STAGE 1
"May we now present her Imperial Majesty Nunnally vi Brittannia, the one-hundredth Empress of the Holy Britannian Empire!"
A tall figure wrapped in a dark cloak and concealed by a heavy metal mask came forward bearing a golden crown. The centerpiece was a ring that hung the emblem of her country adorned with wings within. Connected by delicate chains were other pieces that cradled precious gems. With long, nimble fingers, the figure arranged the jewelry in the Empress' chestnut locks, and stepped back into his place by her side.
"All hail the Empress!" the court dutifully called.
Nunnally nodded her head, acknowledging the different world leaders and siblings that had come to attend. Though it looked to be a dainty tiara, the weight of the metal placed on her head was heavier than it looked. She could almost laugh at the irony of the little chains that might as well symbolically imprison her to her new position. Did the jeweler some sort of sadist? And what of the dress she was forced into? Above an already thick layer of frilly white undergarments was a corset pulled so tight she could barely breathe. And above that was a huge pink dress with a wide, heavy skirt. The sleeves puffed over her shoulders and the collar wrapped around her neck, buttoned all the way up. And finally after all of that, a velvet and fur robe was hung loosely around her shoulders, falling down her back, and spilling out of her wheelchair and onto the floor.
Everybody there was attending her official coronation at the Lithra palace in the California base. Pendragon was under major construction, and for the time being, the ruler of the largest nation in the world would remain there until she could be moved back to her ancestral home. For now, she sat in a specially crafted wheelchair, made to look like a throne, that was placed on top of a dais at the upper end of a sweeping ballroom. The high walls boasted huge paintings of her various family members (those that hadn't spent their rule conquering other nations) and some of the more recent ones were painted by her late brother Clovis. Above them were a few tiny windows that looked like black squares against the golden walls. Finally, an enormous chandelier hung form the very center of the ceiling, it's one million tiny diamonds sparkling in the golden light it washed over the room. The perfect setting for a dance.
The string quartet in the corner of the ballroom began their waltz, and the men extended their hands to the beautiful ladies in their free-swinging dresses and they began to twirl to the music. The melody rose and fell like the currents of the wind, taking the dancers along with it like leaves. Nunnally meanwhile couldn't even stand up. She remained seated, trying to be as stoic and still as the figure beside her to hide her envy.
Some important figures took the opportunity to greet and congratulate the young Empress. First approached the Representative of the United States of Japan, Kaguya Sumeragi.
She stepped up the carpeted steps, her long pink kimono trailing behind her. Nunnally noticed that the girl seemed to be trapped under just as many layers as she was, her petite figure almost completely hidden under a cocoon of embroidered silks. But the little Japanese girl moved as if she was as light as air, graceful in all her movements.
"Empress," Kaguya bowed deep.
"Chairwoman Sumeragi," Nunnally acknowledged courteously.
Kaguya rose with a polite smile on her face.
"May I offer my congratulations on your successful ascension to the throne of Brittannia. May relations between Brittannia and the United States of Japan remain open and peaceful."
"I wouldn't have it any other way," Nannully replied sweetly, as she should, but she was not without conviction. "We've sacrificed so much to get to this point," Nunnally added solemnly. She would keep the world as peaceful for them.
Kaguya nodded in understanding. "We will work to make sure their sacrifices were not in vain." She sighed, closing her eyes and allowing the two girls a moment of silence for those departed. But after, she was back to her usual bubbly self.
"Now, on a lighter note," Kaguya chirped brightly, "have you prepared marriage arrangements yet?"
Nunnally was completely stunned. "U-uh!" she stammered like a fool, her royal etiquette completely thrown out the window. She'd never thought of marriage before. Kaguya laughed, her voice like little bells.
"I'll take that as a no! But don't fret, your Majesty, I may have a suggestion if you'll allow me. I heard Tatsunori Osakabe's son survived persecution and has taken over as head of his family. He is looking for a bride; perhaps a union between a Japanese noble and a Brittanian will strengthen ties and develop more peace."
Kaguya had her there, and she was at a loss of what to say. Thankfully, her older sister stepped in from her right.
