章節 4: Chapter 4: A Bittersweet Homecoming

The Aeries Villa.

Home.

Lelouch felt distinctly nauseous as he stepped out of the car and took in the place where he had grown up. Already, the old memories were trying to engulf him. Over there was the tree which Nunnally had fallen out of when she'd been trying to prove herself to him. Behind it, the garden where his mother used to sit with her ladies to gossip. Across the way was the fountain that he'd thrown Euphemia into once in order to get his revenge for her tattling on him for some transgression or another. Beyond that was the shady alcove where Schneizel used to read to him.

He couldn't look at anything without remembering. The garden hadn't changed at all. He'd been told that the Aeries Villa had been left uninhabited – used as a guest house for visiting dignitaries. But as it was the "ancestral home" of the vi Britannias, the Foreign Minister of the E.U. that had been negotiating peace with the Empire had been moved to another location in order to make room for the returning prince. Lelouch didn't really care. The diplomat could have stayed. He was only one person and the villa was massive. He didn't mind sharing – but of course, that wasn't something a prince should be accustomed to.

Instead of proceeding directly through the front doors, he turned left and made his way through the gardens instead where he was slowly assaulted by more memories. He remembered catching frogs with Clovis by the pond when he'd been very little. His mother had praised him when he'd triumphantly presented the squirming green thing to her after catching it with Clovis' help. That is, until he'd set it down in the middle of her tea service and watched, fascinated, as the creature had leaped right into the sugar bowl.

Winding around the eastern wing of the manor, he came across the garden where he'd once terrified his mother almost to fainting after stealing a thoroughbred racing horse from the Imperial stables (with Clovis' help, of course) to show his mother just how good of a horseback rider he was. When he thought about it now, Clovis had always been there to help him get into trouble as a kid.

He remembered his brother in that awkward preteen stage. He remembered Clovis infuriated when no one would take a thirteen year old boy seriously – even if he was a prince. He remembered Clovis always trying to compete with Odysseus. He remembered Clovis proclaiming that one day he would be Emperor, not Odysseus and certainly not Schneizel. Clovis had been fourteen at the time.

And now Clovis was Viceroy of Area Eleven and there was little left of the mischievous troublemaker that had urged him to break the rules so many times. Clovis had grown up, and while he'd retained many of his childish traits, he had still matured. But, Lelouch figured, so had he.

His childhood had ended the day his mother had died.

Sighing, he pushed those gloomy thoughts away and headed for the patio entrance to the house. It was stupid, but the first thing he noticed when he opened it was the smell of the place. When his mother had still been alive, she had worn the same perfume every day. Over the years, the scent had permeated every corner of the house. But in the last seven years, the scent had dissipated and eventually disappeared entirely. The absence of that familiar aroma almost brought tears to his eyes. It was ridiculous how something so small could affect him so badly.

His moment of weakness was interrupted by a woman in a crisp black and white uniform rushing into the room. Her eyes widened when she saw him before she blushed and bowed deeply.

"A thousand apologies, your highness! We were prepared to greet you at the front entrance. If we had known you intended to enter through the patio entrance we would have assembled here." She said quickly.

"Uh . . ." Lelouch said, taken aback by her sudden appearance and behaviour. "Who are you?"

"Oh! Please forgive me, your grace. My name is Edith Cardston. I was put in charge of this estate. I act as butler, maid, secretary, assistant and governess. Oh! Not that you need a governess, your Excellency. It's just -"

Lelouch held up his hand to stop her. She looked like she was only a step away from prostrating herself on the floor in front of him. "It's fine, Miss Cardston. I apologize for coming in through the wrong entrance but I wanted to see the gardens first."

"There's no need to apologize to me, your highness."

"It's 'Lelouch'." He sighed. He hated this kind of subservient groveling.

"I beg your pardon, your highness?" She queried.

"Call me Lelouch. No more highnesses or graces or whatever else you can come up with."

She gaped at him. "I couldn't possibly do that."

"You can and you will. From now on I won't be answering to any honorifics. Call me by my name if you want me to respond. Now, was I needed for something?" He asked conversationally as he ignored the scandalized look the maid/butler/assistant/whatever was giving him.

