I have a very good explanation for being late. But that's for later; read for now! :)
"There were no sparks,
just the gasoline fire burning through the dark."
Monster by Dev
Lesson VII
The Lying Memories
Gottwald Estate, five months ago.
The garden was silent except for the clinking of porcelain as the food was being served. A gentle breeze stirred the leaves every now and then, its coldness a complete contrast to the warmth of the early morning sunlight.
Seated opposite Jeremiah, the young woman chose to keep her gaze on the tall archway of roses standing far behind him, stubbornly refusing to meet his eyes. She kept at it until she found herself absentmindedly looking at him, and saw that he was politely staring away from her as well, his restlessness made more than evident by his stiff posture.
Anya blinked perfunctorily, unsure why Jeremiah should be so tense. If she remembered correct, then the man should be staring at her proudly – perhaps even contemptuously. While it was arguable that she hadn't been in the best condition when she went up against him, the end result was undisputable: She had fallen unconscious in the middle of their battle, and the only reason that she was still alive was because he chose to keep her so.
The Eleven servant placed down the glass pitcher on the table, disrupting Anya's musings. The woman clasped her hands together politely, having finished serving their food. "Please enjoy your breakfast."
Jeremiah nodded to her. "Thank you, Rika. I'll ring for you once we finish," he said, to which the Eleven responded with a courteous bow. With a gentle smile in Anya's direction, the woman retreated back into the mansion, leaving the two in the heavy silence.
It was Jeremiah who chose to break it first, seeming to be more at ease now that they were alone. "Eat up," he said, gesturing to the scrumptious breakfast on the table.
Anya stared at him, feeling slightly puzzled by his invitation. "I didn't come here to have breakfast with you," she told him, making no move to do as he told her to. He said he wanted to talk to her about her memories, and the last thing she expected was to have breakfast with him.
Jeremiah looked back at her frankly. "But I called you here for that," he told her, sounding quite concerned despite his strict tone. He paused, seemingly waiting for her to move, and heaved a sigh when she didn't budge. "You haven't eaten properly since you fell unconscious in the battlefield."
Anya narrowed her eyes, unsure what to make sure of his words. Jeremiah didn't sound like he was mocking her for collapsing during their battle, but that didn't change the fact that she couldn't stand being reminded of what had happened only two days ago.
Especially not by this man, who obviously thought that she couldn't fend for herself.
"I don't need your concern," she told him bluntly, wondering if Jeremiah realized that he was talking to the Knight of Six. She inwardly cursed herself when she remembered that she was not wearing her uniform, but the lavish white dress that the servant had given her to change into after her bath. She had been so distracted by the thoughts of her missing memories that she had barely paid attention to the Eleven when she gave it to her.
"Lord Jeremiah bought it for you, Lady Anya."
"I know you don't," Jeremiah said, helping himself to a serving of bacon, as if to persuade her to eat. "You are the Knight of Six, aren't you, Anya?"
Anya paused, feeling slightly surprised to hear her name from his lips. "You know who I am," she murmured, before she could stop herself. Jeremiah made her name sound so familiar, calling her like they were not strangers, like they had known each other for a very long time.
"Anya Alstreim, Knight of Six. The youngest of all twelve," Jeremiah said easily. Without missing a heartbeat, he leaned over to her across the table, placing a generous serving of pancake, bacon and eggs on her plate before returning to his seat. "Now eat," he told her lightly, the command unmistakable in his voice.
Anya gave him a glare, not at all appreciating his gesture. "Don't order me around," she told him coldly, but turned her attention to the food on her plate, anyway. She was hungry, and would have been more than enthusiastic to finally eat if Jeremiah wasn't around flaunting how he was the adult and she was no more than a delicate little child that needed his care.
Reluctantly she picked up her fork and took a small bite of her pancake, trying not to think of it as a surrender to him. There was going to be hell to pay once she had eaten, and Jeremiah had better prepare himself for that.
The two of them spent the next several minutes in silence. Anya turned her complete attention to her food, barely lifting her gaze unless for the occasional glances around the garden, letting her eyes feast on its beauty. She almost smirked when she realized how peaceful it was, an odd contradiction to the violent war that she was used to.
Anya looked over to Jeremiah, noting how preoccupied he seemed to be. The many years he had endured in the military seemed to have accentuated his sharp features, now adorned by an expression that looked curiously troubled.
Anya frowned, realizing that it was his eyes that gave him away. His eyes, or at least the one unobscured by his mask, made it clear how lost he was in the quiet, distressed by a torrent of thoughts that he would probably never tell a soul. Against her will the Knight of Six found herself wondering how much Jeremiah must have gone through to be the Margrave of Area 11 – a position that he easily lost because of Zero and the Orange incident.
"Is it true?" she asked, before she could stop herself.