"We shall certainly consider it. For now though, Her Majesty must focus on stabilizing global relations between the world and Brittania in other ways," she explained. Nunnally shot a thankful look Cornelia's way.
Cornelia wore a feminine suit rather than a dress. It was velvety red with warm gold embroidery adorning the cuffs, shoulders, and collar. A white sash crossed over her chest and from it hung a multitude of medals of honor (though none she earned conquering other nations). Nunnally wondered why Cornelia wasn't chosen to be the next ruler. Her older sister was an experienced warrior and charismatic leader. She was older, wiser, stronger and more beautiful than Nannully thought she herself would ever be.
She didn't have time to dwell too much on this as her present company demanded her attention. Kaguya's smile lit right up.
"Wonderful! I shall let Osakabe-san know right away!" Her green eyes flicked away from Nunnally, over to her left side where the dark figure stood. "And perhaps more arrangements can be made." And with that she twirled away, dark straight hair, ribbons, and dress flowing about behind her like fans.
Nunnally leaned back a little in her chair, a tad overwhelmed.
"This might get out of hand," she confided quietly to her sister.
"Should it get to that point I will take care of it," Cornelia promised. Nunnally huffed.
"Some Empress I am. I can't even handle my own issues."
"The wisest rulers accept help when they need it."
But Nunnally didn't want anyone's help. Not anymore. Almost her entire life people had been bending over backwards to help the blind, crippled girl. People to push her chair, get her dressed, bathe her, and tuck her in like she was some kind of child. She thought that advocating for the role of Viceroy would be the start of her independence. Now she was Empress, and she still needed other people to take care of her.
Not to mention the Knight of Zero, the dark figure standing beside her on her left, still as a golem, and as ever vigilant. It was this masked man that had taken the duty of being Nunnally's shadow. He was the only one that pushed her chair, accompanied her everywhere, and acted as her bodyguard among many other things. But wasn't he the leader of the Black Knights? Did he pity her so much that he was forced to stay shackled to her rather than lead them to protect the world?
By that point, Nunnally had slipped into a deep gloom of depression, and she sagged in her chair.
"The Empress is tired," a mechanical voice startled her. It was an unsettling sound; like a chorus of voices, children and men alike captured in a computer and blended together. It warbled and clipped in unexpected places, and it was monotonous to the point of being impossible to hear any inflections. Surprised, she turned to the voice's owner, the Knight of Zero, who had slipped behind her and took a hold of the handles on her wheelchair.
"She cannot leave now. We don't want to offend our guests," Cornelia snapped, obviously still bitter towards the symbol of Japan.
"The Empress is tired," Zero repeated.
Cornelia was annoyed now and opened her mouth to protest. But someone beat her to it.
"Oh, you're leaving?"
They all turned to see a thin young man had approached the throne. He stood on the steps with long, unsure legs. Under neatly combed hair was a rather handsome face; long and gentle with soft blue eyes under brows so thin it was difficult to see them. He wore a simple black suit, nothing more and nothing less. In this way, he stood out against the brightly colored fabrics the more noble guests were wrapped in.
"No, she's not," Cornelia answered the man.
"Oh! Than if I may speak with Her Majesty, I have a few propositions-" The stranger reached behind him into a shoulder bag and grabbed a few papers. As he pulled them out, they got caught and spilled out onto the floor. The pages shot off into different directions as they came down. "Oh no!" The man cried. He dropped to the floor and grabbed at as many sheets as he could. Nunnally waited, feeling awkward just watching and wishing she could get up and help him. In his haste he barely grabbed up half of the documents and began to shuffle through them. "Now, if you just wait a moment…Oh," He began searching around him again.
"Perhaps you should step back and collect yourself before speaking to Her Majesty," Cornelia impatiently suggested.
The man looked up, surprised and upset.
"Please! I just-" he stopped short of that sentence and closed his eyes, seeming to gather his thoughts. He let out a breath and began much more calmly. "Your Majesty, my name is Brother Colin Griggs. I'm a representative of the Sect of the Attuned. I was hoping to speak with you about establishing a proper church here in the California Base."
"The Empress is currently only dealing with external affairs for the time being," Cornelia answered.
Nunnally bristled at being spoken for. "Actually," she announced, "I'd like to hear more of this."
