The planes engine hummed gently and Zero turned to look at the thin folder lying on the chair next to him. He scanned its contents – an invitation to a peace conference in an area around Mt Fuji – and sighed. He hadn't always resented flying so much. Once, there had even been a time when he could've piloted an aircraft like this without so much as breaking a sweat. Zero put it down to his service in the Britannian military...though that had mostly involved knightmare frames (and he knew enough about the two machines to be able to tell that they were not the same thing). Zero didn't care what claims his military record had made, once in the air his combat skills were appalling.
He had tried everything to cure his sudden phobia. Nunnally had suggested sleeping through the flight but the last thing thing Zero wanted to do right now was sleep. Each time he closed his eyes he was plagued by nightmares, only to wake up in his own room – his uniform draped over his desk chair, his mask sitting patiently on the bedside table. That was when the illusion faded, when he took it off. He would walk into the bathroom and there would stand Suzaku Kururugi, chocolate brown curls, tired green eyes and all.
Zero lent back into the plush leather and closed his eyes never the less. It was true. He had been told by a great number of people - his friends, Nunnally, his 'comrades' – that there had been a very noticeable change in his character since the requiem. Everyone believed that it was simply because of the stress of change and that he would be back to his old self in no time...but Zero wasn't so sure. The problem was that he didn't feel stressed, in fact he'd had almost no trouble at all adjusting to his new life. He enjoyed caring for Nunnally and spending time with his friends from Ashford (even if they didn't know who he was, it was good to see them regardless). Even Cornelia, who had appeared harsh and reserved at first, was now starting to open up a little more each day...Zero guessed it was because of Guilford.
All in all, life at the palace was good, but as for his so-called-stress, Zero had a theory of his own. The thing was that his nightmares weren't random in any way, they all centred around one person. There was no easy way to say it – He regretted killing Lelouch. From the bottom of his heart, he regretted it. He saw his face everywhere he went and the guilt he now felt wasn't showing any signs of stopping. A few weeks ago Zero had been sent to the east wing to collect some documents. He hadn't been there since the requiem. He tucked them under his arm and started to make his way back towards his office. He didn't quite make it though.
When Zero came to he was standing at the door to the throne room, a sickening feeling beginning to build in his stomach. He must have taken a wrong turning somewhere. For reasons even Zero couldn't quite fathom, he reached out a gloved hand and turned the brass door knob. Once inside, he stopped. He couldn't deny that some of his strongest memories were of this now empty chamber, or at least, the person that had once occupied it anyway. Then he saw the portrait...
It hung a few metres above the throne itself, framed by satin curtains that were now cloaked in a thin layer of dust. Its subject stared confidently down at the viewer, just like he had done with Suzaku. He'd stared with amethyst orbs set into a pale face that seemed such a contrast to his raven black hair. Zero no longer cared which member of the Britannian royal family would take his friend's place here. In Zero's eyes (or rather, in Suzaku's eyes if he was honest with himself...that was the thing about Zero, he was a symbol – he couldn't laugh, cry or love) this would always be Lelouch's throne room, just as it would always be his palace. It had been the place where he had offered Suzaku his contract, the contract of Zero.