Code Geass 1. Part 00: On Change and Transfiguration

ForKia presents:

A Code Geass Fanfiction

Title:  
Contract Ragnarök: Dreaming of Butterflies

What if C.C. wasn't the only one who had granted the power of Geass to someone? And what if that someone is the daughter of a wealthy Britannian billionaire who will challenge the revolution Zero is forcing upon the world? They say money isn't everything but it helps… a lot. That said, Suzaku dislikes her way of dealing with things.

Disclaimer:

* I have posted this story before but now I wanted to rewrite it a little and give it another go.  
I do not own all and any characters you recognize from Code Geass, including the storyline and any other general ideas. I also do not own the quote at the beginning of the story.

I do own, however, every single person from the Godfrey Dynasty, their thoughts, backgrounds, looks etc. Gradually, more original characters will appear and some plot twists, which are also mine to call.

Some explanation (handy if you want to know what to expect):  
I really hope this story will be a success. I've worked quite hard to make it as original and refreshing as possible, but also realistic (in the CG universe of course) without over the top OC's. I also want to stay away from stereotypes and too much angst, so please point it out when the drama becomes over-emotional. Critiques are more than welcome, especially those regarding the plot formation.

I really want to accentuate the human side in all the characters, including my own as well as canon ones. I will fill in and explain certain gaps I found intriguing in the anime. Pairing-wise I'm not quite sure as to how clear/mild/strong they will turn out (pairings with canon/OC or OC/OC), but with the development of the story the relationships will grow as well I guess. Suggestions on this subject are welcome.

Finally, I'd like to underline the fact that this story will have an independent storyline of its own that takes place next to Lelouch's story, so to speak, and is not a complete rewrite of the show plus an OFC. Although, several canon characters will appear, in particular: V.V., Alicia Lohmeyer, Gino Weinberg and Milly Ashford. Others I will give a larger role than in the anime are: all the Knights of the Round, Schneizel el Britannia and members of the Japanese Liberation Front. OC's will have the upper hand though, you are warned…

(other) Warnings:  
Like the series, this story will contain several adult themes, such as murder, discrimination, verbal and physical abuse and more (maybe sexual scenes later on). Also, English is not my native tongue, hence I am warning you for surely-to-come grammatical mistakes.

Sorry for the long author's note but I just had to give you some warnings/heads ups before you plunged straight into this project.

On with the very first chapter!

Please enjoy and review.

...

Part 00: On Change and Transfiguration

'There is nothing in a caterpillar that tells you it's going to be a butterfly…'

– Richard Buckminster Fuller.

…

_Dearest Suzaku,_

_It suffocates me to know that – unlike before – I have all the power in the world to change the course of history. I could end it all. Still, I refuse. _

_Call it cowardly, weak or even noble in some sort of twisted manner, it won't change anything. _

_The world is ill either way, Suzkau – polluted and stained by those who call themselves 'idealists'. I loathe myself for ever being one of them._

_I know you will hate me for abandoning our believes like this but I have no choice. He has changed me, for the worse. I am not the person I once was._

_My hands are now coaxed in blood that is not mine but my responsibility nonetheless. I haven't tears left to shed over the lives that have been taken. Does that make me inhuman? Perhaps I already am. I'll let only you be the judge of that as I am no longer capable of choosing right from wrong._

_But I am no longer blind to the horrors those machines of death have caused. My eyes are wide open and I have decided. I am corrupted. Money is my only motivator. Keep that in mind while you play this game._

_I will see you on the other side, my friend._

_Yours forever,_

_J. _

…

Music was always something that made her feel whole, in some sort of sense, an exceptional addition to the meaningless, lonesome life she was forced in from birth. At least. But only Wagner was a successful genius, in the absolute definition of the word, when it came to filling the emptiness her family somehow neglected to fill.

Call it drowning in self-pity. That doesn't negate the effect music could have and did have on her, a very sweet one at that. If anything, it fueled it – it being the search of something more, above her, always out of reach.

A little sentimental, but still–

The fingers of her right hand were moving with the melody of the stringed instruments – violas, violins, cellos – imitating a choirmaster. She watched and listened to _Siegfried, _who was singing to his heart's content on the huge stage four rows away from her. But she was really there for the musicians. She pitied there was no piano solo. Then again, an opera is never focused on the music alone. On the contrary–

'What are you so upset about Siegfried?' So many emotions couldn't be healthy.

The beauty of the colossal room also didn't do her concentration much good. A waste of money but she couldn't complain either. The lighting was good. The darkness that fell over the audience gave a mysterious ambiguity to what the watchers were wearing, doing or even thinking, though one can't read mind anyways. This comforted her in a peculiar, satisfied way.

Her legs were swinging back and forth as her feet couldn't reach the red-carpeted floor. At her age this was no surprise, and she was the youngest by far.

Tu-tu-tu tum-tutu-tuu.

The blowers blared afterwards.

Halfway-through some of the oldies began coughing more regularly, impatient or tired or bothered or all three, Jane wasn't sure. She hoped her own family would avoid such shameful tactics of letting their opinion and state of mind known.

Although she had no clue as to what _Siegfried_ and _Mime_ were chanting about, it sounded very deep – trusting the definition of 'deep' of a twelve-year-old – and fascinatingly heartbreaking. Therefore, the mystery was intensified and she felt tall and important that she was there, while pretending to understand everything, if _something_, of what was being said.

The fact German operas were still performed on Britannian grounds was a rarity in itself, but no guaranty of success. The rejection of the patriotic nobility and other rich business associates attending was pretty pathetic. Relations with the Euro Universe had been strained for decades and had only changed for the worse. Little Jane could only guess as to why. Also quite ignorant to say the least.

She looked to her left, over one shoulder, the figure of her grandfather rising from his chair two seats next to her grabbing her attention. Her hand stilled. Where was he going? He didn't fancy music, opera, art, or culture in general, she knew that, but mostly he acted _as if_ he did, unlike the lower classes and the Numbers. That's what important men do, don't they? To look sophisticated and interesting?

'We have a name to live up to.'

Mom had said once she appreciated this in Hildred, her father-in-law, the most. Jane disliked it when he smiled that fake smile of his. Didn't he realize she could see right through it?

Incredible how much people make believe. It seems as the richer they are, the phonier they get–

Then it was enough. The music stopped and the actors were quiet.

The applause was weak – as if done with much effort and reluctance – but Jane beamed at the bowing artists, showing a row of white teeth in a smile that would prove her grandfather wrong for smiling so forged.

…

She was exactly how he imaged her to be, to look like, to behave. _Perfectly_.

His brother had warned him not to go out in public like this but he couldn't help himself. He had missed this – blending in with the crowd, ordinarily, feeling normal. Almost though. Here, he wasn't worshipped for the god that he was but for the god that he wasn't. The virtuousness of a young infant was, in the eyes of many, the embodiment of something divine and pure. It was as much a gift as a curse to him.

From his position up in the center balcony he could easily oversee the whole theater. From the numerous crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, to the immense orchestra pit half beneath, half before the grand stage, to the rows and rows of chairs filled with one rigid figure after another; finally, to the raven-haired petite, who had insisted to sit up close in the front, instead of the more expensive, luxurious lodge seats recommended, so she could experience the spectacle more intimately. As always, her father had granted her wish.

_He_ hated her before he had even met her. The dull expression on his youthful features didn't display his inner feelings though. He put his chin in his palm, leaning his elbow on the balustrade made out of a shining golden metal. Eyelids sagged, he snorted.

Boredom, but you know what they say: well begun is half done. So he did as advised by his counselors. Observe and learn.

He was patient enough.

The old man left the room and he followed in his wake, carefully, which was child's play with his length and build, quite literally. The temptation was too good to resist. The child's profile sketch would have to wait.

…

"Insufferable man!" The woman hissed, "This is outrageous! I cannot turn a blind eye any longer."

They were speaking in stage-whispers as the play was still on-going. But in their corner, near a small staircase leading up to the balcony seats, they stayed unnoticed by everyone _but _one person.

'Interesting…'

She was testing his patience terribly.

Hildred looked away, avoiding the face that resembled his deceased wife too much to his liking, reminding him of something beautiful he wanted to forget, and spoke bitterly: "Your judgment is of little importance. Surely you know it's our duty–"

"To what?" She paused after interrupting him so bluntly, not expecting an answer. She then changed her mind suddenly and took a different approach: "Tell me something, _father. _Do you even care about your children?"

His hand had closed around her throat before he could stop himself.

Richard never questioned him the way she, his eldest and stupidest child, did. One day her defiance would come back for her. And would end her, definitely.

She didn't even flinch, as always every time he manhandled her this way. "Don't you dare question my authority, woman." And he was right. The women in this family had very little to nothing to say. It has always been that way and always will be. Then again, stubbornness also ran in said family.

'You haven't changed at all, old friend. Such a shame…' the boy thought, smirking.

Charlotte's mouth curved into a grin too, unknowingly mimicking their unidentified stalker, and she lifted her chin. "I was questioning your ability to love."

Her father tightened his grip – earning a small groan from her – before shoving her away with more force than necessary but he didn't say anything.

So she continued: "What about Jane? Your precious?" Recollecting herself and rubbing her neck for a moment, her eyes were spitting fire along with other death wishes at Hildred, "Will you treat her the same as everyone else? What is she finds out? I doubt a child will understand." She said 'child' as if even the word itself disgusted her. And it did, in this context.

Charlotte had always hated her father for his favoritism – among many, many other personality flaws, a few of which they shared she had been told – especially when it came to his grandchildren. Why weren't her children good enough? What was it that caused his hatred towards them, his rejection? Of course it was because she had failed him and they were hers, therefore failures in his eyes. Failures that had his blood but not his love.

Jane was loved twice as much because of that. Poor girl. Suffocation by affection. How high of an opinion can one have of an insignificant infant anyways?

"Only a fool would resist his destiny."

A moment of silence in which Charlotte reflected on his words and the implication he was making with them.

He was accusing her, she decided. He was accusing her of treachery of the worst kind: family disloyalty. Again, in _his_ eyes self-evidently.

"Then maybe I am just that." She told him firmly.

The conversation ended abruptly when a blue suit rounded the corner and noticed them.

Richard smile faltered and then returned quickly as he assessed the scene before him. His sister's fancy red dress and posh jewelry didn't match with the pain-angered expression on her face.

Oh, not again.

"Ah, Richard, just in time. We need to head home. It's getting late for the little one." Hildred moved towards his son, his cane swinging one time before he started to walk to the grand hall, away from the drapery in the corner that had been their hiding place. He didn't look back. Not once.

Meanwhile 'the little one' was conversing with a long-haired man of Asian heritage. Because of this he stood out like a sour thumb, various heads turning and murmurs going around when they got notice of the foreigner, or better yet, 'Eleven', as the Homelanders called the Japanese people since the conquest of Japan two years ago. What the Emperor was looking for more than ten thousand kilometers away from home on that isolated, diplomatic island Jane failed to comprehend, other than Hayato who had suspicions of his own.

That's why his eyes were narrowed in a constant guarded tension, observing and listening alertly, like a trained spy, fox or falcon, seeing conspiracies everywhere. He could smell it when the anxiety his presence caused escalated into something more, something potentially dangerous, mainly to 'the little one' he was assigned to protect with his life. But he had already sworn to that particular obligation beforehand.

The reliability of the Godfrey family, and with that their company MECHA Industries, was also taking fire quite heavily because of him. He owed them a lot and Hildred, above all, was not averse to letting him pay them back every single favor he had been granted, in higher values than money. It was worth it though. For the sake of his promise to–

Jane's voice disrupted his thoughts as did the laughter of others surrounding the two of them in a small group, including the Second Prince of the Britannian Imperial family. "Your Highness, I must say I disagree with your opinion about _Siegfried_'s wish to learn fear. I don't think knowing fear and expressing it is foolish at all."

Hayato tried to hide the pride from his features, failing miserably. In all honesty, Jane wasn't aware of the fact she'd spoken out of line, if not insultingly so.

But the handsome prince recollected himself rather quickly after being contradicted by one of his subjects and his face even lit up with the opportunity to explain himself more sharply: "I was merely pointing out that great men do not know fear…" He began slowly, looking Jane directly in the eyes.

'–referring to himself, no doubt,' Hayato thought. Too bad he wasn't allowed to say that out loud.

"…and if they do, they must suppress any urge to reveal that fear. That is, if they desire to continue in greatness of course." He smiled the last part; others joining in, including the Prince's right hand man Kanon Maldini, Vivienne Middleton – one of her aunts, but of course an in-law – her son and Jane's nephew Frederick, who was three years her senior and therefore the second youngest in the group, and two high-ranked military officers Jane didn't know the names of, one with a large enough belly to eat her whole and a bald head and one with a whale of a mustache. The second one smelled like cigars and old, worn leather.

