Chapter Text
"They say they’re going to kill God." General Bartley stated by her side. The words sounded strange coming from his lips, as though he had spoken to her in a foreign language where the words made no sense to her whatsoever. She looked towards the general. He looked very much the same, yet there was a confusion streaked across his face, to somewhat match her own, and Cornelia could not help but ask, "God?" in response.
Bartley nodded his head to her. “I thought they were just speaking metaphorically, but now, at the very least these people believe what they’re saying.”
"Ridiculous. To believe in God; there’s no such being."
"That’s right." It had been a voice Cornelia had never heard before, and she turned to see its bearer the moment the words had been spoken. A child, she thought, staring into the face of youth. ”Glowing goddesses and long bearded old men in white with kingdoms in the clouds…” Her hand twitched, towards the sheath. “No, not that kind of god.” Cornelia pulled out her dagger and aimed for the child’s head. Between his eyes the blade pierced. His body fell back, limp and lifeless; his head thudded against the floor like a rock.
"Princess Cornelia!" Now, there was not only the confusion on Bartley’s face she had first seen, but also a shock that narrowed very close to fear. "Who knows what kind of geass he controls?" the second princess simply said. "You must never let your guard down, even for a child."
"Yes. That’s correct." Cornelia turned once more. The child’s crimson eyes glowed as bright as the thick red blood that poured from his wound as curled his fingers around the hilt of the blade and pulled it out. Red trickled down his face like red tears. How could he still live? The thoughts filled Cornelia’s mind. She watched his smile stretch across his face, reaching his eyes, and she felt… Fear? A child… “Cornelia, you do live up to your reputation, don’t you?” he continued with a giggle. “As your uncle, I am very proud of you.”
"My—what?”
"We made a solemn vow: if there was ever a god that made men fight each other, we’d kill him and his divine rule.”
"There is no god, it is only men that make men fight each other." The child merely laughed again; the sound made Cornelia uncomfortable. "Or perhaps there is a god," she continued, ignoring such laughter. "The kind that created such the curse of Geass. Well, are you going to kill me? Or control me with your geass"—she clenched her fists—"like you did to Euphie."
"To prove your sister’s innocence, you renounced your position, gave up everything. That’s inspiring." His words shocked Cornelia. She had never expected such words to come from such a being, for she believed, or at least rather assumed a man, or even child, of geass were not people of kind words. She listened to him, though the mention of her little sister again would pain her more than she could perhaps handle. "You made me think, Cornelia: Is there any more splendid relationship in this entire world than that of loyal siblings?"
"How can such a creature like you speak of loyalty, you are, are you not, a man of geass?" He giggled again. It didn’t seem that the former second princess was the only one to be disturbed by this child before them, for she felt Bartley shift backwards behind her as though distance could protect him.
"Not exactly," he said with a smile. "But I am the leader of this Geass Order you seek to destroy. I create geass users from all around the world, everyday. Would you like to meet them?" His head cocked to the side; his smile turned from sweet, like that of the child he seemed to be, to dark.
"Princess…" Bartley whimpered to her. His eyes were filled with fear as he saw what she saw. The hall, it became full of dozens of small children. Each of them held their left hand to their faces, covering their left eyes. Their smiles mirrored that of their masters, though there was one difference. When they all simultaneously removed their hands from their faces, red irises glowed beneath.
"Geass…" Cornelia managed a murmur. "Why would you do this?! Why would you create this curse?!" Her uncle simply gazed at her. Cornelia felt that his eyes did not merely look at her, but into her.
“We made a solemn vow,” he repeated his own words. “If there was ever a god that made men fight each other, we’d kill him. And you, Cornelia li Britannia, my dear nephew whose sister means more to her than her own name, you will be my next test subject.”
Susaku knew only that he was dreaming, that he dreamt of a world unlike reality. This world, it seemed sweet. There was no war and no death, no fighting; the scent of blood that had stained the air had faded; the sound of gunfire and knightmare frames colliding in combat laid only in his imagination, and for that Suzaku Kururugi, the Knight of Seven, was grateful. He looked about him. Everything around him bore the colour red, but the red of flowers and not the red of blood. Poppies, the knight thought. And then he heard a voice, her voice. Her laugh. Suzaku turned to the direction her voice had come from, but he could not see her. She laughed again, and he turned again. He wanted to see her, desperately, yet she seemed out of reach, as she seemed to always have been.
I can’t see you, Kururugi thought only to himself. I can’t reach you, the voice in his mind continued. Though, those words slowly changed into a thought that was: I couldn’t reach you.
“Suzaku,” he heard her say from behind him. Her voice was soft and clear; it called to him like the voice of a siren. For a moment, Suzaku seemed hesitant to turn out of fear she would somehow disappear again into the blooms of this field of poppies. But when he finally did, he saw her indigo eyes, the same she shared with her sister, he saw her pale lips and skin, her long flowing hair he remembered being a soft as silk. “Suzaku,” she said again, smiling.
Euphie.
The princess was dressed all in white. Her pink hair tumbled over her shoulders, untied and freed. Her smile grew bigger as she held Suzaku’s hands in her own. She laughed. “Isn’t it so beautiful, Suzaku?” She drew from him for a mere moment to twirl through the red blossoms of his dream. “Isn’t it wonderful? I want everywhere to be as beautiful as this place, to turn back to their mother of nature, and away from their goddesses of war.” She said the words as she danced. All the while, Suzaku’s eyes remained fixated on her. Yet the longer he watched her, the more blurred his sight of her became. It was then, the Knight of Seven realised the tears in his eyes as he cried.
