Title: Zero of Britannia
Disclaimer: Code Geass is the property of Sunrise
Credit: Immeasurable thanks to Dysdaimon for beta reading with such tremendous devotion
Timeline: Between Lelouch's death and the song epilogue at the final episode
Warnings: Neither tragic nor cheerful story; fictional politics; no pairing
Author's Note: This fanfic uses British English (some spelling and punctuation differences, such as 'manoeuvre' instead of 'maneuver' and single quotation marks for normal speech)
A very happy birthday to you, jusrecht!
No. He was not here to brood over the death of someone whom he had killed in person. He had the freedom of one month to ponder his consent in the matter. His resolve had been firm; there was no room for remorse then or now.
To a certain extent, at least.
He knew he would have harboured a much deeper remorse had he not chosen this path.
At any rate, that was the past. What should concern him now were the present and the future.
The mask of Zero was heavy.
With Kaname Ougi's political career as the new Japanese prime minister, the Order of the Black Knights dissipated. Not that Japan, a liberated nation, needed those revolutionists anyway. Furthermore, Kouzuki Kallen had retired from knightmare piloting — a waste of talent, he considered, but respected her choice nevertheless. His own, no, Kururugi Suzaku's, Lancelot had been destroyed.
He knew he had to form a new Order of the Black Knights. But after that, what? What was he supposed to do? The newly-established Zero, did not mean to shirk his duties, but what could a single man do to perform the tasks of a hero whose self-proclaimed destiny was to change the world? He was raised a soldier, a trained fighter. Unlike Lelouch, he possessed neither grace of words nor charismatic leadership. Even if he were to debut in the political world, wouldn't he be as apt to encounter gaffes as livestock is to the axe in an abattoir?
The mask of Zero was heavy.
As though looking for guidance, Zero beheld the opulently carved mausoleum before him.
The ninety-ninth emperor was entombed along the path of the Astolat Hill in the western part of Pendragon, about three kilometres outside the city borders. Raised on a round pedestal was the tomb of travertine marble, supported by twelve columns and covered with a heaven-pointing spire atop its cupola. It was guarded by the freestanding statues of angels, true masterpieces of the chisel.
Personally, Zero believed the grand funerary monument would fit a saint better than a demon emperor. Even the coffin on the central podium in the gold-trimmed mortuary chamber was carved from white alabaster — he had seen this once at the funeral, six days prior.
Among the high-relief main figures and low-relief backgrounds that embellished the walls was a niche engraved with 'Here lies the body of Lelouch vi Britannia, the ninety-ninth Emperor, Sovereign of the House of Britannia, protector of the nation, mighty ruler of the world, most formidable lord and master.'
The epitaph maker has been careful enough to include only eulogy and not any of the contemptuous insinuation for Lelouch that passed through the lips of the populace, noted Zero, trying to decide the true extent of Lelouch's deeds compared to such an amplified acclaim.
Next, the young man's fixation shifted from the lavish sepulchral decorations to his own hands. Underneath those sable gloves were the hands that had ended the reign of a tyrant and also the same hands that had murdered his best friend. Inside him was a heart as dark as the cape draped on his body.
The roaring engine interrupted his contemplation. A white vehicle glided from the glen and skidded into a halt some ten yards away from Lelouch's sepulchre. It has the physical appearance of a limousine, Zero observed, but the battle capacity of a Knight Giga Fortress, with a Gefjun Net, Hadron Cannons and missiles implanted in its body in addition to a float system to manoeuvre itself through the air in times of need.
The vehicle door flung open and out stepped the Britannian prime minister onto the cemetery grass. Today, Prince Schneizel el Britannia did not wear his usual pristine white. Black had been the colour every Britannian citizen wore during the last six days. The mourning attire was a tribute — undoubtedly a begrudged one at that — for the recently deceased demon emperor.
The prince's ebony garb billowed like wraiths, moving from one white tombstone to another. Yet, the charnel air would not agree with such a trait, for wraiths were supposed to be faint — they tended to meld into the background or slip away into nothingness. This man, on the contrary, was resplendent enough to dim his surroundings into a monochromic world with his majestic aura alone. The wind might ruffle his golden hair in its wake, but it could do nothing to rob the man of his grace.
Indeed, without his swiftness in act, combined with infallible way of thinking, facile tongue, beguiling charm, and genteel manner among other qualities, the empire would not be what it is today. Upon Emperor Lelouch's passing, nearly all countries declared their independence from Britannia. Schneizel acknowledged and accepted the secessions unconditionally, thus igniting the fury of the Britannian parliament.