Jane gaped at Schneizel for a moment, her brain having trouble wrapping around his statement. A small wrinkle formed between her eyebrows but all she could muster was a meek 'no', then confusingly looking up, half behind her, searching for some kind of confirmation on Hayato's part that she was right. When she only got a small shake of his head, she sighed.

"Come now, Janey, that's enough. Prince Schneizel is entitled to his own opinion," Vivienne almost chuckled, waving a delicate, gloved hand in dismissal, the one not holding a glass of expensive champagne.

"No… I appreciate her reasoning, Lady Vivienne…" She looked taken aback by this. Schneizel on the other hand looked perfectly comfortable and confident. "She has quite a unique view of things. I wonder where she got those from?" He had ideas, but wasn't about to verbalize them, glancing around the hall for the culprit, "But she'll learn the truth in time… I'm sure." He couldn't find her. This irritated him.

"She _is_ very bright for a twelve-year-old." Kanon Maldini said to his superior appraisingly. As if she weren't there at all.

The truth? What does that even mean? – now, if they were going to ignore her existence then she would do too. She felt a hand on her shoulder suddenly, then a small squeeze from the man standing behind her.

"Yes, Richard, you must be very proud of her." Schneizel propped up, switching his attention out of the blue to his left, where Richard had been standing seconds ago. The empty space Schneizel's eyes found made him frown, "Huh?"

After locking eyes with Charlotte, Richard decided not to get involved and turned.

What a coward, but a wise coward.

A stern voice stopped him: "Nothing has changed, has it?"

Sometimes she reminded him of a eagle. With beautiful dark feathers (her hair) and a sharp beak (her sharp tongue), not afraid to dive down in a freefall to snatch and capture a prey. Powerful and quite a sight to see, from a distance, but incredibly vicious and dangerous up close. Not trustworthy too. Now was no exception. "He's an old man, Charlotte." He reasoned calmly, as though that was plenty of reason for his cruelty.

She sighed at that, "Fortunately. I wouldn't stand a chance otherwise. Not like when I was a child."

Richard winced inside, a bile rising in his throat. "Come," He beckoned her, "A good night's sleep might do you good. You look _awful_. The opera is supposed to be relaxing."

His playful insult made her smirk a little and she stayed silent.

He knew it too, yet he didn't share her opinion.

"Your husband is probably wondering where you are anyways."

…

"Frederick, why don't you take Jane and go to the other children over there," Vivienne pointed to a corner where no more than half a dozen teens were hanging about.

What she was trying to say to her son: 'Get her out of my sight. _Now_.'

"Yes, mother," was his compliant reply and he grabbed Jane's hand, which she thought felt clammy, and guided her away from everyone after mumbling a quiet 'excuse us'.

Jane let him.

Hayato made a move to follow her, but Vivienne stopped him. "No, _you_, Eleven, please stay." She pleaded in such an ugly, artificial manner it made Hayato's stomach turn. Add the derogatory name-calling and the unauthorized command to that and she had him fuming. "I'd like to hear your thoughts on a certain… _private_ matter Richard and I were discussing earlier."

Oh, oh. That didn't promise any good.

He heaved a sigh through his nose, "Of course."

"Very good. Follow me." She turned on her heels and he followed, like Jane had her nephew, like an obedient dog.

'Don't act so important, woman. It doesn't suit you.' But he had the feeling she knew something. Something that could possibly destroy him.

…

They were walking together to the limousine waiting outside – Jane was trailing behind. The music was still pounding in her ears and she was tired and cold, wanting to go home and to the comfortable warmth of her bed. Above all she was done with being silenced every time she dared to open her mouth.

She didn't like the Second Prince all that much she decide then and there.

The fact she had been shooed off to play with the kids, who were all at least five years older than her, was also a stab in the back. Stupid adults.

She yawned and rubbed some sleep from her eyes.

It was past midnight and the sun had made place for a blanket of a thousand stars a long time ago. Her sense of time was always completely diffused when she exited the theatre, whether she had seen a play, comedian, movie or opera. She didn't appreciated movies a lot, since they were so two-dimensional, but plays, especially comedies, she respected, even though there was hardly any music in it. It took a lot of guts to get up a stage and make jokes, who others might not find funny.

She knew like no other how awkward it could be standing in front of an enormous crowd and being laughed _at, _rather than them laughing_ with_ you. No, she wasn't about to relive that awful memory, not having spoken in public since that day.

One of the downsides of being the only daughter of a billionaire, the media following your every move. Including now. A hand full of cameras flashed as she entered the unsafe, outside world.

_Look elegant. Smile. Don't trip. Don't speak unless spoken to. Look elegant. Smile– _The mantra Clarice, her father's secretary, taught her repeated itself in her head out of habit.

Glad she was wearing a simple white dress and nice dress shoes, she did as the hymn dictated.

Hayato came up next to her from God knows where. He looked distressed somehow as he adjusted the tie around his neck and fixed his semi-shaved hair, brushing loose strays away from his eyes and back over his head. 'How could that witch have known?'

"Are you alright, Milady?" He asked Jane as she yawned again, pushing his doubts away for now.

She nodded, "Just tired." Vivienne passed the two of them and gave a fleeting look over her shoulder before trotting to the care. Hayato hoped the girl couldn't classify that look. That look of– he shuddered with disgust at the fresh memory. 'I will get to the bottom of this. Mark my words, Vivienne Middleton, you haven't outplayed me yet–'

"Hayato?" He heard Jane. "I asked where you've been anyways." He swallowed.

"No, wait," she continued before he could respond, "Let me guess.. 'important business stuff'?" She said the word 'stuff' explicitly clear and she was most definitely quoting him, again.

Damn, he had to lie. "Yeah, something like that."

Jane giggled, "I thought it was your business to protect me?"

He hadn't realized she had been joking and smiled at her shining face. "It is." Truth. Well, partly anyways.

"You're doing a lousy job then, wouldn't you agree, when you're not even near me to see this protection through?"

He laughed then, out loud, admiring her nasty wit. "I will get my priorities straight, Milady. I give you my word."

"Better." She said, picking up her pace and skipping down the stairs in front of him.

Suddenly, out of the corner of her eyes, purely accidently, she noticed a boy with blond hair, pinned back, in a white suit, the dark air around him in stark contrast with his appearance. He was leaning against one of the large, marble (fake) pillars lined up at the entrance of the building, holding up the roof.

His nonchalance was completely out of place.

She passed him.

'Who-What?' Damn, her camera etiquettes forgotten.

Her eyes were glued to him when she ascended the stairs to her family, even to the point where she had to crane her head at a sharp angle to held his impenetrable gaze. She smiled politely as she realized he wasn't about to look away like others who understood staring openly at someone could be considered rude. But her face fell. A sinister vibe radiating from him, like his heart was made of ice, or stone.

'Stop staring at him, silly!'

She saw him, fully, out in the open. He couldn't bring himself to care. They would have to meet sooner or later. Preferably later, because as it was now, she was too.. _kind_ – her loveliness revolting him – and juvenile. Besides, she would probably think of him as a ghost or illusion. Many did.

The wind also picked up then, starting a fight with her hair.

"Jane!"

She snapped from her trance upon hearing her name, the spell broken. She hadn't noticed her feet had stopped moving.

"Jane, come along! We have to go!" Richard called again for his daughter while already holding one of the doors of the long, black limousine open for others to get in.

God, Charles had been right. She was even more wonderful in person. Captivating, really and wonderfully innocent.

Just the right victim. As expected. And with such a family an easy target, no doubt.

_Indeed…_

He scowled when he noticed the person approaching her.

"Lady Jane," Schneizel greeted her, coming up to her down the stairs where she had stranded for the time being; Kanon and two bodyguards in his wake.

"Your Majesty," Jane curtsied politely in return. Yet her eyes were still looking in the direction of the mystery boy fleetingly and she had to focus on his face before she had realized who had addressed her.

He smiled and looked down at her, their heights differing pretty remarkably. "I just wanted to say I enjoyed our conversation earlier. You are as amusing as you are beautiful. And I want to thank you for that." He took her wrist and bowed, placing a kiss on the back of her hand.

Well, that caught her off guard. The blush that crept over her skin was clearly visible. 'What a petty motivation to be thankful.'

His flattery was unmistakably working and the more he praised her, the redder she turned.

"I don't want you to hold back, no matter what anyone says," he whispered to her – a secret? – as he straightened his spine again. "Remember, your intelligence is what makes you _you. _It will help you become one of those great men I was talking about before."

She was numb, incapable of producing sounds let alone words and sentences. Very intelligent, yes. With big eyes, she listened.

"You're different, Jane, special, valuable. Meant for greatness. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. That might upset me, you know?" And she sure as hell didn't want to upset the Second Prince of the Empire, now did she?

It was too easy to manipulate her. From the moment he had first met her he had known this child would be unlike the other well-trained offspring of the Godfrey family. She was a natural. And naturals didn't come by that often. Well, perhaps Lady Marianne – God rest her soul – would qualify just as fine. He had trouble picturing little Janey in a Knightmare though, machines of death. Doubtful, he concluded their talents couldn't be compared. Another thing that bothered him was why her father, the CEO of the whole ordeal, didn't use his daughter's skills. She would make a perfect knight with her combination of brains and sword skills. Fencing was a short step away from actual sword fighting. And strategizing was also close to the drawings he had seen as to how effectively capture a fox during the haunt she had made. Really impressive he had to admit.

Richard would later tell him he thought she was too young to get involved with things as brute as war. And, as it turned out, he would get his right.

Now, Jane was almost believing what the prince was talking her into. Again, as if she didn't know herself.

Intelligence, the road to success, which could be deemed the same as money or power. Usually both, one leading to another and vice versa. She preferred to use her intellect for more _intelligent_ – for a lack of a better word – affairs, like philosophizing, debating, reading, to enrich her own mind – sharing didn't even occur to her – not winning at the cost of other, lesser people or being feared because of power so enormous it exceeds expectations.

No, that was not like her. He didn't know her at all. For a second time Schneizel had fallen short in his judgment of her.

She managed to thank him for his kindness luckily, but barely getting it over her lips.

Schneizel understood that was all he would get from her now. 'No need to embarrass her further,' he grinned. After stroking her cheek once, softly, he said his farewells, "I hope we meet again soon. Milady..." Little did he know, it would be five years before they would meet again.

Kanon nodded, smiling, and they walked by her.

Jane quickly searched for the now almost familiar short figure against the columns.

Regret washed over her. Too late.

The boy was gone.

A/N: That was it for now. I hope it wasn't too confusing or uninteresting to read, but remember it is just a kind of prologue. And now, who can guess the identity of the blond boy? (a no-brainer, I know). Next chap will start in 2017 and slowly but steadily more characters will appear. I hope I will get some reviews! *prays* until next time!

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	2. Part 01: Land of the Rising Sun

Stage 01: The Egg

"There are four stages of the butterfly life cycle. This from-top-to-bottom metamorphosis is continuous and each stage has a purpose of its own.

The egg is where the cycle starts, a tiny, oval-shaped egg of a microscopic size. Attached and then left to a leaf by its mother, completely at the mercy of nature, the egg is all alone. The shell is rather transparent and therefore the tiny caterpillar inside is visible to the outside world. It will stay in this immobile, useless state until, after four days, it is time to hatch."

- Hildred Ignatius Godfrey

Part 01: Land of the Rising Sun

_Five years later…_

The crowd was bigger than she had anticipated. But she was used to the hundreds of eyes watching her every move, and in this case quite literally. It stayed bothersome though.

She could feel their pupils burning wholes in her white suit, which only protected her from the tip of her opponent's epee. Thank God for the mask.

Her opponent was very fleet on foot and her movements were graceful and precise. She was trained well, muscular and smart. Nothing less than to be expected in the finals.

They were in the center ring of the large hall, the last battle to be fought, and Jane had seen the pressure to win in her rival's eyes. It had no doubt something to do with the large amount of prize money just one hair's breath away from her. Jane didn't need the money, nor did she want the fame. Then why, you ask? Easy. For the sake of being better, stronger, superior. To show them she was worthy of her family's name, or that she was worth _something _in general, but also able to achieve this something and stand on her own without that same surname having her back. One of the reasons she had entered the tournament under a different name. Her father was in the audience though – a rarity in itself – but somehow she hoped people would see him and then realize who she really was, when she had taken the trophy of course, for her collection.

