Happy Holidays, Tsunderestorm
Lelouch likes living in Area Eleven. He's freer here, outside of the trapping of court life. Back in Pendragon, the snide comments regarding his lowly birth followed him everywhere. In the colonies, no one dares to criticize his mother. She is the viceroy, the highest authority in this strange island.
One evening, as they eat their dinner in the peaceful garden roof of the Viceroy Palace, his mother gestures out at the sea of stars below them. "One day, this will all be yours, Lelouch."
"Area Eleven?" Lelouch asks absently as he watches his sister chat with Euphemia happily. They didn't want a boy in their games anymore.
"Yes, and everything that the sun touches," his mother says.
"I thought Odysseus was first in line?"
His mother's smile takes on a patronizing edge. "You're eleven now. You should know better. If there is one thing that your father believes in above all, it's strength. An Empire is determined by its strength. Look around, this land was once known as Japan with a prideful history." She takes a slow sip of her blood red wine. There are no servants to refill her glass. Family dinners are always private if she has her way. "Now, it's Area Eleven, the people serving their betters because the strong will always rule. Under a strong Emperor, Britannia expands. But if he's weak, then it falls into chaos. Do you think Odysseus is strong enough?"
Lelouch swallows, suddenly glad that his two sisters are occupied. "He's older than me. And if not me, there's Schneizel. He's smarter than me. I can never beat him in chess! And Nunnally is better than me in a knightmare. Do you mean I have to practice more? What about my studies?"
His mother laughs. "My little prince, strength is not so easily determined. If it were, there would be no wars. We must enter the battlefield to prove our mettle. There is still time for you to grow, for you to develop the strength needed."
Scrunching his nose, Lelouch slouches in a very unprincely manner. That sounds like extra work. "Can't we just stay here?"
"You've been spoiled. You only know a life of comfort and plenty, yet you've listened too well to the cruel words in Pendragon. I brought us here to give you the opportunity to grow. You're the son of a commoner, Lelouch. You cannot afford to lose this war for the throne."
Despite it being a windless night, Lelouch shudders. He knows there's violence in his family, that the last fight for the throne thrust Britannia into a civil war, but his mother has always been an impenetrable shield. Even his father, the Emperor, bows to her whims.
"Aren't you strong enough?" he asks.
She scoots her chair back and walks over to him, resting her calloused hands on his shoulder. Her voice drops to a tickling whisper in his ear. "It's not me who protects you, but your father. I cannot defend. I am a sword who strikes where needed. You need to find your own strength so you can stand when I am gone. You need to find your own sword, one forged to your needs."
He ponders her words as he goes to bed that night. They ring in his ears when he wakes up and is informed that his lessons have been reduced to a single hour in the week. His Mondays and Wednesdays are now booked for physical and knightmare training.
He doesn't like Area Eleven anymore.
The months drag by as bruises accumulate along his arms. Despite his pleadings, his mother stands firm and refuses to reinstate his academic lessons. Instead, she added Friday as another day of intense training. Ditching them is impossible. A prince cannot hide in a palace. The longest he manages is an hour before he is found and dragged into a particularly brutal lesson.
"Without suffering, you will not grow," his mother would explain every time he complained.
He's not sure how this will help him become strong enough to rule. Battles aren't fought with swords anymore, but three times a week, he leaves the courtyard with dark flowers blooming across his skin.
At the end of the fourth month, Lelouch has enough. He bribes a young servant with his dessert in exchange for a palace map, marking all the "improper" parts. The most important part is the laundry room.
One cold Wednesday, so early that the sky was still pitch black, Lelouch sneaks out of his room with a stack of towels. Sleep deprived eyes pay him no mind as they see him pass. An unusually well dressed servant is of no real concern.
An hour later, Lelouch is dressed in itchy worn fabrics and making his way to the edge of the palace where the low borns work. Attrition is high. A new face shouldn't raise too many eyebrows.
In hindsight, his plan has one major flaw. The overseer barely glances at him before ordering him into the work lines. The torture of his lessons pales in comparison to the relentless back breaking labor. He marvels at children as young as five vigorously rubbing at stained clothes and wobbling under the weight of massive loads.
