The Power of the Queen - Chapter 1

[blackrose]

<b>Title:</b> The Power of the Queen
<b>Characters/Pairings:</b> Marianne POV. Euphie x Lelouch (in this chapter)
<b>Rating:</b> PG/PG-13
<b>Summary:</b> A mother's love is never a terrible thing...until it's combined with the power of Geass.

<b>AN</b>: The introduction paragraph should help spell this out, but most of the story is written as a collection of Marianne's memories set during Euphie and Lelouch's childhood. We will eventually catch up with events in the series and even move past episode 23.</p>
<p>The overall story spans 6 chapters + epilogue, and various (COMPLETED!)'side stories' will appear as I can get everything edited and posted. Thanks so much to everyone who takes the time to read this. Love, Rose</p>

PS - The 3 Musketeer name references are just your imagination. ^__~

<hr size=1 width=100% noshade>Chapter 1<p><i>Euphemia's mother, Bethany Valliere li Britannia, was a wisp of a woman with pale, delicate skin. We were, of course, rivals at court when your father and I first married. And exact opposites from one another. </i></p><p><i>Bethany wore her light blond hair up in an elegant style. I let my dark curls tumble freely down my back. She spoke in a soft, gentle tone. I was known, scourged even, by the court for laughing out loud and raising my voice to 'inappropriate' levels. </i></p><p><i>I never knew what Charles saw in her. She always seemed so frail, and as you are well aware, Lelouch, your father detests less than the strongest and the fittest of anything. Midway through Bethany's pregnancy (her second) she was placed on constant bed rest. I still went for walks and continued to keep my gardens until almost the day you were born. </i></p><p><i>But Bethany had some things I could never have: position; wealth; power outside your father's influence. Her father was a Baron, and her sons would have held a direct line to the throne. Had she given birth to any boys. Instead, Bethany had two daughters ? Cornelia, who was four years old when I had you. And Euphemia. Born several months after you.</i></p><p><i>All these things, you already know. But in the aftershocks of today's events, I feel the need to gather my thoughts and memories. The time of your ascension to this kingdom's throne grows near. And nearer still is having to face the judgment of the Queen.</i></p><p><i>- </i></p><p><i>Something you may not have known was how close your father came to throwing Bethany out of the house when she dared give him another daughter. The emperor wanted sons, not "useless" women who could barely buy the loyalty of a foreign prince or diplomat. I managed to stay in his good graces by having a boy. And so I was forgiven when I insisted that Bethany and her two daughters be allowed to stay.</i></p><p><i>Shortly after I took up for dear Bethany (and Euphemia), I found myself - the common woman the emperor deigned to make his wife solely for her sturdy genes and strong will - graced with the friendship of Bethany Valliere li Britannia. She taught me all the proper courtly etiquette I'd been tromping over since my wedding day, and even forgave me for having the things she didn't: a son, and an iota of your father's respect.</i></p><p><i>I suppose it's a natural inclination for a mother to wish for her son to marry the daughter of a friend and ally, but I admit it didn't occur to me, then. As much as I was happy and relieved to have Bethany's friendship in an otherwise lonely existence ? save for you, my dear son ? I was raised Roman Catholic. And so the idea of you and Euphemia?</i></p><p><i>No matter how I looked at it, I could never get over the simple truth?As much as you seemed to love her, she was your half-sister.</i></p><p><i>- </i></p><p>"They are so different, Marianne. You could hardly believe these children are related." Bethany glanced up from her needlepoint and nodded in the direction of the walk behind me. We sat on a blanket spread over the lawn, amidst my gardens, in the middle of the afternoon. After several days of rainfall, the sun had finally poked its head through the curtain of clouds. I can still smell the scent of rain and magnolias?</p><p>Unlike Bethany, I didn't live in the castle. Instead, Charles gave me a small cottage on his vast property ? only separated from the larger building by an English-style garden ? as a wedding present. I enjoyed sitting idly in the sun, or playing with our children. Bethany always had to be sewing her embroidery.</p><p>I turned to look, wondering if it had really taken her four years to notice, or if there was something new that my son and her daughter had at odds with one another. Motherly instinct brought my eyes directly to my son, bent over, hands resting on his knees while he gasped for air. The sun glinted in his dark brown hair. My son, the prince.