Simultaneously, they took positions again. Then they danced, back and forth, advancing and retreating, Jane with new fuel inside her and more accuracy behind her touches. They were a match for each other, not in perfect balance however. Minutes later there was a tie. Jane had one final trick up her sleeve, the ultimate diversionary tactic.

She looked to the sideline and saw Hayato's impressive figure standing there, hands behind his back in a warrior's stance. A true samurai. Jane had a long way to go if she was ever going to be his equal. He was her coach and trainer as well as her guardian. Their bond was so strong, Hayato understood from the moment she glanced his way, even with the black gauze in front of her face, that she was taking this victory for him, in his name. And she was going to take it, alright.

He had never seen a more beautiful smile in his life when the referee announced the winner, Jane's name booming through the stadium via the intercom, and she removed her mask.

She bowed twice and waved as a massive applause rained down on her and her admirable achievement. And she did it on her own. Well, with Hayato's help.

He didn't clap though. It wasn't customary for Elevens to do so and Jane respected that.

Now, her eyes glided over the heads of people, seeking out her father's dark-grey hair. It took a while for her to find him but when she did, she wasn't happy. Not at all. Disappointing really.

She got a look at him as he was getting up from his seat near the front, a phone against his ear. He was arguing with the person on the other side of the line. She understood what that meant. So instead of hugging her father and getting congratulations from him, Hayato embraced her, a little awkwardly but nice nonetheless, and praised her concentration and determination.

Richard even left after that and Jane only earned a quick peck on the cheek for years of practice, blood, sweat and tears, leading up to this moment, this accomplishment. He had also mumbled something about an emergency business trip. There went her promised dinner to celebrate.

In the car home, she held the shining cup in her lap but with a kind of disinterest while her eyes were peering rather intensely out the window. It lay horizontally over her thighs and Hayato watched as her hands started to tense around the golden frame.

Jane was mad, blazing with it. But the dissatisfaction of her winning was so bitter now. It didn't mean anything if not recognized by her own father. It was painful. And one would think she would become numb to the pain after a while. Or numb _with_ pain. Neither were true.

…

She never wanted pick up a sword again, she decided the next morning when she woke, a thin line of sunlight seeping through the curtains, making her squeeze her eyes slightly. It was no use anyways, there were no more battles to fight here or commendable opponents to take on. Perhaps across the ocean, where she'd always wanted to go, in the colonies.

Since the war began seven years back, Jane had always wondered what it was like there. Of course she'd heard rumors and stories, but those only described barbaric and uncivilized races that smelled, couldn't read or write and didn't know electricity, physics or any other type of technical development we, Britannians, were so advanced with.

Jane doubted they were _all_ like that. That couldn't be the case, could it? There had to be at least some cultural and genetic differences, for as the professors claimed they all looked and acted the same primitive way. Highly unlikely. But believable nonetheless. Especially by those who had never crossed the border – including herself. It was easier to justify the Emperor's actions when anyone and everyone was the enemy and allies could only be found in common blood. We were a union, one strong front that could take anything and would take it at will, by force if necessary. This makes people do crazy things – the possibility to rule them all, them being weak. They would provoke each other, Jane had seen firsthand, the members of the House of Lords, heated yelling, initiating the desire for more. More power. And soon followed the _need_ for that power once having tasted a bit of it. Without it they wouldn't survive; they would be nobody and that prospect was terrifying beyond belief, more than anything else. It was incredible and frightening to see at the same time.

It seemed as if it was Britannia against the world, and therefore the world against Britannia. As if the earth had never been one to begin with and the two sides had always been that exactly: separated.

She stared at the ceiling, which was staring back at her as dull and plain as the rest of her room. And her life.

Besides the union, the inciting and the crave for more, there was the pride, along with the patriotism and nationalism the Royal Family in particular emphasized and propagandized. And if there was one thing Jane couldn't stand, it was that. So, no, she didn't agree when her grandfather declared men were not equal from birth based on their genetics alone. It were their skills and talents that would make them superior, albeit they wouldn't use them right. Anyone saying otherwise is lying, as a hierarchy is essential to create and maintain order and peace among people. Chaos was even worse than discrimination in her eyes.

Hayato refused to tell her anything though, about the almighty 'outside', with the pathetic excuse that he couldn't remember his time in Area 11 as he was very young when he left (or better yet, was taken away). Jane knew he had been forced from his homeland but not why and by whom.

She rubbed her forehead and groaned. Lying in bed and letting her thoughts run free about the world's biggest worries all day didn't seem like a bad idea. Of course this was denied.

"I know you're awake. I could hear you thinking down the hallway." Hayato said as he walked passed her bed and threw the curtains open. She had her eyes closed and breathing steady. 'Technically impossible, Hayato. Even for someone as experienced as you.'

"You can stop pretending now. I'm not going to give you another hour, like the past few days." He continued, halting at her desk and seeing a shimmering inside the garbage can standing next to it.

She responded with an indistinct murmur he placed in the category 'cranky', turning away from him and burying herself in a cocoon of blankets. And he fished the trophy from the trash and set it on her nightstand, with a rather loud thud.

That made her stop 'sleeping' and roll over slowly to look at him. She sighed after she had noticed what he had done. Maybe she would continue fencing. She was sure Hayato would force her if needed.

Never did he question her actions though and she was glad now was no exception.

He waited beside the bed as she sat up straight, "Sometimes I wonder who's working for who here." She mumbled quietly.

Not reacting to her words, Hayato silently held the porcelain socket he had filled with water before entering her room and she took the washcloth from his arm and cleaned her face.

The rest of her morning routine happened in silence as well, two housemaids, Maura and Lavender, helping her getting dressed. They chatted to each other as if she was a mere doll they were adorning with clothes and jewelry. Don't misunderstand. She did like them to some degree, but just not that much.

Once downstairs, in the dining hall – which was quite a long way down, three staircases and then through two corridors – Jane sat at the long, long table, all by herself. Her feet were cold from the marble floor but she refused to put socks and shoes on just yet, wanting to wiggle her toes freely outside their soon-to-be imprisonment a little longer. Breakfast was served then and she ate the toast and eggs with a sort of apathy that worried Hayato.

"Haven't you slept well, Lady Jane?" He wondered from his standing position behind her.

Jane shrugged and opened the newspaper laying next to her plate, her eyes scanning over an article about a press conference her father had held the day before about the release of some new canon MECHA industries had designed.

"When is my father coming back from Osaka?" She asked suddenly after a few minutes of stillness, not taking her eyes off the paper and chewing away her toast.

When Hayato didn't answer, she finally dragged her face up to meet his. "Well?"

She had changed a lot over the past years, too much to his liking. Starting to look like her father more, hard and demanding as if it was her right. All to a lesser extent, but still. The innocence had made place for a cruel knowledge that went beyond her understanding, which frustrated her. It didn't come as a surprise to him that Jane now choose the naivety above the truth. One hell of a truth.

In the safety of her family's embrace and the giant mansion's walls, nothing could harm her. Yet the outside was coming closer and she was reaching out for it, desperate for contact she had been denied all her youth. There isn't much you can refuse someone like Jane, especially now, at the age of seventeen.

She didn't go to a regular school nor to a private one. Homeschooled as she was, the loneliness became overwhelming at times. The fact she had no siblings and friends of her own, and no children from relatives or associates of her father, also added up to the chunk of emotions building up inside her. Damned hormones. Anyways, Hayato felt sorry for her and that's why he was guilty of letting her 'escape' sometimes.

"I believe he will return tomorrow evening."

Jane took a sip of her tea.

"He told me to give you this, as an early birthday present."

Before Jane realized it, he shoved quite a large box underneath her nose. She took it from him, a surprised smile lighting up her face. "But my birthday is in two months… What is it anyways?" He motioned for her to open it.

"I don't believe it!" She exclaimed when two big, brown puppy eyes gazed up at her as soon as she had lifted the top. The dog barked in that moment, wagging its tail.

She took it in her hands and petted its head, murmuring 'you cute little boy'. It was a grey-brownish color with fluffy hair that stood in every direction and a curled tail, though the most captivating part were his eyes. Jane was fixed on them.

"What are you going to call him?" Hayato wondered, suddenly feeling rivalry between him and the little lapdog for Jane's attention. But he saw some of the childish innocence she had before shine in her eyes again.

He thought she hadn't heard him since it took her a while to answer, but when she finally did she said: "Odin."

The major Norse god of war and victory. The name just came to her. She didn't need to know why.

"Odin?"

She smiled, "Perfect." And Odin just blinked at her meaninglessly.

…

"Order! Order!" The tumult in the meeting room didn't die down completely and Adrian Godfrey sighed audibly, shaking his head.

'_Why_… why was it these people didn't know their place?'

"Gentlemen! _Please_!"

Both Hildred and Eunice weren't present, which was unusual to say the least – this only being the third time the board had come together without their chairman, normally then it was via a hologram, and the only female member of the House of Lords. Eunice Ann Marie Marshall, his cousin, was a very exceptional woman. A decades-year-old tradition broken for her participation in the council was a very impressive accomplishment indeed, especially for a woman.

But he needn't complain either. As his new aspiration was just a hair's breath away: becoming the new Minister of Foreign Affairs. It had come him to ears that the Prime Minister was having disagreements with his current minister of this department. And before this news spread like running fire, he had directly taken action and initiative. He had always been on very good grounds with Schneizel el Britannia and he was very smug with his policy when it came to politics. A political genius, he liked to call the prince.

As of yet, he hadn't come any further than the House of Lords – House of _Lunatics_ is more like it – and for a few years that had been enough, but now he wanted more. More power. He felt like he wasn't fulfilling his full potential here, wasting away at the will of the mass, even here where only rich aristocrats contributed in the voting. Seemed almost like a damned democracy.

Adrian ticked with his pen on the wooden table in front of him impatiently, letting the vice-president struggle to return the silence. The men were particularly restless today and it was about to get even worse.

As if fallen from the sky, the Prime Minister suddenly came barging into the room, several guards and advisers trailing behind him.

"P-prime Minister!" The vice-president stuttered and immediately everyone rose from their seats, saluting their prince like the good imperial subjects they were. Adrian was definitely one of them.

"To what do we owe the honor?"

Adrian thought it was strange. It was against regulation for an outsider of the council to interrupt a meeting like this, but on the other hand the Royal Family was the law so therefore Schneizel could be denied nothing.

"Noble Lords," Schneizel began seriously after he had made his way over to the head of the table, "Please forgive my unannounced admission but I'm afraid I have some terrible news." He paused a moment, then: "A real crisis has occurred in which I need your help, gentlemen."

It was the first time Adrian decided to open his mouth, "Your Majesty, we are at your service." He received a barely visible smile from the person he was addressing.

"I'm very pleased to hear that, sir Adrian." He said, "I'll just cut to the chase then…"

…

Several sea-gulls screeched loudly as they flew overhead.

When Adrian entered the outside world again, he felt a weight on his shoulders, one that was heavier than he liked and got heavier with each step he took forward, to the future.

He could see the Pendragon Imperial Palace, in all its glory, lying in the distance.

This wasn't going to end well, he knew that all too good. And what would become of them? Everything was at stake here; they had all to lose. Even though he had no ambitions when it came to the family business, he didn't want it to go down in ruins either, which would likely happen after one dirty acquisition after another. The rivalry between the members of the Godfrey family and of course also the other shareholders 'would erupt and cause mass destruction. Not only within the family and the company, but the Britannian economy will suffer as well.

'Although…' he thought, 'perhaps it wasn't such a bad thing that Britannia's number one Knightmare frame provider would disappear in thin air…'

War was such a drastic method–

"Sir Adrian!" Someone called for him from behind, "Sir!"

"Yes?"

Lieutenant Colonel Henry Fayer jogged out of the building to catch up with Adrian. A man with a thick, brown mustache, an ordinary posture and 'soft on foreigners', according to Adrian. Once he had finally reached him, he was slightly out of breath.

"Yes, how can I help you?" Adrian stated, starting to get impatient now. He had never liked military personal and the fact a rather high-ranked one was wasting his time, was not pleasing him at all.

"Sir," Fayer breathed loudly, recollecting himself, "Prince Schneizel asked me to inform you I am traveling to Area 11 this evening. He suggested you would come with, since our fleet is the fastest transportation out there."

"The Prime Minister suggested that?"

Fayer nodded.

"How many of you people know about this?"

"Well, just me, Sir." He answered honestly.

With a sigh, Adrian closed his eyes for a moment, "Fine then." He turned away from Fayer and continued his way. Last minute, he threw over his shoulder, after freezing as a thought occurred to him: "Arrange two more seats if you please!"

