Moonlight, clear as water, spilled into Euphemia's bedchamber. She curled up on the soft bed, a peaceful smile playing on her lips.
"Just call my name, and I will come to your side."
In her dream, the knight clad in lake-blue mechanical armor smiled. His silhouette gradually transformed into countless shimmering petals, dissolving into the night.
"One day, the name Euphemia will resound throughout Britannia."
This was their secret—a promise between a knight and a princess.
Not as a member of the royalty, but as herself.
★ ★ ★
Morning sunlight filtered through the gauze curtains. Euphemia slowly opened her eyes, the warmth from her dream still lingering at her fingertips.
She gently stroked the red crest hidden beneath her sleeve, the smile on her face yet to fade.
"Your Highness, Knight Suzaku is waiting in the office." The maid's voice pulled her back to reality.
Euphemia nodded. Thinking of her exclusive knight, who was always so solemn and earnest, she couldn't help but smile.
Although Suzaku was entirely different from the phantom-like Faerie Knight in her dreams, he had indeed supported her like a friend during the time since they met.
When she pushed open the office door, the heavy atmosphere that met her made her pause.
Suzaku stood by the window with his back to her, the morning light tracing his tense silhouette. To her surprise, he wasn't wearing the knight's uniform that symbolized his honor today.
"Suzaku?" she called softly. "It is time for us to head to the art museum."
The moment he turned around, his pale face and bloodshot eyes made Euphemia's heart tighten.
His tightly pressed lips trembled slightly, and his right hand unconsciously rubbed his left chest—the spot where the Royal Pin should have been was now empty.
"Your Highness." His voice was unimaginably hoarse. "Please allow me to resign from my position as your knight."
Those words were like a bucket of cold water poured over her. Recalling the Faerie Knight's prophecy from the previous night, Euphemia felt a sudden, absurd sense of irony.
She suppressed the inexplicable sense of loss in her heart and asked as calmly as possible, "Is it because of the incident where you defied orders last week? Prince Schneizel has already—"
"It isn't because of that!" Suzaku's voice suddenly rose, echoing through the empty office.
He seemed startled by his own loss of composure and immediately dropped to one knee. "Please forgive me... but I can no longer continue to deceive you."
Euphemia looked at his trembling shoulders and suddenly understood something. She stepped forward slowly, her voice filled with genuine concern.
"Is the responsibility of being a knight causing you too much pressure?"
"No!" Suzaku looked up abruptly. The pain and struggle in his eyes reminded Euphemia of the drifting petals in her dream.
"I am truly grateful for the trust you have given me. It is precisely because of that trust that I cannot continue to defile this position."
He took a deep breath, as if peeling back a scar buried for years. "Seven years ago... I killed my father."
The chirping of birds outside the window suddenly became piercing. Euphemia's eyes widened.
She watched as this young man, who always adhered so strictly to the code of knighthood, painfully tore open his own wounds.
"Back then, my father would rather have let the entire country turn to ash than surrender..." Suzaku's voice was broken. "I... I chose to trade his life for the survival of many more..."
A single tear hit the marble floor, creating a tiny splash.
"A sinner like me... is not fit to stand by your side..."
He pressed the pin into Euphemia's palm. The moment he touched her fingers, he pulled back as if burned, then turned and rushed toward the door.
"Wait!" Euphemia's cry failed to stop him. The heavy wooden door slammed shut, jarring a landscape painting off the wall.
In the empty office, Euphemia looked down at the pin in her hand. The cold touch of the metal reminded her of the Lancelot's warm hand in her dream.
She shook her head with a bitter smile. "Talk of worthiness... we are all living in sin..."
Memories rushed in like a tide—opinions deliberately ignored in the council chambers.
The meaningful title of 'Vase Princess' at banquets, and the whispers behind her back about the 'Puppet Highness'...
Euphemia's fingers clenched the pin tightly. The sharp edges dug into her palm, but the slight sting paled in comparison to the bitterness churning in her heart.
She stared in the direction Suzaku had disappeared. Her skirt swayed forward an inch instinctively, then stopped abruptly.
"Your Highness?" the head maid asked cautiously. "Should we send someone to bring Knight Suzaku back?"
