Disclaimer: I do not own Code Geass. Dauntless was created and written by Allora gale.


Allora has been writing Dauntless for almost two years. She has crafted a fantastic world filled with her wonderful OC's - it is truly a entertaining tale. Since I've enjoyed reading Dauntless and it's sometimes speedy updates, I figure it's time I gave something back. Thank you Allora Gale for the hours of entertainment.

This side story has her Go Ahead and hopefully it gives off a dauntless-like-feel.

I have more Side stories planned and time permitting I intend to write them.

Feel free to leave your thoughts in the form of reviews.


Lelouch was idly staring at the passage of time. Tick-tock it went, slowly taunting him of the hour. It was almost midnight when he broke his gaze and checked his surroundings. He immediately noticed the files and folders that were scattered around his table, documents that he had analyzed earlier. He had slowly and methodically scanned each and every document - trying in vain to determine who or what was funding the various Japanese resistance movements.

Of course, confidential documents weren't the only thing cluttering his antique work desk. Neatly stacked on one of the corners was a pile of slightly worn comics. These just weren't any ordinary comics either, these were manga - to some entertaining pieces of literature to others priceless collectables but to most they were relics of a dying culture.

Lelouch had stumbled upon them earlier, in a hidden table drawer of all things. It had happened as he was stretching his legs; his knee had bumped one of the table legs, rotating a segment of it as if it were a dial. It was a strange thing to see at the time, so with his curiosity piqued, he had systematically prodded and fiddled with his antique looking table. It had taken some trial and error but he'd eventually heard a loud mechanical click. It turned out one of the table's drawers had a false bottom and with the proper dial combination it would open. In hindsight, he should have known, after all it was only natural for wealthy and influential people to have hidey holes for that important file or rather, in this case, that questionable hobby.

The whole exercise had seemed like a treasure hunt to Lelouch, he just hadn't known what kind of fortune he would find. He had wondered as to what kind of secrets the former master of the house kept. In his mind it could have been some kind of illicit blackmail material, or documents of earth shattering potential -the kind of things a noble would hide from prying eyes - whatever it was it had promised to be interesting.

So he had excitedly withdrawn the contents, only to discover pages and pages of masterfully drawn girls in provocative poses and skimpy clothing. As he continued to scan through countless pages where some unnamed protagonist or another was pitted time and again in situations that were both comedic and vaguely erotic, he remembered Suzaku mentioning that some manga were written exactly like this; the 'ecchi' and 'harem' genre if he recalled correctly. Not that the genre stopped him from interestingly flipping through the contents and indulging himself at the time – all in all he was still a man - no matter how young or inexperienced. Eventually he had simply put them in a corner, he had a country to run and work to do. Besides, he thought, the faster he finished, the sooner he could pleasure himself - with his manga - they were part-comedy and would often make him smile, amongst other things.

As the grandfather clock in his study struck midnight it emitted a loud clang, jolting the prince from his thoughts. "Time for bed I suppose." He said out loud. As he prepared to depart his study, he glanced longingly back to his new found collection once more. But with a loud sigh he continued walking. The day was done and he simple didn't have the time to entertain such mundane activities, no matter how enjoyable or stimulating. He consoled himself with the thought that there was always tomorrow.

As he walked towards his room he noticed the night staff cleaning one of the villa's drawing rooms. That just wouldn't do. He quickly flipped out his phone and pressed the speed dial.

"Yes, Lelouch?" A familiar alto answered after a few rings.

"Edith. Please make sure the maids stay away from my study."

"Of course, Lelouch. Is there anything else you need?" She replied in her no nonsense tone.

"That's it, good night." He replied whilst cutting the line.

With that he had ensured that the maids wouldn't see the top secret documents – and as an added bonus they wouldn't see the not-so-wholesome manga either. A win-win in his book. He had his image to think about - the rumor about C.C being his mistress was bad enough, but if someone found them his nightmare might just come true. No matter how unlikely, he definitely didn't want to be labeled the Pervert of Britannia. With a quick grimace at the thought he turned into a hallway.

As Lelouch got closer to his room he started feeling the cumulative fatigue of the long hours of this particularly long week. So as he round the corner, inches from his designated room, he could think of nothing more than the peaceful embrace of sleep. However, as he entered his familiar moonlit room, something at the back of his mind nagged him that something was unusual. He could feel his body's senses quickly heightening as adrenaline pumped through his veins, his senses going into overdrive into finding what exactly set him off.

