Code Geass 1. The Inexplicable and Unforgivable Act

**A/N: I realize that (for those who actually like my writing and are following other stories of mine) you are most likely panicking. Because I uploaded another story. I've always said that writing a story is like raising a child. You need to nurture them, to watch over them, you want to see them grow and succeed and fulfill the best potential they have. And I know how hectic it can be writing numerou stories at once. I promise you, this one will be short. I just needed an outlet while writing (finally) the 23rd chapter of The Crazy Coup. I hope you'll like it, anyways.**

**Disclaimer: Code Geass is not my property.**

Julius Kingsley, one of the most celebrated and brilliant strategists of his time, who served the omnipotent and holy Empire of Britannia, leaned casually against the stone railing of the balcony, enjoying the evening air that was heavily scented with aristocratic perfume and deceit.

He was decidedly bored with the glamorous façade the Euro-Britannian nobles put on. He had seen through their mediocre acts within the first five minutes of stepping into the well-lit and opulent chateau, although he admitted to himself that, despite irritating him, he was somewhat amused as he carefully and silently looked on from the sidelines.

'Why,' he idly wondered, 'do they even bother?'

Voices from below floated up to him, unexpected, as he had presumed that all party guests, save for himself, would be inside, playing at petty political games. Peering down, he could see a boy and a girl, blue-haired and blonde respectively, that seemed to be, more or less, the age of his own.

Their crisp blue uniforms told him that they were a part of E.U. military force, and judging from the decoration glinting on the fair-haired's martial ensemble, it became apparent to him that he was in the presence of a Major.

He chuckled to himself; perhaps he should salute her, as she was his senior in military rank.

'But never in cunning and intellect… Right, _Julius_?'

His right eye narrowed, the singular violet iris marred with suspicion and discontent.

It didn't sound right.

The name.

Julius.

Had he _always_ been Julius?

The denomination, the distinction, the title he called his own, felt as if it were a flimsy sheet of tarp, this identity, veiling a secret.

An enormous, delicious secret, one that had such potency that even his Majesty, the mighty Emperor of Britannia, would be weary of.

Unfortunately, the tarp was held down by cinder blocks twice his weight, lining all sides, effectively making it impossible for him to see the truth that was so cautiously concealed, and although he knew what he would find underneath could, nay, _would_ grant him the ingresses of worlds even _he_ couldn't imagine…

He confessed that he didn't exactly know what the hidden treasure was.

Ah, but this was why it intrigued him so.

That puzzle, he eventually concluded for the evening, was for another day, another time, when he had less pressing matters. And so, he dismissed it from his mind to relieve himself of the task at hand.

Delicately setting down the empty champagne flute he had been toying with, he glanced behind him through the open double French doors, before vaulting onto the marble balustrade. Sauntering down the length, when he reached the end, he paused briefly, as if gathering momentum, before leaping off.

Sailing through the air, he roughly caught the opposing ledge, his ebony boots scrabbling brutally against the coarse stone. He hoisted himself up into the safety of secure flooring beneath his feet, laboriously breathing.

He had never been one for physical exertion.

Upon collecting his elegance and composure, he set about deftly picking the lock of the glass balcony doors. Satisfactorily hearing the sound of the bolt sliding away, Julius slipped inside briskly, the only trace of his being there the slightly disturbed air.

* * *

It was a bedroom.

A luxurious and well-furnished one at that, the raven-haired man observed, his opinion drawn upon what he could see in the dim lighting the full moon outside gave him.

Silk wallpaper the color of ivory gloated the room's ridiculous extravagance, offsetting the furniture that were varying shades of umber, beige, and gold. There was a mammoth wooden headboard to the bed that had the design of a large tree carved and inlaid with gold. The bed itself boasted a king-sized mattress with a large, ornately embroidered duvet the same shade as the tresses of the European Major he had glimpsed. Multiple pillows, sewn with the most valuable of gold, cream, and fawn silk, sat in fashionable display. At the foot of the bed was a sofa upholstered in tan fabric. Across from the sofa was an elegant oak chair that was cushioned with an amber cushion. The chair was in front of a long mahogany dresser while a chandelier glittered from the moonlight streaming in from the huge windows. They were partially closed from the drawn curtains made of sheer ivory fabric, while the floor was carpeted with plush Oriental rugs. The two bedside tables each had a lamp, and Julius moved to turn them on before focusing on the gilded full-length mirror standing besides the dresser.

Steadily gazing at his reflection, he placed his gloved hand on top of the eye patch covering his left eye, gently pressing the singular amethyst jewel to his jaw.

An elaborate and opulent cloth.

But an eye patch all the same, something that made him look like a silly pirate despite its luxurious design.

He had always speculated why he had an eye patch. As far as he could tell, there was nothing wrong with the eye, and despite constantly searching and digging in his mind, again and again, he had yet to have an inkling as to the purpose of the piece of fabric. And he hadn't had a chance to find out yet, as that damned Knight of Seven always kept him in his sight.