Jeremiah blinked, as if surprised by both her question and the fact that she had spoken to him. "Is what true?"
She shrugged. Suzaku Kururugi's intended public execution had been broadcasted in real time in Britannia, and she could still remember how interested she had been by how it all turned out. "That you were conspiring with the terrorists against Britannia," she said. Margrave Jeremiah Gottwald was one of the most prominent members of the Purist Faction, and it came as a surprise to many that he could betray the Empire that he had been serving for most of his life.
Jeremiah's expression darkened. "It's not true at all," he said, his voice coming out in a cold, throaty rasp. "It was nothing but a ruse that Zero used to discredit me."
"But you let Suzaku go," she pointed out.
From across the table, Jeremiah huffed, looking very frustrated by his inability to deny her words. "That's something I can't explain to you at this point."
Anya arched an eyebrow at this, but chose not to comment. The inconsistency that characterized the Orange incident was still a puzzle to her, but she wasn't interested enough to look into it if even Jeremiah wasn't willing to explain.
Once more silence ruled over them, the atmosphere heavy and thick. Anya turned back to her food, trying not to think about the fact that she was having breakfast with the man who had almost killed her, and that Gino was probably already raising hell in the military base because of her disappearance.
It was several minutes later when she finally finished her food, and she looked up at Jeremiah. The man was staring at the small pond of water lilies nearby, although he appeared too caught up in his musings to really see anything. A mixture of stubbornness and anger seemed to emanate from him, and Anya found herself almost intimidated.
Don't be stupid, Anya.
As if feeling her stare on him, Jeremiah paused and turned to look at her. "You're done."
Anya squared her shoulders, fixing him with an intent stare. "Tell me what you know about my memories."
۞۞۞
Jeremiah watched the hint of impatience return to Anya's eyes as soon as the servants had gone back inside the mansion, having finished clearing the table. "You enjoy keeping me waiting, don't you?" she murmured with irritation.
"Not at all," he disagreed. "I just don't want you collapsing in front of me again." He saw her narrow her eyes at him, and he shook his head, unwilling to give her the opportunity to say her retort. The Knight of Six was a willful child, and it wasn't hard to imagine that they would never be able to proceed if he allowed her to answer everything that he said. "That's enough, Anya. We're going to talk about your memories."
Anya huffed, turning away petulantly. "I don't understand why you're even interested in them," she said, without even a glance at him. "They have nothing to do with a stranger like you."
Jeremiah paused, knowing that it was most certainly not his place to be asking her about her memories. He was a stranger to her, and even more than that: He was a stranger to the Empire that he supposedly betrayed.
Then again, he couldn't disregard the likelihood that Anya's memories were missing because of the geass.. He'd gone too far to know about Anya's memories and its possible relationship with the geass, and he wasn't about to turn back empty-handed. "I've already made it my business," he simply told her. "If I may, I'd like to ask you a couple of questions."
Anya lifted her chin, giving him another one of her characteristic empty stares. "Go ahead."
He placed his hands on the table, clasping them together as he spoke. "While we were in battle," he started, "what did you mean when you told me you have no memories?"
The young woman looked back at him frankly. "Exactly that," she said. "I have no memories to speak of."
Jeremiah furrowed his eyebrows, shifting in his seat. He should have known that Anya wouldn't make things easy for him, especially after he reminded her of how she had fainted in the middle of their battle. It had resulted in an undisputable draw, but the young woman very obviously considered it to be an embarrassing defeat. "Did you have an accident?" he asked.
A cynical smirk tugged at the corner of Anya's lips. "An accident would have been more acceptable," she said. "Tell me: At what age did you decide to become a member of the military?"
Jeremiah stared at her, surprised by the question that seemed to have come out of nowhere. "I was seven then," he told her, unsure why she had asked. "I've always wanted to be in the military."
"And you trust the person that you were, many years ago?"
He narrowed his eyes, a vague understanding of why she was asking such question dawning on him. "Are you suggesting that a determination in the past is foolish?" he asked. "That I can't trust my seven-year-old self – the very person that I once was?"
Anya picked up her small camera from the table, flipping it open. "People's memories are unreliable," she told him. "They are not worth believing in." She pushed several buttons on her handheld device as she spoke. "How can you be sure that you did make that decision when you were seven years old, or that you have always wanted to join the military?"
Jeremiah found himself at a loss for words. "Unreliable…?" he repeated, his voice coming out doubtful and unsure. "But one's memories – "
"They are worthless," Anya cut off, holding up the small camera and snapping a picture of his surprised expression.
"Recorded. Thank you."
Anya glanced up at him, her blank eyes as if looking through him. "I have a diary I wrote nine years ago, when I was six years old," she said, her expression remaining impassive despite the gravity of her words. "I don't remember any of it."
