's eyes were wide with horror as she tried to register anything else.
The putrid smell assaulted her nose, and yet she made no movement to block it.
A random memory of when they first moved into Aires Villa flooded her mind. It
wasn’t a full recollection, being barely over a year old during the move. The
water stunk to high heavens when her mother attempted to give her a bath. Prior
to the renovations, this mansion was an abandoned farmhouse of a previous
monarch who dabbled in horticulture. No one turned on the water for nearly a
century, and despite the pipes being winterized, a sickening iron stench
permeated the washroom.
She heard a whimper, possibly her own, snapping Nunnally out of her detached
delusion. Blinking back a stream of silent tears, she crept closer, willing the
sight to be a messed up prank of some sort, or better yet, a dream. Now she
knew she was dreaming because Marianne's lifeless body would just be impossible
for the next fifty years. How could a trained soldier die so suddenly, without
warning? Where were the guards? No one should be allowed within the mansion
without permission, and why would her mother give permission to an assassin?
No. It had to be fake.
Ages seemed to pass during the time it took for Nunnally to will her feet to
move. It felt as of the last time she blinked, she was a little girl, and then
the next thing she knew, she was calculating all the different ways Lelouch
could have set this up to scare her. Except it was early spring, and not late
fall; the house wasn't decorated for Halloween. "Mommy?" She called out a third
time. She was nearly two steps above the body when the doors burst open.
The scene became cast in the light of alternating blue and red. Somehow she
never noticed the sound of the sirens until Paramedics swarmed the front hall,
and the noise ended. Most rushed to Marianne. Her mother was only examined
briefly before the body was pushed aside. "What are you doing?" She shrieked,
voice cracking from the effort. A pair of arms grabbed her, and pressed her
head against a lean chest. Clovis. She didn't even notice him come in with the
firefighters and police. The smell of his body wash was nauseating, making her
want to hurl. The Chanel Allure wasn't welcomed.
Finally, after Marianne's corpse was cast aside, Nunnally's brain acknowledged
that there were four legs coming out from under the cobalt skirt. "Oh god,
Lelouch." She sobbed into Clovis' shaking chest. Her little brother was covered
head to toe with blood. The vital fluid smeared against his skin. His pajamas
were so soaked she couldn't make out the characters any long, or see the
original color. Crimson was all that existed. Unlike Marianne, who had a vacant
stare in her dead eyes, his were shut tight.
"Your highness, are you injured?" One of the paramedics asked. He stepped to
block her view, scrutinizing for signs of shock. "Do you have any idea what
happened here?"
She turned her head, feeling the soft fabric of Clovis' damp silk dress shirt
against her cold cheeks. He must have been in the middle of changing out of his
party clothes. She picked at one of the buttons placed in the wrong hole, like
he threw it on in haste, unresponsive. "Nunnally?" Clovis addressed, concerned.
The paramedic pressed his fingers into her neck, checking her pulse.
"If I may suggest you take her outside, your royal highness."
Clovis sniffled, and guided Nunnally down the stairs. He pushed her face
against at his chest as the two passed the stairs Marianne and Lelouch were
previously sprawled out on. Her mother was moved to a stretcher at the bottom
of the access with a white sheet concealing everything. Dead. She was dead.
Marianne’s inappropriate hysterical laugher would never be heard again.
Nunnally didn’t feel the chill that caused her half-brother to shiver. He
cuddled harder, dragging her to the back of the second ambulance. He was too
slow at shielding her from seeing into the first one; Lelouch was there. The
blanket over him was Mylar, and covered just his chest. Bright orange tunicates
were tied where the pajama legs were cut off, with soaked bandages below. His
breathing was too fast; tachypnea was obvious by the rapid rise and fall of the
thin metallic blanket. The oxygen mask was heavily fogged, to where she
couldn't see his nose or pale lips underneath. His mouth had to be sickeningly
white or plausibly blue like his nails because the rest of his skin was milky.
Not milky white in an attractive way, Lelouch's trembling and sweaty skin
looked more like sour milk, despite the aesthetics of the beverage being the
same. Perhaps it was the sheer number of IVs attached to him that made the
difference.
The monitor next to him yelled, and Nunnally heard words like "critical, stage
four shock, and possibly femoral artery" as if she were listening from under
water. Clovis attempted to usher her away; for some reason she refused to move,
gazing blankly at her dying brother. "I'm a universal plasma donor." She heard
herself say. Truth be told, she didn't consciously make the statement, and if
sounded foreign. Someone looked up, and ushered her in the ambulance. The group
ceased searching through red chests pushed against the walls, and the doors of
the vehicle were closed.