Grinning wolfishly, his fingers curled around the soft material, about to tear it off, when the door opened with zeal behind him.

His only reaction was his uncovered eye flickering to the reflection of whoever it was that had dared interrupt the unveiling of the truth.

It was a woman.

Well, it was a woman and a man.

She was struggling in his grasp, while the man, obviously inebriated, attempted to persuade her to give him what he wanted, because she could deny it all she wanted, but they both knew that she wanted what he did too, so she should just give in and save them all of the trouble.

Briefly, he caught sight of her face and could see why and how she had fallen into the drunk aristocrat's clutches. She was an exquisite creature, with a slender physique and delicate features, her shoulder-length hair the hue of amaranth while her bright irises, so full of fear, were a startling blue.

She was beautiful… But should he intervene? He could still slip out, as he had yet to be noticed by either of them.

Ah, but if he did choose to escape, wouldn't that mean the woman would be left at another's lustful mercy.

But what did it matter to him what became of the lady?

As she was dragged to the lavish bed, she resisted but all efforts were futile. Her aggressor was much stronger than she, and all attempts to refuse were only rewarded with pain. As she pulled back one last time, their eyes met through the mirror, and suddenly…

Suddenly, something snapped in him.

He didn't know why.

But he felt a sudden surge of rage at seeing this… This… This insolent and foolish Neanderthal touching this woman, breathing in the same space as her, speaking to her.

Moving lightly on his feet to the grand hearth in the room, he palm the polished poker, and before the woman's eyes could even widen in realization, he descended upon the man, impaling him with the piercing metal rod.

He roared as the raven-haired man roughly pushed it deeper inside him, relishing the inhuman screaming from the agonizing pain, cruelly twisting it to incite more torture.

When he had had enough fun, he shoved the dying body off of her and grabbed the woman's wrist. Flying off of the bed, they sprinted out of the bedroom, but had to stop soon, as his weakness in anything physical came in to play again. Spying an exit, he hurried them out into the safety of darkness, away from the unforgivable deed he had done for one he didn't even know the name of.

**A/N: One of you (I know which one of you, but I'm not naming names) will complain about its shortcoming in length. I know it's short. And so does everyone else. So there's really no need to point it out. I'll make the next chapter a little longer, so there's no need to point out the short-ness. Anyways... Please review! They're appreciated!**

**Ah, and any suggestions on the genre and who I should put as the principle characters would also be greatly appreciated.**


	2. Miss Lamias

**A/N: I have a couple of semi-important announcements. So, first off: an apology. For several things. I'm working as much as I can on fanfictions (I've been working on the 23rd chapter for The Crazy Coup for three weeks straight now. It's now easy. Sorry, but I'm working on it! It's under construction!). This chapter... Took seven hours to edit/revise. I did it seven hours straight too. Just sitting here... Typing away on the computer... Frying my brains out... I know. Because I started at 7PM and it is currently 2:30AM. And I took a half hour break to shower. So... That being said... That it's 2:30AM right now. The end of this chapter... I can only describe with one word. Which is: blegh. Okay, not my best chapter ending. And a lot of it is just... Not the best. I feel like a lot of you are going to say: what in the world...? Yes. Well. I'm sorry. But it's just... Okay, okay, it's 2 in the morning, and I'm rambling. Sorry. I'll let you get on with it.**

**Oh, help task number 2. Thank you to everyone who answered my call for help. I actually have... Another... One... Sorry. I always rename my chapters, but for this one, I can't quite decide what to call the chapters... So any thoughts for this chapter, and the one before, will be appreciated. And loved. And cherished. Thank you.**

**Disclaimer: Code Geass is not my property.**

Ch. 2

When he deemed himself to be far away enough from the crime scene, Julius ceased his fugitive-like-sprinting and caught his breath. When he no longer felt the burning sensation in his throat and his heart was no longer pounding in his chest, he immediately released his grip on the woman's hand, coolly telling her, "There's no need to thank me."

"I wasn't going to."

Her frankness, evenly matching his, surprised him. Most of the females who had been invited to the gala were… Mindless dolls, silly and simple playthings, who bent and twisted their wills every which way to comfortably suit their male patrons. What kind of masochistic noble had brought along this recalcitrant mistress?

Well, whoever it was, it no longer concerned him. He was done dipping his fingers into other's fates. That was left to be done in a few days' time… When he could escape this stifling Mecca for imbecility and finally fulfill the purpose of this little expedition to Vladivostok.

At the thought of war, the thought of controlling men, the thought of being given power to that of a god's, his blood began to rush, adrenaline rushing through his every vein.

Ah, war, the devastating and calamitous time, where fathers buried their sons, brothers were divided by rivers of blood, where mothers wept over their lost children…

The pain that those around him, that would be inflicted upon others, would finally complement the pain _he_ felt, and it satisfied him, it _pleased_ him, that he wouldn't be the only one dragged down by the overwhelming suffocation incited by agony and torture.