</p><p>"Lelouch!" A girlish squeal rang out and he turned at the same moment I did. Euphemia ran with her arms outstretched, her light, strawberry hair streaming behind her. A wary butterfly fluttered just beyond her reach</p><p>Euphemia was a happy, affectionate girl, with blue eyes the same hue as her mother's - but the little girl made the color seem vivid and alive. Bethany's eyes always reminded me of a faded watercolor canvas.</p><p>'So different' didn't quite cover the contrast between my son and her daughter, but Bethany and I had little in common ourselves. Lelouch had my dark hair and tan skin, my violet eyes and stubborn demeanor. He had the added detriment of his father's temper and resentful humor ? when he wasn't getting his way. Which was whenever he was around his older brothers Clovis and Schneizel. Euphemia had her mother's pale skin, which freckled in the sun. And she had Bethany's smile.</p><p>"Mine!" The pink-haired girl yelled and continued to give chase to the poor butterfly. Lelouch sat down in the grass (a favorite position of his mother's), and just watched the little girl run.</p><p>"She's very determined." I turned back to my friend. Her needlepoint lay forgotten in her lap. "Beth?"</p><p>She shook her head and focused her attention on me. "Yes. It must be her father's trait. I doubt she gets any of that from me."</p><p>"Well, it's inevitable that they get something from their father." I picked a blade of grass from the ruffle of my skirt. "At least she didn't get his temper. Lelouch?" I sighed. "He stomps his foot and screams at me when he doesn't like something."</p><p>"Yes." Bethany picked up the small, circular frame that held her embroidery, and stared at the canvas. "Euphemia can be willful when she chooses. Most of the time, though?" She lowered her sewing, again. Her shoulders slumped.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"It's nothing." Bethany raised her head. She pulled her mouth into a smile. "Nothing you or I have any say in anyway. It's the way things are. And who am I to change them? I can't?"</p><p>I frowned. "Is something wrong?"</p><p>"I just?" Bethany placed her canvas on the blanket beneath us. "You know, we always want something better for our children." She pulled her knees up, beneath her long skirt, to her chest. The sun shone on her pale skin and caught in her dark-gold hair. She had a light sprinkling of freckles beneath her powder. She looked?so young. "Cornelia seems?More capable somehow. I worry for Euphemia."</p><p>"Worry for her? But what could?"</p><p>"She can be very sensitive. And you know how the other children can be."</p><p>I sighed. "Oh yes."</p><p>"She gets left out most of the time. I know, Lelouch does as well, but I believe it's different. He's a rival. They will eventually come to respect him. Euphemia is?" Bethany looked at me. Her mouth turned down at the corners and so did her eyes. "I just worry she won't have much of a place. When she grows up."</p><p>"Well, if she doesn't, then Nunally hasn't a prayer, either."</p><p>"I suppose. Although Nunally has a brother who can make sure she's not?"</p><p>"Lelouch!" Euphemia giggled. Bethany's eyes glanced in the direction of her daughter then focused on me again.</p><p>"Forgotten. Euphemia has Cornelia. And Cornelia will have her own battles to fight."</p><p>Clouds passed overhead, and turned the skies grey. "I guess it's too much to hope that these children won't have to fight." I stood up and offered Bethany my hand. It was time to round up the kids and go inside. My friend placed her palm on top of my wrist, and rose like a ballerina sweeping up from the floor.</p><p>"Once you're a part of royalty." Her other hand cupped mine. "The whole world becomes a battleground. People, even your own family, are either allies or enemies." Her fingers tightened around mine. "There is nothing in between."</p><p>"You sound like Charles." I snorted indelicately. I'm sure Bethany wanted to throw up her hands and declare me a lost cause. Instead, she smiled and released my hand.</p><p>"I'm sure he'd be offended that you said as much."</p><p>I laughed. "Probably. But for what it's worth, I'm glad we became friends." I gestured for her to lead the way inside.</p><p>"As am I." She took my arm. "As different as we are. We're not always," she smiled at me in a way that warmed her ice-blue eyes, "so different."</p><hr size=1 width=100% noshade>"Lelouch, come <i>on</i>!" The little girl stomped a white, patton-leather shoe into the wood floor of the gameroom. I watched from the doorway as Euphemia placed stubby fingers on the edge of the boys' game table and turned pleading eyes towards my son. "I want to play, and you promised!"