Jeremiah stiffened, feeling both his heart and mind race when realized the implications of her words. "Anya – " he murmured, well aware of the fact that the young woman had more than confirmed his suspicion about her missing memories. The geass –
"My memories and the data I recorded are different," the young woman added, without even a pause to acknowledge the surprise that fell upon his features. "I wrote down one thing, and remember another." she said, her tone bland and dead; as if she was simply reciting a story that she had memorized by heart.
The ex-margrave clenched his jaw, suddenly very careful with the choice of his words. "These inconsistencies," he said. "Would you tell me more about them?"
Anya was browsing through her camera-diary as she spoke. "I'm Anya Alstreim, the sole heiress to the Alstreim fortune," she started. "I live with a trusted butler, who has been with my family for a very long time. My parents, who were an earl and a countess, passed away when I was only several months old." The young woman paused, holding up her diary to him. "Or at least, according to my memories."
Jeremiah leaned in, narrowing his eyes at the picture. It showed a much younger Anya uncharacteristically smiling in front of a beautifully embellished layered cake, the flame from the '6' candle illuminating her crimson eyes. Behind her stood a lovely old couple, who both bore a striking resemblance to the young lady. "You celebrated your sixth birthday with them," he said, to which Anya shrugged.
"I wouldn't know. I don't remember any of it," she said, placing her camera on her lap. "And neither do they."
Jeremiah paused. "Them?"
Anya looked at him in the eye. "I saw them in a gathering once, in the palace of the Emperor," she said. "We bear the same name of Alstreim, but they said they didn't know me, or why I would have a picture of us together." A dark smirk turned up the corner of her lips. "They said their daughter died when she was six years old."
Jeremiah clenched his jaw, willing himself not to flinch. "What about the other people around you? What do they tell you about your parents?"
Anya's face was a mask of perfect indifference. "They only confirm what I remember," she said.
For a long time, Jeremiah was quiet, the magnitude of Anya's words rendering him wordless. He hadn't realized it until then, but Anya's missing memories had harmed the young lady in more ways than one. For the first time ever since he met the Knight of Six, it dawned on him how truly serious the geass was, like a timeless curse that never lost its potency, no matter which shape it took.
The public disgrace he had gone through would pale in comparison to the nightmare that Anya Alstreim had been living ever since eight years ago.
He looked at the young lady before himself, wondering how exactly the young woman had endured such gaping contradiction in the last several years. Anya even came to be one of the Knights of the Round for the Emperor, which was not an easy feat –
Jeremiah drew in a breath, holding the thought. "How did you become the Knight of Six?" he asked, his voice coming out low and strained, trying to keep himself from being too agitated. That Anya's missing memories was caused by a geass was obvious enough, but he'd learned enough in the last several months to know that he shouldn't jump in with imperfect information about either allies or enemies – especially when it concerned the geass.
Anya furrowed her eyebrows, seemingly confused by the question. For a moment or two she simply stared at him, a flicker of doubt flashing in her eyes and lingering there. "When the Empress died, I was ordered by the Emperor to stay behind," she said.
The ex-margrave gripped the edge of the table more forcefully than necessary at the mention of the Empress. "You mean the Empress Marianne?" he asked, doing his utmost to keep his tone leveled. "You stayed in the palace of the Empress?"
Anya nodded. "Before they passed away, my parents had already arranged for me to be sent to the Imperial Villa at Aries, to be an apprentice for proper etiquette to the Empress," she said. "I arrived one year before her death."
Jeremiah pressed his lips together, becoming more and more restless by the second. "Do you remember anything days before and after the death of the Empress?" he asked, the thought that Anya might have been a witness to the Empress' murder refusing to leave him alone. He know that he shouldn't even consider it, but it only made sense for the Emperor to tamper with Anya's memories if the young lady had witnessed it, and the Emperor had something to do with it.
"No," Anya said, with a slight frown. "All I remember is that I was sick, and that I was confined in my room the entire week."
Jeremiah gave a stern nod, his unruffled exterior a complete contradiction to the chaos in his heart. The thought that the Emperor must have had something to do with the Empress Marianne's death was something that he had refused to even think about in the last eight years, simply because it was too preposterous to even consider.
Emperor Charles loved the Empress Marianne; it was something that Jeremiah could not doubt. He had stayed in the Palace long enough to know how differently His Majesty treated the former Knight of the Rounds from his other consorts. The Emperor had always been cold and reserved, and almost antagonistic; but whenever the Empress was around, the man who already held the world firmly between his fingers would smile, as though for the first time, in the truest sense of the word, everything was finally his.
He looked over to the young woman from across the table, watching her quietly turn back to her camera. The only reason why His Majesty must have gone at lengths to alter her memories was that Anya must have seen something too important for the Emperor to risk being discovered – like the truth behind the Empress' murder.
