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Chapter Text

“And what shall we do now,” asked Clovis la Brittania, seated upon the throne in the imperial transport.  “Sing a few lively ballads?  Or perhaps a nice game of chess?”  Whatever this terrorist wanted, an honorable son of Brittania would never allow the enemy to see him afraid.  His heart raced inside his chest as he tried to go through his options.  Unfortunately, although he hated to admit it, he was never as good as his brother Schneizel, or even worse

“That has a familiar ring,” the armed extremist mused, removing his helmet.  “Don’t you recall?  The two of us used to play chess together as boys.  Of course, I would always win.”

“What?”

The terrorist raised his gun.  “Remember?  At the Aries Villa?”

“You!”  How dare this man invoke the name of that place?  “Who are you?”

“It’s been a long time,” he shadowed man stepped into the light, gun trained on the prince’s chest.  “Big brother.”

Clovis gasped, hardly hearing as the younger spoke.  “The eldest son of the late consort Marianne, and seventeenth in line to the imperial throne,” he took a knee, that horrid smirk still on his face.  He wore the armor of a foot soldier, but the black hair swept across his face and his alexandrite eyes were unmistakable.

“Lelouch vi Brittania, at your service.”

“Lelouch?” gasped Clovis, his mind reeling.  “But I thought-”

“That I was dead?” the young prince interrupted, “you were wrong.  I have returned, your highness.  And I’ve come back to change everything.”  He stepped forward, cocking the gun at his brother.

“I-I’m overjoyed, Lelouch,” Clovis stammered.  “They said you died when Japan was brought into the fold.  What a blessing to have you back,” he said, his eyes flickering between the gun and his brother’s face.  “We should depart for the homeland immediately.  How is dear Nunnaly, Cornelia and Euphie will be ecstatic!”

“So you can use us as a tool of diplomacy?  It seems you’ve forgotten why we were used as tools in the first place.”  Clovis gasped.  “That’s right,” Lelouch said, emotionless.  “It was because my mother was killed.” 

At his brother's silence, he continued.  “Mother held the title of Knight of Honor, but was a commoner by birth.  No doubt the other imperial consorts held her in contempt.”  His voice raised as his face twisted with rage.  “Even though you made it look like the work of terrorists, I’m no fool.  You people killed my mother!”

The elder prince had never been so terrified in all his life.  “It wasn’t me,” he cried.  “I swear to you it wasn’t!”

“Then tell me everything you know,” scowled Lelouch as his left eye turned a burning, ruby red.  “The truth cannot be hidden from me any longer.  By whose hand was she slain?”

A fog spread over Clovis’s mind as his body relaxed.  Mindlessly, he said “My brother second prince Schneizel and second princess Cornelia.  They can tell you.”

Lelouch gasped, asking if they were at the heart of this, to which Clovis remained silent.  “That’s all that you know, isn’t it?” 

When Clovis resurfaced from the fog, he began begging for his life.  “Please, have mercy!  I beg of you, Lelouch, I swear I had nothing to do with it!  If you don’t want to come home I understand, but please, at least let me live long enough to tell our siblings you and Nunnaly are alive!”

Lelouch froze and lowered the gun.  “Why?  Why would you want to do that?”

Clovis blinked in disbelief.  “We mourned you Lelouch.  We thought you dead, why wouldn’t I want to tell them?”  He scowled, his face twisting in disgust.  “For seven years, we believed that this wretched place had taken you from us, that we would never see you again.  We thought those filthy elevens had murdered you!”

“Don’t you dare say that word!” roared Lelouch.  “The people here are Japanese; they are not a mere number!  How dare you call them such a dehumanizing thing!?”

“Your highness!” called a soldier from outside.  “Your highness are you alright in there?”

The two brothers froze, looking at each other with wide eyes.  “I’m perfectly fine,” the elder called out.  “Continue with the cleanup.”

There was a moment of silence, before the soldier responded with a curt “Yes your highness.”  Both brothers breathed a sigh of relief.

“That door will be guarded, and it’s the only way out,” Clovis said.  “How will you get out?”

Lelouch grit his teeth.  “I don’t know.”

“You could always come back with me, to the Viceroy Palace,” Clovis offered, hoping Lelouch’s lack of options would allow him some time to talk.  “We could pick up Nunnaly on the way, bring you both back to where you should be.  Please, Lelouch, at least give our family another chance.”

