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The tea room inside the Aries Villa is most likely the most magnificent of all those in the metropolis—and if Zero says that, it is probably because (in addition to the fact that his gaze has never really lingered on the tea rooms he has frequented before) he wants to avoid the conversation with Nunnally. Well, the hundredth Empress of the Holy Britannian Empire; it doesn't matter what you call her.
Zero hands her a new file, and the young woman lets out a weary sigh. The sun casts its last rays through the open windows, warm and orange. They've been there for several hours now, but Nunnally insisted on finishing all the paperwork before going to rest. Zero assists her, silent, occasionally signing a few official documents with a stroke of his pen.
Sweeping aside all the folded files on the table, the Empress wheels her chair forward to the window. The wind ruffles her long, light caramel-colored hair, and deep within his being of stone, Zero's heart sinks. He realizes she has grown up now, but he hadn't imagined he could feel such sadness.
Without moving a muscle, he lets her gaze at the horizon for long minutes. The view from the Villa's balcony allows them to clearly see the sun sinking behind the trees—although Zero remains completely unfazed.
“Did you know that Sayoko wrote her memoirs?”
Nunnally turns to Zero, smiling. Her words fall flat in the gentle silence of the room, and he doesn't flinch. He is straight, calm.
The hardest part about wearing a mask is that no one can see one’s facial expressions. Instead of raising his eyebrows, Zero remains silent, turning his head toward the Empress, silently encouraging her.
After all these years, words have become barriers. Nunnally smiles, amused, leaning back in her wheelchair, and continues.
“She always wanted to do that after the war, but she never had the time. She often talked to me about it, actually. I told her it was a good idea, but to be honest, if someone else read them, it would have proven that my older brother and I were still alive. But well, now, I imagine nothing was stopping her from writing anymore.”
With a slight sigh, Nunnally's gaze drifts into the void. Zero doesn't answer. What could he possibly say anyway?
“Five years,” the Empress murmures, “it feels like it was yesterday.”
Her lilac eyes still hold that broken glint when she speaks of the Zero Requiem. The masked man understands her. In life, she fought the demonic Emperor, Lelouch Vi Britannia; in death, she mourned her loving older brother.
With measured steps, Zero steps forward and takes Nunnally's hand. She raises her head in surprise and observes him without saying a word. After a few seconds, she squeezes his gloved fingers in return, her smile slowly returning.
“You don’t have to apologize,” she whispers. “We can’t go back, I know that. What is done is done.”
Zero nods. At the ripe old age of twenty, Nunnally Vi Britannia has borne a heavy legacy and an even greater sorrow. This doesn't prevent her from stretching gracefully, as if all the world's worries have vanished at once. With a flick of her chin, she gestures to her advisor toward the stack of documents still on the table.
“We'll finish all this tomorrow,” she says. “Let's go to bed, it is getting quite late.”
As Zero grabs the files from his arm and closes the window behind his Empress, she, already walking away, repeats one last time:
“In any case, I advise you to read Sayoko's memoirs. Not that I want to waste your time, of course, but perhaps you will find what you're looking for there?”
The young woman's cheerful expression furtively takes on an arrogant mischievous tinge and her eyes sparkle like a child's, before she leaves the place, looking royally dignified, her long imperial dress rustling around her.
For a moment, Zero remains perfectly still in the room. Then, he wonders if Nunnally is fucking with him and, in his barely suppressed frustration, almost throws all the papers on the floor. Oh yes, Nunnally is definitely fucking with him.
.oOo.
Despite his important role in the messy workings of new Britannian (and foreign, no kidding) politics, Zero's personal quarters are relatively modest.
It's a fact. Actually, nobody really knows exactly where he sleeps, but in reality, he only has two small rooms connected by a short, narrow corridor. In any case, he doesn't care whether he sleeps in luxury or not. First of all, it's safer for him: he can't afford to lead a double life like his predecessor, or he'd get himself killed. And secondly, this way, there are no guards to hear him screaming in the terrifying darkness of the nightmares that haunt him. It's better this way.
The masked savior collapses heavily onto his bed. Fatigue weighs down his limbs more than he cares to admit while he works, but just to cling to the illusion that everything is alright, he keeps the costume on a little longer, even after regaining the privacy of his room. His neck creaks and his mask trembles as he turns his head toward his bedside table.
Nunnally was fucking with him. On the worn wood sits an enormous book. Zero can easily make out the large calligraphic letters of the title.
- Memoirs of Sayoko Shinozaki: a witness in the shadows. Intended for Her Majesty Empress Marianne Vi Britannia and Mr. Genbu Kururugi.
Zero's breath catches in his throat. Why the Japanese Prime Minister? He tells himself it is far too late for fear, or for his secrets to be revealed, but he knows that the name of that man will chill him with terror for the rest of his life.