"I . . . uh, well, your high – I mean, Master Lelouch, the rest of the household staff is assembled in the main foyer ready to greet you." Edith explained but was saved from trying to escort her stubborn new master to the foyer when a procession of over a dozen men and women in the same black and white uniforms entered the room and lined up in front of him.

"I see." Lelouch said warily as he eyed all the newcomers. There wasn't a familiar face in the bunch. Or at least, he didn't remember any of them from when he was a child. If they had been working at the villa before his mother's assassination, they hadn't been very memorable. "Hello. I'm Lelouch. It's a pleasure to meet you all."

And thus began a very long string of introductions. He had not one, but two chauffeurs. Just in case he wanted to go driving in two cars at the same time, he supposed. Four middle-aged women worked in the kitchens. For the life of him, he couldn't imagine what they would do all day if they only had to cook for him. There was also a team of three groundskeepers – which he could understand as the gardens were expansive. And seven maids attended to the cleaning of the manor. Plus Edith.

That was seventeen staff members in all. That was in addition to the thirty man security team stationed around the perimeter of the estate. It seemed a bit like overkill, if you asked him. After all, he was just one person. It was a bit ludicrous to think that it took seventeen people just to take care of him. Especially when he was more or less self-reliant.

When the introductions were over and his maid/butler/assistant/etc. had sent everyone back to work, she pulled a PDA out of her apron and began consulting it. "I hope you don't mind, but I've already begun composing your itinerary for the next few days. Tomorrow at nine, a tailor will be arriving to fit you for your new wardrobe. His name is Angelo Debar and he's very fashionable. Especially among younger crowds. We were told you hadn't brought anything with you so I thought we'd get that taken care of first.

"On Wednesday, you've received an invitation to afternoon tea with Her Highness Anticlea eu Britannia at the Imperial Palace. That starts at two.

"Thursday evening, His Majesty is hosting a welcoming ball in your honor. Or rather, His Highness Prince Schneizel is. There was a note with this memo to tell you that your attendance is mandatory.

"You also have over two . . . no three hundred different requests for interviews from different media companies. I think if you sit for just one interview, the others will be sated.

"There are five requests for your presence at different charity events – the largest of which is the annual Soldiers of Hope ball. It's a fundraiser to support the families of Britannian soldiers who have lost their lives during active duty. Though there's also the kick off of the Soldiers of Tomorrow Camp, which is a camp for kids from low income families that aspire to join the military."

"Please stop, Edith." Lelouch grimaced. "I will consent to the tailor and the mandatory ball. Cancel all of the others. Tell Lady eu Britannia that I won't be joining her for tea, of all things. Also, I have no intention of speaking to the press or grandstanding for some military charity. I'm not here to win a popularity contest. I really don't care what the people think of me and my sudden reappearance. And I'm not going to get dressed up and spout a bunch of nonsense about the Britannian military's noble goals.

"Now, was there anything actually important on that itinerary? Anything that would actually interest me?"

Edith hesitated and scrolled through the list of notes and memos on the device for a moment. "Um . . . no, sir. There are just a few more requests for interviews and His Highness Prince Schneizel requesting a game of chess tomorrow evening."

"Now that is important. Tell Schneizel I accept his challenge. We'll see if I've gotten any better over the years." Lelouch said before casually turning away to rediscover the rest of his childhood home.

"As you wish, sir. I'll respond right away." Edith said quickly. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Lelouch paused and considered the request. "I wonder if there are any of my mother and Nunnally's old things still in the house? We weren't given the opportunity to take much with us when we left for Japan."

"Oh, there's nothing in the house proper. But I believe I remember my predecessor mentioning a couple of boxes tucked away in the attic. Would you like me to send someone up to retrieve them?" She answered helpfully.

Lelouch frowned. "Not tonight. It's already been a pretty eventful day."

Edith smiled a little sadly. "I understand, sir. Dinner will be ready for you at seven."

Lelouch nodded before disappearing up the stairs to the room that had once been Nunnally's. But he was disappointed. Any trace of the little girl's pink and white bedroom had been replaced by a sophisticated suite worthy of a visiting dignitary in neutral shades of brown and blue. He found that his own childhood bedroom had undergone a transformation much the same.