Euphemia ran to him then, cupping her knight’s face with her palms. She wiped away his tears with her long white fingers. Suzaku looked at her; she wore the same worried look on her face as she’d always worn in his memories whenever something upset him. “Are you alright?” he heard those memories of her speak to him, but instead his princess said again, “Isn’t this beautiful?” He looked at Euphie again. “Yes,” Her smile reappeared, gracing her divine features. “Yes!” she exclaimed, jumping. “I want you to dance with me, Suzaku!” She grabbed his hands they twirled together. “Dance with me!” her voice shouted with joy. And he did. He spun her around, and they danced. He spun her into his embrace, and then out. But then Euphie tore her fingers from Suzaku’s hold and she drew away from him, further and further.
“Euphie,” Kururugi murmured. “What’s wrong?” The third princess took one more step from Suzaku. She looked at him, as he did her, but he saw no life in her eyes. Her indigo irises stilled, no longer glistening, and they lost their lustre. “What’s wrong,” he wanted to ask again, though Euphemia spoke first. “Suzaku,” she whispered. Her voice was different. “You’re Japanese, aren’t you?” Suzaku’s eyes widened, and he the memories of that day flooded his mind. He ran for her, but the more he ran, the more her body got further and further away from him. “You’re Japanese,” she repeated, holding her right hand out forward as if she held a gun in her palm. The gunshot sounded, but it had never been from Euphie’s gun. Never.
“ZERO!” Suzaku screamed unconditionally. He tried harder to reach her, his princess, his love, but she began falling, her white dress reddening. A darkness was growing beneath her, like a hole, and Euhpemia’s body finally fell into the abyss. Suzaku jumped in after her, and he followed her into darkness.
“Did it go alright?” It was Euphemia’s voice again. Suddenly they were both back on Lloyd’s ship, her body laid within white sheets. Though, it was as though Suzaku’s spirit was not within his body, as he watched another version of himself sat by Euphie’s bedside, from afar. “The ceremony? Is Japan okay? How about everyone that was there? Are the Japanese happy?”
“Euphie,” Suzaku heard the version of him sat by his princess say. He could not change the words he said, for this was a memory, and he could not change the past no matter how many times he wished it. “The Special Administrated Zone… It was a success.” He was beginning to cry, both versions of him, for this part of him knew what would come next.
“STOP IT!” Suzaku cried from a distance, covering his ears and shutting his eyes. He could tolerate no more, he would tolerate no more. “WAKE UP!”
“How strange,” he knew she’d say. “I can’t see your face anymore.” She held out her hand.
“STOP IT!” And he woke.
The strange thing had always been the fact that he could not truly remember his princess’ death, only the sound of the heart monitor going flat. He could not remember anything she had said to him after his own words. The memory was blurry, and his head ached whenever he tried to recall those events. I didn’t say goodbye, he told himself, miserably, or at least, he didn’t remember saying it.
This had been the seconds time he dreamed of his princess this week. Suzaku was beginning to attend school again, yet he wasn’t enjoying it. He would always dream of Euphie in a white dress and in a field of red poppies. He laughed when he realised the irony of it all; poppies were grown in remembrance of the dead, each one of them stood for a lost soul. And Euphemia danced within those blossoms, almost merging herself with them for she was, too, a lost soul.
“Sazaku!” Shirley said, hitting him lightly on the head with a rolled-up newspaper. “You’re sleeping in class, again? You’re starting to end up like Lulu!” Shirley wore a light expression on her face, though her words were rather serious. “You’re the Knight of Seven now—“
“Exactly,” Suzaku laughed, ignoring Shirley’s mention of Lelouch. “I have so many duties now, so I never really have the time for sleep. At least, except for when I’m in school apparently.” He smiled at his friend. She opened her mouth to say something in reply, but before she could have the chance to speak, Professor Jenkins spoke up first. “Now I’d like to introduce to you a new member of our Ashford Academy, a transfer student. Please come in, Miss Bane.” A small, thin girl took her place by the professor’s side. She had a very pretty face, with long white-blonde hair that reached the bottom of her back. “Hello,” was all she simply said, her voice similar to Anya’s, Suzaku thought. The girl looked around the room, meeting everyone’s gaze, before she let her gaze stop at Suzaku. Her eyes were of the deepest blue, like sapphires.
Those eyes, Suzaku’s mind suddenly spoke. I have seen them before… But where? Where? And then it all came to him in flashes, bits of fragmented memories. The girl…An image of her flashed in his head, an image of her dressed in a white military uniform, being stood over a pale body. She was there…Suzaku Kururugi looked into the girl’s sapphire eyes. He could make out no more from the flashing images in his head, just that she was there that day, that moment, the moment when Euphie, his princess had died. “My name is Valerie Bane.” Miss Bane told everyone, though her eyes remained on Suzaku. “I will be attending here from this day forth, and I hope to get to know all of you.” That was all she said before she took a place in between Rolo and Milly, and the Knight of Seven was left thinking: who is this girl, and what does she have to do with Euphie’s death?