In the span of a few seconds he had crossed out numerous items on his mental checklist, from his secured windows to C.C.'s trousers that were currently on the floor. Perhaps he was just tired, but he couldn't quite place what was wrong. He continued to run down the list; comfortable luxury bed - check, C.C. soundly asleep wearing his shirt - check, nice warm blankets waiting for him - check, a single pillow in the middle of the bed . . .

And just like that the ruler of Area Eleven's mind hit the mental breaks, it was paramount to a high-speed crash. He was simply dumbfounded. Where, he wondered, was the great wall of pillows? Why was the usual barrier between him and his unwanted bedfellow reduced to a single, nondescript, white pillow? Even as he wondered why his mind couldn't help think that the scene was familiar.

And just like that, his mind flashed back to a scene from one particular chapter. In which the protagonist (who just happened to be a prince) was seduced in his own bed by a wily witch.

"J- Jeannine! W-What are you doing here?" The protagonist asked.

But the witch just smiled seductively and slowly crawled toward him. Closer and closer she came and for every movement - little by little her robe slowly peeled off her lithe body, showing more and more of her hidden treasure. Her eyes never left his as she inched closer. When the witch's face was finally inches away from the prince's, she simply answered huskily "Just getting ready for bed, milord"

Before Lelouch could continue daydreaming the entire scene, C.C.'s sleeping figure moved just a tiny bit - an exhale, inadvertently causing him to glance at her – something he immediately regretted. His eyes were glued to her body like a child watching cartoons for the first time. He especially kept his eyes on his shirt – it was only partly buttoned but it was also slowly riding up just past her navel, giving Lelouch more glimpses of creamy flesh. As his eyes continued to wander - they caught the slight outline of her curves, taunting him of hidden pleasures that he could only begin to fathom. She was so close, and as he made a move to feel her soft, supple skin - inches away - his mind snapped him out of his fantasy with the force of a battering ram. In his daze to understand what he almost did, he came to one shocking conclusion.

He was turning into a pervert.

That wasn't acceptable. Not to him, not ever. It was all the manga's fault, it had filled his imagination with all kinds of lewd things - he had to get rid it. Then another thought hit him. What if the witch planted the manga? Or even worse. What if she'd seen him reading the manga? In his sleep deprived state, he concluded that this was all some kind of master plan of hers. No one really understood why C.C. did the things she did, but it all made sense to the prince. Why else would she wear nothing but his shirt to bed or forgo the usual border of pillows?

Because she was toying with him... again.

Then his rational mind countered that it could just be one big coincidence. His mind continued to go awry until he discovered the time. Had he really just spent twenty minutes hovering uncertainly next to his bed?

He was losing important sleep over this. Maybe that was C.C's plan - get him so tired that he would just say yes to the new pizza stove she'd been bugging him about. Of course. That was probably it. And he wasn't about to let her win.

A couple of sleeping pills later and he was sound asleep, completely oblivious to anything and everything around him.

Edith Cardston's eyes scanned page after page on the brightly lit screen, ensuring her files were in order. Technically she was off the clock, unfortunately her job never ended. Not that she was complaining – not in her wildest dreams had she ever expected to be a prince's personal assistant.

It was a surprising thing really. She'd prided herself when she was promoted to chamberlain from a mere maid. To her it didn't matter that the Aeries Villa had lost its prestige when the consort died or that it was merely a rest stop for various dignitaries or politicians trying to curry favor. All that had mattered was that it was her domain and that she had achieved it with her own merit. Then came along Prince Lelouch Vi Britannia and, with hurricane like force, her world was changed forever.

She was happy; working for Lelouch was fulfilling – she knew she was making a difference, Area Eleven was infinitely better with him as viceroy - and given half the chance she knew he would change the world, and she'd be right there behind him.

With a few quick button presses her work was saved. It was time for her other duties, so she stretched slightly before getting up. She was also de facto ruler of the household. Ensuring that everything ran smoothly in a villa of this size was akin to coaching a championship team – at the best of times things ran just like a winning team should, smoothly, but at the worst of times it was a cacophony of organized chaos.

Not that she didn't enjoy it, but sometimes it was time consuming. A perfect example of which was exactly what she was doing now; striding through the halls because she had to check on the night staff. Even though she didn't need to - the eleven maids were very efficient yet; it always helped to have the boss look around. It wasn't a difficult task; in fact she thought it was even relaxing to go back to the ordinary affairs of household management.