Sighing, he collapsed onto the bed and kicked his shoes off. He could use a nap after the very long day he'd just had. Milly Ashford had absolutely nothing on the chaos caused by the royal family.

Speaking of Milly, in Area Eleven the Student Council President was just getting ready to attend her morning classes. She paused, however, outside of her dorm when she noticed a tabloid magazine lying on her doormat with her face emblazoned on the front page. No, it was more than just her face. It was her and Lelouch posing together at last years Arbour Day festival. And the headline shouted in all capital letters "PRINCE LELOUCH VI BRITANNIA AND MILLY ASHFORD; HAPPY COUPLE OR TROUBLED CAPTIVE?" The article then went on to extemporize on how the Ashford family had only taken in Lelouch on the condition that he would one day marry Milly in the aim of restoring her family's honor and titles.

"That – that reporter! It has to be him! Who wrote this? Anonymous? Lelouch is going to kill me!" She gasped. Minutes later, she was assaulted by an angry mob of Lelouch's fan girls and had to lock herself in her dorm to escape them. It was, officially, the longest, worst day she'd ever had.

After supper – which had been a silent, awkward affair that he'd had to eat alone in the massive dining room – he continued reacquainting himself with the house. He checked out the music room, the library, the kitchen, the billiards room, each of four dens, the laundry room, the household help's quarters, the gardening shed. After about an hour he found himself outside the door to what had once been his mother's bedroom.

Nervously, he pushed open the door. As he had expected, it looked nothing like it once had. In the center of the room was a massive four-post canopy bed with bleach white coverings. It looked more like a matrimonial bed than anything else. When he'd been a child, the room had been decorated much less grandiose and in a colour scheme of soft lavenders and lilacs. It seemed sterile to him. He could remember all of the careful crystal and blown glass knickknacks that his mother had used to keep in this room - of which not a single one remained. He remembered a big bookshelf in the corner, messily stuffed to brimming with children classics and a big squishy couch where his mother used to read to him and Nunnally when they were small.

It was all gone.

Sighing, he closed the door and turned away again to continue his tour. He checked each of the fourteen bathrooms spread across the expansive estate, twenty two bedrooms, the fitness room, a lounge (complete with a fully stocked bar), a garage filled with luxury sedans and limos, a kennel that was currently empty, the formal dining room (with seating for fifty. Not to be mistaken for the informal dining room which could only hold twenty), the ball room.

In short, he visited everywhere. Except one room. It was a practice of avoidance really. He was hoping to put it off. He didn't want to see it, but at the same time he knew it would be impossible to avoid indefinitely. At the front of the estate, there was the entrance hall that housed the grand staircase. It was bright and airy, surrounded on two sides by elaborate stained glass windows which sent multicoloured refractions of light over the white marble.

It was also stained in blood.

Or, at least, it was stained in blood in his mind. The brutal image of his mother's bullet-ridden corpse shielding a blood-covered Nunnally was forever burned into his mind. It was as if it had happened yesterday. He still remembered the way the glass from the shattered windows had glittered all across the floor of the foyer. He remembered how Nunnally's eyes had been opened in wide, unadulterated horror even though she could no longer see. He remembered the way his mother's hair had fallen over her shoulder, shielding her dead eyes from his sight.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, he slowly approached the room. He felt like he was walking towards his own execution. The room was spotless, of course, but he could still see, superimposed over his surroundings, images of the bullet holes that had splintered the wood of the hand rails, or been embedded into the marble floor.

He took each step up the dreaded staircase with reluctance. The seventh step. That's where they had been. That's where his mother had died - halfway up the staircase, as though she'd been running and hoping to find safety on the second floor. Only, she'd been gunned down before that could happen.

He stared down at the steps in front of him. He could see her there. Right now, she would have been close enough to touch. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, she was gone. As were the bullet holes and blood and splintered wood and shattered glass. It had all been wiped away. Clean.

As with the master bedroom, all trace of Marianne vi Britannia had been completely and utterly erased. There wasn't even anything there to commemorate the tragedy. There should have been a plaque, or one of her possessions or at the very least flowers laid out on this spot. There was nothing. The world had forgotten about his mother. Just another Imperial tragedy pushed to the back of people's minds by other, more exciting gossip.