"Your Majesty?" Cornelia was surprised.
"If we cannot exercise inclusion within our own borders how can we do so outside of them?" Nannully was very proud of herself at that moment. It was quite the smart thing to say. Then again, she had a lot of smart ideas, just nobody wanted to listen to them. She looked back at Brother Collin. "Proceed."
"Thank you, Your Majesty. The Sect of the Attuned studies the inner workings of the human mind to unlock spirituality for the gods. Our practices include meditation and cognitive therapy as well as brain research. We believe that in understanding ourselves we can better understand others."
Nunnally thought deeply about what he said. It was a strange approach. Much of Britannia's people believed in the Abrahamic God. Others believed in a set of strict philosophies. Others still worshiped the collective spirits of the Earth. Each focused on outward actions and prayer than self-introspection. But maybe this was a breath of fresh air this country needed.
"Permission granted. We will set up an appointment to speak with the city council to further discuss the matter," she decided.
"Thank you, Your Majesty, I-" Brother Colin began to climb up the stairs towards her but the Knight of Zero promptly stepped in front of her, blocking the Brother's view of her.
"It's best if you keep your distance, Brother," Cornelia advised. Smiling sheepishly, Brother Colin obliged. "My apologies. I'm not used to court etiquette. I've lived in an enclave my entire life," he joked at the Empress once he had backed down the stairs enough for the knight to withdraw back behind her. Nunnally smiled at the quip.
"It's quite alright, Brother. I hope the rest of your night fairs well."
"And yours, Your Majesty. But I see that you must rest now, I shall be off." And Brother Colin trotted away after an awkward, poorly executed bow in which he tripped over his own feet. Nunnally laughed at this and he was quick to retreat away into the crowd, his face red.
"Perhaps he should meditate to improve his coordination," Cornelia joked quietly. Nunnally had to stifle her laugh. "Big sister!" she admonished, but Cornelia was proud of her little jab.
Nunnally felt a jolt in her chair and gripped the sides hard when she felt it begin to move.
"So your really set on this? Very well," Cornelia sighed. "Honored guests! Thank you all for attending our beloved Empress' coronation. Unfortunately, she must retire early."
Kaguya stepped forward. "Then let us wish her a well deserved good night."
"Here, here!" the crowd cheered.
Nunnally smiled gratefully on the outside, happy that no one was offended. But she knew she was far from deserving of anything good.
She let herself be wheeled out through the back door, leaving Cornelia to attend to her guests. She was actually glad to be away from the party, guests be damned. She was still exhausted and depressed and in need of another good, long cry. Typical selfish Nunnally, she thought. Always thinking of herself before others. Did that sound like a worthy ruler?
She was stopped and realized that they had arrived at her chambers much earlier than she had expected. The Knight of Zero reached over and pressed a button, automatically swinging open the double doors to allow them entrance, and they stepped inside.
It was large, of course, fitting for an Empress of Britannia. The round room housed the usual bedroom requirements; a bed, a vanity, a desk, and a door leading to a private restroom and spa. The desk was mahogany with intricate swirls and designs carved into the legs. There were two little drawers stationed above the surface, where a few stacks of official documents sat, waiting for her attention. The vanity was treated with the same craftsmanship as the desk. Of course it had a round mirror and drawers, and it was occupied with dozens of bottles neatly arranged on it. There were powders and inks, perfumes and scrubs, and rouges and bronzes. Dozens of different brushes for application were neatly lined up in front of it all ascending and descending in size. Lastly, there was the bed. It was wide, a king-sized no doubt, and tall. The four posts reached up almost to the ceiling and supported the canopy. A thick, velvety curtain encased the whole thing and it was left open for her return. Just another thing to imprison her.
Suddenly, the nagging feeling of being trapped was overwhelming to Nunnally. The huge dress she was shoved in was too hot. Her skin was sweaty, her hair was pulled to tight, Her feet were pinched in those fancy shoes.