"Julius Kingsley, the guest of honor… What was he doing in the bedroom of Earl Zimmer, I wonder, particularly when he was supposed to be present at this evening's soiree, drinking wine with aristocrats and dancing with their affluent daughters…"

"What is it that you want, wench?"

"Wench?" From the darkness, he could just barely make out her eyes, dangerously glittering, and he smirked; just as he had predicted, she certainly wasn't like the stereotypical mannequin that was attending the ball. Her elegant voice, with its lilting French accent, drawled, "It's been some time since anyone's called me a wench. Most associate me with a witch, you see."

"Whether others call you a wench or a witch isn't any of my business. I simply-"

"I see that the rumors hold true. As arrogant as he is young and handsome… What a prodigious intellectual Julius Kingsley is…"

Brilliant white teeth appeared, a wolfish smirk dancing on her vibrant red lips. The raven-haired man stared at her coldly, half-amused and half-irritated; who exactly did she think she was to speak to him in such a condescending manner? No doubt, she was a street urchin who had, by some fortune or seduction, clawed her way up to the social ladder for-

"But haven't you always wondered… Hasn't it ever bothered you? How could have someone, who is praised as one of the most gifted and skilled men of his time, remain hidden from the world for so long? Shouldn't more people know of you, fear you, herald you as a hero, an individual of so much genius? Doesn't the man known as Julius Kingsley feel like such a…Falsehood? Cloaking over the truth? The truth that eludes you…?"

Eyebrows furrowed, he completely faced her and demanded how she knew of his innermost mistrust and wariness. Stepping closer, her silver dress shimmering under the moonlight as if she were swathed in woven water, she murmured so that only he could hear her answer.

"I know the truth. And I can give you the truth that you so covet." She gazed up at him from underneath her long and lustrous eyelashes. Julius tilted his head down, not about to be shown up by the sorceress. His minty breath tickled her as his eyebrow arched up delicately, saying, "And at what price, I wonder, will I have to pay for you to yield this truth?"

"Oh, it's quite simple. I have no doubt that a man of your stature and temperament will have any issue with the levy."

"And what is this levy?"

She merely placed a slender finger on her lips, her striking sapphire irises wordlessly asking if it finally dawned on him what it was that she wanted from him.

Julius sneered; how like a harlot. If her original influential patron wasn't available, she simply latched herself on another. Stepping closer, he smirked as he wound his arms around her waist, shamelessly drawing her body as close as he could to himself.

"Is that all you truly desire? I'd be willing to give you more, if need be." Nuzzling her graceful neck, he inhaled in her citrus scent when alarms went off in his head. He knew this fragrance… It was so wonted to him, as if he had first come across it in a foggy, half-forgotten dream. His condescending smile vanished momentarily to be replaced with an expression of vexation, but he pushed the overfamiliarity away and grazed his lips under her jaw before gently biting her earlobe.

To his delight, he saw her struggle to suppress a shiver running up her spine, a direct consequence of his audacity.

"I assure you, that this will be enough," she replied, her voice, much to his disappointment, under perfect control. She added afterwards, almost as if in an afterthought, "Although I never saw you for someone so… Lascivious."

"Perhaps your opinion of me will change with this contract."

"Oh, so this is a contract?"

"A rather peculiar contract… But a contract all the same."

"Are you always this flirtatious?"

"Only with exquisite and extraordinary creatures as yourself," he purred in her ear. Leering at her, the raven-haired man deemed the situation to be apt to conclude their impromptu bargain. Just as their lips were about to meet, they were interrupted with a stiff, "My lord."

The strategist froze, the corners of his smile dive-bombing into a disgruntled frown. Straightening up, he deliberately replied in an equally cold voice. "What is it, Kururugi?"

"The Commander of the W-0 unit requests your audience."

"Does she now? Whatever could that ingénue want with _me_?"

The Knight didn't answer, knowing that the question was rhetorical, and merely waited for his charge to disentangle himself from the woman he had managed to noose and seduce.

"Very well." His singular amethyst iris focused on the mademoiselle he had ended up saving and the harsh angles of his expression softened slightly.

"I apologize. It seems that I must take my leave to tend to some business. Rest assured, however, I will return so that we may continue our little… Exchange."

Raising her delicate hand, he rubbed his thumb lightly over the back, the ebony suede sparking friction. Pressing his lips ever so faintly, he nodded his head tersely before sweeping away to return to the depths of the formal.

* * *

"Lord Kingsley."

"Leila Malkal. It certainly is an honor to finally make the acquaintance of the beautiful and elegant commander of the infamous W-0 unit."

Bowing with a grand flourish, Julius bent down and grazed his lips over her cold hand. Glancing up at her through his eyelashes, he murmured, "What enchanting violet eyes you have…"

She brushed off his flattery and sharply changed the subject.