His instinct is to brush them off as being built differently. They are commoners, or worse, Numbers. But his mother is a commoner, and she is far more than a laborer.
"You seem out of place," a boy accuses as they break for lunch. His eyes are vivid green emeralds, and he has the inane thought to put them in a jar to admire. "How the hell did you get here?"
Lelouch gapes.
"What?" The boy leans back. Lelouch wants to call him an Eleven, but his English is too good and he's never heard of Elevens having such wonderful eyes. "If you keep staring, I'm going to sock you."
Lelouch snorts. He has trained, unlike this member of the rabble.
The boy's eyes narrow and he lunges forward. Frantically, Lelouch brings up an arm to block. The boy is quicker than a snake, weaving past his guard.
Wind knocked out of his lungs, Lelouch falls back. He takes a moment to regain his composure. How can someone like that be a mere servant? Or has all his training been utterly for naught? Is he that physically incompetent?
"How did you do that?" Lelouch wheezes.
The boy sneers, snagging the brick of food that he dropped. "Hit you?"
"Yeah…"
Grumbling, the boy somehow snaps the brick in half and passes it over to him before biting into the inedible lunch.
"Are your teeth made of titanium?" Lelouch demands.
"No." The boy crosses his arms. "So who are you? And don't lie. You're no serving boy."
The truth would leave the boy begging in the dirt for mercy. He would be thrashed for his disrespect toward a member of the royal family. Despite not having known the truth, he clearly knows that Lelouch was of a higher class than him. He deserved to be punished.
"Julius," Lelouch answers, internally berating himself. It's not even a good lie. He gave a first name, implying they're friends! "I sneaked out to avoid my lessons?"
The truth sounds utterly ridiculous to his ears, and Lelouch wants to find a hole to crawl in. Before today, he thought he was good with words. His wits have clearly left him, wrung out by the endless hard work.
Surprisingly, the boy gives a sympathetic nod before extending his hand. "Zach… You're supposed to shake."
Lelouch's face burns as he hurriedly complies. "Is it always so hard here?"
"Harder when there is a big event. So will you run back to your lessons now?"
Shaking his head, Lelouch staggers to his feet. "Not weak."
The overseer shouts.
"You really should. Newbies never last long, and they'll definitely find you out if you faint. Then you'll be more in trouble. I am sure your parents wouldn't be happy that you're associating with low borns."
Lelouch shook his head, swaying slightly. If he goes back now, his mother will know how he escaped his lessons. He has to change back late at night.
"Don't say I didn't warn you," Zach says.
The food isn't enough. He's light headed as he resumes his work with Zach as a new comforting presence by his side. As a royal, he's supposed to be superior to these peasants. He should be able to do these simple tasks.
Black swarms his vision, like a swarm of flies, constantly shifting. Sometimes he sees nothing at all. Mostly he barely sees anything.
"What are you doing boy!" the overseer shouts as sharp shooting pain rocks him out of his lethargy. "You need to scrub. Lazy brat."
He tries to focus…
He wakes up in pain, lying in the dirt and staring up at brambles.
What happened?
Groaning, he rolls over and slowly wiggles out of his hiding place. In the dark, it takes a moment to recognized where he is.
Somehow, he's near the public gardens.
He brushes off the dirt and leaves and turns around, wondering how he got here. The last thing he remembers is working next to Zach and that's quite a distance from here.
Somehow, he manages to trudge back into the laundry room without being stopped. With exhaustion weighing down his shoulders, he's just one of the hobbled masses.
Unfortunately, his mother is waiting in his rooms. "Ah, Lelouch."
He blinks, his mouth too stupid in this sea of fatigue.
She studies him and his uncharacteristic silence. "You skipped your lessons."
"Yes," he whispers.
"Where were you?"
What's he supposed to say?
She sighs. "Show me your hands."
Too tired to argue, he complies.
"Laundry? I admit, I am surprised. You were foolish to think that would be a reprieve, but you stuck with it."