Something was said to her. The underwater sensation was too intense for
Nunnally to hear though, so the question was directed at Clovis. She didn't
react as her arm was cleansed, and a large needle inserted. She did shiver once
from the cold saline mixture and remaining blood components returned to her
body. A blanket was placed over her shoulders, only this one was green and made
of fleece. More transfusion bags were discarded, so many that Nunnally couldn't
count in her current state. The Imperial hospital was a fifteen-minute drive
away. They had to make it before the vehicle ran out of A type bags. If
Nunnally were compatible there, she would have offered the doctors take
anything and everything from her to keep Lelouch alive.
Nunnally's eyes fluttered shut, and her head slumped against Clovis's arm, too
exhausted to stay awake.
-------
She awoke with a start, wailing from the fresh nightmare of her mother's
murder. Clovis jumped, nearly tumbling out of the reclining chair he pushed up
against her hospital bed. His hand squeezed her's and she absently looked down
at their joined fingers, putting the pieces together in her dulled mind. "You
kept on waking up screaming. So the doctor gave you something to help you
sleep." Her eyes wandered to the IV attached to her arm.
"Where's Lelouch?" She inquired, sitting up fully. Clovis brought his hands
back to his lap, a faint blush on his cheeks from being caught.
"He's been in surgery all night and this morning." He paused. "He'll survive...
But....."
Nunnally braced herself. Lelouch was frail, and not simply a boy, but anyone.
If it weren't for pranks and Clovis dragging him out of the mansion, he
wouldn't ever move around, choosing to read or play board games instead. She
wasn't certain how a body like that healed. Barring a few skinned knees here
and there, he was never really hurt.
"His legs are irreparable. Marianne shielded the rest of him, but he will never
walk again." She sighed somehow relieved that was it. "And... He's not showing
any signs of coming out of the coma."
"Coma?" She breathed.
"Yeah. Um." Nunnally didn't think she'd ever seen Clovis so nervous. "It's a
miracle he made it through the night. That's one of the reasons I wanted you to
sleep.... Just in case Lelouch too... I'm sure he will come out of it though. I
mean. Otherwise who else will put frogs in your room?"
"You." She deadpanned.
He afforded her a sad smile. "I think I'm too old to be doing those things by
myself."
Nunnally twisted her long curly hair around her pointer finger, processing
information. "Can I see him?" She asked, not waiting for an answer to rip the
needle out of her arm. The sleeve of her nightgown was pulled down before the
red could be seen. Thankfully, the black would absorb the color.
She never wanted to see any more blood again.
Clovis furrowed his brow, and helped her out of the hospital bed. She stumbled;
the drugs made her disoriented as well as sleepy. He offered his arm, and led
her down the hall.
Every wall was white and the smell of antiseptic was making her feel ill. Her
heart hammered at the thought of seeing Lelouch. A small irrational part of her
hoped that he would jump out from under the bed as soon as she walked into the
room. She never made it to his quarters. Instead Clovis ushered her away from
the door and towards a vast observing window.
Nunnally pressed her head against the glass, fighting to control her breathing.
He looked so small. The giant bed looked to swallow him up, wires and cords
surrounded him. Medical equipment filled the chamber, connecting to the
plethora of attachments. The sheet was bunched up at the bottom of the bed, and
a scanner was comparing images of his legs and torso of before and after the
operation.
She gasped and clutched Clovis’ arm, seeing the damage. In the first photo,
there were more dark spots than not, showing the sheer amount of bullets lodged
within his limbs. His bones were completely shattered to the point where they
looked like Pick up Stix. If she didn’t know any better, she would assume she
was looking at some strange abstract art. It was that horrifying. Clovis was
correct. The fact that he didn’t bleed out was indeed a miracle.
The second photo showed something that looked more familiar. There were still
spots, likely bullets so embedded that they couldn’t be removed, and black
lines following the outline of his skin. “The doctors had to replace the femur,
patella, tibia, and fibula with titanium rods. There was no way for it to heal
on it’s own.” She nodded, cupping her hands over her mouth to keep from
hyperventilating. “Nunnally? Are you ---”
“Please continue.”
“The surgeons did the best they could, but with our current technology, there’s
no way to repair the nerve damage. There were just too many entry points. I’m
sorry I have to be the one to tell you.”
“I would prefer it to be you, Clovis. Thank you for staying with me.”
Reality seemed so surreal she could hardly believe it. Nunnally didn’t bother
to ask about her mother. The vision of her covered on the stretcher, with only
her black stilettos showing was burned in her memory. Even if she acknowledged
Marianne’s death to the best of her abilities, coming to understand the events
surrounding it was absurd. Especially considering Lelouch was involved.
Nunnally didn't like to think that someone would be targeting someone so
innocent. Well, her little brother wasn't innocent. Messing with her things or
putting plastic wrap over toilet in the middle of the night hardly counted
though, at least for revenge such as this. She could see someone being angry
with him, as she often was too.
