Work Text:
Silence welcomed Schneizel as he entered the Imperial Palace after a long trip back home. Arms overflowing with gifts, he walked cautiously to the living room, where his siblings would usually lounge around in the afternoon. His steps rang out in the high ceiling of the living room, empty of any sign of life. Pillows adorned the couch neatly, as if nobody had sat on it today. The large TV was turned off, and no cup of tea, cookies boxes or packaging lay around the table. The young man frowned. Where were they all?
“Euphie? Cornelia? Clovis?” He called, his voice answering to itself.
“They are upstairs, in their respective bedrooms, Your Highness.” A gentle voice said, that of a domestic.
Schneizel nodded and gave her a soft, thankful smile. He went upstairs in large strides, and walked in the bedrooms' corridors, all names written on the doors. He stopped by Euphemia's first, knocked best he could with how busy his arms and hands were, and waited to be invited in.
“Come in.” Cornelia answered.
So the sisters were together. Nothing unusual, other than the fact they preferred to be upstairs than in the living room. Schneizel pushed the door open, only to discover Euphemia in Cornelia's arms, gripping at her clothes, sobbing and babbling words he had a hard time understanding.
“Euphie…” He said, sat next to her and ran a hand on her back.
He could sense it was far worse than just being upset by whatever argument he may have missed. He had never seen Euphemia crying like that before, as if rivers flowed uninterrupted from her eyes. He looked up at Cornelia, whose face, beyond the evident empathy she held for her sister, remained unreadable. Putting the gifts on the bed, he pulled out a box of macarons he handed the young girl.
“Here…I got these for you while I was in Paris…” He hoped that would comfort her. He knew not the source of her pain, but he sure hoped he’d be able to do something about it.
She looked at the box, and it seemed like even more tears gathered in her eyes, as she snuggled against Cornelia, refusing to touch them. Well, that was a complete failure… It might be a much bigger issue than he thought… But if no one told him, he wouldn’t be able to solve anything. As such, he just took another box, a long, thin one, and gave it to Cornelia, who sighed and took it, as if forced to. It seemed it might not be a good day for it, and she didn’t bother opening it.
“It’s a fencing sword, in case you wondered.” He said, sounding detached, although he really wished she had opened it.
His sister nodded and offered him a soft smile, even if it seemed tainted by sadness. “Thank you Schneizel, I appreciate it.”
As she put the box aside, she continued to stroke Euphemia’s back, her chin resting atop the young girl's head. Schneizel pulled away from the bed, gathered the gifts he still needed to bring to his other siblings and took his leave, as he felt like it was not his place to stay with them, and didn’t have the heart to ask what had broken Euphemia’s heart. The next door he found, after deliberately snobbing Odysseus’, was that of Clovis. Like he had done for Euphie’s, he knocked, waited to be invited by Clovis’ uncharacteristically weak voice. Arching an eyebrow, he pushed the door and discovered his younger brother curled up on the bed, staring at the wall, his chin on his knees, arms wrapped tightly around his legs. That Euphemia could be crying wasn’t such a rare occurrence. But finding Clovis soulless and in the doldrums was a much rarer and worrisome event. Especially since Lelouch and Nunally had moved into the Imperial Palace, the young artist could see them all the time. Why did a horrendous mood plague his siblings? What could have possibly happened while he was abroad ?
“Clovis?” He called, sitting next to him, with a package on his lap, the rest of the gifts laying on the ground.
The younger boy’s gaze drifted in his direction, with an emptiness he’d never seen before in Clovis’ eyes. He had seen it before, though. But in Lelouch’s eyes, at his mother’s funerals. And the thought did not help with figuring out what put all of his siblings in such a depressive state.
“What happened? I just saw Euphemia crying in Cornelia’s arms, and even Cornelia looked rather gloomy, and now you. Which is even more unusual, I have to say.”
Clovis’ grip on himself tightened, and he retreated further into himself, his face hidden in his arms. He started to tremble, as if cold, yet the room was so warm it could never happen.
“Clovis..?” He called, even more cautious now.
Something crept under his skin, crawled from his wrists to his shoulders as he stared at his brother turned into a quivering ball that soon started to sob quietly.
“Father… he…he…”
Schneizel’s fists tightened on the sheets. What had their father done again? His hand came for Clovis’ arm he squeezed as softly as he could, encouraging him to speak up.
“He… exiled Lelouch…and Nunally…to Japan…”
Schneizel froze. Lelouch? Exiled? With Nunally? Why? How? What had even pushed this decision? They were children, they were Marianne’s, they were not in age to survive alone, hell they shouldn’t have to survive alone. What had gone through their father’s mind?
“I’d love to go to France!” Lelouch said, his smile wide, legs kicking the void as he enjoyed the warm breeze of the gardens.