"Am sorry," Lelouch mumbles, swaying on his feet.
His mother nods and pulls him into a tight hug. "It's not that I want you to suffer, Lelouch, but you must understand. You're privileged here, sheltered from all mundane worries and struggles. There is a cost, though."
"They're so young," Lelouch whispers. "We never finish our meals, yet they do not even get proper food."
She steps away, pride clearly shining in her face. "Your normal lessons will resume tomorrow. You still have combat training twice a week, and it will continue, until you have a sword that can adequately protect you."
"Thank you." He stumbles forward, and she catches him by the shoulder."
"Go sleep, my little prince," she says with a laugh.
Two weeks later, Lelouch finally finds his way back to the outskirts of the palace. This time, he's wearing clothes appropriate for a young minor noble.
Zach, the boy with brilliant green eyes, is working diligently, carrying dripping baskets away from the washing basins so others can hang the clothes up to dry.
Lelouch fidgets uncomfortably. Playing with Nunnally in the dirt to the dismay of the servants no longer feels so innocuous.
Pulling back his shoulders, Lelouch marches forward, past the overseer to his quarry. "You."
Zach looks up in surprise, and his eyes widen in recognition.
"My lord," the overseer tries to protest.
"I have need of him," Lelouch answers, roughly grabbing Zach by the shoulder and pulling him away before anyone has time to complain.
"What are you thinking?" Zach demands, the moment they round the corner. "I have work to do!"
Lelouch frowns. "Are you just naturally rude?"
The boy flushes. "The only asshole here is you. Everyone is relying on me. There's no way they'll finish on time without me. I don't have time for you wanting to play at being a servant for a day. Some of us have real work to do."
Words like that would get Zach killed. Only people with a death wish challenge the natural order of things so flagrantly.
"Well, you're welcome to go back and tell the overseer that you rejected the task I had for you," Lelouch retorts.
Taking a deep breath, Zach calms. He knows that isn't an option, not when Lelouch is so clearly dressed as a member of the nobility. "How may I serve you, my lord?"
"Well…" Lelouch slouches. He has been doing this all wrong. Schneizel would laugh at this pitiful attempt. "I wanted to thank you. You made sure I didn't get caught."
"Oh. You're welcome. Is that all?" Zach turns, ready to leave.
Lelouch narrows his eyes. "That's it? That's all you're going to say?"
"Should I be kissing your boots because you said thank you?"
"What is wrong with you!"
"What's wrong with you! You just barged in like you own the place. I don't have time for you."
Lelouch gapes. "Don't you see what I'm wearing?"
"I don't give a shit who your daddy is," Zach snaps back.
"It's like you have a death wish," Lelouch exclaims, throwing up his hands. He just doesn't understand this boy. Even his family doesn't act so irreverently. There are always rules to follow. "You're coming with me."
"Where?" Suzaku demands with a hint of hesitation.
"To the library. I'm giving you an etiquette book."
"I know etiquette!"
"Evidently not!"
It's an unusual relationship that develops between them, marked by an exhilarating lack of decorum. No matter how much Lelouch stresses the importance of respect, Zach forges on in his irreverent ways. At nights, Lelouch sometimes wakes in cold sweat as he dreams of walking down the main path and seeing Zach among the hanged. Yet, Lelouch never tells him who he is, maintaining the wonderful fiction of "Julius," the nobody son of a minor noble.
His mother meanwhile never comments on his excursions. She seems to tacitly approve of them, judging from how one of his closets always has a fresh set of clothes for someone far below his station.
"Do you really plan on working in laundry forever?" Lelouch asks when he's thirteen. The sun is high in the sky although the trees reflect the autumn hues. "Surely, you want to do more with your life. I could help you."
Zach leans forward, peering over the wall to look at Tokyo. "Your hands are clean; they always will be. My place is here, but I am sure you'll leave and do great things."
Lelouch swallows. "I could put a word in for you. You could join me. We could be great together."
Finally, he could shed this pleasant fiction and turn it into reality. If only—
"Julius…" Zack shakes his head. "You always wanted me to learn respect. The truth is we live in different worlds."