He reaches for the bedside table and picks up the heavy manuscript. It looks even bigger up close than from afar, and he weighs it in his hand for a moment before opening the first page.
His gaze skims over the pompous subtitles and the preface. He doesn't particularly want to delve into Sayoko's memories, so close to his own experiences, but a certain curiosity and a profound weariness compel him to read the first chapters. He turns the pages again and again, and his heart gradually begins to beat faster in his chest.
At the very beginning, I had the feeling that I had never seen a child as happy as little Lelouch. Of course, a child is meant to appreciate everything in life at the start of their existence, but, for such a young prince of the imperial family, he was radiant with happiness.
At that time, I was still living in Pendragon, and even now, I still have vivid memories of its atmosphere. In this new era, it's probably unwise to mention it, but the metropolis remains so beautiful in my memory; incredibly vibrant, bustling and shouting from morning till night, never ceasing to amaze those who discover it each day. I don't know if I was happy there—when you lack a sense of belonging, joy tends to abandon you, I can attest to that—but I was dazzled by so much wealth and shimmering brilliance. Absolutely everything in Pendragon seemed to evoke the presence of the Emperor and his peers, and many would say I was fortunate enough to see them up close. Even now, I doubt I have enough perspective to share my precise feelings—but here I am, putting my version down as best I can.
I met Empress Marianne in 1994, five years before Lelouch and Nunnally were born. It was early winter, but the air was already bitterly cold. I will always remember that moment—I had arrived by boat from Japan, and the journey had been particularly harrowing, between the other stowaways traveling with me and the constant threat of being thrown overboard if a nobleman discovered us. Arriving on the continent was a liberation, a breath of fresh air that swept away the fear of this harsh reality that had left me reeling. Her Majesty's arrival in my life would have been a saving grace in every way, lifting me out of my condition as an undocumented foreigner in a powerful nation with extremist leanings.
We met right in front of her private pavilion—the only place that, even today, holds my fondest memories. Of course, I didn't know where I was, and, getting lost in the luxurious maze, I was walking near the Palace, thinking I was far enough away to know nothing of the existence of the Aries Villa. Unsurprisingly, the Imperial Guard stopped me, and I would probably have ended up behind bars, or even sent back to Japan, if Her Majesty hadn't intervened. After bringing me into the pavilion, she gave me new clothes—a warm brown satin dress, among other things, with little fur-lined boots—and asked me a whole host of questions: Where was I from? Was I married? Did I have a job, a residence?
The following week, I became a servant for the Ashford family. Imagine, dear readers, the feelings one must experience when faced with the opportunity of a lifetime, when it comes so easily, where comfort and luxury are merely the foundation of a world unto itself, built on generations of hard work aimed at climbing the social ladder. I myself couldn't believe it; it was far too good to be true.
Zero stops. For a moment, he imagines Sayoko's adventures, the ones that led him to fight in the background. Did she see him, roaring and blazing, from the back of the room?
In 1999, Lelouch was born. Like all his brothers and sisters, even as a baby, he already seemed bathed in a blessed light. In five years, I had entered into the inner circle of Her Majesty Marianne—or so I thought—and I saw her every day, in her soft dresses, twirling in the gardens, singing lullabies to her firstborn. Later, my tender and dear Nunnally would come, and I would realize the boundless love Marianne had for her children.
The masked man almost sneers at the last words of the first chapter. Where has that boundless love gone? While the son sacrificed his life to find answers to the injustice of his childhood, the mother pulled strings behind the scenes, too high, too vast, unattainable in his eyes. This would remain unforgivable—one of Lelouch's many mistakes, clinging so tightly to the pain of the past.
Marianne loved her children, and her children loved her. Since I never saw the Emperor, I had the impression that they belonged to her alone—which, deep down, was probably true if one considers what would happen later. But, at the time I'm talking about, none of that existed yet, and the two children were the happiest people in the world.
Yes, Lelouch was happy. From his earliest days of innocence, I watched him discover life with a speed that would astonish many—he read books, many complex works that I wouldn't have been able to decipher, and learned the art of cunning by playing cards and chess. At chess, little Lelouch beat everyone—his elders (the late) Clovis and Odysseus, myself, and sometimes even Her Majesty Marianne or Her Highness Cornelia when they allowed him a game. He even said he wanted to teach Nunnally the rules when she was older, but his Mother always firmly opposed it.
Beneath the darkness of his anonymity, Zero smiles, a little, gently. He skims the remaining pages, skips a few chapters—and stumbles upon what he doesn't know.