<p>It was a rare afternoon when both of my children had other supervision - thanks to Clovis and Cornelia. I had been on my way to visit Bethany in her private suite when I passed the gameroom, and decided to be the overbearing mother by checking up on my son.</p><p>"I'm busy." Lelouch waved the girl away with a gesture he must have inherited from Charles. His eyes never left the small, black army on the chess board.</p><p>Clovis looked up at the girl, his blond hair flopping over his forehead into his eyes. He was Henrietta Montalaise el Britannia's youngest son. Schneizel, the second prince, was her oldest.</p><p>"Yeah, Stuphemia, we're busy." Clovis wrinkled his nose at the same time he pursed his lips together and whined: "Stupid Euphemia."</p><p>The little girl turned her back towards the other boy and continued to appeal to Lelouch. "You always play that game. It's boring."</p><p>He finished his move and finally looked at the girl. "It's a game of intelli?" He frowned and tried again. "inteji?" Lelouch sighed. "Only smart people can play it, so that means no girls."</p><p>"Lelouch, please?" She grabbed his arm. He scowled and pushed her away.</p><p>"I said I'm busy, so go away."</p><p>-</p><p><i>At the age of five, Bethany's fears seemed to have already taken root. Euphemia, as sweet as she was, was teased by the other children of the royal family for her apparent lack of intellect. She preferred to draw and sing, and took no interest in the only pastime where you, my son, could compete with your older brothers.</i></p><p><i>At six, it was clear you were not athletically inclined. You had a much more delicate constitution than Clovis and Schneizel - who studied every manner of swordplay and fighting. That you could be my son was a bit of a mystery, and not at all what your father had in mind.</i></p><p><i>But chess? You could hold your own in chess. It wasn't long before you could beat Clovis at the game he taught you. And you even challenged Schneizel who had been playing since before you were born.</i></p><p><i>That day, when I saw how you pushed Euphemia aside, my heart went out to the little girl. I'd seen others ignore her, leave her behind, even call her names, and it never seemed to bother her. But the day you sent her away?</i></p><p><i>You didn't see how she cried as soon as she left the room. You didn't see her fall to the ground in a heap of yellow dress and tangled pink hair? Her mother wasn't there, but I was a mother, and I couldn't help but try to comfort the little girl.</i></p><p><i>- </i></p><p>I kneeled beside her on the floor and pushed pieces of pink hair the color of Sakura blossoms out of her face. She rubbed small fists at her eyes. "I just wanted him to play with me."</p><p>"Well, maybe I can play." I smiled. "And we can have lots of fun together, ok?"</p><p>She nodded and looked up at me. "Ok."</p><p>I sat down on the floor. "What would you like to play?"</p><p>The little girl dropped her hands to clutch handfuls of her dress. She stared at her shoes. "Lelouch plays the daddy. And I play the mommy."</p><p>"Can I be the Aunt?"</p><p>She shook her head. "No. You can't."</p><p>"Are you sure? I'd really like to." I smiled wider. She had full, fat cheeks, and bright blue eyes. "I guess I can't pretend to be the daddy."</p><p>She sniffled and her lower lip protruded. "If Lelouch was with me. We'd be a happy family."</p><p>I stood and offered my hand to Euphemia, intending to walk her back to her mother's suite. "I think it's time for a nap." She looked at my hand, then up at me. More tears slipped down her face. "Come on, I'll?"</p><p>"I love him," she said and took off down the hallway, running as fast as her little legs could carry her beneath the flurry of lace and yellow dress.</p><hr size=1 width=100% noshade><i>I didn't think much about it, then. I just imagined it was nice to know that at least one of your siblings, besides Nunally (who was a little over a year old at the time), cared about you.</i><p><i>Over the next year, though, you rarely saw Euphemia. She and Cornelia were placed under a separate tutor, and when she wasn't studying, she was dancing. And when you weren't in classes, you were arguing with Schneizel or reading books on chess. You became obsessed, but there didn't seem to be anything I could do?</i></p><p><i>I tried to talk to you about it. I scolded you. I even tried punishing you. But it was difficult to discipline and keep after you when Nunally took so much of my time and energy. After several months with no positive change in your behavior, I finally resorted to talking to your father.