Nothing he did warranted ill feelings for more than a day max.
Nothing he did caused him to deserve being shot in the legs dozens of times.
She waited until the physicians were finished with the examination to enter.
Lelouch’s room was even worse than the hallway. Antiseptic permeated. Cradling
his form like it was made of glass, Nunnally crawled into the cot, wrapping his
arms and legs around her torso. Something so stupid as this --- she kicked him
out of her room because she found his weight irritating. "I'm sorry Lelouch,"
she cried. He didn't laugh. Any other time her apologies were met with
snickers, like he won in some way. "Please wake up for me."
Two days later the funeral was scheduled and there were still no changes.
Nunnally wasn't sure if she should attend or not. She would have to leave
Lelouch, and that notion seemed absurd. Her only contact with the world outside
of room number 306 was when Clovis, or Cornelia and her younger sister Euphie
came to visit. Terrorists. That was the going theory as to what happened that
night. The police were called off, and the issue was dealt with within the
family, with Cornelia in charge. Nunnally couldn't tell if her half-sister was
stupid, lazy, or covering up for someone. At the same time, she wasn't even
certain if she cared. Marianne wasn't coming back either way.
According to the medical examiner Lelouch's involvement seemed to be an
accident. Of the umpteenth bullet wounds, there were a few that entered through
Marianne's front, hinting that she was the true target. The way her body
slumped over Lelouch supported that argument. She rushed to protect him,
fearful that the culprit would wish to tie up loose ends. Considering that
Lelouch was left alive, he didn't seemed to matter as much. That or whoever
attacked expected him to bleed out, and wasn't concerned that he still lived
when he or she left the scene.
She didn't want to think about it.
Against her better judgment, or possibly because of it, Nunnally decided to
haunt the funeral. She arrived at the Cathedral late, having come to a decision
when she should have initially been there. A waft of guilt overcame her when
the clock struck ten, and she realized her mother had no known blood relatives.
She couldn’t stand the thought of Marianne feeling unwanted too. After giving
Lelouch quick kiss on the forehead, she rushed out, stopping at the nearest
department store for a nondescript black dress on the way.
She observed from the fringes, sneaking in through the side door as to not make
a scene. The Emperor was in the midst of his speech when she stepped into the
gallery. A rainbow of chrysanthemum decorated the eastern wall to the point
that nothing else, sans a giant portrait of Marianne was seen. She wondered if
her father designed it that way on purpose, never being outright with his
religious affiliation. The stained glass stories of the resurrection remained
untouched, which could be out of convenience, since there was no reason to
place flowers above the altar and everywhere else. He wasn't the type of man to
try to appease anyone.
Seeing him from above was strange. The height that shadowed most others was
less intimidating; if it weren't for words booming throughout the hall, the man
would have seemed human. She hid when he glanced towards the gallery, ducking
down under the balcony. His sharp eyes looked between the old oak rails, and
right towards her, as if he sensed her presence. She scrunched up more,
uncertain if she would get in trouble for being there, rather than the nave
with the rest of the congregation. She was even less certain as to what
punishment by her father would be like, and wasn't in the market to discover.
He looked away, continuing his speech.
"And so all men are not created equal. Some are born swifter of foot, some with
greater beauty, some are born into poverty, both in birth and in upbringing,
and the sheer scope of ability, every human is different. Marianne was all of
these things. God and humanity discriminated against her during her childhood;
her life was a struggle. And yet she rose against the competition, marching
forward.
"Inequality is not wrong! Equality is wrong! What of the EU who made equality a
right! Politics are but a popularity contest and nothing of true strength. Or
the Chinese federation with its equal distribution of wealth! They are a nation
of lazy dullards! But not our beloved Britannia. We fight, we compete, and
evolution is continuous! Britannia alone moves forward! Marianne is a prime
example of this Empire! She struggled, competed, and dominated! She progressed
despite her odds, exemplifying our ideals in her very existence!
"All Hail Britannia!!"
"All Hail Britannia!! All Hail Britannia!!" The crowd chanted in return.
She sighed, leaving the way she came in. Nunnally squinted in the afternoon
sun. Sure enough it remained a bright and blustery day, made only slightly
melancholy by the April chill in the air. For some reason, she thought it would
rain because it made sense for God to outwardly mourn her mother's death when
no one else would. In a bittersweet way, the weather emulated Marianne’s
personality perfectly, providing homage.
Hiding during the outdoor burial proved to be more difficult. The judgments
Marianne sheltered her from were in full force. Gabrielle reigned even Clovis
in. The woman gave Nunnally no sympathy, and the girl remembered the
conversation earlier that week. The other consorts hated her mother; none of
them mourned her death. The solemn atmosphere barely contained the
insensitivity of their presence. One could argue that her stepfamily provided
distance out of respect her wishes. It may be that she wasn’t noticed, just
another face in the crowd until Bismark approached, placing his hand on her
lower back.
