The secure channel activated with a faint chime.
The holographic display in Lelouch's private strategy chamber shimmered to life, resolving into the image of a familiar figure clad in white and crimson armor. Dust still marked the edges of her uniform. Behind her, the metallic interior of a mobile command carrier hummed with restrained activity.
Cornelia li Britannia had just returned from the Middle Eastern front.
She had not been present in Pendragon during the struggle for the throne.
She had not bent the knee.
Not yet.
Her violet eyes studied Lelouch with neither hostility nor warmth—only scrutiny.
"So," she began, voice steady and sharp as ever, "it is true. You sit on Father's throne."
Lelouch, seated beneath the imperial crest, met her gaze without flinching.
"Yes."
A pause.
"You resolved the succession in less than a week," Cornelia continued. "Schneizel subdued. The nobility reorganized. The capital secured. I would ask how… but I suspect you would not answer honestly."
"That depends," Lelouch replied calmly. "Are you asking as my sister—or as a general of Britannia?"
"As both."
Silence lingered between them.
Cornelia folded her arms. "I was informed that Schneizel has accepted your authority."
"He has," Lelouch said evenly.
Her eyes narrowed slightly at that—but she did not press further.
"Very well. Then answer me this, Lelouch. Why? Why seize the throne? You disappeared for years. You rejected the Empire. And now you claim it."
Lelouch did not hesitate.
"Because Britannia must change."
Cornelia's expression hardened faintly.
"Change how?"
"Strength without stagnation. Order without decadence. Merit over lineage. Expansion with purpose, not arrogance."
She studied him carefully, searching for deceit.
"And Euphemia?"
The name was deliberate.
Euphemia li Britannia had always been the line Cornelia would not allow crossed.
"My rule will not harm her," Lelouch answered.
"That is not what I asked."
Cornelia leaned forward slightly, eyes blazing with intensity.
"If you intend to use her—politically or otherwise—if you intend to make her a pawn in one of your elaborate games, then we are enemies. Emperor or not."
Lelouch's expression did not waver.
"I swear," he said quietly, "that I will not harm Euphemia. Nor will I manipulate her for political leverage."
Cornelia held his gaze for several long seconds.
"You swear it as Emperor?"
"Yes."
Something in his tone—measured, resolute—convinced her.
Cornelia exhaled slowly.
"Then you have my support."
It was not spoken lightly.
"I will return to Pendragon and swear formal fealty," she continued. "But understand this, Lelouch: if you betray that oath—"
"You will strike me down."
"Yes."
A faint smile touched Lelouch's lips.
"I would expect nothing less."
Cornelia's posture shifted, businesslike once more.
"Now. What are your intentions?"
Lelouch rose from the throne.
"Prepare your forces."
"For what?"
"For the invasion of the Euro Universe."
Cornelia's eyes sharpened immediately.
"You intend to strike first."
"They have already accepted an alliance with VV," Lelouch said. "They believe Britannia weakened after the succession. They believe the death of the Knight of One crippled us."
Cornelia's lips curved slightly.
"They are mistaken."
"Profoundly."
Lelouch turned to a strategic projection of Europe.
"They are accelerating production of aerial Knightmares using stolen research. Their enthusiasm blinds them. They expect hesitation."
"And instead?"
"They will face momentum."
Cornelia considered this.
"You intend to crush them decisively."
"Yes."
She nodded once.
"Then I will mobilize immediately. The Middle Eastern front can be stabilized within two weeks. After that, I will redeploy westward."
"See that you do."
The transmission began to fade.
"Lelouch," Cornelia said before disconnecting.
"Yes?"
"If you truly intend to reshape Britannia… then do not falter."
The image vanished.
Lelouch stood alone.
The war approaching.
But another matter demanded immediate attention.
---------------------------------------------------------
Lelouch descended from his personal vehicle.
Surrounding him was a group of hundreds of elite soldiers and tens of knightmares.
Deep beneath Pendragon, past sealed corridors and restricted security fields, lay the entrance to Charles's hidden structure—the so-called Thought Elevator.
He knew she would be there.
Marianne vi Britannia.
Alive—not in flesh, but in spirit.
Occupying the body of Anya Alstreim.
The chamber doors were breached swiftly. Marianne had not expected discovery. Few even knew such a place existed. But Lelouch had searched deliberately. Hidden facilities always left patterns—irregular supply chains, encrypted data, anomalous construction zones. Once he began looking, the Elevator was inevitable.
Marianne was quickly overwhelmed and captured by Lelouch's soldiers.
Then Lelouch stepped into the chamber.
"Mother," he said calmly.
Anya's body stood near the inactive platform.
Her eyes shifted.
Then changed.
The vacant expression sharpened into something ancient.
"You know about me," Marianne said softly through Anya's lips, "looks like you have changed a lot."
"You always underestimated me."
A faint smile curved her borrowed face.
"The throne was never your true objective," Lelouch added.
"No," she admitted. "It was only a tool."
She gestured to the Elevator.
"The world is flawed, Lelouch. Your father and I sought to correct it. To erase lies. To unify human consciousness."
"You sought to erase individuality. To remove suffering."
Lelouch's gaze hardened.
"You would have erased choice."
Marianne studied him.
"You intend to stop us."
"I already have. Father is dead. And you?"
Before she could react, Lelouch's Geass flared.
His left eye burned crimson.
"I command you," he said, voice absolute, "submit."
The sigil reflected in her eyes.
Anya's body stiffened.
Marianne's will—immense though it was—buckled under the direct force of the Geass.
She fell to one knee.
"Yes… my Emperor."
Lelouch exhaled slowly.
"Tell me everything."
And she did.
She spoke of the Sword of Akasha. Of Charles' true objective. Of the mechanics of the Code. Of immortality and transfer.
Then—
"There is a method," Marianne said obediently, "to remove a Code without killing its bearer."
Lelouch's eyes sharpened.
"Explain."
"The Thought Elevator can forcibly extract the Code during synchronization. It requires alignment of consciousness… and an external anchor to receive it."
"A transfer."
"Yes."
"To whom?"
"To any compatible vessel."
Lelouch turned his gaze toward the darkened chamber.
That's probably what Charles did to V.V. in the canon.
A plan began to crystallize.