Fayer frowned and the question 'who for?' bubbled on his lips but he swallowed it down. He had learned never to doubt men like Adrian Godfrey. He made a salutation with his hand to his cap, "I will see it done."

'So a family reunion is in the offing? How very sensational.'

It had been quite a long time since he had seen more than three-fourth of the Godfreys, which didn't bother him in the slightest. He hated most of them. Loathed them really. And it was doubtless that the feeling was mutual. Not like with his brother, whom everyone _adored_.

He grinned. 'Not anymore.' Malicious as it was, he didn't care. Anything was permitted in survival of the fittest. Clearly, Richard hadn't been fit for the job. But who would?

…

After noon, having spend hours studying, Jane was walking in the garden with her new dog. Odin wasn't trained very well yet. He was pulling on the leash like manic, finding the tiniest things as a ladybug or blowing leaf so fascinating that he had to chase after it. He just _had_ to.

Jane was in a terrific mood though. Nothing could burst her bubble. Absolutely nothing.

She then even decided to hold a little running competition with Odin, who was glad to comply. She ran, laughing, Odin following her, the leash swinging behind him, until she tripped and let herself fall into the grass.

Her giggles sounded through the whole garden.

A pair of dark eyes was watching her from behind one of the high windows at the front of the mansion. A black receiver was pressed against his right ear. It lowered slowly when the news he just heard got through to him. His limps started to feel numb and his throat went dry.

He had difficulty gathering the will to go outside.

Finally, when he had reached Jane, his hands were shaking and his face pale. She immediately knew something was wrong.

She sunk to the ground on her knees when the dreaded words left his mouth. Frozen, as if the world – _her_ world – had come to an abrupt halt. The sun was no longer beautiful and warm on her skin, but useless and insignificant. Her eyes clouded, Odin whined at her, jumping against her torso, which was close to his height now in her kneeled position.

Hayato lowered himself as well. She then flew in his arms, knocking him over on his back. He accepted her grief without a sound, pushing the stabbing pain in his right ribcage an old wound caused him as the handle of his sword was forced against it when she collided with him away.

Now her cries and sobs echoed between the trees, sharp and full of hurt.

…

The office felt odd without Richard's presence, even though the attack had only taken place a few hours ago. Each time she had been in there, he had been as well. The room was colossal for an ordinary workplace but of course this wasn't. The head of MECHA Industries did his paper works, which were quite a few, in here during his visits to Area 11. Although the headquarters and more than eighty percent of the manufactures were located in the Homeland, Richard spend an awful lot of time here. Clarice Lockwood had her own suspicions on this subject. She couldn't deny though that the fact Area 11 was the world's primary exporter of the high-valued mineral sakuradite also contributed to her boss's frequent trips and long stays. At times he would be away for more than two months. Clarice understood what that must be like for his daughter.

To continue on the topic sakuradite, lately the prices were increasing and supply and demand on Knightmare frames were at daggers drawn with each other because of this. The company could barely keep up with the government's wishes, not to mention the private contractors in the Middle East for example. On the other hand, business had never been so great, with all the investors and of course soon Area 11 would be under control completely, ruling out the possibility of the Elevens using sakuradite as a bargaining tool in world politics any longer.

All because of the war and the warmongering that followed. Clarice had a hard time accepting that she had part in it, the fighting, bloodshed, the endless struggle for power. A business with one purpose: designing, building, promoting and selling war machines, thousands at a time. The Godfreys owned one of two family companies that made money out of warfare and why? Because someone had to do it.

And praise the Lord that Richard had denied the government's proposal to buy the company and make it state property. That would've been catastrophic indeed. For the rest of the world.

But now they were at the brink of disaster yet again. No one could replace Richard, she was certain. He would be missed greatly. An essential element in the on-going, ever-improving process of Knightmare production was gone and without him – he who knew those lifeless machines inside-out and treated them like his own children – the perfect cycle was broken. How could it be fixed?

She walked around the large desk, letting her fingers glide along the slick surface. She knew he had wanted her to figure that question out. Clarice knew him better than anyone else, even his own daughter. Spending almost every second along his side, she knew his way of thinking, his routines, associates, preferences and so on. She managed his schedule after all as his secretary. Appointment after appointment and he seemed to never tire, slack or grow impatient. She worshipped his willingness to sacrifice his whole life to serve that company. Determined to outdo his father, after Hildred's retirement, under Richard's authority, he had did everything to double the company's size. The Godfreys had never been more prosperous. And her paycheck hadn't suffered either as a result. On the contrary.

But who? _Who_?

At the age of seventy-eight, Hildred was no longer in a condition to retake his position as CEO. Adrian wasn't capable – displeasing his wife Vivienne no doubt – and Charlotte was definitely not interested, nor was her husband, Bismarck Waldstein. She wouldn't even start with Theodore, Hildred's youngest child. Switching to another branch of the family, would be in conflict with tradition if there are still surviving members of the eldest's child bloodline. Hildred's line in this case. The rest was simply too young or inexperienced–

She sighed. Her head was already hurting with so many possibilities.

She found it saddening that the first thing everyone – including herself – thought about what consequences Richard's death had for the company, instead of grieving the loss of a loved one.

The large leather chair felt cool against her back as she sat down in it. She looked at a few maps and documents, shoving them around and reading them fleetingly. Unfortunately, he had his most important things with him at all times in his suitcase. Those had been destroyed in the fire most certainly, but Clarice couldn't help but wonder if there was anything of value here – before they came and took everything away.

Out of the blue she decided to look through his drawers. The first two contained nothing of interest, so she skipped them quickly. The third and bottom drawer was next. It wouldn't open as she tugged at the handle. She tried again, putting more force behind her pulls. No luck. She sighed and leaned back in the cushions of the chair.

'Richard, what would you have me do?'

There was no way of knowing.

…

The only upside to her father's death was the fact she was in an aircraft right now. For the first time. Under any other circumstances she would've been thrilled but the weightiness of her stomach sucked all the life out of her. She had screamed for hours, letting everything out in a storm surge of words and emotions. Her throat hurt like hell as a result. And now there was nothing left.

Odin was sleeping in her lap and Hayato, as always, was by her side

Opposite of her, a young man about her own age sat. His blond hair was a mess around his head and his _eyes_… the most sparkling blue eyes Jane had ever seen. If eyes would've been able to actually smile, she was sure his would be the top piece.

He had introduced himself as Gino Weinberg but Hayato whispered to her their family's had close ties and that she had probably met him before when they were very little. The Weinbergs? She tried hard to remember that name, but she couldn't place it.

His handshake had been very firm and improper, not at all how a gentlemen should greet a lady of her rank (yes, as the daughter of a marquis there was an appropriate way to be greeted). Yet he didn't consider this fact, purposely or not Jane didn't know. She had to admit though, his casualness towards her was refreshing. She liked him instantly.

Later Jane discovered that Gino Weinberg had been assigned to escort her to Area 11, as a favor of the Weinberg family – he wasn't even military – all the way to the front door of her grandfather's estate there, located in the so-called 'Tokyo Settlement'. Why Hayato was deemed incapable of this was annoying her though.

Gino was, in the mean time, babbling away about how interesting he thought the Elevens were. He had clearly been to Area 11 before, and jealousy of his knowledge about their culture and habits – as he named a few 'strange' ones – crept over her like a shadow, adding to the darkness that had settled in her once she had realized she was leaving all that was familiar to her behind, her home, and trade that for some kind of unknown she only knew from books and stories.

Her eyes glided to the tiny window to her left, where only clouds and dark blue met her gaze.

It was strange… she knew how she should feel but somehow couldn't muster that feeling to surface. When a child looses a parent, a part of it is lost, cut away. It feels abandoned, separated and scared. She understood then, as she went over the words in her mind, that she could feel none of them. Only nausea, nervousness and an overwhelming need to stuff herself with all the foods she could find, especially ice-cream and chocolate. She didn't miss him… _yet_.

That could change once she had seen her father's lifeless body, laying in a coffin, with her own eyes. She still couldn't believe she would never see him smile again, holding her and telling her jokes. He would be walking through the door any minute now, telling her it was all a joke, a damn cruel joke, but at least it wasn't real. Oh, she would give a limp for that to happen.

The fact she didn't feel abandoned probably had something to do with her father's demanding travelling over the past few years. Hayato had practically taken over his role as her curator and he was still here, with her.

She flashed him a look, confirming he was indeed still in his seat next to her.

Sadness… now that she could identify with easily. And anger. Disappointment too. Those were at the front of her mind. 'Father, you _fool_…'

It was just the three of them in the compartment and if Jane had not been so caught up with her own thoughts she might've even started an actual conversation with the kind not-complete stranger in front of her. But as it was, she stayed utterly mute, only nodding and smiling affirmatively sometimes as he spoke. Fortunately, Hayato answered for her several times, and Gino didn't seem to mind conversing with him instead of Jane in the least bit. He even appeared to prefer him as his interlocutor. His sympathy for the Eleven was incredibly peculiar. Perhaps that was his nature, to be generally kind to everyone, or maybe he had other motives. Either way Jane admired the respect he showed, as if they were all equals.

She fell asleep half-way through the flight with her cheek pressed against Hayato's shoulder.

Gino had left to discuss something with the captain during Jane's slumber and Hayato was glad to have some breathing time. He didn't have anything against the kid, don't misinterpret. Their backgrounds were just too different, as were the worlds they lived in. He, Gino, surely a spoilt child, spending his youth in a wealthy environment, kind and selfless and tough; no flaws, no limits, no worries. Then he, the 'Falcon', name earned through hard work, nothing ever handed to him, introvert, precise. The samurai principles personified. Who was more accomplished now? Decided by humankind, the one at the top of the social ladder: Gino Weinberg.

Jane looked exhausted, Hayato noticed when he pushed Gino Weinberg from his thoughts, the dark shadows underneath her closed eyelids in large contrast with her pale façade. She had cooped incredibly well with the drastic news. He was sure though the _real_ breaking point was yet to come. And when that happened, he would be there to catch her when she fell.

He could study her like this for hours, observe silently, seeing her face in such a relaxed, serene state a true rarity. And he did.

There were no genius philosophies or master tactics being produced inside her brain now, just quiet. Wondering if she would enjoy the emptiness or reject it if she were conscious while being unconscious – a contradiction, yes, not the point here – he brushed a bit of hair covering her forehead to the side.

Concurrently, Adrian, Richard's younger brother, coughed in the doorway.

Hayato's hand stilled, his other already grasping the grip of his sword tightly in a flash. But once he had registered the intruder, he relaxed the muscles in his fingers.

"I need to speak with my cousin in private." Adrian said, loud enough for Jane to wake with a start. 'How _dare_ he touch her?'

Adrian was in almost every way the exact opposite of his older brother, and therefore his daughter too. His hair was a much lighter shade, more brown than black, and his eyes were smaller, less clear and penetrating. Although he was more toned than Richard, he was also shorter, which made him look slightly bulky but not very. Glasses on his nose, an old-fashioned dark jacket, grey slacks and nice shoes and that was all there was to say about Adrian Godfrey. Well, also an unhealthy interest in politics and a stamp collection as a hobby.

He motioned Hayato to leave with a curt movement of his chin.

For some reason Odin followed him as he exited the compartment, jumping off Jane's legs before stretching its own paws, and the glass door slid closed behind him.

Jane looked through the window again, this time witnessing the orange and red glows of the rising sun above foreign lands as her uncle told her what was expected of her from that moment on.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed! And please please review so I know how I'm doing :)


	3. Part 02: Porcelain Doll

A/N: Hello again :). I hope you enjoyed the previous chapters! Please review and tell me what you think. I know the story is starting slow but i promise it will speed up from chapter 4 onwards. Anywhoo, review!

...

Part 02: Porcelain Doll

Within twenty-four hours of Richard's passing away, Hildred found himself inside his son's office, _his_ old office. The television was on, broadcasting the news but he wasn't paying it any mind.

The news reporter was nagging about some recent incident in one of the ghettos. Hildred couldn't care less what those imbeciles had done (wrong) now. He had bigger things to worry about.

His feet were on the desk, a thick cigar between the fingers of his left hand. He took a drag every now and then, feeling impassive above anything. He had no time for regrets though. Richard wouldn't have wanted him to anyways.

Unconsciously, he was twirling the golden ring on his finger over and over again. The deep red gem embedded in the middle blinked at him as he stopped playing with the piece of jewelry and stared at it blankly. He froze a moment.

