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After the long awaited fall of the 99th Britannian emperor, Lelouch vi Britannia, the world moved on from the horror of his reign; and the crown city, Pendragon, was abandoned to the memory of the world's unforgiving past. The royal palace centering the city remained untouched; no being alive daring to deface the late royal family in fear that it would bring forth yet another demon king.
And yet here is where Zero found himself, wandering the empty and cool moonlit halls that were once temporarily his home. This is where he spent his last moments with Lelouch, where he spent his last moments as Suzaku Kururugi. Eyes unfocused, his mind and legs haunt the steps of his old patrol route. Right, left, forward, right, right again, left. He refocuses his vision. He’s arrived at the emperor’s quarters.
Green eyes blink slowly as he recalls his memories. A warm scene dances within his thoughts, one of their last moments spent together inside that room. The simple chattering of the emperor and the witch, watching Lelouch’s eyes glow eerily, watching C.C. look at him distantly, catching his own reflection in the mirror as Lelouch’s Knight of Zero, and the way his hand burned when he grabbed his charge by his collar, Lelouch’s usually calm eyes lost and unreadable. He closes his eyes, releasing a hissing breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and lets his thoughts come to a soft stop. There is no point in getting worked up for those buried beneath blood and stone. He continues the rest of his former patrol accompanied by the sounds of his whispering memories guiding him.
Suzaku had already forgotten about the extravagance of the royal family, but the palace stood as a heavy reminder of the power and wealth Britannia once held. Walking under multiple arches and columns embellished with gold made Suzaku's heart fill with disdain. Euphemia was never one to wallow in her riches, but that couldn’t have been said about the rest of the family. It was with a bitter taste in his mouth that he recognized that same trait, as well as many others, in Lelouch. However, instead of greedy, Lelouch was prideful, so much so that he shone above all else, hot and bright like the unnatural red of his eyes. How haunting. The sweet boy of violet was gone, long before Suzaku had the chance to serve him.
His auto-piloted walk around the palace had led him to a place he had not expected to return to: the painting gallery. Under the moonlight, he paid his regards to the long lineage of the Britannian family captured in works of art. He loved examining their portraits to see what personal interests were snuck into them, or how much resemblance there was between the members of the family. Halfway through the gallery there was a painting of Euphemia that never failed to stop him in his tracks and catch his heart in his throat. It wasn’t the grand portrait that he had claimed for himself in his room, but instead a small painting with a golden frame, depicting her in a garden full of colorful flowers. She was smiling, and her violet eyes glistened full of life unimpaired. His chest hurt. After consciously relaxing his jaw, he forced himself to tear his eyes away, realizing that this would be the last time he would ever see her smiling face.
A tragic farewell for his princess.
Suzaku then paused. Staring at him from the middle of the hallway, was a marble statue haloed by the moon. Ah, he had forgotten about that too. Before Suzaku had assassinated his emperor, His Highness had commissioned a statue of himself to be added to the gallery. He hummed, also recalling that Lelouch had the same artist executed later that day. Without a thought, his feet pulled him forward to meet the uncanny resemblance of Lelouch vi Britannia in all of his ivory glory.
Lelouch never really knew how much time Suzaku had spent in the painting gallery during their time together. Sure, he had been caught lost in Euphemia’s painting before, but neither of them brought it up, nor did they plan to. But Suzaku was just as enamored by the marble statue of his charge, letting its details burn into his memory. It was a simple pose, Lelouch in his imperial garments, standing straight, arm outstretched, with a sharp yet soft smile on his face. Suzaku could already hear His Majesty's boisterous voice in his head.
“Lelouch vi Britannia commands you,” he whispered. It sounded nothing like Lelouch’s dramatic baritone drawl. Suzaku stood in silence, eyes transfixed. The statue stared back, motionless and lifeless, exactly how Suzaku expected the real one to be. Stepping closer, letting the outstretched arm skirt past his shoulder, he gazed into Lelouch’s face. His features were captured perfectly, from the point of his nose to the cut of his jaw. Suzaku’s chest hurt again. “You paid the full price for your sins, Your Majesty.”
Expectedly, the statue did not reply, instead opting to stare blankly back into Suzaku’s eyes. Silence hung heavy around them. Suzaku wasn’t breathing. He didn’t notice his feet pulling him ever closer to the ivory form, and he didn’t notice his hands rising to cup the sides of the statue’s face like it was a precious thing.
But Lelouch was a precious thing.
Lelouch, who had made Suzaku throw everything away for his’ sake, for the sake of destroying the world. He had rid him of his past, of his restrictions, of his self. It was his price to pay, his half of the Zero Requiem.
Lelouch’s twisted declaration of both hate and love for the world.
At the memory, Suzaku let himself go, eyes closing softly as his lips fall onto Lelouch’s marble smile with fervor. It was cold and unrelenting, so much like the man Lelouch pretended to be, yet so different from the boy he actually was. Running his tongue along the silken lines of Lelouch’s lips, he becomes lost. Lost in his love, in his hate, in his grief, and in his anguish. For a moment he extinguishes the feeling of it all, basking in the idea of the both of them living in the world they created, the world that neither of them were allowed to have.
He destroys the thought before his heart can break any further.
Parting from the statue felt like breaking out of a false awakening, his hands falling back to his sides empty. He does not think, lest his shame start to cloud his judgement, eyes once again dropping to the slight shine of Lelouch’s alabaster smile. His face feels hot as he raises his gaze to meet Lelouch’s marble stare once again. As masterful as this piece is, no artist could ever capture the pure beauty of Lelouch’s eyes. Even behind the corruption of the Geass, his eyes still shone with his intellect, strength, grace, and love.
Suzaku could only wonder what shone within his own.
Slightly turning his head, Suzaku followed the line of Lelouch’s outstretched arm. By moving right in front of it, he finally allows Lelouch to hold judgement to Suzaku’s own aching heart. Suzaku raises a hand and oh so gently holds Lelouch’s hand in his own. Suzaku bows, raising his head only to once gaze back into Lelouch’s eyes. His chest feels like it's about to burst as he leaves soft, slow kisses on the back of His Majesty’s hand, tracing the shape of it with his lips as if reciting a final prayer, licking down his fingers and sweetly kissing his fingertips. Pulling back, he squares his shoulders as he licks his lips, tasting the dust and taking one final look at the regal form of the late emperor.
This is as much as he is allowed to grieve.
His sword comes out of its sheath with a soft sound that rings throughout the gallery. With the exhale of his breath he brings forth the destructive clang of steel meeting marble, cleaving the statue with a diagonal slash. The marble shatters upon hitting the floor, pieces crumbling and cracking like ice, scattering like tears; the aftermath leaving behind a cloud of white dust and the ghost of a boy who stood too tall.
Suzaku turns away from the rubble, the sound of his heels clacking on the polished tile echoing through the empty hallway. The staccato of his footsteps grounds him, serving the sole purpose of reminding him of two things: that he is the one who came out of hell alive, and that he is the one left with the remains of their shattered promise.
“May you rest in peace, Your Majesty.”