As she was moving through the house, her phone starting ringing to a tune that alerted her that the prince was calling.

In one quick motion, she retrieved her phone and answered.

"Yes, Lelouch?"

"Edith. Please make sure the maids stay away from my study." He responded with his unique prince-like tone - part request, part command.

"Of course, Lelouch. Is there anything else you need?" She asked steadily, keeping her mirth under control. It just wouldn't do to remind the prince that there was a lock in his study.

"That's it, good bye" He replied whilst cutting the line.

"Now, that's interesting." she said to herself.

In all her time in the prince's employ, she had received plenty of odd requests. Locking a door was pretty mundane, but the question was why. Lelouch trusted the staff not to go into his study, and even if he didn't the halls were monitored. The command was awfully fishy, almost as if he was hiding something – it wasn't normal, it seemed to lack his usual finesse. Perhaps she'd just have to have a look-see. He'd only mentioned the maid's after all. With renewed vigor, she changed direction and headed towards the prince's study, her long strides echoing through the silent night.

Sayuri was doing her rounds, ensuring everything was neat and proper. It was just another work night for her, but with the late hours slowly crawling by it was only natural that she hated the night-shift. Unluckily for her, the towering stature of her employer required a full staff at all hours. This was her second time working the nightshift and it was just how she remembered it; painfully boring. Huge swaths of time with nothing to do - a far cry from the busy hustle and bustle of the day.

She came to stop at one of the villa's many sitting rooms. Her brief examination of the hallways concluded what she already knew: Princess Abigail hadn't moved from the library. She had glimpsed her presence there during her first round around the floor and she hadn't moved since. It was now her eighth round on this particular floor.

From what she saw in each and every time she passed by; Sayuri noticed that the princess was engrossed in a hardbound book. There was nothing strange about that – at least until she'd started drinking. With each of her walkabouts she could feel the woman becoming more and more inebriated. It was the little things that gave it away.

The first clue was the giggling; the prim and proper lady never giggled and most certainly not like a schoolgirl talking about their crush. It was so out of character, Sayuri mused that it would probably get her another slice of chef Samantha White's world famous cheesecake - that woman loved her gossip.

The second clue was a bit more subtle. The princess, from the first day she'd arrived, gave the look whenever the staff were around. Her eyes would narrow, her face would scrunch up as if it smelled something foul - that haughty blueblood look every noble seemed to have that implied 'I'm better then you, filthy Eleven'.

She was ignored the first couple of times she passed by, but as time went on, every time the young maid would walk through the halls - the princess would glance up and for the briefest of moments the tell tale signs of disappointment would adorn her features, as if the princess was hoping for someone else.

The whole scenario was unusual and a bit sad to say the least. It almost made her want to keep the story for herself.


She'd decide later, as natural as gossip was she didn't want any of it coming back and hurting the Viceroy. It certainly wasn't in her nature to want to hurt anyone and certainly not someone she liked. So no matter how insignificant the damage might be, it was something she'd have to consider carefully. No matter how much fun it would've been to talk about the 'princess', she wouldn't if it would negatively affect the Viceroy.

She owed Lelouch-sama that much. Not that she was alone in that category. She, along with many others, thought the newly arrived prince was merely stringing them along. Speech or no, for the first few days the she could practically feel the proverbial sword of Damocles hanging over their heads, waiting to end their very existences. Everyone watched their steps very closely, ensuring that they didn't misstep. It wasn't like her reasoning was flawed either. Britannian citizens loathed the Numbers and, at least in her mind, she'd thought the notorious prince would likely embody the values of his homeland.

Fortunately, she was proven wrong.

The first inkling she had of everything being more than some nefarious plot was when Cardston-san had announced that everyone was getting a small raise befitting employees of the vi Britannia estate. At the time, she'd thought it couldn't be more than few more pounds per paycheck. That is until she finally did receive her next check. The magnitude of the increase was so shocking that she'd immediately thought it couldn't have been anything but a mistake. She had quickly called her coworkers to discuss the error, but apparently she wasn't the only one. One-by-one her coworkers had confirmed the sum of the money they'd made.

It shouldn't have been possible that mere Numbers - most with no post-secondary education – could make more than lower-class Britannians. So the following day, with a stomach full of anxiety, Sayuri had delicately asked Cardston-san about it. Unfortunately, her English skills were not yet up to par and only lead to Edith misunderstanding her. But nonetheless the response was something that was engraved into her memory.