"Master Lelouch?"

It was Edith.

He glanced over his shoulder to find her standing courteously at the foot of the stairs. "Hm?" He grunted in response.

"I'm terribly sorry for interrupting you, your highness." She said as her eyes strayed to the spot he'd just been examining. "There's a gentleman at the gate for you."

Blinking in surprise, he checked his watch and frowned. It was just past nine thirty. "A bit late for callers, don't you think?"

"Yes, sir. It's just that . . . well he's refused to leave until you've granted him an audience." She explained meekly.

Lelouch sighed. "Well, who is it?" If it was a reporter he'd have some serious scolding to do.

"Margrave Jeremiah Gottwald, My Lord. He's the leader of the Purist Faction in Area Eleven." Edith said nervously.

So, the Purist were already knocking on his door. He frowned and turned back towards the place where his mother had died. He had thought he'd have more time before he'd start receiving death threats and assassins, but apparently the Purist were on the ball. It didn't take a genius to figure out that his very existence – the child of a commoner who had found her way into the bed of the Emperor – was contrary to their belief system.

"Show him in." Lelouch said with a lazy flick of his hand.

"But, sir!" Edith exclaimed. "He could -"

"I said show him in, Edith." He cut her off firmly.

She hesitated before bowing her head a little. "As you wish, sir. Where would you like to receive him?"

Where indeed?

"Here's fine." He answered, staring at the steps in front of him. If, by chance, this man was here to kill him – which seemed unlikely due to the straightforward approach he was taking – he would die in the same place as his mother. He would let this spot serve as the sacrificial alter for the vi Britannia family. The center of all their misfortune.

He waited in tense silence as he listened to Edith on the phone with the security guards at the gate. The minutes crept by slowly until he heard the front door open and the muffled sound of a deep, haughty baritone.

"Margrave Jeremiah Gottwald." Edith announced as she led the man into the entrance hall.

"Your Highness." Gottwald bowed respectfully at the waist - to which Lelouch inclined his head – before he raised himself up into a stiff, straight-backed military posture. Lelouch noticed the man's eyes stray for a moment to the stairs. Ah, so at least this man understood the the choice of scenery.

"You can go, Edith." He said without looking at the woman. She was still standing next to the door, as though on guard.

"Master Lelouch! I can't-"

"Go." He said firmly. If this man was here to start some kind of altercation, he wasn't going to allow any innocent bystanders to get caught in the crossfire. There would not be another Nunnally in this place if he could help it.

"I . . . yes, sir." She said in defeat before leaving and closing the door behind her.

"So," Lelouch drawled as he slowly turned to face the man, "what can I do for the Purists, Margrave?"

For a moment, Gottwald looked surprised. Despite all the time he'd had to think on the ridiculously long flight from Tokyo to Pendragon, he hadn't actually considered what this would look like to the prince. Instead, his mind had been stuck in a constant loop, playing his failures to the vi Britannia family over and over in his mind.

"I . . ." Gottwald began awkwardly before taking three quick, long strides to the bottom of the stairs and sinking down on one knee. "I'm here to beseech you for your forgiveness, my lord."

Lelouch's eyes narrowed suspiciously. What would this man want with his forgiveness? What did he need to forgive? Unless . . . unless it had been the Purists that were responsible for his mother's death.

"What exactly am I supposed to forgive?" Lelouch demanded sharply as his mind began racing with the possibilities. What if this man was the one who had pulled the trigger? If that were true, what would he do? He would want to take his revenge, he knew that. But he was currently unarmed and the man was almost twice his size.

"I was here the night of the assassination. I used to be a member of your mother's Royal Guard. But . . . I beg your forgiveness. I failed to save Lady Marianne from the terrorists. And I failed again to protect you and your sister." Gottwald said.

That sent Lelouch's racing mind to a standstill. So this wasn't the man who had killed his mother and crippled Nunnally. He was both disappointed and relieved. Relieved only because he hadn't figured out a way to incapacitate the man without calling for his security team.

"What happened that night?" Lelouch sighed, gesturing to the spot on the stairs behind him.