'So here we are…' His eyes slowly drifted to the drawers beneath the table, the bottom one in particular but he never touched them like he knew Clarice had. He could see she had been through the stuff on his desk. She was no threat in Hildred's opinion.

"She is far from ready, my son."

He was an old man though and tired of these games. Whatever Richard had been hiding from him, he was going to figure it out, one way or another. He took his glasses in his hands and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Hildred could only avoid his granddaughter for so long. Her grief would break his heart.

A knock at the door snapped him from his concentration.

"Come in." He said, putting the spectacles back on.

One of the many butlers of the house peeked his head through the half opened door, "Sir, the ceremony is about to begin."

That's right. His son's funeral was today. No parent should have to bury their child. But he had to be strong. For her. Janey. Who's life was about to change drastically.

He stood up and slowly strode to the door, supported by the wooden cane with each step of his left leg. Old age has its infirmities. Obviously.

…

Hayato had once described the Japanese funeral ritual to her. A thousand year old tradition, in which the deceased isn't buried but cremated, including the coffin. The spirit of the departed will live among those of his or her ancestors, honored for all eternity. It would be free of its useless earthly confinement, as if it were a burden all this time; free to roam the skies and discover undiscovered places and thoughts. Maybe that was why the Elevens weren't repulsed by the 'Seppuku', the Japanese ritual suicide. The afterlife was more appealing than life on earth.

Though, the thought of her father's smoldering flesh, as flames attacked his body, was almost unbearable.

The church bells rang in a constant, heavy rhythm, adding to the dark atmosphere that was in the air between the people present at the cemetery.

The weather was good though, great really, which conflicted with Jane's emotions even more. Then there was that rose she had thrown on the coffin before it had been covered with mud and dirt. White peddles and thorns. Vicious beauty. Jane's palm held several puncture wounds from where she had squeezed her fingers tightly around the flower's stem. Now, a single droplet fell from between her clenched fist to the grass as she stared at the flower being buried along with her father.

She was an orphan. The realization just hit her full force and the loneliness she hadn't felt earlier, she felt now, tenfold.

Wanting to hide away, Jane's shoulders slumped. As if reading her sudden change in demeanor, Charlotte Godfrey walked up next to her silently. She put her arm around Jane's shoulders and pulled her against her. The girl buried her face in her aunt's chest, blocking out the outside world with all its terror.

"I'm so sorry, honey." She stroked her hair lovingly.

Jane's arms were limp at her sides and she let Charlotte hold her like a lifeless ragdoll.

The crowd gathered around the grave was leaving gradually as the priest had said his final words. Among them were people from all over the world, including representatives of the Chinese government and the vice-president of the Euro Universe, Bertrand Pembroke – a nervous, unusual man in his late thirties.

Jane was surprised nearly all her relatives had showed up – she could hear Hayato's voice in her head: 'blood relatives go beyond like and dislike', _as if_ – especially those of Lenore's side of the family, Hildred's deceased youngest sister (It was all about gain and then gain more, at the cost of others). Two of her children, Charles and Mary Juliette Stadfeldt, had condoled with her, just like her seven first cousins, five second cousins with all their parents and grandparents, family associates, like the Bradleys – Samuel Bradley and his son Luciano – and others who claimed to be a few of Richard's closest 'friends'. He never had any real friends though; he was simply too eminent for him to be genuinely liked for his personality, instead of the endless resources at his fingertips. Then there was Gino of course, and his parents, Cornelius and Maria Weinberg, together with Rosemunde and Andrea, his older siblings. They were so uptight, Jane was sure they had a stick up their ass, all of them. Well, apart from Gino obviously. Though, his cheerfulness had now made place for a sad respect that showed on his face. It didn't suit him.

Then, against all expectations, Reuben Ashford had appeared unannounced. Yes, Richard Godfrey's sworn nemesis, the one and true opponent worthy of his rivalry, he had once said it himself. Jane had never met Reuben Ashford before but she had heard more than a few not so positive things about his manner of doing business. 'Outrageously cunning', to use her father's words. More than that she couldn't say about him. His demeanor was so plain and neutral when he shook her hand and gave her his condolences, it bothered her slightly.

His daughter though, Milly Ashford, annoyed the crap out of her from the minute she had laid eyes on her. A bubbly character trying to behave appropriately at a funeral… unlike Gino, she was failing miserably. It could easily be read from her face she wanted to be elsewhere, where she could entertain everyone with her overwhelming, unexplainable loveliness.

Milly: "Such a tragedy."

Her offer to 'be friends' was as fake as the pearls around her neck, the infamous ulterior motives. For what reason should they be friends? Because of their common wealth? Their family hostility? Keep your friends – whom she didn't have – close but your enemies closer? Was she thinking that sneakily? Or did she actually want to proof that the past could be set aside, starting with a clean slate?

Then again, Milly was the only non-relative person there her own age and she didn't mind the distraction either. Not to mention, her zero-friend record had to be broken some time. She was in no position to refuse. So yes, she accepted and agreed to this supposed 'friendship' with a smile, whatever it included.

Afterward, Jane would understand she had misjudged her horribly, which didn't happen very often. As a result, she couldn't help but be extra kind to Milly, as a contribution.

The hole had been closed fully by now and the gravestone was the only evident confirmation that her father had lived at all. In her mind, his face was already beginning to blur. What a stupid thing to think. She had seen him less than three days ago as he had neglected to celebrate her fencing triumph with her–

'No, don't relate your final memories of him with a mistake he made. That would be insensitive.'

There was one more thing though: this place. Why had Hildred insisted to bury her father here? A colony, foreign and uncivilized, million kilometers from the family tomb back in the Homeland? It was a disgrace in her opinion that he had been denied his deserved place among the spirits of their ancestors. She hoped, knowing better, that his soul would find peace. But what God watched over these lands? Was he kind and merciful, or cruel and insensible, especially when it came to outsiders? _They_ (Britannians) were outsiders here after all. Many Britannians would deny this very fact, claiming the exact opposite and claim the land itself, but Jane was beyond all doubt that this was a lie. Self-sabotage this was called. Tell the lie so many times and pass it on until you start believing it yourself. This process takes years to succeed fully. The origin lying with the Imperial Family. The _fucking_ fire starters.

But it wasn't the point who was at fault here, or why. The solution was what mattered. Always. Interring her father in the ground in Area 11 had nothing to do with any kind of solution however, so… why then?

Enough with the questioning. The answers would only satisfy her everlasting need to know everything. It wouldn't change a thing. She couldn't influence the situation. Never.

Jane wasn't the only one with doubts. At least half of the people there were as suspicious as she was, if not more. Hayato included. Somehow he didn't buy the whole 'it was his wish'-justification. On the other hand, he was paranoid by nature.

He approached Jane cautiously, as she looked like she might shatter into hundreds of pieces any given moment, mainly when frightened. She was hiding it well though, the fragility. Hayato saw through her little tough-guy act nonetheless; he had known her too long, way too long.

'We have a name to live up to.' And that she did.

Hence the fancy clothes – she could barely see a damn thing with that veil in front of her face – and the etiquettes, the rules, the rituals, the luxury, the exclusive foods, the ass-kissing, the presents, the honors, and so on and on and on. A never-ending cycle.

"I was thinking," Milly's voice interrupted the silence as Jane and her walked back to the cars waiting in the parking lot, "I could give you a tour of the Settlement, if you'd like me to of course." Hayato, trailing behind, overheard the conversation. His brows furrowed.

Jane smiled sadly, "I'd appreciate that. But if you don't mind I want to…" She was going to say 'home' but her grandfather's residence didn't feel like home. Her home wasn't here. Home is where you belong. And she didn't belong in Area 11, "…return to my grandfather's house first."

"Oh, I completely understand," She said sweetly, "I'm sure you need to rest and get accustomed to your new environment. I know how hard it can be to feel, well, left out, so to speak. But that's why I'm here."

Like she was hired to accompany Jane.

Milly was taller than her, and slimmer, with more prominent curves and features. Her blond hair was fuller and shinier than the lifeless strings Jane had to call hair. Jealousy was such a nasty personality trade.

They stopped walking, having reached the car where a chauffeur was already waiting with the door held open and a certain tail-wiggling dog in his arms, "Thank you." Jane spoke politely, bowing once to the other girl and then taking Odin from the driver. Of course Odin hadn't been able to behave himself properly, so Adrian had insisted the 'mud' to be taken away for the time being. Jane had been too aphetic to object.

"My pleasure," Milly carried on, "I'll send you a message then, in a couple of days. We can go for tea at my place and then we'll go sightseeing." She hid the enthusiasm in her voice quite well. Somehow Jane had the idea that Milly was as exciting to stumble upon a girl her age and 'rank' as she herself was. Although, the Ashford's status among the higher circles of society was taking a turn for the worse and their former glory was as good as dead.

She had mixed feelings about meeting her, afraid she would be associated with a family who was close to bankruptcy, below her class, and her grandfather and uncle would surely disapprove. Still, it was thrilling to think she was doing something against the rules, or tradition, for once. Yes, she wanted to have this experience of friendship for numerous of reasons.

Milly waved her off as the vehicle began moving. "Look for my owl!" She called after the back of the car in a yell.

Funny.

…

The sky was the same everywhere.

She craned her neck, looking up directly into the sun and avoiding the colossal mansion towering over her for just a second longer. It was ridiculous how big it was, absolutely shocking, and that said something, considering all the state-of-the-art houses she had seen and lived in. Her grandfather had extraordinary taste, she had to admit, and a very expensive one at that. The house was a combination of an ancient Greek temple and a romantic theatre from the 18th century. The outer walls were white and the cleanness of the building formed a contrast to the chaos of plants, trees and flowers of which the garden consisted. The thick ivy rising against the front was already crawling between the windows on the second floor.

One would think Hildred could and would at least hire gardeners to clean the lot up, trimming, cutting, watering and mowing to make it look civilized. As it was now, it seemed as though the house was uninhabited and abandoned. A little spooky even, but it also had some sort of charming mysteriousness that appealed to Jane.

She was inside minutes later and her suspicions had been correct. The interior was dark and sinister, appearing from a sober period centuries ago, instead of the prosperous times they were living in. The ceiling of the entrance hall was meters high, with a chandelier gracing the center. A twirling staircase could be discovered in the right corner and three doors, each located in a different wall. The one door to the left was standing ajar and she looked just in time to see someone disappear through the opening.

The excessively decorated balustrade of the stairs held her fascination as she went deeper inside the house and away from the threshold she'd been lingering on for the past seconds. She had seen the lion heads before, as a symbol of the Godfrey kin, but not like this: at the end of the robust-wooden banister, the same animal, jaw wide open, a row of incredibly sharp teeth showing in a violent manner. Her hand was touching the smooth surface of the top before she realized what she was doing. Two tiny letters engraved in the word suddenly caught her interest: _V.A. _And then combined with some sort of symbol, consisting of three interlocked triangles. She moved her head to get a closer look.

Somehow she thought she had seen that emblem before, also on a lion's head, and not the one she had seen on the front door of this house but prior, a long time ago. She couldn't put her finger on it.

She felt emotional again with the thought of her past and in an attempt to restrain the tears building up in her eyes, she turned swiftly, practically marching to the living room, as two people in black carried her suitcases through the front door and brought them upstairs.

Music reached her ears then, as soon as she stepped in the main room. Soft and humming, from a record-player standing in the far corner.

After she had fully registered and placed the musical tones of Prokofiev's _Peter and the Wolf _her gaze fell on the jumble around her.

Every inch of wall was decorated with paintings, foreign masks, strange measure instruments, (family) photographs, hunting trophies and much more Jane couldn't process all at once.

There was enough furniture for dozens of visitors, even furnishings the purpose of which was unclear. More flowers in pots in all different shades of colors were occupying the window-sills. Again, very unlike her grandfather. The floor was carpeted with a grey, outdated rug but felt soft under her still booted-feet and the walls held an ashen yellow wallpaper with a pattern of thin stripes. It was in one word ugly, yet at the same time tasteful. Well, at least for someone like Hildred, who seemed to come from another age long ago, as far as views, style and looks went.

While her former house had been clean, open and organized this was the exact opposite. She could see herself living here nonetheless.

She could hear voices then, coming from underneath her. Muffled sounds through the floor. The basement? As she frowned and listened closely, she could definitely distinguish a male and a female voice.

In the mean time, the wolf had chased down the duck and swallowed it whole with loud, angry blasts of the horns. The music playing gave Jane an eerie feeling in the pit of her stomach.

And the noise below her was gone as unexpectedly as it had started. Deciding whether or not to investigate this matter, her grandfather entered the room, followed by what Jane presumed to be his personal assistant. They were in conversation but Hildred dropped whatever they had been discussing when his eyes fell on his favorite grandchild.