"If you think you're not being compensated enough, Sayuri, I can schedule you a meeting with the prince. But you're already getting paid slightly more than me when I was a maid. "

The words didn't immediately register at the time to the young Japanese maid, but what did grab her attention was that Prince Lelouch vi Britannia's personal assistant had treated her like she would an equal. Gone from her expression was the look of disdain that she usually got from Britannians. If that wasn't enough of a shock, the words she uttered most certainly were. A maid - a mere Number - getting offered a personal appointment with a prince. It was surreal and at the time it was like she was getting hit by lightning - repeatedly. She was so embarrassed that she had stumbled through her limited vocabulary trying to explain. Needless to say it had taken time, but she had eventually gotten her point across. Thankfully, Edith Cardston was one patient individual.

An echo of footsteps echoed through the hallways, alerting Sayuri that Princess Abigail was finally turning in for the night - or so she hoped. She stealthily crept toward the hallway, hoping to catch a glimpse of the lady. As she neared the hallway she snuck a glance and certainly enough there the princess was – the lady was walking steadily in a not-so-straight line, her body wobbling ever so slightly from side to side, indicating to the world her intoxication.

Sayuri followed at a discreet distance, watching as the lady ascended the stairs. As the lady safely disappeared from view, she hurriedly did a one-eighty and headed back to the library.

Edith had arrived at the prince's study with the intent of taking a quick look around. She surveyed the room with military-like precision, observing everything and admiring nothing. At least until something caught her inquisitive gaze. It was a stack of books sitting neatly on the corner of his antique desk. With stacks of plain, manila office folders occupying the desk, the worn yet colorful covers made the books stick out like a sore thumb.

Upon closer inspection, she quickly discovered that they weren't quite what she expected. They were books alright; but instead of being filled with the usual words, she saw artfully drawn pictures instead. She didn't think much of it and almost placed the pseudo-book back in the stack, but her curiosity had gotten the better of her.

Edith didn't understand kanji, but she could at least look at the pictures. She stood ever so quietly, slowly flipping through the pages, examining the pictures with interest.

"It couldn't be." She whispered as her face slowly reddened.

Faster and faster she flipped through the pages. No longer was she analyzing the pages – now she scanned them speedily and with all the finesse of a drunken sailor. When she finished with one, her hands merely reached for another, then another.

Finally, her mind had caught up to what she was seeing, she involuntary let out a gasp, as if she had been struck, inadvertently letting go of the comic, with gravity taking its course it fell with an inaudible thud.

The contents came as a terrible surprise to the young woman. She was the prince's assistant – his right hand. She thought she knew her prince, yet the evidence was here. It was ironclad! He had hidden it so well, but the prince's secret was out, at least to her.

Lelouch vi Britannia was a pervert.

How else could she rationally explain those pages filled with erotically drawn women? Though she had no idea what was being said in the comics, there couldn't be any other explanation. Right?

She needed to have another look. This was her prince, she couldn't afford assumptions. Knowing anything and everything about Lelouch was her job, even if it was just about his smut. So with all the energy with a woman on a mission, she picked one of them at random and started going through it again.

Upon closer examination she quickly discovered a few things. Yes, they were filled with provocative woman in rather lewd attire, but that was as far as the comics went. From what she understood of the scenes, the protagonist would either a) get into a situation where he would accidentally brush against a woman's or women's private parts and summarily get beaten half to death or b) have a band of devoted yet seductive hanger-on's that he didn't quite seem to know what to do with. All-in-all these seemed more to her like situations that the average teenage boy fantasized about.

Perhaps, Edith pondered . . . That C.C. could have driven her prince into looking into this particular brand of stress relief. Not that she could fault him. Powerful he may be, he was still young, a teenager even. Her prince could only cope for so long, with all the subtle teasing the sly woman's done. It was a wonder that Lelouch was only giving in now.

Nevertheless, it was her responsibility to look after the prince as well. So if a few comics gave him the stress relief he desired, then who was she to argue? It was just another thing the prince had deemed to hide from her. To ensure he wouldn't be too embarrassed, she'd just have to feign innocence. Before she left, she'd just have to make sure that she'd leave no trace. It was always nice to give Lelouch the illusion of privacy.

Edith Cardston had just turned into the north hallway. Her gait was slow but steady, her eyes roving about, scanning her surroundings. By this late hour, she was usually done with her rounds. But Sayuri, the young Japanese maid had proved elusive. The northern hallway and its adjoining rooms were the last places she had to look. She was certain the Eleven was nearby.