Outside the window, Suzaku's figure had already vanished at the end of the tree-lined path. Euphemia took a deep breath.
The lessons from her royal etiquette classes automatically surfaced in her mind—keep the back straight, chin slightly tilted, and maintain a fifteen-degree smile.
When she spoke again, her voice had regained the composure characteristic of royalty.
"There is no need. Prepare to depart for the art museum."
★ ★ ★
Euphemia's military boots made a crisp clicking sound on the museum's marble floor. The hem of her white Sub-Viceroy uniform swayed gently with her stride.
She raised a hand to signal the guard detail to keep their distance and walked alone toward the Impressionist gallery, a favorite of the late Prince Clovis.
"A Sub-Viceroy in name only..." She gave a self-deprecating laugh, her fingertips brushing the exquisite gold embroidery on her sleeve. "Actually, I understood that from the very beginning."
Sunlight streamed through the stained glass, casting mottled blue spots at her feet.
She stopped in front of Mount Fuji at Sunset. The burning twilight on the canvas dyed her pupils amber.
The glass display case reflected her slightly pale face and the symbolic Sub-Viceroy epaulettes on her shoulders.
Still, I kept thinking I wanted to work hard to do what I could.
From the distance came the sound of the guard captain's radio: "Avalon confirmed. Lancelot is in the final tuning phase. Combat readiness expected at 1800 hours." The voice was exceptionally clear in the empty gallery.
Euphemia looked up at the life-sized portrait of Clovis directly in front of her. In the painting, her brother held a scepter, his gaze falling somewhere far beyond the frame.
She suddenly noticed a tiny nick on the bottom right of the frame—she had accidentally hit it with a scepter when she was twelve.
"I'm sorry... Brother Clovis." Her voice was so quiet it was almost inaudible. "Even though I met Zero, I didn't avenge you."
A tear slid down her cheek, leaving a dark smudge on the collar of her uniform. She remembered the masked figure in the ruins.
She remembered his voice when he said, "This world needs to change." At that moment, she had actually seen an ideal in her enemy that was purer than those held by her own brothers.
But I also can't think of a way to save Lelouch and Nunnally...
The thought startled her. As a Princess of Britannia, she should have viewed the rebellious siblings as enemies.
But the memory of the Lelouch who always protected Nunnally so gently overlapped with the Zero who was now sparking a revolution, making it impossible for her to hate him.
I don't have power like Sister or Brother Schneizel. I'm a stumbling block everywhere I go...
She turned and leaned against the window, the sunlight gilding her profile. In the direction of Tokyo Bay, the silhouette of the battleship Avalon was faintly visible.
Suzaku should be lying in the Lancelot's cockpit now, undergoing the final neural link tests.
Was that boy, who always kept his back so straight, also feeling apprehensive about the coming battle?
When I came to my senses, I realized I've done nothing but act selfishly.
She remembered the shocked expression on Princess Cornelia's face when she insisted on appointing Suzaku as her knight.
She remembered the nobles whispering that the 'Vase Princess' was finally going to make a fool of herself. She remembered the complex emotions in those emerald eyes when Suzaku rejected her.
I chose a knight against Sister's wishes, only to be turned down~
She tried to say the words in a lighthearted tone, but she couldn't control the trembling in her voice. More tears escaped, shimmering like crystals in the sunlight.
At that exact moment, the Command Spell on her arm suddenly burned hot.
Three crimson lines glowed faintly beneath her uniform sleeve. She seemed to hear that familiar voice in her ear, carrying the ethereal tenderness unique to a faerie:
"Don't think so lowly of yourself, my Master."
Euphemia looked up sharply. Flower petals seemed to drift through the sunlight. She wiped away her tears and watched the fading glow of the Command Spell, a determined smile appearing on her face.
"You're right..." she whispered to herself, casting one last look at Clovis's portrait. "I promised to show you—to show the world—the name Euphemia resounding through Britannia."
She straightened her collar and turned toward the depths of the gallery. There, an unreleased final work by Clovis awaited her inspection.
On the canvas, a young Euphemia was chasing butterflies in the palace garden, her smile radiant enough to light up the whole world.