Jeremiah clenched his jaw. It was impossible. The Emperor couldn't have killed the Empress.
"What are you thinking?"
Jeremiah blinked, only then realizing that Anya was staring at him. "I just – " he hesitated, unsure how to put his thoughts to words.
There was still something wrong with the picture that he'd come up with – something that didn't quite fit with the rest of the puzzle. If his Majesty truly did have something to do what had transpired, then it would make sense to think that he had casted his geass on Anya to keep the girl from saying anything about it.
But why did His Majesty still keep the young lady close to him? A simple elimination of her memory of the night that the Empress died would have been sufficient, but the Emperor didn't stop there, and instead even cut off Anya's connection with everyone else – including her own family.
Why?
"Would you know why the Emperor kept you?" Jeremiah asked, after a thoughtful pause. The whole thing was turning out to be much trickier than he could have imagined, and he wasn't certain if he was thrilled by this or not.
Anya seemed confused by the question. "Prior to her death, the Empress had included me in her list of candidates for the military," she said. "The Emperor only approved of it after what happened, and I was ordered to stay in the Palace, while waiting to be sent off to military school."
"And you were only seven," he remarked.
Anya narrowed her eyes. "The youngest to be considered," she murmured, looking down to her camera with the characteristic blankness in her gaze. "I wasn't even aware I was being considered for the military."
"You weren't?" Jeremiah asked, lifting an eyebrow in curiosity.
The Knight of Six fiddled with her camera as she spoke. "I was there to be an apprentice for proper etiquette; not to try out for the military," she said, looking away to the pond of water lilies nearby. "I don't understand why the Empress must have suggested me at all."
A heavy silence descended upon them once again, and Jeremiah sighed, marveling at the emptiness in Anya's eyes. The young woman's beautiful crimsons were cold and dull; like the light in them had long been extinguished, and her very own life had been taken away from her.
Jeremiah inwardly scoffed, realizing that it was probably not too far from the truth.
"What if the Empress didn't?" he asked, before he could stop himself.
Anya gave him a puzzled glance. "What do you mean?"
Jeremiah squared his shoulders, narrowing his eyes contemplatively. "What if the Emperor only made that up to keep you away from everyone else?" he said. "What if the reason that His Majesty sent you away to military school has something to do with your missing memories?"
Anya paused, tensing up. "What are you saying?" she asked, her voice coming out in a hoarse whisper.
"Ever since the beginning of time, it has always been women who seduce men into evil."
"I might be able to help you retrieve your memories," he started, ignoring the rapid thudding of his heart. "But first, we have to start from the very beginning."
Anya blinked, and in that split second Jeremiah could have sworn he saw a flicker of life in her eyes. It lasted only fleetingly, but it was all that the fallen margrave needed to make his decision. He lifted his chin, giving the young lady a grim nod.
"Let me tell you about the geass."
۞۞۞
Geass Directorate Headquarters, five months ago.
The photograph showed the youngest of the Knights of the Round in a white cocktail dress, standing bored and unsmiling amidst the other Knights in what appeared to be a banquet in Britannia. The young woman was clearly uninterested in the merrymaking around her, her crimson eyes blank and dead, giving the impression that she had only showed up in the event in accordance with the orders of the Emperor, as one of the Knights.
V.V. regarded the picture with a smirk, not missing the small camera that the Knight of Six was holding in her hands. It looked distinctly out of place, especially in the hands of someone who seemed like she would rather be in the battlefield destroying Knightmares than in a ridiculous party acting like a proper lady.
"So this was the intruder that Jeremiah chose not to kill," he remarked.
Bartley Asprius nodded sternly. "We're already finding out as much as we can about her, as you've instructed." He lowered his voice. "With discretion, of course."
The golden-haired leader of the Directorate felt his smirk grow wider. "Good." He lifted his gaze to Bartley, a flicker of dark amusement flashing in his eyes and lingering there. "I want to know what Anya Alstreim has to do with the geass."
…to be continued…
First off: Apologies for the late update! I put writing and updating to the backburner in the last couple of months because of school and a ton of extracurricular activities. I just finished my finals, too, and while I didn't study 24/7, I couldn't squander my study breaks in fan fiction; it just makes me too guilty. To top it all off, my graduation will be in just two weeks, aaand I'm graduating with Latin honors. Hah. There's just so much going on right now, and it's all so very exciting. :)
On another note, this story is turning out to be much longer than I'd originally planned for it to be (a one-shot). I actually have ideas for two more multi-chaptered JeremiahAnya stories, but I don't want to be distracted from writing this, so I just outlined them instead. (But I'm very excited for them!) Infrequent updates are kind of my thing, but rest assured that I have the full intention of finishing this story.
All right, I've said enough. I hope you liked the chapter, and please review! :)
Hilaire
04.04.12