Nevertheless, the prime minister acquired the parliament's favour through the restoration of aristocracy. The reactivation of the House of Lords brought the Upper House and the Lower House — the Senate of non-aristocrats — to equal legislative powers. The form of government, however, evolved from the absolute monarchy of the Charles zi Britannia's era into a constitutional monarchy. No longer a lowly foot soldier, Prince Odysseus eu Britannia was named the next in line for the throne.
Princess Guinevere su Britannia, too, relinquished her palatial handmaid occupation and returned to her former flamboyant self, patronising extravagant monuments more than ever. 'A civilised nation like Britannia ought to be the role model,' she stated, 'How can other nations look up to a country with mediocre architecture?'
On the contrary, there was no room for the aristocrats to influence the field of employment with their privileges. Since candidates should be selected based on talent instead of social status, many were grateful for this opportunity. Alongside the growth of meritocracy, Schneizel's popularity thrived in the hearts of the citizens.
In lieu of focusing on military, the prime minister immersed Britannia in education, sports, culture and commerce, constituting many new policies in those departments. Britannian trade policies, for instance, focused on promoting the growth of commerce through a reduction in tax rates — a luxurious incentive of compliance with Britannian export regulations.
The national defence would be under the command of Princess Cornelia li Britannia, who had recently selected the new personnel for the Knights of Round, the Valkyrie Squadron and the Glaston Knights, through a three-day long tournament.
All these changes were accomplished over the course of six days. Such was the prowess of the man who now stood next to Zero.
In no mood for idle chatter, Zero nodded without further elaboration.
The two grave visitors let themselves be cloaked by the minutes of silence punctuated by the different activities of the ravens in the distance. Both men were facing the lofty mausoleum, each engulfed in his own thoughts.
It was not until the wind orchestrated dust and fallen leaves to pirouette near their feet that the man of royal blood addressed the commoner, 'Suzaku-kun—'
A laconic reply severed his greeting. 'Kururugi Suzaku is dead.'
'Pardon me,' the prince resumed his speech without the slightest vexation, 'Zero, it is a pleasure to see you even in this grievous hour.'
Within the protection of his mask, Suzaku was unaware that his lips curved downwards. It was not himself as an individual, but his costume — a fucking costume that had ruined his life and would continue to ruin it for as long as he lived — that merited the prince's veneration.
The mask of Zero was heavy.
'What has brought Your Highness here?' He noticed the tensed brow in Schneizel's handsome countenance and linked it with today's television news. 'A rough day owing to the declaration of independence from Area 29 and Area 51, perhaps?'
'It matters not. In time, the acquiescence of the world to Britannian rule is assured.'
Silence presided over them once more, but this time, it was ephemeral. The Japanese wondered if Schneizel noticed the sceptical gaze behind the bulletproof glass of his mask. The prince, of all people, should have been aware how arduous it was to attain the trust of previously annexed nations, after he had once tried to trample the world under his Damocles. Hence, Zero leered, 'I wasn't aware that the world-famous prime minister of Britannia had a delusional tendency.'
Glorious and tall, the prince smiled in reply to the plebeian's discourteous deportment. 'The intention behind this project disdains all military force. Britannia's knightmare technology will proliferate in all nations who wish to partake in the power of the Empire. The Knights of Round will vouchsafe the security of the nations who ally themselves to the Holy Empire of Britannia. The Britannian flag flown throughout their country will be their proof of allegiance, but they will retain the liberty of cultural and diplomatic independence.'
Zero made no verbal answer, but his torso staggered back slightly — very slightly. Yet, even this slightest of movements did not escape Schneizel's keen eyes.
'Such luxury of choice, however, has a price,' added the debonair man.
A flood of ire rushed to Zero's brain. Before he could control his tongue, apoplectic words had escaped from his mouth. 'You fiend! Are you going to subjugate those nations which refuse to ally with Britannia?'
'Threats inspire rebellion; trust inspires reverence,' the golden-haired prince delivered his statement, his mien no less stately despite the accusation.
Zero spoke nothing in return, but it took no effort for the prince to recognise from the youth's motionless gesture, how little faith he had in those words.
The amethyst-eyed man said again, 'I will sculpt a new world — a paradigm of equality — from the remnants of the previous effigy. The world is on the brink of a splendid metamorphosis. Who better to watch over and protect the cocoon than the one who made the change possible in the first place? By my side, Zero, you could redress the wrongs committed by Britannia and preserve the integrity of the world's most powerful empire.'