Lelouch scowled at his brother.  “Fine, but we’re not picking up Nunnaly.  And you won’t tell anyone who I am without my explicit permission.  Do you understand me, Clovis?”

The older prince smiled and nodded his assent.  “There’s a washroom over by the door, go take off the armor.  There’s a secret compartment in the throne, we’ll hide the armor and gun in there.”

Lelouch glared at his brother, but followed his advice.  He returned a few moments later, armor bundled up in his arms.  Clovis blinked at the school uniform.  He’d have to try and figure out which one it was later.  “Where’s the gun?” he asked.  “They’ll insist on searching you for weapons.  I assume our story is that you were in the wrong place at the wrong time and a soldier brought you here for safety?”

Lelouch scowled, but took the gun out from his jacket pocket.  “It works, I suppose.”  Clovis stood and opened the hidden compartment under the seat of the throne, putting the incriminating items inside.  “Just remember, Clovis, around other people, I am not your brother, Lelouch vi Brittania.  I am an ordinary high school student.”

Clovis smiled fondly at his brother.  “I understand, Lelouch.  I will keep your secret.”

The two took their places, Clovis once again on the throne, and Lelouch sitting in one of the chairs around the main table.

In another transport, a Japanese soldier returned the seventh-generation Knightmare he’d been piloting.

In another transport, a nobleman was told of this Knightmare’s use and its incredible strength.

In another transport, a banished prince gave his brother a chance to be his family again.

Chapter Text

Lelouch didn’t know what to make of Clovis’s actions.

On one hand, it was obvious what kind of advantage he would have in bringing Lelouch back to Pendragon.  No doubt Charles would allow him to finally be free of Japan and its people.  It was a little known, but rather obvious fact that much of the royal family had a strong dislike for the conquered nation, (Lelouch refused to ponder on if their hatred stemmed from their belief that he and Nunnaly had been killed there) a sentiment then echoed by the nobility.  If one kept their ears open, they would hear whispers of how Clovis missed the homeland, and his wish to return, or to at the very least leave Japan.

But on the other hand, Clovis was never one to break a promise.  And even now, he hadn’t revealed Lelouch’s identity, instead telling his advisors that Lelouch had been brought to the transport by some soldier, as naturally his transport would be the safest place.  He hadn’t even hinted that he knew him, but told his staff that he wanted to take him back to the palace to be checked over and compensated.  After all, he’d said, Lelouch was a schoolboy.  His family must be worried sick.  (He’d said that with a pointed look at Lelouch.  He deliberately looked the other way.)  He’d done everything needed to ensure that Lelouch’s secret would be safe.

It didn’t make sense.

There were few things Lelouch hated more than not knowing something.  Top of the list, of course, was Charles.  Next were the people who killed his mother.  And finally, Brittanian society as a whole. 

But he supposed if he were to be kept by any of his siblings like this, Clovis was likely the best choice.  To be completely honest, Lelouch had never really disliked him.  It was only the fact that he was an active member of the monarchy that he really disliked him for (although the racism certainly didn’t help). 

Eventually they arrived at the Viceroy Palace.  Clovis told the advisors that he and Lelouch would be in the garden, and were not to be disturbed.  It earned him a few confused looks, but no one in Brittania would dare question the royals, so they let them go.

When Lelouch saw the garden, he froze.

It was exactly like his mother’s garden at the Aries Villa.  The rows of roses and lilies and daffodils, all exactly as they were at home.

“How?” he whispered.

His brother stepped up, putting his hand on Lelouch’s shoulder.  “After I came here, it was difficult being in the place that took you from us.  But I always remembered how much we all loved your mother’s garden.  The fun we would all have there together.  I thought I could try to capture that energy.”  He sighed.  “It didn’t work, not really.  Instead, whenever I came here, I couldn’t help but feel awful from the memories.”

Lelouch shook his brother away.  “So why keep it this way?  You’ve been viceroy for years now.  If it hurt you so much, just have it redone.”

Clovis looks at him sadly.  “And get rid of what little is left of your memory?  How could I possibly do such a thing?”

Lelouch shakes his head.  “Foolish.”

“Perhaps,” his brother replied.  “But if being a fool allowed me to bring you back into my life, then I have no regrets.”

The younger’s face tightened into a scowl.  “And the policies and laws you’ve enacted?  Do you have any regrets there?”

“What do you mean?”