His mother, who was taking tea nearby, glanced at him, who was sitting on the ground, between Schneizel’s legs.
“When you’ll be older, dear. You’re too young to leave Pendragon.”
The child pouted. A little smile tugged at Schneizel’s lips, who put his head over his younger brother, staring at the horizon. “Lady Marianne is right. It has been barely a year since I’ve been allowed to leave the capital myself. It takes a lot of guards and cautiousness to allow one of us to go abroad, unless we get an important role.”
Lelouch looked up at him, bright magenta eyes wide with a mixture of curiosity and dread. “But you’re so old…I don’t want to wait that long to go!”
Schneizel winced. Sure, from the perspective of a seven year old, seventeen must be the age of someone with already a foot in the grave. And it was amusing, softening even, that such a sharp mind could make silly remarks like these, as expected from a child his age. Lelouch was no different from the others. He was a child too, who made dumb remarks and had a naive vision of life.
“Well, if you are nice enough to this old man, maybe I’ll bring you something from a trip in France.”
Lelouch’s lips parted. “Really?! You would?!”
The young man contained a chuckle and nodded at the enthusiasm. He knew no more adorable little one than his brother when he was expecting something.
“I promise I will.”
A little squeak of excitement escaped Lelouch as he spun around and hugged Schneizel, still kicking his feet behind him.
He had kept up with his promise. He had been sent to France to negotiate economical partnerships regarding luxe products Britannian aristocrats loved, and had used this opportunity to gather gifts for his loved ones, with Lelouch and their promise in mind most of the time. And now…Lelouch and Nunnally had been exiled in his absence… His gaze drifted to the two gifts still at his feet, a knot forming in his throat. His arms wrapped around Clovis and pulled him close, while he rested his chin atop the teen's chin.
“How did it happen…”
Clovis looked up at him, then snuggled against him, as if trying to hide himself before speaking up. Fear plagued his words, made his lips — no, his whole body — shake as he explained.
“Lelouch…asked Father an audience.” An official discussion in front of the court… between Father and son. Unusual. They usually could talk to him without official requests. He was their father, after all, not just their Emperor. “He asked about Lady Marianne…the assassination, and the assassin…and said he didn't feel like Father had done everything he could to protect Lady Marianne, Nunnally, and him…”
Lelouch…
He couldn't blame the boy. To everyone, it had felt like nothing had been done to protect Marianne and her children, despite it being well known that the court hated her and everything she represented. It was a chance that Charles' other wives, including his mother and Clovis', didn't hate her enough to command an assassination — he had asked his mother, just in case, and she had assured none of the wives had planned Marianne's assassination. The only reason Schneizel trusted her answer was that she had always been nothing but brutally honest, in sharp contrast with her son who had learnt everything from his father, when it came to interacting with people.
“Then Lelouch said he was giving up on his title and privileges…” Schneizel’s heart clenched. Lelouch preferred to live an unsafe life, far from the security and warmth of the Imparial Palace, than being officially related to a man who had done nothing to protect his mother.
But what about them? What about his siblings? Did they not matter ? Didn’t he love them enough to stay, despite their father? And why would he think to be safer outside of the palace than within ? Lelouch was a smart boy, such foolish decisions weren’t usual from him. Why would he have done that ? Had he thought about it ? Or acted without thinking, out of grief and sorrow ?
“In response, Father decided to banish him and Nunnally to Japan…he sent them away this morning. Everyone had to watch them leave, without being able to do anything…”
Hence the morose mood plaguing the whole palace and his siblings.
“Why weren’t you there to stop them…” Clovis mumbled against his chest, his tone sounding more reproachful than wishing for what-ifs that would never come.
Schneizel frowned. Even if he regretted not having been there to stop Lelouch, he didn’t expect Clovis to resent him for having fulfilled his duty abroad. Pulling away, he sought his brother’s eyes, a frown etched on his face, although he had a hard time hiding the genuine confusion at Clovis’ reaction.
“Excuse me?”
“Why weren’t you there ?! Why, when you knew they needed support, did you decide to leave ?! You could have prevented that! Father would have listened to you and maybe you could have even talked to Lelouch before he decided to speak with him! But no, you preferred to take a stupid trip to Paris, for what, bring stupid gifts no one will ever use because they’re gone?!”
His heart clenched. Could he really have done something ? Would it have been enough ? Would he have been enough to avoid their family to shatter like broken glass ?
“I’m not the eldest, that’s not my j—”
“Quit the bullshit Schneizel! Odysseus can’t do shit to save his life, and you’re the one Father would listen the most to! You could have done something!”