"Janey! I'm glad you made it here in one piece." He approached her, limping slightly, but a bright smile on his face, "This place is very volatile, you know." 'This place' being the island Area 11 itself or the people on it?

He looked worse than Jane remembered. Older, with more wrinkles around his eyes. Wrinkles of worry. His spine was curved forward and his shoulders slumped. What was left of a once great man?

"Grandfather," She advanced on him as well, ignoring the voice in the back of her mind telling her to ask about the voices, "It's good to see you again." She said instead.

They hugged for a moment, which happened rather stiffly and ill-at-ease. Neither of them were people persons.

They had barely spoken each other at the funeral for some reason.

"How was your flight? Not too uncomfortable, I hope?" He asked her, offering his left arm to hold.

She looped her hand through, the feel and smell of his clothes reminding her of better times, and shook her head, "It was… _interesting_". She thought about Gino and his endless optimism.

Little did she know, Hildred had sketched it all this way, had arranged it so she would meet Cornelius's only son. For later purposes. The fact it had been her first time on an aircraft made their meeting all the more special.

Hildred led her through the room and to another door that gave entry to yet another lounging room, yet this one was less formal and more cozy, if possible. Tea was already being served.

Yes, she could get used to this: coming home to a welcoming family, in a warm house full of mysteries, in a land she had yet to discover anything about. The challenge was exciting for all the wrong reasons.

She was going to enjoy her stay here but it was all bittersweet. It still ate at her that she didn't know what the future had in store for her. And _that _uncertainty was the worse feeling in the world.

…

"But father–!" Gino was cut short by the man on the other end of the phone. It was silent for a moment in the room as he listened with a hand in his hair. "No, I–" He sighed, "No, I understand." Looking through the window, he let his eyelids fall heavy, disappointed, "I will." He hung up then, precisely when the door opened and revealed a blond-haired girl roughly his age.

She walked in as if it was the most normal thing in the world and took a seat on the arm of the large chair Gino had plopped down in. A smile graced her features as she placed a kiss on his cheek.

"Does your father know you're here?" He asked her without as much as a greeting.

The yellow school uniform she was wearing looked good on her and if he hadn't been so agitated he would've enjoyed her presence. But now her lighthearted attitude annoyed him.

"Of course he doesn't," Milly told him, putting an arm around him and pulling him against her body. "Does yours?"

Gino allowed her, "Touché," He mumbled.

"What's with the long face, handsome?" She toyed with a lock of his hair, twirling it around her forefinger and tugging lightly so he would look up at her. "Surely, if anyone,_ I_ can make you feel better." Another one of those smirks.

Gino slowly wrestled himself free from her embrace, standing up and rubbing the back of his head. "Mills, it's more complicated than that."

A beam of sunlight shone through the window onto the floor and Gino stepped right into it. His silhouette appeared on the ground but soon Milly's curvy shadow merged with his. Again, her delicate hands went around his torso.

"You just got me at a bad time, 'is all." But amid her affection, he felt the words dying in the back of his throat. Heat rose to his groin as her touch travelled lower and lower from his chest to his stomach and on.

"My offer still stands, you know…" She whispered in his ear, "I can make all your problems go away…"

"Milly… please…"

Something between a sigh and a moan came from his mouth. He went to turn around and reach for her, suddenly deciding to accept her generous proposal – which was what he wanted after all – instead of wasting his time on the whole stupid Godfrey-situation.

Her body and willingness was all he needed.

She moved away though, mischievously, like only she could.

"Get your ass over here, you little tease." He grabbed her none too gently by the hips and Milly giggled as he nudged his head with hers and started kissing down her neck. "Tell me I'm beautiful." She demanded in a sultry voice.

He complied, with ease; he was good at charming women. A compliment, then a soft kiss, another compliment, his lips brushing underneath her jaw line...

"I want you… only you, Milly," No one else could take her place.

He understood she was anxious and jealous, desperately trying to hide her worries with lighthearted laughter and jokes. It hurt her. He could see it in her eyes. The possibility of him being married off to some snobby girl from a rich family was killing her.

They had known for months this was coming but had never talked about it openly to each other. The final phone call weighed heavy on both of them, Milly had known from the moment she had entered.

Mostly, she was mad at herself and her own family's misfortune. She couldn't blame Cornelius Weinberg, he was only looking out for his son and securing his future. One that didn't involve her whatsoever.

"Tell me… tell me–" Milly didn't even know what else she wanted to hear from him as his hand moved under her skirt. All she thought about was keeping him close to her, for as long as she possibly could, and hearing his voice soothing her and praising her. Clutching to her as frantically as she was to him, he kneaded the flesh of her thighs and dragged her leg up roughly by the inner knee so she was pulled flush against him. In return, she gasped and dug her fingers in his hair. Her head lulled back.

Just outside the door all their noises could be heard and one of the Weinberg's servants shuffled down the hallway with a deep blush on her face.

…

Getting settled in fully was only a matter of time, but Hayato wasted none.

He was pacing the hall, in front of Jane's bedroom door, impatiently waiting for a sign of life after he had knocked several times.

The drastic words Hildred had said to him still resounded in his ears: "I will take on all my sons responsibilities, for now. But I want my granddaughter to be ready in weeks…"

_Weeks_? What was that man thinking? Or was he even thinking at all? A seventeen-year-old child the head of a billion dollar company? Even within a matter of weeks? Insanity! Besides, what exactly did she need to be ready for? A practically open war between over privileged money-grubbers, insiders as well as outsiders? No one can be taught how to behave in such a situation. It comes with experience. Jane didn't have any in the world of rich businessmen.

She was smart though and that could work in her advantage, but also the opposite. Being book-smart and wise were too different things, one more valuable in getting high grades, the other in real life. Also, sophistication, honesty and justice were not regularly practiced in the industry. Too bad for Jane the antonymic relation was more profitable.

Hayato doubted the Board of Directors would go alone with Hildred's decision anyways. Those corrupted noblemen would do anything to usurp all the power, including pestering a small girl until she cried and ran for cover. He would have to keep a close eye on them, 'The Big Five'.

The news would shock everyone, especially the one involved.

"Maura, how many times do I have to tell you, I don't wanna be disturb–!" Jane's figure appeared in the doorway in a skimpy night gown, hair a dark mess and Hayato could see her eyes were red and puffy from crying. She stopped her complaining once she saw who had forced her from the hole of self-pity that her room had become. "Oh," She gulped, "I-uhh–" Quickly, she fixed her appearance a little, flattening the jumble of curls on her head. A blush spreading over her cheeks as she realized how she had embarrassed herself by yelling so.

Closer to the ground, Odin slipped from Jane's room – or better yet a dark prison for the last five hours – after scratching the surface of the door for quite some time and whining, and quietly made his way down the hall without either of them knowing.

"Why aren't you dressed yet?" Hayato wondered in a stern voice, also marveling at the fact she talked to the head of the household like she had just done. Maura was a perfectly kind and sincere person, who also happened to be Japanese. When will she learn?

Jane shrugged that damned shrug of hers. Her indifference was infuriating. Didn't she understand the gravity of the situation? No. Of course. She hadn't been told yet. He couldn't though, inform her about the path that Hildred had set out for her to take. Her fencing, passion for philosophy and music and especially her childish plays would all have to come to an end and make way for a life of numbers, meetings and travel. It wouldn't suite her, the fancy clothes, the unnatural kindness, the office etc. He enjoyed seeing her in the garden, playing and laughing like she used to when she was a child. A simple summer dress floating behind her as she ran carefree, hair attacked by the wind.

That memory of her was slowly fading away as she was getting older.

Going outside into the open air was a rarity in itself for Jane during that time. Her poor health wouldn't allow outdoors activities too much. The weak immune system was due to anoxia during birth, which came along with other medical problems. The Godfreys blamed it on the 'bad blood' running through her veins. Her half-breed of a mother being the cause of that wretchedness.

It didn't come as a surprise to him that the previous events were becoming visible bodily.

He had noticed Jane hadn't been eating well at all lately. Her skin held less color than it normally did and the bones in her hands and face were more prominent. A living ghost one could almost say. The anger in her voice was a pitiable result of a downward spiral of sadness that had a tight grip on her. It was pure frustration of not being able to control herself, as she wasn't used to.

In reality, Jane had only been waiting for a certain messenger owl from a new friend she had recently made. Three days had passed and still she hadn't heard a single word from her. Very regretful that she had trusted Milly Ashford this way, only to end up deceived again. But perhaps she was just giving Jane her space, like she had said, and was waiting for the right moment and occasion to invite her… How long would that take?

"Milady?" Hayato pulled her from her thoughts.

"Hayato, I was just thinking…" She said with a plain face, "I want to explore my surroundings for a bit." (to search for Milly herself) It was a complete change of heart from the state of mind she had been in not five minutes ago.

About freaking time though, Hayato thought. The self-pity suited her horribly. Still: "I'm afraid that's not included in your schedule for today." Yes, he had let her deviate from her normal routine but that had to stop now. She had to get it together, for everyone's sake. "Misses Lockwood has arranged for you to meet somebody, who will be here any minute."

She actually scoffed at him, in a uncaring manner. "Who might that be?"

Good question indeed. Hayato didn't know whether to answer her honestly or not.

The short silence that followed made that decision for him.

"Is there something I need to know of?" The face she made was as curious as her question.

Her voice boomed in his head. How could she have known? Had she read him so very easily? Avoiding eye contact, he stared straight ahead as if looking through her. God, his poker face was failing him. He couldn't even formulate a simple 'no'.

Jane was just testing her guardian "Well, if you're ready to tell me… I'll be in the kitchen for some ice-cream." And she walked past him, as if ice-cream was more important than whatever was bothering him so. It sure as hell wasn't bothering her.

But actually the girl was used to being put in the dark and staying there until someone switched on the light, blinding her. It burned. She would shield her eyes with her arms, hiding away (cowardly) initially before slowly getting accustomed to the bright harshness, either accepting it fully or rejecting it at first, afraid and hurt, but eventually the result was the same. Right now, she had chosen to hide a little longer, anxious the light (knowledge) would displease her.

And it would.

…

As Jane was getting dressed by Maura and her younger colleague Lavender, the doorbell rang. The sharp sound startled both of the women in their actions. Before they knew it, Jane had bolted out the door, her hair only half-done, one side of her head full of curls pinned up and the other down in messy strays. They bounced around as she hurried down the hall.

In on fluent jump her butt landed on the balustrade and she slid down the stairs with so much ease it looked like she had done it every day of her life.

The fact her grandfather had been ignoring her for all this time was enough reason for her to find out who was disturbing the silence in the house. One of the servants beat her to opening the door. She could hear the visitor talking and quickly hurried to them.

"–for Miss J.E. Godfrey," The man still hidden by the door partly finished his sentence.

Jane finally got him in view fully, "I'm her." She said, taking a step forward.

The red-haired officer saluted her quickly, clearly not having expected the teenager to come at the door herself. He introduced himself as Kewell Soresi, a military officer of some important rank Jane forgot the title of as soon as he had said it and also a member of the Purist Faction. The same party several of her relatives had had issues with, including her aunt Charlotte – a rather heated argument with the chief Lord Diamond that had led to reputation violation on both sides. Then of course there was also the Marshall matter where in-laws on her grandfather's sister side (Winifred Ophelia Godfrey) were disowned because of their support to the Purist Faction and their ridiculous ideas. A bit hypocritical in Jane's opinion, since the Godfreys were as discriminating as any of them.

Anyways, straying off topic here. Kewell Soresi, there lay her focus at the moment.

After she had returned a small bow, he handed her a large envelop. She took it without taking her eyes off his pale face. His eyes were really penetrating, much like Hayato's, only his were an icy blue.

"You're father requested me to give this to you personally," He spoke, while those sharp eyes squinted slightly for some reason. He seemed angry, but by nature as if life had been unfair to him and he was eager to have his vengeance. But perhaps she was judging him too rashly.

A thing that worried her though was why her father would use a Purist as a courier in the first place. Surely, her grandfather would distrust him instantly, but then again, that could be his motivation.

"Only for your eyes to read," Kewell whispered behind his hand and Jane looked up, eyes widening. So it was true! "I'll take my leave now, Milady. Good day."

"Thank you," Jane managed to say as she heard someone call out behind her.

Kewell left right when Clarice appeared from the hall, "Who was that at the door?"