Lelouch turned to face his brother directly, counting on his fingers.  “Codifying discrimination against the Japanese and honorary Brittanians into law, explicitly racist rulings on cases brought to you, allowing for the judges and the courts to follow suit, lavish spending on balls and galas practically every month, while the families in the ghettos and Japanese districts are unable to pull themselves out of the abject poverty they’re trapped in.  You let the Brittanians take advantage of and beat down the people you are supposed to be here to help.  We are royalty, you’re supposed to be better than this!”  He shoves his finger into Clovis’s chest accusingly as he shouts, “Instead you are the very embodiment of the useless, pampered, spoiled nobility you truly serve, and I am embarrassed to be related to you!” 

By the time he was done, he was breathing heavily, rage burning in his eyes.  “I’ve kept tabs on you ever since you came to Japan, not that it’s difficult to do so with how publicized you’ve been.  And throughout all that time, I have never once sought you out.  I’m standing here in your presence because I have no other choice.  What does that tell you, Clovis?”

It might be a bit cruel, but Lelouch honestly didn’t care.  After all, it wasn’t like he was lying.  Everything he’d said had been the truth, and he wasn’t sorry for it. 

“Little brother… Our father once said that all men are not created equal.  That some are stronger, some are swifter, some more beautiful.  We Brittanians are above the numbers by virtue of our birth, it is only natural that they serve us.”

“How can that sort of thing be true if you claim to love Nunnaly.  Do you know what the very man you just quoted said about her?”  Clovis took a step back.  “He called her useless.  He sent his blind, paralyzed daughter to a country that he was about to invade.  The things he’s told you of this world are lies.  There is nothing fundamentally different about being born a Brittanian or Japanese.  It’s just a matter of what family you’re born to.  We had the bad luck of being born to the worst of the world’s men, and it was masqueraded to us as good fortune.  We were taught racism and oppression as a foundational part of our existence.  That’s how the royal family has always been, and that’s how it always will be until someone changes it.  And one way or another, I will cause that change.”

“You-” Clovis blinked in confusion.  “Are you saying-”

“I was the one who orchestrated the terrorist’s victory in Shinjuku.  And I will one day obliterate Brittania.”

Chapter Text

Private Suzaku Kururugi sat on the bench in the Advance Special Envoy Engineering Corps lab, a half-empty water bottle in his hand.  Lloyd Asplund, a spectacled white-haired beanpole of a man and the head ASEEC scientist, refused to let him go before running a few tests on the Lancelot.

It was an incredible machine.  Suzaku had never imagined he’d ever get to pilot even an old Glasgow, maybe a Sutherland if they got desperate enough, but this?  This was nothing like the simulators he’d been trained on.  The Lancelot was all but an extension of himself with how smoothly it moved.  The delay was practically nothing!  In the simulators it usually took a second or two before the machine would respond.  It was always chalked up to him being an eleven by his superiors, and therefore not as compatible with the machine (although that red Glasgow threw that theory into speculation, they were unbelievable out there, especially considering the age of the model) but the fact that he was able to do his signature spinkick in the Lancelot spoke for itself.  Ms. Cecile Croomy, Lloyd’s assistant, had said his sync rate was ninety-four percent, which was all but unprecedented except in the Knights of the Round.

Suddenly, the door burst open.  Suzaku jumped to his feet, eyes scanning the room for a weapon he could use.

“Where is the pilot of that white Knightmare?” shouted a tall, caped man with blue hair and a red feather pin on the lapel of his dusty blue suit.  Suzaku recognized him immediately.  Sir Jeramiah Gottwald, the leader of the purist faction, and a strong advocate of anti-number policy and social norms.

“Huh?” called Lloyd from where he was still looking over the numbers.  “He’s over there, on the bench.”  He waved over to where Suzaku stood.

Sir Gottwald sneered.  “An eleven?”  He scoffed.  “Surely there are more suitable options.  A good, loyal, pureblood Brittanian would no doubt do better, especially if he is to be trusted with such a machine.”

“You would think that, wouldn’t you, Jeramiah?” responded Lloyd.  “But Pvt. Kururugi over there gave us better numbers than any Brittanian pilot we’ve tried.  I’not inclined to let him go any time soon.”  He finally rose from where he was stood over the console to smirk at the knight.  “I’m afraid you and your so-called ‘purists’ will need to find another plan.”

“You-”

“Suzaku, we’re ready to start testing.  You’ve had your rest, let’s go!” Lloyd called over.  Suzaku nodded and started to walk over to where the Lancelot was. 