Tears bubbled up in Clovis’ eyes. His fists clenched around the sheets, his body recoiling as if he couldn’t handle being close to his older brother, who stared at him like he’d just been backstabbed. Schneizel left the bed, a step after another, gathering the gifts he left on the ground, safe for that of Clovis, then went backward to the door. Having to deal with his young siblings’ exile was already a lot, he didn’t need Clovis’ anger spat at his face when he was not responsible for any of this. Keeping the small bags close to his chest, he progressed in the corridor until he reached his bedroom he kicked open and threw the homeless gifts on the desk. The box of macarons hit against the chessboard and splattered the pieces all over the place. Some went overboard, fell on the tiled ground that broke a black knight and the white king in half. Schneizel froze at the sight. He always insisted on playing the black side. Tears blurred his vision, shoulders shaking as he wrapped his arms around himself. He’d never play chess against Lelouch again. He’d never teach the boy new techniques, or help him learn from his mistakes. They’d never spend time together again. He’d never see Lelouch again. He hadn’t even gotten the opportunity to say goodbye… With a trembling hand, he gathered the pieces of the knight, put them on the desk and grabbed a tube of glue to put it back together, despite the tears flowing down his cheeks. He didn’t even know if he was doing a good job with it. He felt like he might be ruining the piece, with his approximative placing of the glue to repair the broken parts. But he tried. He had to. The black side of the chessboard must remain intact. It was Lelouch’s favorite. He had to keep it intact. To repair what he had broken. In case…in case Charles would go back on his statement, bring the children back home, apologize and have the family back to what it used to be. A shaking smile tugged at his lips. He had to fix it. For Lelouch.
Drying his tears with his wrist, he looked at the black knight, the way the glue stained the rim where it had been broken, the way it looked out of place, compared to the other pieces, damaged and poorly brought back together. His heart clenched. Lelouch would notice it had been broken. Would he be angry at him? For not taking care of his side of the board? When he'd come back, because Charles had to change his mind — Schneizel would talk to him —, would Lelouch be angry at him for the black knight?
His hand took the broken pieces of the white king, repaired it like he had done for the knight, and put it back on the board. The glue looked seamless on the white material, as if the king hadn't been broken, a glaze concealing the wounds, unlike the knight's, exposed for everyone to see. A sigh escaped the young man, who left the chessboard behind to settle on his bed, half hidden under the covers, his knees against his chest. Two pillows adorned the bed head, one of which half hid an item Schneizel didn’t recognize. Fetching it, he brought it to eyes’ height, before they widened.
MVB.
A simple square of fabric, a tea towel it seemed, with those letters embroidered in a corner, with royal blue threads matching the piece’s golden lining. MVB… Tears welled up in his eyes. His thumb stroked the fabric softly, a knot in his throat. Lelouch slept with it sometimes. Marianne’s perfume filled the fabric with fragrance, and after her death, Lelouch had started to sleep with it, sometimes to spend the whole day with it in his pocket or in his arms.
He didn’t even leave with it…Charles probably didn’t let him…
He knew that if Lelouch had the choice, he would have taken the tea towel with him. He was sent into the unknown, he was a child, he would have taken a souvenir from his mother, just to reassure himself. Before Schneizel’s departure for France, Lelouch, after yet another nightmare, had asked to sleep with him, the tea towel held against his chest. The boy must have forgotten it here, or even slept here while he was gone, since it seemed Schneizel had missed their leave in exile by short.
The young man clenched his fist around the piece of cloth he held against his chest, eyes closing not to cry some more tears, and eventually, Morpheus found in himself the kindness to welcome him in his embrace.
“I need not ask for an audience, this is my father I want to talk to.” Schneizel protested, giving a stern look at the guards posted at the door of his father's office.
He wouldn't step as low as begging for attention. He'd get in this office, and the door better open before he'd lose patience.
“His Majesty said—”
“I do not care about what he said. Forcing his family to ask for an audience is ridiculous and I will not play his game. Open this door.”
The guards stared at each other, as if thinking about whether or not they should actually open. Were they really about to refuse to obey the second prince himself?
“No—”
“What is it that you want, ungrateful son?” Charles' voice thundered from the other side of the door.
Ungrateful? Just because he demanded to be treated like an actual son and not a mere subject? His fists clenched by his sides. This man had banished the children of his favorite wife, he had to expect anything from him.
“I simply want to talk. And it needs not an audience. Simply a talk, between father and son.”
A pause. At least Charles wasn't sending him away immediately. Perhaps was he even considering the idea. He hoped so.
“Let him in.”
The guards obeyed within the second, withdrew their weapons, and opened the door for Schneizel to enter the office. They closed it behind him, as if a trap had just snapped shut around the young man, who faced his father's unwavering, constantly upset gaze. Schneizel refused to let any kind of emotions surface. He was a politician, and should act accordingly, with a mask of calm and politeness, although boiled within an unmatched anger at the lack of emotions on his father's face.
“Speak up. We don't have all day.”