The 2009 scandal was minor for the Britannians. For me, it was a life-changing event; a turning point for several, in fact. Lelouch was seven years old at the time, and Her Majesty Marianne had just been killed in a terrorist attack. I was devastated, and despite everything I did to stay, I was forcibly removed from the Aries Villa. By the time I finally came to my senses, little Milly Ashford—who had, until then, still been in my care—had returned to her parents' private residence in Japan. Nunnally had been taken to the hospital, and before I could do anything about it, Lelouch had requested a meeting with his father.
That was simply it, the scandal of 2009: a sad but proud child who had tried to stand up to the tallest man in the Britannian nation. I wasn't there to witness it, but I was told that, after being informed of his impending departure for Japan, Lelouch stormed out of the throne room shouting his resentment before throwing his clothes to the floor. Unsurprisingly, this event hasn't left much of a mark on History today, but it was seeing the prince's face two days after the scandal that made me realize something. My gratitude towards Marianne, Lelouch's pain, or even little Nunnally's pain—which had made me cry for days—it was all behind me. Absolutely nothing would ever be the same again.
Little by little, I forgot the luxury and wealth of Pendragon. Then, in 2010, came the departure for Japan—and Lelouch and Nunnally were no longer members of the imperial family but political hostages, objects of abstract value, sent to the other side of the world as the inevitable war slowly loomed in the distance. In what would become Area 11, I met Genbu Kururugi, Lelouch, Nunnally, and Suzaku Kururugi…
Zero doesn't finish the sentence. He doesn't want to read this chapter; he doesn't want to see or hear anything. He knows it will bring back memories—turbulent traumas, taboos, from another era, another time—so he pretends not to hear. And turns the pages, until the end of the book. When he resumes reading, his throat tightens.
I know I'm not supposed to talk about it. And, despite the fact that I swore I wouldn't reveal all the behind-the-scenes details, one aspect of the Zero Requiem needs—I know it's important—to be mentioned because, now, no one will be there to keep the truth hidden.
In and of itself, I think the period of time between the death of the 98th Emperor of Britannia, Charles Zi Britannia, and the assassination of the 99th Emperor of Britannia, Lelouch Vi Britannia, can be described as the “Requiem for Zero”. The daemon emperor whose different facets I have revealed to you in these pages—may he, despite the hatred, rest in peace.
Sayoko is very brave, Zero thinks to himself. Not everyone is capable of speaking like that about the Demon Emperor.
You all know Suzaku Kururugi as the Knight of Zero from Lelouch Vi Britannia—and I know that, despite my portraying him as the broken teenager who made the wrong choices, many will have grievances against him, and undoubtedly, they'll be right. Nevertheless, to those close to him—or those who thought they knew him—his sudden alliance with Lelouch Vi Britannia was unlike him. It wasn't that he hated Lelouch—at least, not entirely—but he knew things my oath forbids me to reveal. In any case, returning to his childhood friend after all the Knights of Round had allied themselves with the Black Knights was quite a surprise.
Zero turns one page, then two.
The fact is that Suzaku loved Lelouch. And it was undoubtedly reciprocated.
Zero catches his breath. How dare she?
At least, that's what I thought. As I've already told you, seeing them so close seven years after the war between Japan and Britannia surprised me at the time. A year later, that feeling returned, and with it, other questions: if Sir Kururugi had been in love with Mr. Lelouch all that time, what role had Euphemia played? Worse still, was everything that had divided them these past two years therefore not of their own volition?—but I can't reveal anything on that point. I'll just leave you to feel the pain.
I saw them doing it. Sometimes, Sir Kururugi would stroke Lelouch's cheek, and Lelouch would smile gently at him—I even think they slept in the same room. And the Knight of Zero would kneel with unparalleled devotion at the foot of his Emperor's throne.
Far be it from me to presume—but if they truly loved each other, then now I can say that I was happy to remain by the side of Her Majesty Lelouch Vi Britannia…
Without reading the end, Zero slams the book shut with an abrupt, uncontrollable gesture. Beneath his suit, he feels damp, so slowly he removes his mask. Through the small window, the moon illuminates brown curls that cascade over his ears, darkened with perspiration. Green eyes catch the whitish light in a burning gleam, vibrating with a suppressed fever. The skin is red, vibrant with an emotion that makes it tremble on the surface and raises the hairs.
Dazed, almost panting, he stares at the book still on his lap. Then, he spreads his thighs, letting it fall to the floor with a thud. Zero flops backward, landing flat on his back on his bed, listening to the irregular beating of his heart in his chest. The once-sharp-backed savior is now nothing more than a shuddering silhouette, the remnants of an adolescent who should have finished growing up long ago. But the shame that consumes him is very real. And it burns in his gut.
Not only did Nunnally openly mock him, but Sayoko really messed up too. And quite badly.