His thoughts turn bitter on the tongue, and Lelouch turns away, afraid of what Zach would see in his face. "I wish we could stay here forever."
"I'll be here. It's only you who is leaving. Where to?"
"My mother wants me to help track down the fugitive Kururugis. They're hiding out there somewhere, sowing terror and plotting our demise."
Zach jerks, then freezes, resembling a finely chiseled statue.
"Zach?"
His voice, when it comes, is as quiet as a breeze. "You'll be joining Prince Lelouch?"
"Where did you hear that?"
"Rumors. Julius, please… It'll be dangerous. You can find prestige elsewhere."
Lelouch raises an eyebrow, then shrugs. "You could come with me." Coyly, he adds, "Keep me safe."
"You'll be safer without me."
Suddenly concerned, Lelouch places a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Is there anything I should know? You know that I would help you, whatever it is."
Pained, emerald eyes focus on him. "This is not something I would ever ask of you. Just… Don't die."
Lelouch laughs. "The royal guard will be there. I couldn't be safer."
The fear in his eyes doesn't abate.
Lelouch feels ill at ease when he heads back that evening. There's something he's missing, and the months until his fourteenth birthday are ticking down, stealing him from the opportunity to dig deeper.
He will leave, and Zach will stay here.
Come January, Prince Lelouch's face will be known to all and their beautiful friendship will come to an end. A prince and a lowly servant can never be companions.
"You seem down, Lelouch," his mother notes at dinner. "Is something amiss?"
He picks at his food absently, unable to forget the worry in Zach's eyes. Has he heard something? Surely not, he would've said something. Yet… "Do I have to hunt the Kururugis?"
"Do you think you're not capable?" his mothers asks, setting down her wine glass. "I have full confidence in your abilities."
"No… I'm just wondering if it's necessary."
"My little prince, they've vowed to assassinate us. That they've spent years evading our agents is an embarrassment. Genbu and Suzaku Kururugi will hang, and only then will you and your sister be safe."
"I know," Lelouch mumbles.
"What's really wrong?" she presses. "Does it have anything to do with your less proper activities?"
"Everyone will know my face," he admits. "I won't be able to do it anymore."
"A little bit of makeup goes a long way. You'll be fine, trust me." She winks. "I know."
He stares at his plate, unable to muster any relief.
"Or is there someone specific, someone who you don't want to know the truth?" She laughs at his startled look. "If they're important, tell them the truth on your own terms."
"Even if…" Lelouch swallows, avoiding his mother's eyes. "They are not the proper sort?"
"A trusted servant is always valuable. Don't burn that connection out of pride."
For all that Zach is most definitely a servant, the term feels all wrong.
When Lelouch approaches the servant quarters where Zach resides a few days later, he's surprised to hear shouting from inside.
A large burly man, clearly an Eleven, grasps Zach by the shoulders. "You stupid boy! It's been years. Is this the best you can do? Taking out clothes like some girl?"
Zach, head bowed, says nothing, merely weathering the abuse.
"Where is your conviction, your ambition? Is your honor so worthless! It's been years, and you have nothing to show for it."
Lelouch steps through the doorway, nails digging into his palm. His voice is cold, befitting a prince. "What is the meaning of this?"
The burly man straightens in surprise, then immediately drops into a hasty bow. "Apologies for disturbing you, my lord." He glances at Zach. "Bow, idiot."
Zach slowly bends at the waist, staring into Lelouch's eyes before finally dropping his gaze in deference.
"Get out of here. You do not belong here," Lelouch growls.
The Eleven doesn't hesitate to vacate the premises.
"Who was he?" Lelouch asks, staring at Zach who remains bowed. "Why would you let someone like him talk to you like that? Look at me!"
Zach slowly raises his head. "Apologies, my lord."
"I don't want you bowing to me," Lelouch snaps. "I want to know why you would let an Eleven insult you like that. I should drag him back here, have him arrested—"
"He's my uncle," Zach interrupts, coldly meeting his eyes. "And he wants me to work my way up the palace hierarchy, for me to be a diligent and respected servant until I finally serve Her Majesty herself."