"I don't know, your highness. Princess Cornelia ordered us to withdraw earlier that evening. It wasn't an unusual request. Or at least, it wasn't the first time we'd been ordered to withdraw. Lady Marianne enjoyed her privacy at times."

"So you left her to die?" Lelouch demanded.

"We had no way of knowing she was being targeted by the terrorists." Gottwald said weakly.

"She was a commoner in the Imperial court! Of course she was being targeted!" Lelouch snarled.

"I'm sorry, your highness." Gottwald apologized, sinking a little lower.

Lelouch took a deep, steadying breath and composed himself. Now was not the time to be rash. His mother was dead. She had died a long time ago. Raging against the incompetence of her guard wouldn't change anything.

"And now you want my forgiveness?" Lelouch asked.

"Yes, my lord."

"I don't forgive you." Lelouch said firmly.

Jeremiah flinched and averted his gaze. "I understand. Then . ." He said, reaching under his jacket to pull out a gun. He held it out at arms length, holding it by the barrel in offering. "Take your vengeance."

Lelouch stared at the gun in mute astonishment. He was going to have a very long, harsh talk with his security personnel in the morning. And someone was going to get fired. Slowly, he took the gun in his hand and examined it. It was heavy and just touching it sent a thrill of trepidation through him.

"You want me to kill you? You must hate yourself." Lelouch mused as he slowly levelled the muzzle against the man's forehead. Jeremiah closed his eyes and braced for his death. "Tell me, Lord Gottwald, what would this accomplish?"

"You could restore my honor and avenge Lady Marianne."

Lelouch snorted and removed the gun, slowly, deliberately removing the bullets. It was true that he had never fired a gun before, but during the war he and Suzaku had stolen the gun off of a dead Japanese soldier knowing that if they got into real trouble, the device would be the only thing that would keep them alive. They had maintained that gun with more care than a holy relic. "I will avenge my mother. But you're not the one who killed her. My vengeance would be wasted on you. As for your honor, you wouldn't be alive to enjoy it so I don't see the point."

"Then at least let me serve you, my prince. I would -"

"No." Lelouch snapped firmly.

Jeremiah blinked in surprise at his harsh tone. "Why not? I would gladly give my life for you, my prince."

Lelouch sighed and rubbed a hand over his face in frustration. "Yes, that is exactly why. I fully expect this ship to sink rather quickly now that I've been forced back into the fold. I'd rather not drag too many people down with me."

"What do you mean, your highness?" Jeremiah asked.

"Who do you think was responsible for my mother's death?" Lelouch posed the question instead of explaining.

Jeremiah's eyes widened in surprise as he stared at the teenaged prince. "Do you mean . . . that you suspect a member . . . I mean, you think that you will be targeted by the same terrorists?"

"Terrorists." Lelouch scoffed. "Yes. I suppose you could say that I feel I will become targeted by the same people who killed my mother."

"Is that why . . ." Jeremiah hesitated, " . . . you didn't return sooner?"

Lelouch's gaze darkened, "I think it's time for you to leave now, Margrave." He said. "Edith! Kindly see Lord Gottwald to the door.

As expected, the door opened immediately, revealing that his assistant/secretary/governess had taken to listening at doors to ensure his safety. She blushed a moment later in embarrassment when she realized what she'd just revealed.

"I'm sorry, Master Lelouch. I was worried about you. He's a Purist and -" She apologized profusely while bowing.

"It's fine, Edith." Lelouch said lazily. "Oh, one more thing, Margrave. You sound like you admired my mother. If that is the case, then why did you join the Purist?"

Jeremiah grimaced as he got to his feet. "I was faced with the end of my career or a radical change in ideals. I'm no stranger to military politics. The Purists had seen my record and wanted me to join them. Otherwise I would have been dishonourably discharged for failing to keep your mother safe."

"I see. So you joined with your enemies and then took them over. Crafty." Lelouch mused as he drummed his fingers against the banister.

"It was cowardly." Jeremiah scowled.

"No." Lelouch said firmly, "In fact, Lord Gottwald, I think I have to commend you for your cunning. Sometimes survival has to come before our own ideals. For a while, at least. Good night, Margrave."