“Lloyd!” cried Ms. Cecile, standing up from her own console in a huff.  The dark-haired woman scowled at him disapprovingly.  “He’s still injured, and we can’t do any major tests right now anyway, we need to run the diagnostics and refinish the parts that were scratched.”

Suzaku sighed internally.  Of course he appreciated Ms. Cecile looking out for him, but running the tests would give him an excuse to not deal with the very racist, very insistent man currently glaring at him.  “I’m fine, Ms. Cecile, surely there’s something we can do?”  He took a moment to bow to Sir Gottwald, before continuing on his path.  “At least a few basic tests?  I’m fine, really.”

“No, Suzaku, you got shot.  You are going to rest, and you’ll come back once we have your transfer finalized.  Until then you are going back to the barracks and that’s final.”  Ms. Cecile smiled at Sir Gottwald.  “Forgive us, my lord, but Pvt. Kururugi needs to rest.  If you have any questions about his placement with us, please direct them to me or Lloyd.  Please excuse him now.”  She put a hand on Suzaku’s shoulder, guiding him to the locker they had him leave his uniform and armor in.

Lot of good it did me, he thought, before frowning.  That wasn’t entirely fair.  The armor wasn’t meant to be perfectly bulletproof, especially at such close range.  No one could have expected what happened that day, and he wouldn’t change a thing.  Except…

“Ms. Cecile, did they find them?  The two I asked about when I came back?”  Please let Lelouch be alright, he prayed.  If nothing else let him be alive. 

She sighed.  “I’m afraid there hasn’t been any word about them yet.  I have some friends in other departments.  They’ve promised to let me know as soon as they hear anything.”  A gentle, reassuring smile spread over her face.  “But I guess in this situation no news is good news, right?”

Suzaku nodded.  “I just hope it’ll stay that way.”

Chapter Text

Clovis was taken aback by his brother’s declaration.  Obliterate.  He was reminded of Lelouch’s audience with their father, when he had renounced his claim to the throne, (although their father had never acknowledged that and as such the Eleventh Prince had still been considered to be in the line of succession) that same anger from that day was alive and well on his face.  It was honestly a bit frightening. 

“Lelouch…”

“Why should I care about or care for the empire that threw my sister away as soon as she was no longer ‘useful?’  Why should I love the father who sent his armies to attack the country where two of his children were being held as bargaining chips?  For that matter how can you?” cried Lelouch.  “How can you love the man who sent us to be hostages and lull Japan into a false sense of security because the emperor’s children were there, surely he wouldn’t attack.  How can you love the man who did it anyway, never sending for us to return because we were dead, dead from the moment we were born?  Third Prince Clovis la Brittania, fifth in line for the throne, how lucky you were to be born within the first five.  You’re admittedly the least important of them, but as it is I imagine his majesty would at least give a speech at your funeral.  Tell me, did Nunnally and I get one?  Were we afforded that respect and honor?  Or were we simply written off as casualties, as the price Brittania paid for such an easy conquest?  Either way, I doubt Charles zi Brittania batted an eye when he heard the news.  The Seventeenth and Eighty-Seventh heirs, what a tragedy that they’re dead.”  Lelouch looked out over the replicated garden.  “You said that you mourned us.  But that didn’t include your father, did it?”

“…No.  No, he didn’t,” Clovis agreed solemnly.  “His majesty never… as far as Pendragon is concerned, the vi Brittania line never existed.”

“As expected.”

The brothers sat in silence for a while, and Clovis took a new look at his brother.  Even in the clothes of a schoolboy, there was an air of authority to him.  It was easy to imagine him around the war maps, commanding the armies.  “What were you doing in Shinjuku?” he asked.

Lelouch gave a harsh bark of a laugh.  “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.  The terrorists were trying to steal something, they crashed, and while I was trying to see if anyone was hurt I was accidentally taken.  It was an unfortunate series of events.”

“The terrorists?”  Could he have…  “Did you… see what they took?”

