Hey All! This is the original Glorious Zero. For reasons that are really boring to explain, I've had to make a new account (don't worry, no juicy gossip). This being the case, all my original stories are here: u/2045176/Glorious-Zero . Please take a look and my other stories as well, but any future stories will probably come from THIS account.
Without further adieu (oh yeah: I don't own this stuff), here you go!
The lens of power is a grey one. It doesn't illuminate; doesn't blind- only shades.
Lelouch hated it. Of all the masks he had worn, this one fit the least. The smile he wore disgusted him, and he could feel the hatred heavy on his weary shoulders like broken wings- just dead weight. His extravagant outfit was a useless brand denoting that hatred; a shell to hide in.
Still, as the parade processed, Lelouch held fast to his charade. He focused his hateful grin lazily down the street, eyes coolly looking this way and that.
It was his hands that would have given him up. Try as he might, he couldn't stop their ceaseless shaking. He balled them into weak fists and hoped the cameras would stay focused on his face. He was proud at how he had mastered the face.
It was all he could do not to vomit. He waited there, alone among thousands, for his death.
"And what do you think of this," Lelouch asked her.
"I think it's childish, it won't work, and you're completely foolhardy for even thinking it will." She wouldn't make eye contact with him, simply hugging her doll and staring out the window. "You throw your life away on a gamble- you of all people. I expected more."
He smiled. "Your concern is touch-"
"It isn't concern. Its probability." Now she turned to him. "You'll die, and the world will go on just the same as it has been. Even if you change things for a few years, a few decades, it won't matter in the long run. I've seen it, Lelouch. I've seen mankind rise and fall a thousand times. It doesn't need a catalyst."
"So a single human life isn't worth those decades of relief? Whole civilizations are born and revolve around such acts. You don't sound like yourself, C.C. You who wanted only to die- what is a life worth to you?"
Zero. He stared down at him, chest heaving. It was happening. It had begun. Finally he let his face free. What he had been feeling for hours- days- was now etched opening upon him. His mask had fallen.
All silence. Lelouch could hear nothing but the beating of his heart, see nothing but the mask. That mask. His mask. He would have laughed at the irony of it all if he hadn't been so terrified.
Suzaku easily darted past the Knightmares. He effortlessly jumped over Jeremiah, who afterward slowly ebbed backward as planned. In less than another breath he was standing directly in front of him. Lelouch could hear his breathing. On cue, he knocked away the gun Lelouch had pulled to feign defense.
Lelouch resigned himself to a weak smile.
"Not 'a' life. 'Your' life. You cannot weigh living on a scale to determine its value, Lelouch. Rather, it gains worth through its use, and significance through its experiences."
"I've had my fair share of both of those-"
"-which is why you shouldn't cast it away like just another stone that lies beneath you. Creating a world like this without being able to live in it- man resists such things by his very nature."
"But what is my life but 'a' life? And who holds the scale? Certainly not you or me. And what does that make God? I give up 'a' life- my life- in an effort to make life more meaningful as a whole- where is the err?"
"You err in that there is no meaning. Life itself is a nonspecific collection of accidents given name."
"There is where I disagree with you, C.C. Even if life was an accident, meaning can still be found. It is found in the wishes of each individual. For me: control; you: love. Perhaps life itself provides its own meaning- to exist."
"Hollow words to describe a stagnant existence-"
"No. Existence is beautiful. An obscure meaning does not necessarily denote an obscure idea- such as it is with life. Mystery, like love, like control, like beauty, is just one of life's flavors." At this, C.C. turned; a tear in her eye, but a smile on her lips. She kissed him abruptly.
It hurt. He knew it would, but not how much. A small, almost silent sigh escaped his lips as he clutched Suzaku's robe in an effort to stabilize himself. All in all, he figured it could have hurt worse, but he knew that was just another affect of the shock he was going through.
He tried to think of something meaningful to say to Suzaku, and uttered a few words to leave him with. The next part was the worst. As Suzaku tore the sword from his person, Lelouch recoiled in pain. His eyelids were becoming heavy as his once pristine robes now ran red with blood. The floor around him was teeming with the stuff.
His eyes lazily darted left and right looking for a place to steady himself, but the blood around him proved too difficult for his weak body to handle. Lelouch slipped, rolling forward down the procession.
His rise and fall were marked with blood.
"Shall we go, then?" His eyes were still bright, then, having not yet lost their hue. C.C. was contentedly staring out a window to the bright courtyard below. She seemed satisfied enough with his answers. Lelouch was surprised he'd even won an argument with her at all. Maybe that was a gift from her- just one more victory to add to the rest.
"Lelouch," she said, almost a sigh rather than a word. C.C. played with it, rolling the sound around her mouth like it was more than a name- it was a treasure. "I think you may be right. Life isn't meaningless, is it? That's up to the person living it. Life is as meaningful as you make."
"C.C.-"
"- And once in a very long while, a person comes along who can give that meaning to the lives of others." She smiled. "God isn't found as some big orb in the sky, but rather, it is found in the meaning humans give one another- in each individual's reason to live.
Lelouch smiled and spoke: "Shall we go, C.C.?" He held out his arm to her. She linked her arm around it as they left the room still stagnant with revelation.
She smirked. "Just as long as you don't go saying something corny like how I'm as 'beautiful as snow' again."
Nunally's hand was fire in his feverish cold. His once beautiful lavender eyes now gray, his face worn by his Pyrrhic victory, Lelouch waited to die.
But through the haze settling over his vision, through the screams and cheers from the crowd around him, even through Nunally's tears streaming down onto his face, he saw her. She was standing over him, tall and beautiful and strong; smiling that wicked smile.
More for himself than for Nunally, Lelouch assured himself of his triumph, and as his eyes slowly shut, this imaginary, yet totally real girl bent down and embraced him.
His last though was of the beauty of snow.
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