Jane turned swiftly, in a reflex hiding the envelop behind her back. "Uh… oh, just some journalist wanting to ask me questions. Apparently he got over the gate." This had happened before Hildred had warned her, but her lie was as transparent as a butterfly's egg. Hoping to look casual, Jane made her way to the stairs again, the document now placed securely underneath her clothes. Highly unlikely Clarice would buy it, but she knew the woman was smart enough not to question her superior out loud directly.

…

A carriage arrived in front of the grand entrance then, just as Kewell's car drove away from the property. It came to an abrupt halt as the rider pulled at the reins and the snorting horses stopped in their tracks. One of the doors of the green, golden-lined vehicle opened and revealed a slim woman as she rose from her seat. She adjusted the tiny glasses on her nose after she had stepped onto the driveway and scoffed a little arrogantly at the sight of the house.

"Predictable…" And with that she walked to the gate.

...

A/N: Please review! I'll post the next chapter sooner if you do ^.^


	4. Part 03: Differentiation I

Part 03: Differentiation I

A/N: Lelouch and Suzaku make their debut!

…

A lousy key.

All that the huge envelop contained was one pathetic, little key.

_That_ was her inheritance? All her father left her?

Jane was disappointed to say the least as she turned the golden thing over in her hands.

'There must be something special about it though,' she thought. Why else would her father explicitly state that it was only for her eyes to see?

…

"Such ridiculousness!" One of the men shouted, "A mere _child_ the head of a major corporation?" Others joined in, nodding approvingly of the words being spoken.

"Maybe Hildred has a good reason for this? Remember, there was a time we could trust his opinion."

"A long time ago perhaps but this foolishness? It simply cannot be! Age has gotten the best of him."

The lords gathered around the large table were trying to keep their voices down, in case one of the staff members would overhear their conspiring.

"What do you propose we do about it?"

"We're practically powerless in our current situation."

The shareholders grew silent in the darkened room until one of them spoke again: "Soon…" All heads turned in the direction of the speaker, who had barely said a word the whole time. He had been standing in the far corner, not participating.

"Soon?"

"Yes... soon…" His confidence was enough to shut everyone up as he narrowed his light brown eyes, "and we all know what will be in our best interest?"

Their response said it all.

…

"Who are you?" Jane blurted out before she could stop herself.

The woman sniffed at her rude greeting but answered nonetheless: "My name is Alicia Lohmeyer, Lady Jane," and she walked closer to the younger girl inside the grand hall.

Jane frowned, thinking she had heard that name before. She took the extended hand gently, suspiciously so.

"I'm here to teach you how to be a proper CEO."

…

Jane was still in shock by those three simple letterswhile in the car an hour later. They were heading towards the Ashford's Estate just as she had wanted, but it wasn't Hayato's schedule for her that had granted this, it was her brand new mentor, Alicia Lohmeyer. The fact that this stranger was already allowing and forbidding her things (such as fidgeting with her hair; the second sentence that came out of the woman's mouth when they'd met) was making Jane grind her teeth in annoyance.

But, she decided, not too judge her based on prejudice alone. Since two of Lohmeyer's predecessors had lasted no more than a month – _together _one might add– Jane wasn't too worried. Somehow personal tutors and her didn't work out and this would be no exception. So she had no reason to get to know the woman better, but to reject her first act as mentor was a little too unkind in Jane's opinion.

Besides, she did want to see Milly Ashford again. Even though not for the reasons Lohmeyer presented – for Jane to show kindness to a lesser fortunate family of noble blood by paying them the honor of her visit. No, Jane was hoping Milly could raise her spirit a bit with her wit. An all-important meeting was scheduled for tomorrow, where the future of MECHA Industries would be decided. And she, of course, had to attend. A knot twisted itself in her stomach at the thought. She was nowhere near ready for all of this.

Next to her, Hayato was studying her face from the corner of his eyes. Every now and then he switched his gaze inconspicuously to Lohmeyer, who was sitting right across from Jane. The older female was looking out the window to her left, to the clean buildings of the Settlement. Hayato averted his head to the window on the other side of the car, behind which lay the remnants of a once great nation: Japan. Now a ruined ghetto.

It felt good to be in his own country again. Although this was not the Japan he remembered and longed for in his dreams. It was nothing like it.

In the distance, the approach of a helicopter reached his ears.

No one in the car seemed to notice when the aircraft flew over head at a high speed to a point in front of them, following the same road and a truck that had just passed them.

Jane's thoughts drifted to the red-haired courier, Kewell, again from earlier. His sharp eyes criticizing her messy attire of half-done hair and morning robes. She frowned as she remembered her own suspicions about his role in all this and his connection to her father. The key was practically burning with importance through her clothes from inside the pocket of her jacket. She had wanted to inform Hayato right away about it but hadn't found the right moment to do so – minding her new tutor. Besides, maybe she should take Kewell Soreisi's words literally: _only for your eyes to read.._

Read? Read what? There was nothing to read in a key. Or was there...?

It was only moments later that their chauffeur hit the brakes because of an unexpected blockade, ripping Jane from her trail of thoughts. A police officer was obstructing the way with his car.

Jane broke the silence: "What's going on?"

The driver unbuckled his belt and opened the door. "I'll inquire that, Milady," he answered before leaving the vehicle.

Hayato did the same after ordering Jane to stay put. Lohmeyer cocked a brow at that, clearly disproving of his ill-mannered behavior towards his superior.

"It's probably just another accident," Lohmeyer said to Jane, "You know how reckless those Elevens can be in traffic–"

But before she could finish her sentence completely, Jane had already stepped out of the car, Odin in her arms. Staying behind the open standing door, she more or less obeyed Hayato's command and also satisfying her curiosity.

Now, she could hear sirens and the sounds of helicopters and could see Hayato and the driver talking with the policeman, who was gesturing with his hand in the direction of the ghetto.

"Lady Jane, I suggest you get back into the car immediately!" Lohmeyer hissed from her position inside.

Was there another bombing perhaps? Or some other attack by the terrorists?

More vehicles were forced to a halt behind them as time passed and several people got out of their cars. Odin was getting restless in her grip, so she pulled him tighter against her body.

"Lady Jane, please–!"

Suddenly, Odin twisted in her arms and with a shriek of pain Jane let him fall to the ground. He had bit her! She was perplexed beyond belief as she watched him ran off. "No, Odin!" Quickly she regained her senses and hastened after him. "Odin, come back!"

Before Hayato and the others had realized what happened, two figures had flashed by them. Frozen for a second, he blinked a few times. "Jane?"

The dog hurried as if the devil was chasing him and Jane had trouble keeping up, not only because her hesitation to pursue the chase. 'Damn, I didn't know I was _this_ out of shape…' She thought to herself, for fencing it was good enough at least but apparently not for a long sprint.

She could hear the men calling after her, but right now the safety of her pet meant more to her than obeying the rules.

Odin led her to the first exit of the road but he was much faster than she was. Nonetheless she continued to trail after him, clutching her left hand where he had bit her previously. Blood coaxing her fingers but she paid it no mind.

Panting and gasping for breath, she slowed down as a truck loomed up before her. The thing had crashed, she noticed once she had stopped fully, against a construction site. People were gathered around to watch the scene and Jane hesitated to get closer.

This must be the reason of the obstruction.

"Odin!" She couldn't help the yell as it left her mouth, seeing her favorite pet near the rear of the vehicle. Without indecision, she ran forward again.

"Can you hear me? Are you okay?" A male voice said loudly.

A yelp and then the truck started moving again in reverse before Jane could reach it. The last thing she saw was a grey fur ball attached to a pair of black-clad legs by the mouth fall into a space on top of the truck as it drove off hastily. She jumped out of the way, falling over, to prevent herself from getting run over.

She stayed on the ground a little longer before scribbling up, dusting her knees off – which had scratch wounds on them. Her black skirt was also permanently ruined probably. Never mind.

Her eyes flashed around for any type of transportation she could use, before she detected a man standing nearby with a Pizza Hut delivery in his hand.

"Sorry, sir, this is a matter of emergency! I will return it to you as soon as possible!" The guy didn't know what hit him when a young girl pulled the bike from his grip and hopped on. "Your generosity is greatly appreciated!" Jane screamed at him with the orange helmet on her head as she drove away.

…

The hunt was on.

'Nobody takes my dog and gets away with it.' She gritted her teeth and hit the gas even more.

The straps of the helmet slapped against her cheeks as the wind attacked her face. She bet she looked ridiculous at the moment on the silly, bright-colored Pizza Hut vehicle, her hair and clothes a total mess. She could imagine what Alicia Lohmeyer would have to say about this. She grinned.

"Odin!" She shouted again to pump herself up why she was doing this again. "You give me back my dog, you basterd!" If she was yelling at the driver or at the boy she had seen falling inside the truck with Odin, she wasn't sure.

She was amazed how fast the mope could actually go and she had almost could up with the truck. The helicopters above was starting to worry her though and when suddenly: "Stop the vehicle!" She gasped and looked up.

"Surrender now and you'll be able to defend yourself in court!" The booming voice scared her. What had she gotten herself into?

"Surrender at once! Or we'll shoot to kill!"

'Shoot to kill?' Jane gulped.

…

"Damned dog!" Lelouch hissed as he pried the stupid animal from his leg. The teeth had left quite deep marks in his ankle and blood was seeping out of the wound, staining his pants. He growled and almost fell over as the truck made an unexpected move to the left. He caught his balance and thought to himself what he should do.

There was no ladder inside the truck, so there was no possible way for him to get out. And the growling dog wasn't helping his nerves one bit.

…

If things couldn't get any worse, the back of the truck began to open and revealed a colossal, red Knightmare Frame inside. Jane moved out of the way immediately, giving room to the weapon that came shooting toward one of the helicopters that her father told her was a so-called 'Slash Harken'.

Next was an explosion up in the air as the green helicopter took a hit.

That was the first time that day that Jane actually felt frightened. Fear began to settle in her bones at the thought of meeting the same faith as the pilot inside, only in an attempt to save her dog. So why did she sped up even more?

The ghetto– they were heading to the ghetto! The realization hit her then and the fear multiplied tenfold.

'No, be brave. For Odin.'

She was next to the truck by now but the plan was still uncertain. As an impulse she reached for the door handle, but the truck was moving too fast and suddenly made an abrupt turn to the left as gunshots were being fired.

Jane hit the brakes instantly, the wheels of the vehicle sliding over the asphalt to a halt. This was becoming way too dangerous and this time Hayato was not around to catch a bullet for her like he always said he would. She suddenly felt very naked without him by her side.

"Hey! You there!" A stern female voice came from the Knightmare that had opened fire on the truck, now standing not ten meters away from Jane and her bike.

…

Jane grunted in the back of her throat. Her mouth felt dry and her head heavy. She tried to lift it off the ground, but to no avail. Her whole body ached. Her arm stung and some warm liquid was trickling down her cheek.

There was complete silence around her and when she slowly opened her eyes, blinking a few times, the world came back to her gradually and so did the sounds.

She was lying in some dark tunnel with beams of light coming through the roof here and there. Fear crept over her in an instant. Where was she? What happened? She looked for Odin out of instinct, as she remembered running after him. He was nowhere in sight and neither was any other form of life for that matter.

As she sat up, her limbs under her control once again, the bright orange bike a few meters to her left caught her eye. She frowned. Was she underground?

I remember–! In the middle of a gasp she was interrupted by the echoing of over a dozen of voices. They were muted, coming from the end of the tunnel behind her. She had to act quickly.

Hurrying to get on her feet again, she hissed at the pain that shot through her ankle. She cursed and hopped to the nearest hiding spot. It was a hole in the subway wall, created by years and years of war above ground. She could hear the Knightmares in the distance but the human voices so close by were scaring her more. What if they were terrorists? Her heart began to speed up at the thought of them capturing her and doing whatever it was those Numbers did with honest Britannian citizens.

Her panic started to rise as images of torture flashed through her mind. She decided to act quickly. Pushing past the pain in her right limb, she shuffled further into the narrow gap in de wall, feeling surprised at how convenient it actually was.

The sound of barking reached her ears suddenly and she listened carefully. "Odin…" she whispered to herself.

…

Hayato growled, "What do you mean you don't know her whereabouts?" He was furious. More at himself than at the lousy policemen. He had failed miserably as her guardian.

The look on Lohmeyer's face spoke volumes as their gazes met. As if she was telling him she knew from the start he was unfit to protect her. That did it for him.

Before the policemen had time to blink, Hayato had swiftly moved past them. "Hey!" They yelled after him, but he was already heading in the direction of the ruins. They knew what was inside that truck and chances were that the girl wouldn't survive if it were to explode.