"Lord Kingsley, I have pulled your attention away from this evening's lighthearted pleasure so that I may give you a warning."

"A warning?" The man, a complete head taller, towered over her with an insincere smile adorning his handsome features. Upon her declaration, his eyebrow rose, the small gesture all he needed to do to give her a glimpse of just how amused he was with her austerity. Refusing to be intimidated by him, Leila pushed on.

"As you so graciously stated before, I am the commander of the W-0 unit. And as commander, I will not tolerate any intercession, prying, meddling, or interference in whatever way, shape, or form on your part. I, and only I, have complete authority over the W-0 unit at all times, regardless of what plans or strategies you may resort to on the battlefield. Am I understood?"

"As you please, your Highness," he replied, brazenly mocking her. Sneering down at her, he tilted his head to the side as if scrutinizing a grand piece of artwork, before saying in an undertone, "It grows more apparent by the second… That the tales of the social graces and etiquette of the Euro-Britannians are true. Such atrocious manners…"

Clearly meant to be heard, Julius waited for a reaction and was swiftly rewarded with one.

Behind the fair-haired maiden, her lieutenant, who had been standing silently with a carefully crafted blank expression, immediately dropped his mask. Indignant, he started towards the Britannian, only to be intercepted by the Knight of Seven. The raven-haired man's gaze glittered maliciously, exhorting the soldier to do something, _anything_, to shatter the monotony of the party. Their eyes met, and the strategist could see something delicately tip to the side in the lieutenant's internal scale and knew he had succeeded in goading him.

Shoving past Suzaku, Akito moved to collar the arrogant man, when the Japanese violently grabbed his neckband and slammed him down to the carpeted floor. Holding him down with his knee, the two European officers stared at the gun, which had suddenly appeared out of nowhere and into the hands of the man who bore the elaborate eye patch.

Leila, shocked, interrogated, "How did you bring that in here? Weapons are-"

"Are prohibited?" Julius smirked before slipping the firearm back into the recesses of his opulent sable mantle. Bending down so that only she was privy to his words, he quietly told her, "There is something rather important that you should keep in mind during the events of the following few days, lest you aspire to lose your prestige and honor in this sadistic world mankind has carved out for itself. There are two men in this world; those who fear, and those who are feared. I, and keep this well in mind, Commander Malkal, am the man who _decides_ who is feared and who is not; I am the god that toys and decides the fates of innumerable men, women, and children. If I wished it, I could erase the entirety of the ignoble Euro-Britannian aristocracy."

He paused momentarily, thrilled with the effect his words were having on her.

"Let _me_ warn _you_, Commander Malkal; I am not one to be trifled with, so I hardly think that you should be the one providing the warning and establishing the parameters. Do think about it carefully… After all, we wouldn't want your little secret getting out… Would we?"

Straightening up, he bowed to her, curtly scorning her with his disparaging smile, before closing their conversation with an aloof, "It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Malkal."

And with barely a backwards glance, Julius Kingsley deserted the two officers, one feeling angered, while his superior was left numb with stupefaction.

* * *

"His Majesty wouldn't look kindly on your course of action with Commander Malkal, Julius. It was rash of you."

"Was it now? I hardly noticed." The raven-haired man paid as little attention to the Knight as possible and continued to walk down the softly-lit hall, the brunette right on the heels of his noir leather boots.

"You need to think more of your consequences before you act. Your latter actions have the potential to incite unrest, and possibly rebellion, from the Euro-Britannian nobles. Leila Malkal is the daughter of Viscount-"

The edge of his ebony cope swished to a gentle stop as the strategist abruptly ceased his insouciant swagger. Testily, he snapped, "In two days time, I'm to play as god over hundreds, conceivably _thousands_, of insignificant men. Whether they live to see another sunrise or return to the dust they were created from is determined _through my thoughts, judgment, and decisions_. I believe I'm due a reprieve before any blood is so generously stained onto my hands."

"And _I _believe I'm due a great many things, all of which I will never receive, but-"

"Like that princess of yours, her Highness, the Massacre Princess?" Here, Julius spitefully snickered to himself. "Who knew she had so much lust for Eleven blood? I, for one, was completely caught off-guard. A pity she died by that vigilante Zero's hand. But I suppose what goes around comes around."

Suzaku couldn't endure it any longer. He clenched his gloved hands into fists so tightly to the point of trembling and ignored the way his nails were biting into his palms eagerly. He swung his arm back, hell-bent to show Julius exactly how much ire and outrage he was arousing by his continual prodding of Suzaku's greatest wound.

Stumbling backwards, the arrogant man merely rubbed his jaw gingerly, a wolfish smile appearing, instead of the horrified expression and pain and humiliation the Knight thirsted for.

"And so, the beast fights back. Welcome to ruthless and cutthroat world, Kururugi. Don't expect there to be any rainbows or butterflies."