Up ahead, the echo of a door being shut alerted Edith to her target's whereabouts. Her sharp eyes looked up and narrowed, the sound had come from the end of the hallway - the library. Time for payback she thought.

She silently moved towards one of the hallway's alcoves, a larger then average threshold that lead into a sitting room. Ensuring that she couldn't be seen from the corner which led into the library, she leaned towards the door and made herself comfortable as she laid in wait like a tiger waiting to pounce on a unsuspecting victim.

She didn't have to wait long. The soft clang of glass bottles gave away the young woman's position, closer-and-closer she came, unsuspectingly walking into her grasp. She waited and she waited until she saw her quarry – she continued walking and time seemed to slow ever so slightly as the maid unknowingly passed her by .

Once the girl had passed, she silently stepped out behind her. The Eleven was only a few feet away when she called out to her.


Any notion that the young woman had noticed Edith as she'd passed was erased when she visibly jumped in surprise.

Edith's expression of smug satisfaction quickly turned into abject horror as the young maid spun towards the voice. It was a mere reflex reaction, but it inadvertently caused a chain reaction. Sayuri started to stumble – which quickly escalated into the maid's flailing out. Empty wine bottles and a book came tumbling down as her now empty hands tried to reach anything to steady her. Unfortunately, gravity was too strong and the maid's course was set. She fell backwards, mouth slightly agape in a silent scream and as quickly as it started, it was over. The maid was safely back onto Earth as her bum landed with a silent thud.

"Oh my - Are you ok?" Edith Cardston asked in concern, reaching out to help the young girl.

"C-Cardston-san," The Eleven managed to stammer out, taking the offered hand. "I'm fine." She finally responded with a shy smile as she stood.

"Are you sure?" The assistant asked as she surveyed the younger woman. All in all, the young woman seemed alright. Sure, her dark locks were slightly frayed from the fall and her usually immaculate uniform was slightly wrinkled, but besides that she didn't seem injured.

"Yes, Ma'am" And as if to prove her point, she bent down smoothly and reached for one of the empty wine bottles.

"I'm terribly sorry – you're so jumpy tonight – perhaps surprising you wasn't one of my better ideas" Edith apologized, as she bent down to help out, reaching for the hardbound book.

"It's ok Cardston-san; I was just…um - daydreaming?" The maid replied hesitantly.

"Yes, that's the right word." Helping the girl along. "It's nice to see you've been expanding your vocabulary, Sayuri – But what are you doing with this?" She asked as she held the book in front of her. there were no distinguishing marks upon the tome except for the bold letters 'The Sensuous Embrace'.

Sayuri blushed about four shades redder, as if Edith had caught her with her hands in the cookie jar. In a way she had. 'The Sensual Embrace' was a recent Britannian Times best seller. It was rumored to inflame the imaginations of lonely woman everywhere with its descriptive scenes making even the most experienced of women blush.

"Umm…ano..It's the princess'." She managed to stammer.

Edith, unsatisfied with the response, narrowed her eyes into a withering glare as if to say 'And?', pinning the young woman in place. Sweat trickled down the maid's forehead, her empty hand clenched and unclenched repeatedly as she wilted under the pressure. Unused to such looks from her immediate superior she quickly caved, answering hesitantly "She was…drunk. She forgot it when she left."

Edith gave Sayuri a short reprieve as the maid reached for the last wayward bottle. She didn't posses the prince's almost inhumanly analytical mind but she was almost certain that she knew why the usual cheerful Sayuri was so nervous - she'd just have to verify it. Being a boss did have its perks.

"So . . ." Edith paused dramatically, hoping to lull Sayuri into complacency. After a few moments of silence, the Canadian struck with words as her weapon. Her stern voice ringing out, "Did you read it."

Edith had worded it as a question, but for all intents and purposes she'd presented it as a fact - as if she was a lawyer presenting evidence. The effect on the maid was just as good as she was hoping. She was used to seeing Sayuri as a cheerful, average, Japanese teen. But as soon as her statement struck, the effect was almost instantiations. Wide-eyed, Sayuri stood stalk still as if time had stopped; her mouth opened and closed making an accurate impression of a giant fish.

Seconds ticked by with no change, the Asian's expression was too much. Edith couldn't hold it any longer and started giggling uncontrollably.

"If you could . . . only see . . . your face. It's priceless." She managed to say between giggles. "It's okay. You aren't in trouble. Don't look at me like that, you made me look all over for you. Now why don't you tell me about her royal highness. Don't leave out any details."