The younger shot the elder a poisonous glare.  “Yes, I did.  And we’ll get to that, because something was wrong with that girl before the royal guard killed her.  Speaking of which, they were quite trigger-happy, weren’t they?  Executing a soldier when he refused to kill a defenseless teenager-”

“I wouldn’t call that girl defenseless-”

“I was talking about myself, Clovis!” shouted Lelouch.  “I told you we would get to her, but your royal guard killed an Honorary Brittanian named Kururugi Suzaku, my first friend, who I hadn’t seen in seven years, and then he was killed right in front of me!  Murdered for the crime of mercy!  And all because he saw something he shouldn’t have, didn’t he?  No one was supposed to know about that girl, were they?  What were you doing with her anyway?  You told the soldiers the canister contained poison gas, he put his mask over my mouth when it opened.  He would have and ended up dying for me.  The last thing-” he took a shaking breath, tears filling his eyes.  “The last thing I ever would have asked of him, and he did it anyway.  That idiot- and it ended up being pointless because that stupid girl died too!”

“What?”  That… didn’t matter.  “I- I’m sorry about your friend.  He sounds very special.”

Lelouch scrubbed at his eyes angrily.  “You don’t care, he was an Honorary.  Only worth as much as the dirt beneath your feet.”

Clovis opened his mouth, but there was nothing he could say.  After all, Lelouch was right.  He didn’t really care, it was just another dead eleven.  But clearly Lelouch cared, and that meant that Clovis at least had to try.  “You knew him during the war, didn’t you?”

“He carried Nunnally halfway across Japan.  His family hosted us when we came here.”  His voice was monotone, like how Schneizel often used to speak when he was trying to hide his emotions.  A porcelain mask of impassiveness.  But the problem with porcelain is that it’s fragile, and easily broken.

But not now.  If the mask helped, he wouldn’t try to change it.  “I know you don’t believe me, but we did mourn you.  There was a funeral, nothing big or fancy, but Laila and Euphie suggested that we at least give you a proper sendoff.”  Lelouch nodded in response. 

“I suppose you expect a thank-you for that bare minimum,” he drawled.

“No, of course not.”  Clovis sighed.  “It just seemed like something you deserved to know.”

The two brothers sat in silence for some time.  The minutes stretch on, the wind a harsh caress to their faces. 

“Tell me, Clovis,” Lelouch whispered, “if you had been in my place, your sister in Nunnally’s, if your mother was killed and there wasn’t even an investigation, not even a moment spent on your mother’s memory, if you were thrown off to a country as a hostage, only to be abandoned to a war that you never asked for.  Can you honestly tell me that you wouldn’t want Brittania to rot?”

Clovis was silent for a few moments, before he frowned.  “No, I can’t.  I’d probably have given up, but I would curse Brittania as I did.”

“Exactly.”  Lelouch stood.  “I planned to kill you, as a first blow to His Majesty.  The initial victory.  If I could kill you, defeat you, with all your troops and advisors, with a handful of desperate terrorists, I would prove myself a threat.”

“You nearly did.” 

“I know.”

A moment passed.

“Why didn’t you?”

Lelouch tipped his head back.  “Because you asked about Nunnally.”

Clovis smiled softly.  “I do wish you’d let me see her, but I can’t say I don’t understand.”

“It’s too dangerous.  Talking to you myself is dangerous, but I can take care of it.  Bringing Nunnally in her wheelchair, and her nurse?  I’m not taking that risk.  Even if I trusted you, I don’t trust the people you surround yourself with.”

Clovis winced at that.  “Yes, I will admit my company isn’t the most… unambitious.”

Lelouch smirked.  “Exactly.  And I promised Nunnally that she would never be a pawn again.  I won’t let her be roped into any noble’s schemes or power grabs.”

Clovis shuddered at the look on Lelouch’s face.  It was a little unsettling, especially since it had so recently been aimed at him from behind a gun.  But he supposed this was how the royal family worked.  They killed each other with smiles on their faces.

Ah, but that was a thought for another time.  For now, he sat, enjoying the limited time he was allowed with his brother.

Chapter Text

Jeremaiah Gottwald was not often blindsided.  Not since the murder of Lady Marianne, the darkest day of his career.  Since then, he had thrown himself into his military duties, as well as his position in the purist faction.  After all, he reasoned, Lord Lelouch and Lady Nunnally were murdered by those disgusting numbers, weren’t they?  When he was invited to join the third prince’s main forces, he of course jumped at the opportunity.  There, he had met Sir Villetta Nu, a pureblood knight with aspirations of nobility.  Her brassy skin and fine silver hair complimented her golden eyes, and the violet, black, and gold of her uniform fit her well.  Her hair was always pulled into a long, high ponytail reaching down to her hips and wrapped in a sleeve to keep it out of her way.  A long bang fell over the side of her face, giving her a severe look.  A fine soldier, Jeremiah quickly took her under his wing.  With his guidance and the grace of Prince Clovis, she would make a fine baroness one day.