…

"Hey! Open up! My dog is in there!" Jane banged her fist on the iron doors of the truck. She had followed Odin's calls for help en found the truck and his (possibly) dangerous captors in no time. "Do you hear me! I want you to give me back my dog!"

She took a breather and stepped back a moment that caused a stab of pain to shoot through her ankle. The tiers of the vehicle began spinning rapidly suddenly as the driver hit the gas pedal, but they were stuck in the muddy ground. Jane gasped, hurrying around the truck – or rather hobbling around it. Cautiously she made her way to the passenger's side and went to reach for the door handle.

"Excuse me, Miss. Could you please step away from the vehicle?"

The friendly voice made her turn around. She came face to face with a figure clad in an all-black armor, including helmet and facemask.

She recognized that armor. It belonged to the infantry of the Armed Forces of the Holy Britannian Empire. Relieve washed over her and then confusion. What was happening? Why was the military involved? Or better yet, what was it about that truck? "I'm sorry, but what is going on here?" Jane suddenly became very aware of the life threatening situation she had put herself into. She could hear Lohmeyer's disapproving words already: 'all for a stupid house pet'. Hayato's worried eyes also appeared before her, more concerned than angry. He was never angry with her, no matter what she had done. She could never figure out why.

"Miss, you are not supposed to be here," the young male said, carefully approaching her with his hand stretched forward, "This is a very dangerous situation." Now _that_ she agreed with.

"I am just looking for my dog. Please, help me find him–" But then as if on cue, the mentioned animal jumped into her arms, whining slightly out of distress. "Odin! I'm so glad you're okay!" Jane caressed the dog, holding it tightly against her chest. "I'll never let you leave my sight ever again."

The soldier smiled a little at the sight of the girl's affectionate behavior towards her pet, as if everything else around her was of no importance. But he snapped back to reality when he noticed movement behind her. The side door of the cargo part of the truck slit open and Jane wasn't the only one that was shocked to see a tall, Britannian schoolboy inside.

In a flash, Jane saw the still unidentified soldier run past her and kick the person inside on the chest, knocking him down in the process. Her hand moved up to cover hear mouth in awe at the brute force of the attack and the suddenness, her eyes wide.

…

Clarice Lockwood grit her teeth in frustration. With her hands in her hear she listened to the man on the other end of the line. How could they have screwed up this badly? Losing sight of her a day before the plan that would fix everything? "No, no!" She smashed her fist on the table, interrupting the discussion, "You do as I say and find her immediately! Thanks to that German bitch I didn't get a chance to talk to her yesterday and show her the will! So do _not_ try to persuade me into staging her death as a result of the Shjinziku situation!" She yelled in the speakerphone. 'How appealing it may ever sound,' she thought to herself. "Lord Diamond will not have her killed. She is a girl for God's sake!" a short pause as the secretary calmed herself and leaned back in her old boss's chair, "I'm confident I can convince her what's in her best interest… I'll make her an offer she _won't_ refuse."

Outside the door, a man pushed his glasses further up his nose, grinning. "You bit off more than you can chew, Clarice," Adrian whispered, pushing his body from the wall he had been leaning against with his back.

Disloyalty was punished by death…

…

Death… it was just a hair's breath away. And that realization hit her hard in that moment, the moment that the capsule inside the truck opened and a bright light blinded her eyes. She duck to the ground out of instinct, with Odin protected safely in her arms, her face buried in his soft fur. If she were to meet her end now, at least he was by her side. The last present her father ever gave her and that meant the most to her.

'But think about all the things you had yet to do in this life? You have accomplished practically nothing! Besides being born fortunately…'

Whatever.

She braced herself. Odin stayed completely still, as if he knew catastrophe was near.

There was moments of silence. But no blast, no poisonous air, no fire or burning flesh.

Slowly, Jane raised her head, peaking up from under her bangs. Huh? What the–? Her mouth dropped in confusion for the numerous time that day. What she saw seemed surreal: a human girl with long, green hair was inside the now open container. Her body was trapped in a white straitjacket so she couldn't really move and her mouth was covered too. But the most captivating thing were her eyes. Fierce and seductive, yet slightly sad. She was absolutely gorgeous.

The soldier that had spoken to her so gently before and the schoolboy – who turned out to be quite handsome Jane decided when his face came into clear view for the first time – had taken the mysterious woman from her imprisonment. Thank God they were not part of the terrorist organization that was rumored to house in these parts of the city. And the fact another civilian had gotten involved by mere coincidence, or being at the wrong place, at the wrong time, made her sigh in relief.

"Tell me the truth. Poison gas? This girl?" The schoolboy apparently knew the soldier. Jane frowned, 'what is going on here?'

"Hey, it's what they told us in the briefing, I swear."

"How is she?" Jane jumped in, not feeling the least bit comfortable with being in the dark.

Lelouch looked in the direction of the anxious voice but Suzaku answered for him: "I don't know. I think she's alive." He had his back to her and Lelouch was still watching her when she kneeled next to them. His eyes were narrowed.

Jane put Odin on the ground as she reached over to help the soldier unzip the suit the green-haired female was trapped in. She was unconscious and looked like she had been in a lot of pain. The dog was wagging it's tale for some reason, sniffing intriguingly at the body of the woman.

She ignored the suspicious looks the boy in the school uniform was giving her and glanced sideways at the other male, who's face she saw for the first time. Those graceful features… green, curious eyes… nothing but complete concern and kindness…

Memories of a past that had faded away in the back of her mind flashed before her eyes in a chaotic sequence of colors, movement, flowers, smiles, tears– laughter of children reached her ears; running and chasing each other; carefree and perfect; but then tall grown-ups with serious faces; the rape of their naïve innocence, because of war…

"Suza–" His name had almost left her lips but something interrupted her: a set of bright lights focusing directly on them.

…

It all happened so fast. The police finding them, the mean captain ordering Suzaku to shoot the 'terrorists', by which he meant the schoolboy and her. It was only then that Jane snapped out of her daze (mostly due to the shocked condition she was still in from the moment she had realized her long lost childhood friend was in the Britannian army and right beside her, not recognizing her in the slightest), and spoke up.

"Hold it right there, sir." Her voice was more shaky than she wanted but confident nonetheless, "Do you have any idea who I am?"

"Jane!" Hayato's shout boomed through the hangar. "I m-mean… Miss Godfrey!" He corrected himself after realizing the improper way he was addressing his superior.

He rushed past the group of soldiers to the dark-haired girl standing in the middle. She had scratches on her knees and her hair was an absolute mess. She looked a bit bewildered upon seeing him too.

The captain with the nasty scar on his right temple grimaced and all his men immediately pointed their gun at the intruder. "Well, well, well… if that isn't–"

"Save it, Gargoyle," Hayato told him harshly. And Jane snapped from her trance, hurrying over to him immediately. Thank God, she was safe. His body felt strong and all muscle when he took her under his arm, even kissing the top of her head. "Silly girl, don't ever scare me like that again." She looked up to him, a little apologetic smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

The realization hit Suzaku in that moment. 'Godfrey?' He was too shocked to move while Jane's rescuer wasted no time and turned to get the hell out of there.

"Sir?" One of the soldiers asked the captain, eyeing the pair. "Leave them," The curt answer came directly, "For now." He gave Hayato a meaningful look. He in return nodded at him.

The eerie feeling that crept over Jane as they left was growing with every step they took. "Wait!" She tried to detach herself from Hayato's now quite firm grasp but he held her even tighter, "Please, Miss," He said softly, "Trust me, you don't want to see this."

"See what?" Confusion was written all over her face. And she suddenly was the little girl again all those years back, when the grown-ups knew things and wouldn't tell her. For her own good, they said. "Hayato, no–" he didn't answer her, which made her anger rise. She began to struggle more and look back at the scene behind them. "No, I don't want to– let me go!" But it was no use. Her half-hearted attempts to escape his grip were pathetic. He was much stronger than her and more determined at that. And before she knew what had happened, her vision started to become blurry, a resolute force pressing against her neck.

Everything went black

…

"Suzaku!" Jane sat up with his name blurting from her mouth. Bewildered she looked at her surroundings, panting from the intensity of her recent dream, or nightmare more likely. 'What..? Where am I-?' Eyes wide and sweat on her forehead, she felt a gently but yet strong hand touch her shoulder and push her back into the softness of the cushions beneath her again. She didn't resist, slowly turning her head to the man next to her bed.

"Kyuseishu…" (savior)

His dark eyes came in to focus slowly. She was still dreamy and her mind clouded. And Jane reached her hand up to touch his face. But Hayato stopped her movement midway.

"Milady," he said, kissing the hand she had reached out to him with, "how are you feeling?"

Jane smiled, "It was all just a bad dream, wasn't it?" Her head began to pound as she tried to remember the dream.

After a moment of contemplating silence he nodded.

"I'm glad." Jane breathed, her eyelashes caressing her cheeks softly.

"My darling, I'm glad to see you are awake!" The deep, rich voice came from the door, where Hildred was standing. His enthusiasm startled Jane from her half-slumber.

"Grandfather," But before Jane could speak any further, Hildred told Hayato to leave with a quick motion of his head. He did, with a reluctant look on his face though.

Even before the door was closed, Hildred's whole demeanor changed: "I will not have you running off like that again, do you understand?" He spoke as he strode to her bed slowly. He was being much more stern than he used to be. She had never heard him speak to her like this. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? The company– I mean, we could have lost you–"

"But–"

"No 'buts', young lady, this is not the time for games any more. You have a responsibility to your father, to me, to your family."

So it really wasn't a dream at all… That realization made her bright awake all of the sudden.

"Jane." Hildred's tone became more kind. He sighed, taking place at the food of her bed. "I'm sorry, but you have to understand this is not acceptable any longer."

Jane nodded slowly, deep in thought.

"Will you promise me never to act so impulsively again?"

She could feel his sharp eyes on her, even though she was avoiding his gaze.

"Janey?" He insisted.

A sigh, "Yes, grandfather."

Hayato listened at the door with his back against the wall; his eyes closed.

"I will not disappoint you again." That was the last thing she'd ever wanted. It always broke her heart to see _that_ look on his face, the look of failure. Not only of her, but of himself in teaching her.

"Good. Now rest. You will need your strength the next couple of days." With that he kissed her forehead and rose (a bit inelegantly) from the bed.

"Grandfather–." Jane stopped Hildred halfway through the door, his hand on the doorknob, "… it wasn't his fault." She almost blurted the words out, as if a quick apology. What had happened in the hanger all came back to her now. The way Hayato had protected her but had also forced her along against her will and took her here, God knows how exactly without her knowledge.

Hildred only blinked at her and shut the door.

Jane screw up her face in dismay. She knew her grandfather all too well and Hayato was going to feel his anger. It was only that she really started to worry when she heard the lock switch.

Hayato let the old man knock him on the ground with his cane. He stayed there, with his cheek pressed against the carpeted floor, the tip of the cane digging into his back.

"If any harm comes to her…" Hildred growled, "… you will pay the ultimate price… do you understand?" He emphasized every word with a hiss.

His blood was boiling. How could he let this man treat him like this? He could take him on, two hands behind his back, but he wouldn't… he… couldn't… he had promised _her_. So he swallowed his pride.

"Well?!"

"Yes, sir." Hayato answered bitterly.

Jane held her breath on the other side of the wall, her hand pressed against her mouth. The tears were building up behind her eyes but she refused to let them fall. She tried to steady her breathing, focusing on the smiling face and gentle kisses that her grandfather would give her. But poor Hayato–

The wooden cane struck his back again and Hayato stifled a groan.

"That's right. Remember your place here."

It wasn't until Jane heard footsteps dying away that she attempted to open the door. "Hayato," she whispered. "Hayato, can you open the door, please?" she pulled at the knob some more.

"No, Milady," he told her softly.

She couldn't tell what his emotions were by his voice but she felt the urge to hug him, to apologize. "I'm so sorry, Hayato, it was all my fault."

"No, I failed you, Milady." His words stung for whatever reason and hit her right in the chest, like a sharp-pointed arrow. The hurt made her sympathy turn to anger in a matter of seconds: "Then go." She said harshly, "Go and repent."

He didn't question her and bowed his head shortly before getting up and leaving down the hallway.

Now the tears finally fell.

…

Short, white fingers dug into the ground, grabbing the golden object his purple eyes had spotted from a distance. 'Yes…' he held the key up to his face, studying its shiny exterior.

"Getting sloppy already?" He mumbled to himself, "… Janey?"

…

A/N: Sorry for the delayed update! But my laptop was out for a couple of weeks :(. I hope you enjoy the story so far. Again, let me know what you think ;).


End file.

Code Geass, Hurt-Comfort