Edith started moving past Sayuri, confident that the maid would follow. As she waited for the girl to catch up, Edith pondered just why the princess had decided to get intoxicated and what she had done after. But as she started listening to the tale, she left her questions for tomorrow – hopeful that the answers would be entertaining.

Lelouch awoke ever so slowly, his eyes groggily blinking open and shut trying to adjust to the predawn light piercing through the curtains. It was a start of a new day but despite the fact that he was an early riser, his mind was yet to fully awaken. Thus seeing a rare opportunity, his subconscious, enjoying his current comfort, struck and quietly but forcefully told him to go back to sleep. A few seconds later the prince found himself unwittingly yet eagerly shutting his eyes, giving in to the inevitable.

Before he could submit to the blissful embrace of quiet oblivion, his conscious mind, honed by the hard rigors of military training, noticed something amiss. With his eyes still closed and in his groggy state, it was a couple moments before he noticed a few strange details. The first of which, was the unnatural yet comforting warmth he felt. Noting the anomaly, and with his mind given a task, his thoughts began to clear more and more as it revved its engine. Little by little additional details came flooding in. Alone, none of it was alarming, but together and arriving in an alarming cascade of data, the prince began to ever-so-slightly feel the weight of his predicament.

He quickly noticed the added weight to his body, at first he thought it was a pillow; the notion only lasted for a split-second as he felt the pressure pleasantly constricting around him. As he tried to think, a distracting tickle of hot air hit him from behind his nape - it was warm and moist, it came and went in a constant rhythm. It was so sudden and yet it felt so familiar, it almost reminded him of those days when he slept by Nunnally's side - the impromptu thought made him pause as the ominous realization jolted him fully awake.

Lying on his side, he cautiously opened his eyes and began to take stock of the situation. He immediately noticed a tangle of green hair just at his neck-line blocking his view downwards. It was obvious that C.C. was currently resting her head on his chest. Not only that, but he could also feel her limbs entwined comfortably around his.

Her smooth and creamy skin in such close proximity to him had effects on his young and virgin body. It was a natural reaction he told himself. Still, Lelouch wanted to move- to caress and feel what was around him - his iron-will stayed his hand, lest he awaken the terrible witch. After all, who knew how C.C would react if she woke to his limbs entwined with hers, let alone if he started exploring her body with his hands.

Sometimes being a hormonal teenager was a hazard. It had taken less than a minute to notice something amiss and find the culprit. Yet once he realized the unlucky or rather lucky situation he was in, his subconscious started bringing up to the front of his mind, images and scenes vaguely familiar to his current situation, all of them he mused often lead to illicit outcomes. So instead of roaming his hands in places he knew he shouldn't touch he relaxed into the embrace, enjoying the comfort and warmth it provided. It was a opportunity no matter how awkward it was and his mother had raised him to take the plus in any situation.

Before his brain tricked him into acting like a pervert, another blast of warm air hit him from behind. His eyes widened comically as he felt a pair of arms coming from behind, tightening their hold on his body. The being behind him pressed into him until he could feel soft and supple mounds hitting his backside.

He may have forgotten about that little detail in his excitement

Panicking, his mind went into overdrive once more. C.C was one thing, she wouldn't do anything to impede his goals but another woman was another thing all together and they were such terrible foes. He inhaled sharply trying to calm himself, breath in – breath out. He continued to do so until he caught a familiar whiff of lavender. Given a clue, he tackled his memories, searching for a face that matched the specific scent profile.

His analytical mind, his sharpest and most potent weapon, froze in realization. He was dumbfounded, he was nervous, his blood pressure started to rise exponentially. He was just short of hyperventilating as he pondered the consequences of this moment. There was only one person he knew who wore Lavender scented perfumes. A trickle of sweat dripped down from his brow.

Lelouch thought himself experienced in bad situations. He'd started young, at the tender age of ten, when he'd seen his mother murdered and his sister crippled. As a child he had walked the war torn streets of Japan with little hope of survival. During his teenage years he had to deal with one Milly Ashford, the scourge of everything that was normal. He had gone to war, resulting in hundreds of civilian deaths – deaths by his hand. He had committed Fratricide with no remorse, ending Clovis's life like it was any other. He was Lelouch Vi. Britannia; prince and viceroy - military man and politician but none of that could have prepared him for this. In short, the Wolf of Britannia, scourge of the enemies of the empire, was totally and utterly screwed.

At least no one had walked in on them.