In all their time together, Lelouch has never guessed at such hidden ambitions. Because those aren't Zach's, but his family's.
At a loss, Lelouch says, "I didn't know your uncle was an Eleven."
"I'm one too," Zach snaps, stepping past him. "I've got work to do, Julius."
Shocked, Lelouch lets him leave. How has he never known? How has he never guessed? Elevens are worthless, their people proven to be inferior to Britannians. A servile people.
An Eleven. Zach. It doesn't make sense.
Is this why Zach rejected his offer of help? Because the truth would've then come out?
Does it matter?
No.
Shit.
Lelouch let him leave, said nothing. He's messed this up, momentarily forgot who Zach is.
He should've brushed it off, reaffirmed their friendship.
The following weeks make it clear that Lelouch has never once forced Zach to accompany him. The boy is unfathomably good at disappearing into thin air, avoiding all of Lelouch's attempts to seek him out.
Then it's December, and Lelouch still hasn't had the chance to apologize, to beg for forgiveness and ask for his friend back.
At his wit's end, he approaches the overseer.
"You," she growls. Her eyes are hard and irritated. "Do you know how much trouble you have caused?"
Lelouch smirks. He's not particularly fond of the woman, for all the suffering she puts her charges through. "Watch your tongue when speaking to royalty."
Her eyes widen and she stares at his face before slowly dropping to her knees with a dull thud. "Prince Lelouch…"
"Yes," he confirms. "Let us put the past behind us."
"What may I do for you, Your Highness?" she asks.
The impulse strikes him to demand for Suzaku to be brought out, to end this farce once and for all. He squashes it. That would only make his friend fear him which is the opposite of what he wants. "I want to sponsor a Christmas party."
"A Christmas party?"
"Yes," he says impatiently.
"Your Highness… We are swamped with work during the holidays."
"Which makes a day off to celebrate even more important," Lelouch answers. "Hire outside help if you need to. You have twenty-grand at your disposal. I will be there, covertly, to verify that it is a merry occasion. You work them to the bone. It is the least you can do."
"A Christmas party?" she repeats. "Twenty-grand?"
Has he broken her? Is that not enough?
"Do you have any objections?" he snaps.
"No, Your Highness." She vigorously shakes her head. "Your generosity will be known."
Lelouch nods, satisfied.
As he turns to leave, the overseer hedges another question. "Will the other departments have their own party?"
Well, shit. He knew he forgot something. It'll be far too obvious if he sponsors just one Christmas Party. Servants gossip and Zach is wily enough to intuit it's a trap for him.
"Of course," Lelouch says as he mentally scrambles to rearrange his schedule. How is he supposed to find time to get Zach a present in the middle of this?
The question is of course also what he can get for his friend. Money is of no object, but that is rather gaudy and uncouth. Food is nothing special; Lelouch brings him snacks often. Any expensive item will only bring Zach undue attention.
Lelouch stops, halfway back to his rooms, and groans. How is it that as a prince he has no idea what to get his friend?
He only needs to ask and anything would be provided for, yet he can think of nothing that is appropriate for Zach.
Green emeralds….
He shakes his head, despairing at his foolishness. No servant would wear emeralds. It would only get Zach dragged in for questioning regarding thievery.
Flowers? That is hardly enough.
It's a gift, an apology, and a plea all in one.
Nothing is enough.
By Christmas Eve, Lelouch is no closer to determining an appropriate gift. Everything is either too much or far too little. The sweet spot remains as elusive as when he first thought of this hair-brained scheme.
Still, he ordered an emerald pendant three days ago. It rests in a fine lacquered box on a dark blue velvet cushion. He's not sure what to make of it—a gift worthy of a prince.
If only… If only…
An idea forms, and he hastily rushes out of his room. There is little time to prepare.
"Julius," Zach greets coldly as he runs into him at the corner of the festivities. "This was you, wasn't it?"
Words seem to fail him. There is a grand apology waiting to be said. A dream for the future.