His haughtiness his inseparable and sole companion, Julius left the seething paladin as silently and as elusively as a phantom, his cloak fluttering behind him like the whisper of Death itself.

* * *

He mulled over the possibilities of where he could escape to, in this wide and monstrous mansion. If he were to return to his chambers, Suzaku would, unquestionably, be waiting with more vicious attacks of physical abuse (he certainly deserved the title of Knight of Seven, Julius thought ruefully, as he nursed his stinging jaw. It wasn't dislocated, was it?), but the idea of returning to socialize with those troglodytes who called themselves the cream of the crop was equally unappealing. Simply entertaining the idea left a bad taste in his mouth.

So where could he seek refuge? To break free from the monotonous and maddening stupidity of the party function he had been unwillingly dragged to?

And if there truly wasn't anywhere he could resort to for deliverance, whom could he turn to, to wake him from a coma the gathering's insipidity was slowly pulling him into.

That woman.

He laughed quietly, his low chuckles echoing in the luxurious bathroom he had locked himself in.

He didn't know her. Nor was he even quite sure what she looked like. But he knew, despite interacting with her for only three minutes, that she was different from the rest of the baboons populating the vicinity.

He could tell that she was, much like himself, superior to them all, and that it was in her company where he would discover a new toy to amuse himself with.

'It's not much of a challenge, but… It ought to abate the ennui until I find the witch… Don't you agree, Julius?'

And with an excited gleam in his eye, he set off to find her.

* * *

Aurelia Lamias was her name, and with lustrous amaranth tresses and startlingly disarming cerulean eyes, she was, by far, the belle of the ball. Elegantly robed in a splendid and rather revealing dress of silver silk (which looked as if had been woven from water), her delicate features and aristocratic air fooled every single guest into thinking that she was of noble birth, when, in reality, the truth could not have been farther.

With a cold smile that never quite reached eyes, she gracefully danced with her partner, the fortuitous Duke LeFeuvre. Despite being in his company all evening, however, she only had eyes for one man, and one man only, who, to her great disappointment and frustration, avoided the one place she couldn't escape.

"What is it that you're searching for, darling?" the peer greasily purred. "I swear to you, I can buy it, whatever it may be. And if it can't be bought… No man can withstand physical persuasion, if it comes to it. Which it often does. But there's no need to worry, sweetheart. Whatever it is that you want, I can obtain for you."

"I'm honored, your Grace. However… The thing I desire most won't be needing the physical persuasion you speak of wielding."

"What is it that you seek?"

Her expression turned disdainful briefly, as the duke's hand, which had been resting on her waist, came dangerously close to brushing by her inappropriately. Redirecting her attention from his wayward hand, she replied, "A glass of water. I'm afraid all of this waltzing has worn me out. But I'm sure a man of your prestige wouldn't have any issue procuring a simple glass of water… Would you?"

The lean noble vainly fingered an end of his graying handlebar mustache while proudly replying, "Of course not. Come, my dear, and I shall purchase for you, the most crystal clear glass of mineral water in the world."

He promptly swept her away from the polished marble floor, smoothly deposited her into a chair, and vanished to send for a bottle of Fillico, flown in directly from Area 11 at the swiftest speed possible.

She was quite bored with the duke. He was narcissistic and stupid, a horrible combination to begin with, but with the addition of a substantial fortune and influence… It was a wonder the world still went round, what with men the likes of him living on it.

She pondered over the wisdom of leaving him. She didn't trust herself to be able to endure his foolishness for much longer, but if she were to leave him… She would, indubitably, be hounded by him and his men, an explanation being demanded for, and possibly, _quite_ possibly, the demand of having her limbs torn off also being made thereafter.

It would be prudent to remain as she were, until she could create another opportunity to-

A firm gloved hand stole her away from her seat before lacing their fingers together. Slightly bewildered, she looked up at the stranger who had accosted her somewhat fearlessly.

"I always feel so much resentment to whatever idiot left a beautiful woman sitting desolately by herself on the sidelines. Especially at events such as this."

"You…"

"I promised you I would return, did I not?" Julius' eye glimmered mischievously and she couldn't help smiling in amusement, the warmth reaching her bright blue eyes for the first time throughout the entire evening.

"But to be so bold as to dance with me without my permission… What daring you have. Particularly when my escort is the infamous Duke LeFeuvre, the Viceroy of Area 3."

"Ah, so that's how he managed to ensnare you… Speaking of which… Where is your distinguished escort?" The raven-haired man ignored the analytical questions rising in his mind as they danced together. The woman could read him so well; more often than not, most of his waltzing partners didn't have the sensitivity to pick up his subtle body language, but this woman… Nay, this _witch_… He had never been so at ease with anyone; it was as if she could read his mind.

"He went to fetch a bottle of Fillico," she told him, the aristocrat already dismissed from her mind.

"Fillico? It was his suggestion, wasn't it?"