He should have known better then to jinx it.

The telltale sound of a door knob being turned quickly followed his thoughts, as if fate was taunting him.

The door opened.

"Lelou-"A familiar alto stopped mid-word. A moment passed . . . he held his breath. A second later he heard a click, and the door shutting silently. As he mentally noted to give his assistant another raise, the woman behind him started stirring. Her arms wrapped around him moved ever so slightly, her face nuzzling his neck. When she stilled, he started breathing again. He wanted to scream in frustration. There was no way out. He was intimately sandwiched between two women. Most teenagers would consider this a dream-come-true, but to the Viceroy of Area Eleven, this was a living nightmare.

He closed his eyes, removing the added stimuli, as he pondered a solution to his problem. He tried moving but it was no use, he was being boxed in by two sets of limbs. It was futile to attempt to move, he need a plan B and he need it fast, time was running out and it was only a matter of time before one of his bedmates would awaken.

With a quiet sigh, he opened his eyes and his soul almost jumped out of its physical confines in shock. The witch was awake. She was composed and sporting that damnable Cheshire grin of hers, as if everything was going her way. Which it probably was. She was staring at him from her perch on his chest and when she was sure she had his attention, she winked.

She didn't stop there either. She just had to push the envelope as she began caressing a hand that most certainly didn't belong to her. Not soon after, the woman behind him began stirring once more. He glanced at her almost pleadingly for her to stop - to desist. If his wife awoke to this situation, the harpy just might eat him alive. And Abigail had proven she was devious.

The stirring stopped and everything was still. He didn't have long to wonder why as the witch silently mouthed a single, smug word.


Abigail's head was throbbing and she had the distinct sensation of her entire world rocking every time she shifted or, actually, it was every time she breathed. She took a deep breath to quell the sickness and decided that perhaps her night of guilty pleasures – of wine and chocolate and reading material explicit enough to make even a whore blush – hadn't been such a good idea.

But the results hadn't been all bad, she decided as she cracked open her gaze slightly to find her face nestled into the nape of Lelouch's neck and her arm slung over his stomach, hand half touching flesh where his pajamas had ridden up. In fact, in her current state, she could almost forgive the other arm – tipped with trashy, red-painted fingernails – that was also draped over him only a couple inches higher than hers.


She took a deep breath, forgetting that it was a surefire way to make her nauseous, and snuggled closer to her husband. There was some reassurance in that. Whatever C.C. was, she would never be his wife. Not unless Lelouch became Emperor and decided to take another. But even then, she would still be first.

But for now, her claim on Lelouch was recognized by law. And as far as she'd been able to find out, C.C. wasn't even recognized as a citizen of the Empire. No one would have faulted her for seeing the woman deported to whatever country it was she'd come from – probably the E.U. - but . . . but C.C. had saved her life.

She'd been certain she was going to die at the hands her clearly unhinged kidnapper's barbaric device. She'd been certain that Lelouch wasn't coming for her. He'd told her he wouldn't save her to try to keep her in the capitol, and she'd disregarded his warnings and risked herself anyway. So she'd been miserably trying to prepare herself for death when C.C. had casually strolled in, gun drawn.

She'd thought it had made sense. She'd thought that the damnable woman that had weaseled her way into her husband's bed had come to finish her off personally. But it hadn't turned out anything like that.

And so now . . . now she wasn't quite sure what to do with the woman. It wasn't in her nature to give up, and by no means was she willing to relinquish her tie to Lelouch. She wasn't going to back down, even if she did owe her husband's mistress her life. But neither could she aggressively pursue the goal of being rid of the woman.

It left them in a bit of a difficult situation.

These days, for the most part, they practiced avoiding each other. Whereas before, she might have sought the annoying woman out for the sole purpose of flaunting her power and position, now she just tried now to run into her. C.C. had seemed to have been doing the same thing.

Which is why this situation was all the more bizarre. C.C. must have come in after she'd gone to bed just to cause a scene. Because surely there was no way that she'd been too drunk to notice another woman in her and her husband's bed. That was certainly impossible.

Lelouch was probably loving this – or he probably would have been if he'd been awake. Two women in the same bed and neither one had started screaming at the other yet. Though, even if she'd wanted to, she was sure that screaming right now would have split her skull. It was already throbbing enough as is.

She sighed softly. What now?

Should she silently slip out while they were both still asleep to avoid a potentially awkward situation? Why? Why should she?

She wasn't that meek.