"I'm sorry," Zach whispers. "We live in separate worlds. It's better that we leave this by. You are going to serve Prince Lelouch, and I am… I will only get you in trouble, pull you down."
"Is that why you've been avoiding me?" Lelouch grimaces. That's not what he wanted to say, what needed to be said. "I wanted to tell you I'm sorry."
"Oh." Zach grins ruefully. "I'm used to it. I look like a mutt."
"No, you don't. You look amazing."
Zach has the audacity to look amused as Lelouch desperately hopes his face doesn't look as hot as it feels. He swears he knows how to use words properly, to not sound like a six year old stumbling through the world with improper observations.
"Merry Christmas," Lelouch tries again, focusing on his objectives. "If this is… If this is the last we will be seeing of each other, I wanted to make it something special, and I've realized I have never gotten you a proper gift before."
"Suggesting a party to Prince Lelouch is far more than—"
"Come with me," Lelouch orders, dragging him by his arm
Zach indulges him, following slowly behind. "I am going to miss your sad attempts to manhandle me."
"Shut up. I'm not trying to hurt you."
"Like you could. I could easily take you in a fight."
"Soon, you'll have the opportunity." Lelouch pushes his way into one of the hidden tunnels.
"Julius, I don't think we're supposed to—"
"It's fine. Nobody is going to stop us."
"I'm not supposed to be here."
"You're my guest. It's fine." Lelouch stops, recounts his steps, and runs his finger along the wall, searching for a panel.
Zach peers out into the corridor. "Is this how you always sneak out? How did you even learn about this?"
"I got around." Lelouch pulls out his card and hopes Zach is too distracted to notice his name briefly flashing on the security panel as he lets them in. He will tell him the truth, but later. "Welcome to the labs."
"The labs?" Suzaku turns, marveling at the endless white walls and high tech engineering equipment lining the walls. "What is this?"
"The Special Research Division," a high voice interrupts as Lloyd Asplund walks into view. "Home to my wonderful beauty, an unrivaled masterpiece."
Zach slowly looks at Lelouch skeptically.
"We're here to use the simulator, isn't that right, Lloyd?" Lelouch stresses his name as he fixes the man with a glare. There will be no mistakes.
"A simulator?"
"A knightmare simulator!" Lloyd answers enthusiastically. "Congratulations, this is quite an opportunity. Not everyone gets the best military equipment of its kind to learn how to pilot." More bitterly, he adds, "Of course it's most likely being wasted…"
Lelouch clears his voice pointedly. Lloyd winces and ushers Zach to the hunk of metal in the corner.
Zach listens to the instructions of Lloyd's assistant readily and straps himself in. The lid closes, locking him away from the outside world and Lelouch bites his lower lip.
Please, he prays.
"Statistically, it'll be a bust," Lloyd says from beside him. "For someone with his background, he would need to be truly exceptional. That's rare."
"I'm very well aware." After all, Lelouch is far from exceptional, unlike his mother and sister. "But at least there is a chance, and if not, there's still a hand-to-hand combat assessment."
"For a laundry boy?"
Lelouch glares.
Ahead, the screen lights up, and Suzaku blasts off, completing the introductory challenges with startling grace and speed.
"Well, I'll be damned," Lloyd whispers. "You may just be lucky."
Zach pilots like a novice, yet his reaction speed is comparable to a veteran. He adapts quickly, taking each new challenge in a stride. He's a monster.
"He's an ace," Lelouch breathes.
Fluffy hair sagging with sweat, Zach stumbles out of the cockpit, his face lit with elation.
"I think I may have a proposition for you, Your Highness," Lloyd whispers.
"Not here," Lelouch hisses.
"You'll have to tell him soon enough."
"Tell me what?" Zach asks. He shakes his head and combs his hand through his hair in a futile attempt to tame his rampant curls. "That was insane."
"Later," Lelouch promises. "You're exceptional, Zach."
"A once-in-a-generation pilot," Lloyd announces without any tact. "The military is never going to keep their hands off of you."
Zach's smile washes away to panic. "The military?"
"This was off the book," Lelouch says firmly. He will not have him pressured into anything. "Lloyd is saying that you could be a professional knightmare pilot and have a very lucrative career."