She nodded, eliciting a scoff of disbelief on his part before chortling to himself.

"What's so humorous?"

"The foolish and misinformed man… Fillico water ceased being produced nearly a decade ago, when Japan was colonized and reborn as Area 11. He should seriously consider paying more attention to politics, than simply pretending to. It escapes me how a primitive such as he could have possibly captured a rare bird such as yourself, disregarding his status and power."

"Why do you give me such sweet words? Let me warn you now, I'm not one to be trifled with," she admonished him.

"What a comical coincidence… Those are the very words I told someone just now."

Aurelia raised an eyebrow.

"It sounds like you were trying to quarrel with that someone."

"Anything to rid myself of this insufferable boredom plaguing me," he graciously jested.

"And I thought I was the only one…" murmured she.

"It seems as if you and I have more similarities than I assumed… I wonder where the parallels cease and the differences begin."

"Would you like to find out? I'm confident I could teach you one or two things about yourself."

He laughed out loud. This woman… Who was she? Never before had he met anyone the likes of her, she was… She was incredible. She managed to draw his attention to her every time, his interest in her never waning even once. She truly was an enchantress, for succeeding in amusing him for so long, not to mention making (and this was what surprised him most, as it had _never_ transpired before) his intrigue grow by the second.

"I confess, I would like to find out the things that you claim you could teach me, whatever it is they are, but unfortunately… We're in a rather public place, and I have a powerful intuitive feeling that the other guests wouldn't appreciate your teachings as much as I would." As the dance gradually came to an end, he slowed to a stop, his mind fully occupied by the mysterious woman in front of him. As the handsome couple moved to the sidelines, she said, "Then a change of location would simply resolve the matter, would it not?"

"Were you not waiting for your partner and his nonexistent bottle of water?" he pointed out.

"If what you told me of the shutting down of Fillico is the truth, combined with Duke LeFeuvre's intelligence and tenacity, it will be some time before he returns. I have conviction that I can educate you and return in time to greet his Grace, seated in my chair, as poised and as dignified as when he left me."

"And I thought I would be returning to my bedchamber alone this evening… Very well. Let's see what devices you have up your sleeve to inspire enlightenment within me, sorceress."

* * *

"Your hair is similar to her Highness, Princess Cornelia's, while your eyes are the likes of her Highness, Princess Nunnally… Are you secretly of royal birth yourself? Am I supposed to kneel in your presence and address you as "your Highness"?" Julius lightheartedly joked while leading Aurelia down the corridors to his bedroom, but she seriously questioned, "How is it that you know such extensive details about the imperial family?"

"I'm not quite sure," he divulged, "I've just always know…. Almost as if… Almost as if I had personally known them."

"Do you believe you've met them personally?"

"If I had, I would have remembered, would I not? But no… Instead, all I have are blinding headaches and random gaps in my memory. It's all quite strange. If I didn't believe it to be impossible, I'd have blamed it on-"

"On memory tampering?"

He turned to her, bemused. He considered himself to be the owner of one of the greatest impassive and unreadable expressions, but she could read him with so much ease and comfort that she nonchalantly finished his sentences for him. As far as he could remember, he had never met her before the incident in the bedroom when he had intercepted the inebriated brute, so how…?

His steady, calculating gaze never leaving her, he unlocked one of the grand mahogany doors in the hallway and swung it open for her, question in his eye. Although she noticed, she ignored the mystification brewing in his mind and merely brushed past him, delicately stepping inside.

In her peripheral vision, she could see his shadow move closer as he shut the door, securely locking it behind them. For a second, they were completely swamped in darkness, until, with a press of a button, lights flickered on, illuminating luxurious apartment.

Delving deeper into the suite, Julius made his way to the spacious sitting room, saying behind him as he unbuckled his cope, "You'll have to forgive the disarray. I had a bit of a… Tempestuous fit."

She didn't comment on how it seemed to have been more than just a _bit_ of a tempestuous fit. The sitting room must have been a beautiful one, with cherry wood paneling, tawny silk wallpaper, and elegantly designed wooden furniture, all matching shades of various beiges, browns, and ivories. But now… Now, it looked as if a madman had waltzed in before absconding with great haste.

There were overturned chairs, tables upturned, books liberated from their shelves, some of their pages torn out. A celadon vase (rather, the remains of a celadon vase) lay scattered, the shards dully catching the light from the brilliant chandelier which, thankfully, had escaped any harm. But her attention was drawn back to the warn-torn scene below; beautiful watercolors and acrylics, once depicting the ocean's proud waves and rustic landscapes, were now deserted on the thick carpet, the canvas ripped to shreds as if it were some baffling avant-garde painting. It was a horrendous mess, and it was solely the thought of the demons that must be plaguing him that abstained her from rebuking him.

"Although… I suppose this is too much to ask for forgiveness?"