So she tossed off her fur cape and began to undo the buttons of the collar on her dress. But they were fastened very tightly. She began to panic when they wouldn't come loose, imagining the collar getting tighter and tighter and restricting her airway, scratching the sensitive skin of her neck. She started to tug instead, hoping that would work. When it didn't, she pulled even harder, and then harder still. She was left rocking back and forth violently in her chair, tugging until she was free of her collar with a shower of shiny black buttons. But her skin was still on fire, and she grabbed at her sleeves, clawing at the puffy fabric until they too had been ripped off. Finally she ripped at the the remainder of the bodice and with enough raw emotional strength, tore it off with a desperate cry. She was left there, panting from exertion and panic and anger, her pink dress torn to shreds down to her waist to reveal her slip and corset.
All the while Zero had been watching her episode quietly in front of her, never turning his gaze away. Nunnally now challenged him with a defiant glare, willing herself not to be embarrassed by her lapse in composure and brief foray into insanity.
They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, but in that metal mask Nunnally only saw herself. Her hair was a mess, frizzy and half pulled out of its updo. Her arms were streaked with red scratch marks. There were huge bags under her violet eyes, which were were littered with tiny little red veins; blood-shot. She looked like a mess.
She was a mess.
She couldn't look at herself anymore. She broke their gaze and sniffed miserably, tears springing into her eyes. God, she really was a child. And what people would want a child to lead them? Nobody, by her thinking. If they all saw her now, maybe they wouldn't have so much faith in her. Maybe they wouldn't treat her with so much respect, like she was some sort of war hero. Well she certainly wasn't. All she did was sit in her chair and watch the battle rage on around her.
That's why she did just that as Zero quietly walked over and grabbed the shredded pieces of fabric off the carpet. He placed those in the waste bin next to the desk before pulling off the bottom half of the dress; what was left of it. Then he gently lifted each of her legs, which were nothing but pale twigs wrapped in sickly blue veins, and pulled off her shoes, until she was in nothing but her slip and corset.
Now she was slightly embarrassed, and made to cover herself by crossing her arms over her chest. Zero either didn't pick up on it or didn't care. He approached her and slipped his gloved hands under her knees and around her waist, lifting her effortlessly into his arms. She was deposited lightly on her vanity stool and Zero paced behind her, kneeling down. She felt the strings of her corset become loosened and untangled as Zero's nimble fingers pulled every knot from the top to the bottom of her corset, down her spine. Soon, she was free of that as well.
She was finally picked up again and tucked in under the heavy covers of her bed. She saw Zero on the other side reach to draw the curtains down, to imprison her in darkness for the rest of the night.
"Wait," she called, and he paused. And she paused, again staring at her reflection in the mask.
"I… I think I might hate you," she whispered into the silence between them.
Zero didn't say or do anything for a short moment. He just stared at her, maybe thinking of a way to respond. Was he astonished? Sad? Angry? Or did he just not care?
Nunnally wouldn't know. He just drew the curtains and she was plunged into pitch black once again. She could hear his soft steps on the carpet, the gentle whoosh of the metal doors opening and closing, and then nothing.
"Status report," Cornelia ordered as she marched into the communications room.
The party had lasted well past midnight. Cornelia wasn't one for formal events. She was much more at home on the battlefield than in the ballroom; there at least, nothing was kept hidden. People spoke through their actions not their words. But diplomacy? Everybody had some sort of secret agenda that they hid behind fake politeness. It was tiring trying to figure out what their intentions were. In war, you already knew what they were; to kill you.
"All points of entry are clear. No breaches detected. All guests are cleared off the perimeter. The Empress is located in her chambers. All guards are in position. Ready to execute nightly lock down," an officer dutifully announced.
"Proceed. Give me the global status,"
"I think I can help with that." Cornelia turned at the new voice to see her older brother Schneizel approaching in a confident swagger, a clipboard in his hand. "Would you like to hear it?" he inquired, a smug smile on his face.
"Please," Cornelia ground out. He may have been loyal to Zero and the Empress, but that didn't mean he was any less aggravating. With a chuckle, he began to read from the papers he had.
"There have been a few skirmishes with Europan officials as our forces withdraw from their territory. Seems there still a little bitter about their defeat at our hands. Same goes with the Middle Eastern Federation." Cornelia pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Typical. They think because we are withdrawing we are weakened."
"Are you going to send them a warning, dear sister?"