Sir Kewell Soresi was another ally he’d found in Area 11.  A noble by birth, Kewell was a staunch supporter of the monarchy and the number system.  His tanned skin, burnt orange hair, and steel blue eyes hardly made him stand out, especially in his dusty blue uniform, but his prowess with a Knightmare was exceptional.  Exactly the sort of man the Purist faction needed.  And, unlike Jeramiah, he had no significant marks on his record.  His noble connections were greatly appreciated, and the three of them worked well together.

Numbers couldn’t be trusted to protect the Empire’s best interests, and in a world where war was waged in walking tanks, their only place on the battlefield was as foot soldiers.  In the interest of science, they were tested in Knightmare simulators, but the results spoke for themselves; barely any numbers achieved a sync rate above forty percent, and of those few only a handful achieved above sixty.  The recognized threshold to even be considered for Knightmare combat was seventy percent, so evidently the numbers were unfit for such an honor.

And yet somehow, some upstart had not only wormed his way into the ASEEC, he’d managed to pilot a seventh-generation Knightmare prototype, and with a ninety-four percent sync rate at that!

It didn’t make sense.

To make things worse, upon Villetta doing some digging, they found that he was the only son of the last prime minister of Japan, from before the occupation.  He had apparently joined the Brittanian military after the Second Pacific War, and submitted to the Honorary Brittanian system.

“The fact that someone with his family history was allowed to become an Honorary is exactly why that system is worthless,” Viletta snarled.  “Whoever approved his application is an idiot.”  Jeremiah had to agree.

“The issue is that the ASEEC is not under Prince Clovis’s control,” he mused, “it’s under the Prime Minister.  Earl Asplund just keeps them here for easy access to the sakuradite.”  He sighed.  “Of course, that means that Kururugi is effectively safe from any of our interference.”

Kewell, who had been leaning against the wall of Jeremiah’s office, scowled.  “We could always frame him for something, wasn’t there a group of royal guards found dead?  I’m sure we could doctor some audio, the ASEEC can’t protect him from that.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they reached out to Prince Schniezel for help in getting a pardon even if we did that.  With numbers like this, they’re not likely to let him go without a fight.”  Villetta countered.  “I doubt we’d be able to accuse him like this without a thorough investigation being launched.

“So we’re back to square one,” Jeremiah sighed heavily.  “At this point I almost want to just have him assassinated and be done with it, if only there weren’t a hundred ways it could backfire.” 

“Well there has to be some way to get rid of him,” complained Kewell.

“Of course there is,” Jeremiah agreed, “We just need to figure out how to pull it off without arousing suspicion.”

The three of them spoke in circles for hours, trying and exploring every possible option they had.  Sooner or later, they had to get it.

“You’re absolutely certain you don’t want to stay the night here?” Clovis asked for the third time in the past ten minutes, as he and Lelouch were led to the palace entrance by a maid.  “I can easily have a room set up for you.”

“As kind as your offer is, your highness,” Lelouch said with a pointed look at the maid, “I really should get home.  As you said before, my family would be worried.”

Clovis caught the glance his brother gave the servant and waved it off.  “Don’t worry, the staff here won’t spread anything.  Would you at least give me a way to contact you?  If only for my own peace of mind?”

Lelouch sighed and pulled out his phone.  He typed something out before handing it over to the elder prince.  The screen showed a new contact screen, but in the name was the message staff are the most dangerous people in a place like this.  Clovis put the information for the phone he used with his other siblings and smiled as he handed back the device.  “They’re Honoraries, Lelouch, who are they going to tell?”

Lelouch shot a brief glare at Clovis before schooling his expression as they approached the entryway.  “Thank you for your hospitality, your highness,” he said, bowing.  “And thank you for allowing me refuge earlier.”

Clovis nodded.  “Of course.  I merely apologize that you were caught up in all that.  As I said before, you will be compensated for the experience.”

“I sincerely appreciate that, my lord prince.  Please excuse me, I must be getting home.”  At Clovis’s nod, Lelouch rose and left the Viceroy palace, sliding into the car waiting for him.

Goodbye, Lelouch, Clovis thought to himself, as he watched the car drive off.  I hope to see you again soon.