Her focus was drawn back to the man, who was the only thing in the room that hadn't been ravaged or ransacked in any way (and even then, she realized, that could only be said for his outward appearance. What happened inside of his head, she couldn't, in any way, be taken into account, as so ardently proven by the chaotic renovations of the room). She silently watched him as he slipped off his mantle and carelessly tossed it onto a grand coffee table which was lying on its side like some great umber whale that had been beached.

"Glenfiddich?" He raised a glass vessel towards her, and as she picked her way through the detriment of the once-glorious room, she questioned, "Is that the 1937 one?"

At his nod, she remarked, "Those are $20,000 a bottle."

"$20,000 for a bottle of spirit aged 80 years doesn't sound like a bad trade-off to me."

"But you're too young to consume alcohol." Swallowing the burning amber liquid, he countered bitterly, "I'm too young to do a great many things, such as being a war strategist and being in charge of the lives of countless soldiers, but here I am in Vladivostok, on the front lines of war."

"Hmm… You always did prefer whiskey over gin and vodka… Although you were consistently partial to a glass of wine over all of those… What happened, Julius? Is wine no longer strong enough to rid yourself of the burdens you must bear?"

The raven-haired man stared at his guest, trying to read her just as she had done to him. Much to his frustration, he couldn't seem to, no matter how hard he tried to decipher the guarded secrets in her eyes.

"… How is it that you know me so well? You can finish my sentences, guess what my thoughts are. You can read me like an open book as if we've known each other our entire lives; you even know my preferences concerning alcohol, and yet… I know not even your name."

"My name…" Here, she laughed to herself quietly, and he was surprised to find that she was, much like he was, resentful. "My name was lost in the flow of time. And amongst all of those that I've come across and met, only one man, a pathetic _one_, was able to fish it out."

"A lover, no doubt," he assumed before finishing off the glass of hard whiskey. Exhaling sharply, he closed his eyes momentarily, as if mustering up the will to breathe, the will to live, the will to not give in to the dark thoughts that bit at his heels… Warily opening them, he removed his gloves and set them down besides the empty tumbler, as he heard Aurelia say, "… I'm not sure that's what he would use to call himself in relation to me."

"If he knows your name, something that you've kept secret from everyone, wouldn't that mean you two were on such an intimate level that you opened yourself to him?" When he heard no response, he rhetorically inquired, "And what, in this cruel world, is more intimate than lovers?"

"It was more of an accident, and not something of will…" She ran her finger down a scar in the counter of the whiskey shelf, and she was reminded of a great number things, all of which were unpleasant. For the first time since their first meeting, Julius lay his bare hand on hers, gently moving it from the ugly wound.

"You became intimate all the same. Although I can't imagine what it would be like to be intimate with a woman such as yourself." He pressed their palms together, from fingertip to the wrist, his spidery digits larger than hers. They both stared, as if mesmerized by the sight.

"Oh, I'm sure you know."

"What do you mean?"

"Because… You see, that man… Is actually you."

"… What?" His eye snapped towards her, his brows furrowed in confusion; had she turned into a lunatic? There was no way that _he_ was connected to this woman anymore than that of a one-ni-

She dropped her hand and looked up at him with seemingly ageless eyes. 'Almost as if she were an immortal,' he mused.

"Don't tell me you actually believe yourself to be Julius Kingsley. The migraines, the faulty memory, the Knight of Seven constantly harassing you, how wrong your identity feels, as if you were some actor in a badly-written play… None of it is by coincidence. You're not Julius Kingsley, as much as you'd, or others, would like for you to believe."

"Then who, pray tell, am I?" Shifting his weight so that he was completely facing her, he crossed his arms, wondering what kind of a ludicrous answer he would receive.

"Would you really like to know?"

"Of course. If a mistake has been made, then it should be corrected," he lied. He didn't really want to know; he had already dismissed her claim as insanity. There was nothing in this world that would cause someone to completely forget who they were, only to pick up another, completely false, life.

"What if the correction isn't something you want?"

"It is far better to live with the ugly truth, than with a beautiful lie."

She seemed to be contemplating for a moment before finally saying, "Then I will leave the initiation of the unveiling to you."

"And what would the initiation be?"

"It hasn't changed."

"You truly are hell-bent on receiving a kiss from me, aren't you?" he laughed. So this is where it was all leading to. She didn't have to make this kind of preposterous story up; if she had wanted a kiss, she could have just said so. He would have gladly provided it for her.

"Is it wrong to be so determined?"

He chuckled, amused by the willful woman.

"Very well. Since you've been the one diversion from this desert of putrid monotony and ghastly idiocy, I shall grant you your wish."

His boots crushing glass underfoot, he stepped closer and boldly pulled her closer, wrapping his arms securely around her slender waist.

"Would one be enough? Or are you the greedy type?" he murmured, his lips ghosting over her closed eyelids. She sighed; finally, after everything she had suffered through…

"One is more than enough."

"On the lips, I presume."

She nodded and he smiled.