"No. We must continue to completely withdraw. We don't need to justify their ire any longer." A headache began to form and she rubbed her temples. We have to maintain the balance. She thought.
"It's not that easy, is it?" Schneizel grabbed the railing of the balcony they were on, looking over the dozens of subordinates at their computers below. "It's quite the naive little wish, world peace."
"It's only naive if you are too lazy to put in the effort to make it happen," Cornelia countered.
"Or too intelligent to know that it's impossible. But everything a challenge for you isn't it dear sister? There's no mountain you cannot climb if you put your all into it, correct?"
"Don't patronize me," she snapped. "After all, look where you are. It seems your intelligence didn't get you to the throne like you wanted."
"Perhaps not," He answered wistfully. Cornelia watched her brother for a bit, studying the way he looked over the intelligence team fondly.
"Had things been different…" she began,
"Things are the way they are, and that will never change," he looked up at her. "I didn't take you for the nostalgic type, little sister."
She started at that. She guessed she was. Maybe it was her clinging to the past that drove her to do everything she ever did these past years. It was the death of Clovis that urged her to request the position of Viceroy of Area Eleven, to avenge his death as well as the deaths of her other two siblings. She saw their blood soaked on the hands of every Eleven she saw. And later, little Euphy's blood was on their hands as well. So she made it her job to serve them righteous justice, and suppress them back under rightful Britannian control. They would regret their treacherous ways. But, it didn't turn out that way of course. But she still clung to their memories anyways, and rather than correct the past, she looked to changing the future. For Euphy.
Maybe why Schneizel became the way he was, did all of the horrible things he did, was because of what he just said. He accepted the world the way it was, rather than trying to change it for the better. Cornelia knew he had good intentions; he did after all offer peace treaties to the colonies they conquered, and like Euphemia, he loved all people, and fought against racism. But he never went beyond that. He tried to remedy the symptoms, not the disease.
That's where is enemy succeeded. But at a high cost.
Cornelia took a moment to remember all that had lost their lives in the bloody years that had just passed, taking a special moment to conjure a painting Clovis did of her and her baby sister playing as children.
"Yes, perhaps I am the nostalgic type," Cornelia admitted to her brother. She turned away from him. "Good work. I will return at 06:00 hours for another report," she announced to the communications room.
"Yes, princess!" they all responded at once, saluting her as she left.
The heavy shadow of exhaustion was weighing on her, pulling down her eyelids. She needed to rest, but her work was never done. So maybe she was nostalgic. That was fine. She would use the love of her last living sister and the memories of the siblings that had passed to drive her to maintain the peace they sacrificed so much for. No matter what, she would preserve the world exactly the way Euphemia wanted it. Exactly the way Nunnally wants it.
Exactly the way Lelouch wanted it.
"Was your trip successful, Brother Colin?" Father Abel asked when his young apprentice walked through the door.
"As far as I know," the fifteen year old responded. Father Abel nodded his head.
"Good, good," he said. Colin finished hanging up his coat on the coat hanger. They were in the office of Father Abel, the leader of their little church located in a run down building in one of the few ghettos in the California Base. There were a few other churches spread around the area, in other ghettos as well in other cities. But they hadn't spread so far as to have stations in other countries. But with the recent news, it looked like they might be heading towards a brighter future.
"You don't seem all that excited, Father," Colin observed sarcastically.
"We must not let lose control of our minds by getting our hopes up. This is good news indeed, but there is still much work to be done, and we must focus." Colin sat himself down in the metal folding chair in front of the father's desk.
"Sure, but if it was so important, why send me?" Colin asked.
"Because you're easy on the eyes," Father Abel explained, his wrinkled golden eyes twinkling. He reached his blocky fingers into his bowl of assorted sweets and fished out a butterscotch candy. "Most of us here in the Sect of the Attuned are old men. We're also scientists, so we're already not very good looking to begin with!" he laughed.
"It's not physical beauty or strength but the power of the mind that matters," Colin lazily recited.
"And your very right about that. We know that more than anybody else." He began to slowly, almost tenderly unwrap the candy in his hands, watching the process with an intense interest. "And it's because of this that we know the powers of other people's minds." He looked back up to Colin. "And their weaknesses."
TBC