This was her bed. Lelouch was her husband and she had every right in the world to be here. C.C., on the other hand, did not. The annoying woman was intruding on what was important, and rare, together time. And thanks to her intoxication, she'd already broken boundaries she'd never breached before.

She'd never held Lelouch this closely before. Even when she'd stayed with him on Nunnally's birthday, they hadn't cuddled his closely. Usually, she turned her back to him when she slept to prevent herself from doing exactly this. So this was exciting new territory and C.C. was ruining it with the way she was wantonly draped all over him like the harlot she was, wearing hardly anything but one of Lelouch's shirts that was barely done up.

She hated the woman and she wanted her gone. She didn't care where the woman went right now as long as it wasn't here.

How to make that happen was another story all together.

She was just considering how she could make that happen – methods varying from silently pinching her so she wouldn't wake Lelouch, and pulling her horrendous green hair – when the other woman shifted, propping herself up on an elbow before looking sleepily around the room.

Abigail gave her best, withering, 'get the hell out of my husband's bed' glare and, surprisingly enough, it worked. C.C. quietly threw back the covers and got out of the bed. Abigail watched her go, glaring the entire time while inwardly speculating on the black lace knickers the other woman was wearing.

Did she wear them because Lelouch liked them or because she herself liked them? If it was the former, perhaps she would have to look into acquiring a pair for herself.

But for right now, such inconsequential thoughts didn't bear thinking about. Because right now, she had Lelouch all to herself.

She smiled slightly and snuggled a bit closer to him, breathing in his scent as she closed her eyes again. If she fell asleep like this, with Lelouch trapped in her arms, he might not wake her up when he wanted to get up. Maybe he'd just lay here with her, like a real husband and wife should.

C.C. grinned in anticipation. She slowly but surely peeled away the packaging tape from her parcel. The contents was something she'd been eagerly waiting for. It was a limited edition plush toy, a pizza hut promo. When the package was finally unsealed, she quickly opened it and released cheese-kun from his confines. It was a momentous occasion, all the planning - all the work, came full circle. As she found the stuffed toy to be everything she imagined.

At almost half her size, it was big enough to hug yet small enough to take anywhere. It had a small but quaint looking bowler hat that hanged off its head. It had a roguish charm that she simply found adorable. Its offset orange skin, more yellow then red would gave her the eye-catching flare she desired. She silently imagined how the staff would react to her lugging it about the Villa.

She gave out a contented sigh as she held it in her arms, she'd always been a sucker for stuffed toys. Yet this one would be different. It would be a constant reminder to Lelouch, that when she wanted something, he'd better listen.

Sure, she merely took advantage of Abigail's presence - after all the woman wasn't a part of the plan. Yet when she heard her clumsily barging into the room, she did what she did best. She adapted to the situation and found herself snuggling into Lelouch. Something that the Princess quickly imitated. The woman even grabbed her hand at one point.

At the time she had two options. Disentangle herself from the married couple or stay where she was. Ultimately, she decided to stay put - to keep her cover as Lelouch's mistress or so she kept telling herself. After all, Lelouch's warmth was too great a commodity not to enjoy, not that she'd ever admit it. So, she jeopardized her plan. Instead of waiting to pounce on a waking Lelouch, she fell asleep.

It was a good thing she woke up when Lelouch was subtly moving around. If she didn't she wouldn't had the chance to coerce the Prince into expanding her pizza allowance. The whole thing was amusing of course. Who would of thought. The big bad wolf of Britannia scared of confronting his sleeping wife. It was probably the only reason Lelouch caved so quickly.

Not that Abigail was any less amusing. One caress too many caused the young woman to wake. Her code notifying her of the woman's state. Yet unexpectedly, the Princess feigned sleep as well. The awoken princess merely moved about, something which seemed to increase C.C.'s leverage tenfold. Which quickly resulted in Lelouch giving in. She repaid her unwitting help by leaving the room. It took all her willpower not to giggle as Abigail glared at her. She couldn't help it the poor woman didn't look very intimidating at all, then there was the way she starred at her clothes. It was if the Princess had never seen a button-up shirt before.

The whole event was entertaining and she managed to snag more pizza money, a win in her book. She wondered what she could do next. Taking their reactions into account. She decided that maybe, just maybe. That she had given Abigail enough space. Maybe it was time to turn her sights on her? Then again, there was always Edith.

AN: If you're looking for a good read, please try my community. I'm certain something there will catch your eye. Oh and let me know what you think about this Side story.