He tried not to clench his fists. He hated when Charles used the royal We with him. With any member of their family.
“It's about Lelouch and Nunnally. Call them back home. They don't deserve an exile, no matter how Lelouch spoke to you, and the defiance he showcased. I am certain he will apologize, if you let him come back.”
Still no emotions on the old man's face. Did he really not regret any of this ? Had he no remorse about sending Marianne's children away ?
“Whomst ?”
Whomst?
Schneizel's stomach churned. How could he say that ? How could he not care about his own children ? How could he pretend not to remember them ? Was he really going to act as if they had never existed and erase their existence ?
His teeth clenched. He had to contain himself. Don't show anger, he'll perceive you as weak. And Father despises the weak.
“Lelouch and Nunnally. Marianne's children. Your children.”
The man's brows furrowed, his mouth arching down in a scowl.
“Marianne’s ungrateful son and his weakened sister are no longer part of this family. Forget about them, or you'll join them in exile.”
Charles sat on his chair, gathered a pile of papers, and started to read the documents like it was more interesting than his own children's fate. Schneizel didn't know what to say. He hadn't expected Charles to be so detached, to care so little about Lelouch and Nunnally, to leave no breach for him to get in and try to make him change his opinion.
“So they will never come back home ? We’ll never see our sibl—”
“They are not your siblings. They are dead to me. And they should be dead to you as well.”
A knot tightened around Schneizel’s throat. Charles was inflexible. He wouldn’t change the man’s mind. Not now, not ever. With a nod, Schneizel stepped back and left the office. His heart weighed heavy in his chest, as if trying to make him bend under the weight of pain. His father’s words were final. He’d never see his siblings anymore. It was over. No one would go looking for them. No one had the authority, but Charles, and he wouldn’t authorize it.
His steps guided him in front of Clovis’ door. He knocked, came in and stared at Clovis, as he was curled up on his bed, still staring at the wall.
“I talked to Father,” he said, ‘father’ feeling wrong on his tongue, this man was no parent to anyone. “He didn’t listen.” And he wouldn’t have, even if Schneizel had come right after his audience with Lelouch to calm him down. He never had any power over Charles. “We’ll have to grieve for them, as painful as it is.”
Clovis’ head turned in his direction slowly, eyes widening, before he grabbed a pillow and threw it at Schneizel’s face. “Get out! You’re as useless as he is!! Get out and don’t speak to me ever again!!” He spat, tears flowing down his cheeks.
Schneizel didn't find in his heart the strength to be angry, even if he was not to blame, even if Clovis shouldn't throw his rage and pain at his face. He understood. Clovis needed someone to be mad at with no consequences. He needed someone to blame, someone who wasn't Charles, who held nearly no power, who wouldn't punish him for his behavior, his grief, and perhaps, the teen knew his older brother would never hold his feelings against him.
Schneizel stared at him, then at the ground where the pillow rested. He knelt, put it back on the bed then stepped back, far enough not to anger his brother again.
“I’m sorry, Clovis.”
He offered him a smile, even if there was no soul in it, and at the glare Clovis threw at him, he understood he brought the younger man no comfort. The corner of his lips dipped, even if he tried to force them up, just to save the face. With a quiet nod, and a blurred vision, Schneizel closed the door as if he turned a page and wrote a new chapter. One where bonds held no place, where feelings were weaknesses to hide, where smiles were masks to wear for the public to be reassured, where family held no meaning nor value.
When the inevitable news came, Schneizel stood still. Like an unwavering rock. He stared at the graves, with Lelouch and Nunnally's names written on it, then at his siblings, who made no effort in masking their pain. He spoke not to Clovis, as much as the young man was crying when dirt was thrown over the small coffins. Did Clovis know they were empty ?
A crack within the rock.
Schneizel winced. Clovis didn't have to know. Else, he'd nourish the hopes of seeing them again. Hope, the drug of the weak. And Schneizel had far too many times indulged in it. When he hoped Charles would bring them back. When he thought Clovis would understand it was no one's fault but the Emperor's. When he had repaired the knight, thinking Lelouch would see it again and be mad at him.
A second crack within the rock.
He stared back at the graves. Let out a long sigh. Then left the cemetery before everyone else. Like drugs, hope created a destructive dependency, one that would only strengthen if Schneizel thought some more about the empty coffins. No body, no proof of death, right? Or so said Lelouch's favorite child mystery books, as hopeful as children books deserved to be. But Schneizel was no child, and no happy ending would be granted to the cursed family of Britannia, that much he knew.
A third crack within the rock.
Mirroring the one that took the crown off the white king.
It'd be alright. Just a bit more glue and some glitter, and nobody would notice. On this day of grief, assaulted by journalists he despised, Schneizel softly smiled, answered a couple of questions with a high chin and dignified expression, as if not feeling the heart rotting within.