Chapter One: The Demon's Escape
What was the point of existing in a world of shadows?
Alone, abandoned, Charlotte re Britannia had nothing. Though she was, supposedly, a princess of the Britannian empire, she had been cast away like a peasant, long forgotten beneath the grandeur of the Palace, swathed in a cloak of secrets and lies. Her life was absolutely pointless, and the continuation of it seemed, to her, unnecessary. However, beneath the marble floors of the sprawling fortress, in a solitary room that was heavily guarded day and night, she was given no means to end her useless, incessant breaths.
Any signs of an attempted suicide triggered the entry of, who she assumed to be, doctors, medics, professionals who restrained her from self-destructive behavior and forced her to play the part of the lifeless doll that she was. She detested it, every unwilling beat of her heart, the morsels of food that were shoved down her throat. And all the while, they never looked at her. Not once. Whether they wore blindfolds, or simply cast their gazes away, she had been deprived of eye contact her entire life.
The curse of the Geass had condemned her.
For as long as she could recall, she had possessed it. She wasn't aware of how she had received it, perhaps she had been born with it; Charlotte had never inquired. Not that anyone cared to hear what escaped her lips, she was nothing to them, unimportant. The princess who never was.
But one day, one fateful day, changed everything. It was ordinary as far as the eternal passing of time was for the young female; a slightly stale meal was delivered to her which she ate reluctantly, a routine check-up was performed by a lab coat-clad woman. When she was finally left to her own devices, she reached beneath her thin mattress and procured a small, black book. It wasn't a diary, per se, but simply a means to transfer her feelings unto something tangible, where the words that drifted through her mind became whimsical stories and death-defying adventures.
Her hand was a blur as she wrote, meticulously and neatly, though a bit on the smaller side. So lost in thought was she that the soft whisper of the door opening went unnoticed. It wasn't until the figure loomed in her peripheral vision that Charlotte noticed she had company, and for once, it was not of the questionable-tool-prodding sort.
Startled, periwinkle eyes imprinted with the sigil of a bird immediately flicked upwards, straight into the violet gaze of a stranger. Charlotte gasped as she realized the implications of this, fully understood that she would be the eventual cause of the death of the male standing before her. However, seconds ticked by and... nothing.
"Hello, Charlotte." His voice was confident, stance self-assured, which made sense considering the finery he was bedecked in. She had no doubts he was the current Emperor of Britannia, Lelouch, that the medics and servants were always whispering about, almost always negatively.
She was, more than anything, intrigued, drowning in the endless amethyst orbs that stared at her so unwaveringly. This was not something she had previously experienced, meeting the eyes of another for such an extended period of time. The effects of her Geass were instant. This did not seem to be the case for Lelouch.
Quickly regaining her composure, Charlotte immediately moved off her bed in order to kneel upon the ground in greeting, however a casual hand gesture returned her to her original position. She opted instead to simply bow her head in respect, "Greetings, Your Majesty." Though she had spent the majority of her life not interacting with others, she was well-educated in the art of royal etiquette. "To what do I owe such a pleasure?"
The ghost of a wry smile drifted across Lelouch's lips. "I must say, the pleasure is mine, dear sister. Though aren't you more curious as to how am I still alive?" he queried, arching an eyebrow curiously.
"Certainly. However, I must put such thoughts aside, as I am in the presence of the Emperor. I believe formalities come first," Charlotte responded, tucking a lock of silvery hair behind her ear.
Lelouch appeared to be highly amused by the straightforward statement, chuckling softly as he took in the appearance of the 'cursed princess'. Charlotte would have given anything to know what he was thinking in that moment, but she was soon distracted as he decided to speak once more.
"I am your brother, Charlotte, please treat me as such." After a brief pause, Lelouch continued, "I must apologize for the treatment you have been receiving through the duration of Charles' rule. You will suffer alone no longer, as I am immune to the effects of your Geass." His lips quirked upwards slightly, the expression he wore fond.
"How is that... How is immunity to this even possible?"
"Unfortunately I cannot disclose that information. I will visit you frequently from this point onwards, though I don't believe I can ensure you a room in the main palace, and for that, I am truly sorry," Lelouch apologized, flicking ebony hair from his eyes. Charlotte nodded in understanding, attempting to hide the flash of disappointment by averting her gaze.
As though he could sense the minute displeasure, Lelouch perched on the edge of her bed, grasping Charlotte's hand within his and squeezing comfortingly. "I won't rest until I manage to secure you a safe place to live other than here. You have the potential to do great things, and I shall not have my sister locked in here like a prisoner," he murmured gently.
Once again, Charlotte could only nod, overwhelmed by a tidal wave of emotions. She was touched by the kindness Lelouch displayed, having never before gotten such treatment, especially by someone of such high standing. She was oblivious to the masked calculation that rested in those violet eyes.
* * *
It was three days following the visit of Lelouch when news of his death finally reached her ears. No one outright spoke of it, but the outright joy of the staff and too-loud whispers notified her that her older brother had, indeed, died. No, he hadn't simply passed away. He had been murdered.
An uncontrollable rage welled within Charlotte, though outwardly she remained calm, wearing a familiar, expressionless mask. Of course mere moments after hope had been restored to her it would only be taken away once more, she deserved nothing more than that, after all. It wasn't fair. It simply wasn't fair.
She was unaware of the tears that were streaming down her face, didn't pay heed to the silent sobs that racked her body each night. What little chance at an actual life she may have had was completely gone now, all that was left was despair.
But there was something else, something more subtle... A niggling intuition that refused to be beaten down by the misery. The thought that, perhaps Lelouch wasn't dead after all. It wasn't easy to assassinate an emperor, so what if her brother had somehow survived?
This idea consumed Charlotte for days, nearly swallowing her mind with it's tantalizing tendrils. If Lelouch did indeed still live, she would certainly have to find him, there was no way she could leave him abandoned. She would save him, as he had attempted to save her.
And with that in mind, she began to plan.