</i></p><p><i>- </i></p><p>I found Charles in his office after dinner. His robe of state had been removed; it hung on the back of his chair. He wore a button-down white shirt with the top two buttons undone and its sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His tie and powdered wig lay discarded on the far edge of his desk.</p><p>Moonlight from the window streaked his chestnut hair. Ornate torchiere lamps lit the corners of the room, and Charles studied his work beneath a fluorescent desk light. His eyebrows appeared almost black where they pinched above grey-green eyes. He always looked so severe?. I could count on one hand the number of times in seven years I'd seen him genuinely smile.</p><p>But for all his faults, there was something comforting about lying next to my husband at night. His deep voice had a soothing quality - when he spoke of things that pleased him. On the occasions he spent an evening away, I'd curl up with his pillow and breathe the lingering musk of his cologne.</p><p>I was so caught up in my thoughts I completely missed the small figure next to him until she spoke. "Papa, I drew you a picture." The little girl with pink hair tugged on her father's sleeve. True to his nature, Charles didn't even glance her way. I slipped quietly back into the hall and peered through the crack I left in the doorway.</p><p>"I'm busy."</p><p>She stood on tiptoe, resting her hands on his arm as she tried to peek at the papers on his desk. "Can I help?"</p><p>He growled. "Where's your mother?"</p><p>"She's in bed." She rocked back to her heels. "I think mamma's sick. Will you come see her?"</p><p>"Not now."</p><p>"Can I sit in your lap?" She asked in a sweet voice. "I could help you finish your work. And show you my picture."</p><p>"Euphemia." The emperor glanced down at the little girl, and she lit up. Her whole face broke out into a grin from ear to ear like he'd just given her a pony for her birthday. I watched my husband, who never seemed to have time for any of his children, sigh. And to my utter amazement, he leaned back in the chair. His daughter grabbed onto his arm and he lifted at the same time she climbed, until Euphemia was seated in his lap.</p><p>For the next several minutes, I watched father and daughter interact. The little girl would point to something and ask Charles what it said. Sometimes, he answered. Sometimes he didn't. And then she began to chatter.</p><p>"I'm learning ballet, papa."</p><p>He grunted something I didn't catch.</p><p>"I don't like Mrs. Sunderland. She always yells at me."</p><p>Her father didn't reply.</p><p>"Am I smart, papa?"</p><p>"Of course." He flipped a page. "You're my child."</p><p>"Clovis says I'm stupid. But Lelouch says Clovis is too stupid to beat him at chess."</p><p>Another grunt ? it sounded like: "Chess."</p><p>"I don't like chess, papa. But Lelouch is always playing that, now." She turned a page for her father. "He doesn't play with me anymore."</p><p>"Then ask Schneizel."</p><p>"But papa, I want Lelouch to play." She whined and turned around in his lap.</p><p>"We can't always have what we want, Euphemia. Go find your mother and go to bed."</p><p>"Yes, papa." She struggled down to the floor. She turned and saw her picture lying on the carpet. Euphemia picked it up and offered it to her father. "I made this for you."</p><p>"Leave it there." Charles sounded annoyed.</p><p>"It's a picture of you."</p><p>He arched an eyebrow as he looked down at his child again. "Me?"</p><p>Euphemia placed the large sheet of paper on her father's desk. "I drew you and mommy, and me," she said as she pointed to the page. "And that's Cornelia, and Aunt Marianne. And this is Lelouch and baby Nunally."</p><p>The Emperor settled a hand on his daughter's head. "You have to go, now, Euphemia. I'm busy."</p><p>"Ok, papa. Goodnight." The little girl ran towards the door at the same time I slipped into the room.</p><p>Charles glanced up. He scowled at me and turned his eyes back towards the mountain of papers on his desk. "What is it you want, Marianne?"</p><p>"I've come to talk about your son."</p>
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Preview to Chapter 2:

<i>Not a month passed before Bethany summoned me to her room ? not the first time in the last few weeks as she'd found herself unusually tired. She'd call me, and we'd have tea in her sitting room where she sat in nothing more than her dressing gown. This day, she informed me the royal doctor had diagnosed her with cancer of the bone marrow. He didn't give her long, and true to form, she didn't even fight.

Six months hadn't passed and she was gone.</i>