Behind the mask, the youth's emerald eyes widened. To live in the palace meant that he could protect Nunnally, monitor political activities, preclude the royals — especially the second prince — from being the next tyrant, and have a unit of armed forces at his disposal. But why did Schneizel make the offer in the first place? Would Zero serve as some sort of campaign advertisement? Would the previously recalcitrant figure be reduced to nothing but a pawn in the brilliant strategist's political chessboard? Would 'Zero' become 'Zero of Britannia'?
Zero clenched his jaw. One could never be too careful when it came to the second prince of the Holy Britannian Empire; Schneizel el Britannia was the man in whom efficacy and finesse resided.
'I have no desire to serve for the glory of the Britannian Empire,' asserted the younger man.
Even with so brazen a reply, his adversary's comportment remained unchanged. 'There is no art in glorifying "Zero"; your disconnection from political stratagems and your independence from administration grants you the freedom to restrict the actions of government — prevent them from straying, so to speak.'
'And if one of them does go astray?' Zero peered at the man next to him.
'My role is the realization of Zero's decisions, no more, no less.'
The purple eyes looked back at him with unspoken resoluteness. Not scrutinising. Not deriding. Not frowning. Simply enigmatic. They held certain intricacies which even the power of Geass might not venture to unravel.
'Why do you ask a former knight who did nothing when his lady died and even killed his lord?'
'Euphemia's salvation resided only in death; her actions would have killed her, whether mentally or physically. You, as her trusted knight, would know this better than I. Lelouch's redemption was no different from Euphemia's in that regard. Only his death could have saved him from the role he chose to play; he knew this and trusted you to execute him. You, who never doubted my sister and saved my brother, will you lend me your power now?'
How many more people know this fact? Momentarily forgetting that the mask of Zero concealed his expression, Suzaku averted his gaze from the taller man and let rumination seize him once more.
What if Nunnally changes for the worse? Won't I, as a watchdog, have to kill her like I did my best friend?
Schneizel's physiognomy was as serene as the sky before a storm.
The teenage boy finally spoke. 'For a man who once wanted to rule the world, aren't those words too kind?'
'My ambitions remain stalwart. Britannia will control the world and become its salvation.' A glint of mischief danced in the eyes of amethyst. 'The world will advance along the path I desire, whether it realises this or not.'
Suzaku's green eyes narrowed in suspicion. 'Why did you decline to be heir presumptive and named His Royal Highness Prince Odysseus as the heir apparent?'
'Apocryphal power is a responsibility best held by those unaware of the sword poised to strike above their heads.'*
'You mean you'd rather pull the strings from behind the curtain?' scoffed Zero.
The smile that Schneizel gave him was equivocal.
When the mask wearer presented him with no immediate reply, the older man averred, 'Rest assured, I shall serve Zero.'
He'll serve Zero. Of course. Only Zero and all the ideals and wishes that Zero embodies. Suzaku's innards wrung themselves at the ingestion of those words. The Geass cast on Schneizel was for the prince's absolute obedience to Zero, not to Lelouch, not to Suzaku.
Zero remained obdurately silent until the prince produced a golden key from his pocket, its lustre glinting in the glowing vernal sun. 'This is the key to Lelouch's burial chamber. My brother would prefer you keep this.'
'Why would he?' Defiance laced the edges of his curt answer, the rebellious nature of youth rearing its head without warning.
'The mask of Zero is heavy.' The prince's voice was soughing, and he spoke no more afterwards. Notwithstanding their simplicity, the words held a curiously ataraxic power.
Inside the stifling glass, Zero, no, Kururugi Suzaku, stared intently at the man in the mourning attire. Despite his reference to Lelouch, the Britannian prime minister must have realised that the teenager would want that key; in fact, he needed it. This novice Zero would, at some point, break down and voice his complaints to his best friend — even though the only remnants of that best friend were no more than the odorous decay of flesh and bones.
If it's with this man, perhaps the better future which Lelouch envisioned could materialise.
The sun had traversed to the western horizon, suffusing the sky with pigments of vermillion and gold.
The mask of Zero was heavy. Would the man before him lighten or encumber that burden?
There's only one way to find out.
THE END
* An allusion to the 'Sword of Damocles', which means 'an impending disaster'. Damocles was a courtier who envied the King Dionysius of Syracuse. In order to teach him a lesson, the king held a banquet in honour of Damocles but ordered that a sword to be suspended overhead by a single horsehair. Upon noticing this, Damocles lost all appetite for the lavish feast in the midst of the festivities. Damocles' resulting anxiety was similar to the worries and responsibilities that go along with the pleasures of a ruler's position. With a better understanding of the king's life, the courtier became more content with his own role as an attendant to the ruler. In this fic, Schneizel, therefore, adverted that he preferred to serve as a prime minister rather than seize the throne.