"Such a direct woman… I wonder… Will you close your eyes? Or keep them wide-open?"

"We'll find out soon enough, won't we?"

Amused, he studied her for some time before bending down to capture her lips, only to receive the shock of his life.

As far as he could remember, Julius had never kissed anyone before. Not on the lips, and certainly not sincerely. But he knew that, despite deceit, upon kissing someone, you were never plunged into a disorienting tunnel of blues, whites, and greens.

His eye snapped open, shocked, and yet, he saw the endless, spinning path, and not his bedroom. What was going on? What was this witch doing to him?

Suddenly, he found himself facing Jupiter, the planet spinning in all its glory, before fading away in a flash of light, only to be replaced with, _"Do you wish for the truth?"_

A mysterious slab of stone appeared, towering over him with a primitive design of a bird in flight carved into it, before disconcertingly changing scene to reveal thousands of women dressed in ancient apparel, all with the same sigil on their foreheads.

_"If the truth is what you desire, it is already within your reach."_

He involuntarily let out a small gasp, as the image in his mind, the one place he couldn't escape, returned to blue tunnel.

_"It is simply shut inside the cage of oblivion. Recall… Recall who you truly are, and reclaim the power of the kings… Let the seal now break open!"_

He fell to the ground, stunned, as memory upon hidden memory flooded him, overwhelming him as they washed him in confusion, years and years of a lifetime denied from him all rushing back to their rightful place.

"What…?"

His disoriented eyes focused on the woman, who was kneeling before him. Realizing that she was single-handedly responsible for the emancipation, he ordered, "Tell me your true identity and what your ulterior motive is."

His right eye burned a radiant rouge, the hidden vermillion crane set free from its confine after so long, but the woman didn't comply, as he had expected. Rather, she reached up to her head and pulled away, a wig of amaranth revealing long, silky emerald tresses.

"I've come for you, Lelouch. _We've_ come for you."

He didn't voice his question, but she could read it in his eye.

"The Black Knights want you back."

His experience, his past, as the masked vigilante reappeared, filling in the holes that had riddled his memories. The woman reached up to her eyes, and when her hand moved away, brilliant golden irises blinked at him, as the truth finally set in.

"The Black Knights want Zero back."

**A/N: Reviews were absolutely wonderful! Exactly the kind of thing I was looking for. Thank you, everyone, for being so nice. I really, just... Wow. Thanks. So much.**

**HA! I TOLD YOU THIS CHAPTER WOULD BE LONGER!**

**Okay, some of you (hopefully all of you) will have noticed that I changed my pen name from "Primadonna MBC" to "Ante Auroram Tenebrae". There's a really long backstory on why that happened (and the pen name went through, like, 15 changes within 10 minutes)... But... I may keep it as Ante Auroram Tenebrae, or switch back to Primadonna MBC. While I'm Ante, you can just call me Auroram, or AAT. You don't actually have to spell the entire thing. I mean, geez, even I don't like typing out the entire thing.**

**And yes. Not my best chapter up here. By up here, I mean the second chapter of this story. And here's to the important news regarding this story. Originally, it was supposed to be a romance story (okay, so I guess that's a genre). A romance, and it was going to be a romance, and it is a romance (kinda), and there was going to be hints of action, but not any real action. Like, I wasn't going to write anything with Julius actually being a strategist, I was just going to write about the days BEFORE, the day LEADING UP TO actually doing his job, because why? Because I really do not like to write action/adventure/whatever it is you call it. I really suck at writing action stuff, especially when it concerns Code Geass, because... Have you seen the battles in Code Geass? There is no way that I'll be able to write something that complex and that highly-intellectual. Nuh-uh. But, I mean, if you guys really wanted to see some action, like legit action, then I guess I would. But you know... I'm letting you guys decide.**

**AND NOW. LET'S DISCUSS JULIUS. I really wanted to publish this before the 2nd episode got subbed because... I am really lazy and greedy. I should have waited until I finished The Crazy Coup, but I didn't. Because I wanted to... Basically just make a Julius of my own. Like, we know absolutely nothing on him (or at least close to nothing), so there's a lot of things that I can do to him. Like make his personality as ridiculous as possible, which I kind of did. Speaking of which... I'm sure some of you were surprised by the way I portrayed Julius. Flirtatious, seducing (or has the potential to), a whole new truckload of arrogance... The arrogance... You have to admit, Lelouch is pretty arrogant. Don't get me wrong; I love him. I love his arrogance. It flaws his character even more, which is good, because flawed characters are good for believing in, because if they're not flawed, they don't seem human. So the arrogance, I just increased that a little more. A lot more. But the flirting? Well... I just deleted my author's note three times because I couldn't find a very good way to describe why. So... Thoughts of the flirtatious Julius, anyone?**

**P.S. Don't ask me why I decided to put in the part where Julius bites Aurelia's ear... It just happened. Don't blame me!**


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Code Geass