"A pilot?" There's real longing in his eyes. "Really?"
"Yes. If you want, you can be something more than a servant."
His enthusiasm wanes. "I'd be in the military."
"Not necessarily."
"How would that work?"
Lloyd clears his throat. "It doesn't. Julius forgets he is part of the military."
"I'm not," Lelouch protests.
"But, I can offer you something better," Lloyd announces, happily ignoring him. "A test pilot. You would only see action in cases of an emergency or situations which you elect to join for combat data."
Lelouch crosses his arms. "That's more military than what I was suggesting."
"But I want him."
Zach looks slowly between the two of them. "I don't understand."
Lelouch rolls back his shoulders, staring Zach directly in the eyes. "I wanted to give you the chance to walk the same path I am on. And even if you want nothing to do with me, Lloyd's offer should make your family proud. You'll become someone respected, a knightmare ace."
Instead of joy, pain crosses Zach's face. "Can we… Alone? Please?"
Lelouch nods, slowly accompanying Zach to the back of the lab. He stays quiet, waiting for the complicated emotions to work themselves out on his face.
Why wouldn't he be glad? Doesn't this solve everything? He can be something more.
When the silence becomes unbearable, Lelouch asks, "Did you just really like doing laundry?"
Zach barks in laughter and tears. "No. It's miserable."
"What did I do wrong?"
"It's not you, Julius." Zach slowly sits down, drawing in his knees. "It's me. I'm all wrong."
"No, you're not. You're kind, warm-hearted, too strong for his own good, gentle, far too forgiving, passionate—"
"A liar," Zach says. "I'm a liar."
Lelouch falls quiet. From his jacket, he withdraws the small box.
"What's this?" The box rests unopened in his hands.
"I wanted to give it to you, but it seemed like too much." He frowns. "Yet, I brought it with me, hoping that I could justify it somehow. I am a fool… And a liar."
"I knew that from the day I met you. "Zach's fingers run over the box. "I have to accept but… I don't want to hurt you."
Lelouch laughs. "Hurt me? I doubt you could."
"You don't understand—"
"Zach," Lelouch says, grabbing his hands. "You will never hurt me. I know you too well for that."
"But—"
"First, I am sorry that I lied for so long. I was afraid that you would look at me differently. As much as I complain, I value how you treat me like any normal fool. I lied because I was lonely, not because I didn't trust you."
"Julius…" Zach says slowly, growing nervous.
"Not Julius. Lelouch." He takes a deep breath, watching surprise and terror race across his friend's face. "I am Prince Lelouch, and if you will bear me, I ask that you be my Knight of Honor, my sword against all adversity that I will face."
Tears running down his cheeks, Suzaku leans forward. "I accept."
Suzaku collapses in his new bed, in his new room, in his new clothes. He's a Knight of Honor now, something he never imagined as possible.
He's in a position of ultimate trust, and he is still lying about his name.
A sharp corner pokes him in the thigh, and he rolls over, retrieving the small wooden box from his pockets. Curious, he finally opens it.
In the center, an emerald pendant rests, the same shade of his eyes. It's a gift worthy of a prince, worthy of Suzaku Kururugi, son of Genbu Kururugi, the dethroned Emperor of Japan.
In that moment, he never hated his father more, for forcing this mission on him. He is to assassinate Marianne vi Britannia and her children, and now, he is her son's personal guard.
The smart thing would be to reveal everything. Julius—Lelouch would understand. But that means selling out his father, and while Suzaku cannot carry out his mission, he cannot betray his country either.
He gets up, storing the box in the highest corner of his new personal bookshelf. It'll remain hidden until the day Suzaku Kururugi reemerges.
For now, he can only be Zach and forget all his connections from before the palace. He'll remain by Lelouch's side, earnestly helping him, even as he hunts for Suzaku Kururugi.
I can't write pure fluff. There must be a smidge of angst. As a result, Suzaku is an assassin. He's just a terrible assassin and dragging his feet the entire time. Good luck hunting yourself, Suzaku. Lol.