Lelouch's Last Days

Chapter 1

"Your Majesty, how are you feeling today?" Jeremiah came in with a tray of breakfast in his hands. The black haired Britannian lied there completely still and quiet by the bed. His eyes flustered open when he heard the call.

"Better," Lelouch; the once and powerful symbol of hatred replied as he tried to sit up from his position. A sharp pain stabbed his chest when he did. He kept himself composed hoping not to panic his guardian because whenever he did, he'd call for Nunnally. And from anywhere far, she'll abandon her post just to see the brother, which isn't advisable now that Nunnally is the Empress of Britannia.

"Cough. Cough. How many times have I told you not to call me that, Jeremiah?" reminded Lelouch softly as he covers his mouth when he coughed a little.

"I apologize, Your-... I mean, Master Lelouch," the elder man said. "It was a habit of mine."

Lelouch smiled slightly to ensure that it was okay, before he reached out to the glass of water in front of him which he could barely see. Jeremiah took hold of his hand and ushered it slowly to the juice on his right before saying, "Is the drug still effecting your sight, Master Lelouch?"

"I'm afraid so," Lelouch said as he struggles to hold onto the glass. Jeremiah took away the glass while passing him the pills for today. "That many?" the young man asked.

"Yes, Master Lelouch," answered Jeremiah looking at the chessboard right beside of him.

"You're playing chess by yourself again?" he asked while giving the boy a glass of plain water. The young man frowned at the after taste of the medicines before replying.

"Only when Suzaku is here. Nowadays I hardly touch it."

Jeremiah spend a minute longer to check on Lelouch's vitals before leaving him to rest. It has been weeks ever since he awoke from his coma, and even though his vital signs have been fine when he was in slumber, his condition worsens every time he's awake. The doctor mentioned that the reason why his body wasn't healing might be due to his consciousness. A mind with lost hope is the same as those who have given up on life.

-

Lelouch had drifted off to sleep after minutes of reading a book. He had been in bed for days and it somehow didn't occur to him that he should be moving around when he wasn't told to. He was always coughing when he exerted himself during rehabilitation. He even doubts that the rehabilitation was doing him any good, but it was all Jeremiah's idea for him to work on his muscles so that they won't become frail.

Lelouch was never the athletic type of guy, and he was already frail to begin with. His only asset was his intelligence.

It was noon and the sun was blaring through the windows. Lelouch could feel the heat entering his room with the curtains left open.

The orange garden right in front of his rehabilitation room; or even just call it his sick bed, would have been a beautiful view for Lelouch if only he could see. The tall glass panes in front of him were the windows to the stretching view of the trees in the farm.

He urged himself to open his eyes, but regretted it the second later when the lights from the sun blinded his sight even more than ever before. He tried to focus his visions elsewhere and spotted a blurry image of the door to his left.

The thing which looked like a jug of water on the side of his table caught his attention when he figured how dry his throat was. He sat up from the mattresses and tried his best to reduce the stretching pain on his abdomen when he pulled his legs to the edge of the bed. He slowly got himself out of bed to fetch the water, but realised a second too late that his body was too weak to support him, and he fell.