"Your mother was a strong and amazing women." He stated, bringing her to the
front. "I know that spirit lives in you, waiting to be brought forth."
She nodded, taking the empty seat in the first row next to the Emperor. Bismark
returned to the horse drawn carriage, and took hold of the decorative handle,
lifting the casket to his shoulders with the rest of the pallbearers. Her
mother didn't die in battle, and yet she was given a hero's burial. Nunnally
grasped at her black knee length dress, gazing into the grass. She couldn't
look at Marianne when the top portion was opened. It was too surreal.
The corpse in the casket was pale in comparison to her mother, and not because
of the mortician’s makeup. Actually, the foundation was off, making the skin
look a shade darker, and slightly varnished, like she were a glass doll. Her
hair was perfectly curled and fanned out over the pillow, and the red lipstick
would have brought out her eyes if they were open. Unlike the glass dolls
Nunnally owned as a child, Marianne wore the uniform of her rank. The black
elbow length gloves matched her dress shirt, and the white pantsuit was viewed
to the waist. The Bottom half of the casket was closed. Golden toggles at her
waist were polished, gleaming in the sunlight. The ones on the green cape at
the foot of the coffin did the same.
Nunnally gulped, clutching the fabric tighter. During the past several days she
cried so much, there was nothing left. In lieu of tears, her violet eyes were
vacant. She couldn't concentrate on the prayers spoken by the priest as the
reality finally sunk in, like being with Lelouch twenty-four-seven wasn't
enough. This wasn't a dream she could wake up from one day.
Angry.
She was impossibly angry at the situation and also the man sitting next to her.
The Emperor, her father, the man she believed loved Marianne so much to forego
titles, sat impassively during the ceremony. He didn't reach out to take her
hand, not that she really expected him to do so. Over the twelve years of her
life, she never received one parental gesture, sans birthday and Christmas
gifts sent to the house. He never held her or uttered words of love. Sometimes
she caught him watching from afar during family friendly events. With so many
children, she never questioned his distance until this moment.
She needed supported, and he gave her none.
Nunnally clenched so hard that her nails mail little crescents through the
heavy cotton when her father stood to receive the folded flag. Michele and
Beatrice, Knight of Two and Knight of Five, held the textile taunt, gathering
the ends with slow precision. When snake and lion consisting of the family
crest was halved, the action was repeated. Nunnally watched as the design
slowly disappeared, making a mere blue triangle at the end. A symbol that
"although we are nothing, within us is the soul of Britannia," which was
especially disturbing to her. For a moment, she was grateful not to take the
reflection of Marianne's accomplishments.
Her Father stiffened when she jumped, snatching his sleeve. The first gunshot
of the firing salute, although anticipated, brought phantom trepidation. She
didn't know if she could ever hear the sound without fear of that night. She
squeezed her eyes shut, shaking throughout the experience.
She felt the warmth of his white-gloved hand hovering over her head
momentarily, like he was contemplating providing comfort by smoothing down her
unruly hair, before it dropped back down to his side. Hundreds of eyes burrowed
into her back, and she fought the urge wrap herself in his cloak for
protection. She untangled sore digits, apologizing in the process.
"There's no need." He whispered so softly she could have imagined it, stepping
away as Bismark began to play then pipes.
"Why?" She asked.
He didn't answer.
"Why haven't you visited Lelouch?" She clarified, uncaring if she sounded like
a rude spoiled child.
"Not now."
"No! When else would I see you? Do you expect me to request an official
audience simply to point out that you've abandoned the son conceived with a
woman you supposively loved?" Harsh whispers erupted at her audacity. "Why?!"
"I have no use for that weakling." He responded monotone, turning to face her.
"His survival was a miracle. I don't see how he could be considered weak."
"A miracle you say. Then it had nothing to do with him. This is what it means
to be royalty. In regards to you, since no consort has chosen to take you in,
you will be sent to Japan. As a princess you will serve as bargaining tool. Now
stop disrespecting your mother by arguing at her funeral!" Nunnally shuddered;
the malice in his voice was a frightening variation to his powerful eulogy.
So that was the reason they were left alone. The Emperor expected her to
campaign for companionship, because he certainly wasn't going to provide any
protection for his children. Clovis' recent absence and hushed conversations
made sense. He was doing the negotiating for her, and apparently with little
results. Her stepmothers gave their reply ignoring her existence. Her older
siblings Odysseus, Schneizel, and Cornelia were too young to parent, having
their own careers to consider. She was going to be made to leave Lelouch.
End Notes
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