#creators anonymous

It makes Zeldris want to scream, to expand his darkness and wipe out this place and the idiots who inhabit it. This is humiliating. Any of the Commandments would have been more than enough to deal with the Vampire Clan, and yet, his father sent him. It's almost laughable that this is the first time he chooses Zeldris over his brother - but of course, he would have never sent Meliodas. Not for something so insignificant as knock some sense into one of his vassals.

Zeldris grits his teeth, a bitter taste invading his mouth as he finally glides towards the ground, headed for the open space right in front of the castle's front gate. As soon as his feet touch the ground his wings disappear, darkness clearing like mist at dawn. He doesn't lose time glancing up at the lopsided towers that seem about to collapse upon him - this place doesn't intimidate him more than its inhabitants - and presses his hands on the wooden shutters. They are thrice as his height, cold and solid under his touch, and maybe they are supposed to be heavy as well, but they offer almost no resistance when he pushes, opening with a   strident squeak. They hit against the walls with a thud that keeps reverberating in the room when Zeldris crosses the threshold. The inside is dark, no torches hanging on the walls, no candles on the ornated chandelier on the ceiling - the Vampires don't need light, not as the other Clans do. For a moment, even Zeldris' eyes struggle in the semidarkness, but soon enough he can distinguish the angular shapes of the walls, the profile of the stairs in front of him and the fast movements in the shadows. Dozen of eyes glow around him, staring as he steps inside, and a chorus of hisses and murmurs fills the room. They didn't expect to see him, and they are not pleased - not that Zeldris cares about it. The sooner he can leave, the better, and those insects are better not slow him down.

"What do you think you are doing, Demon?" A growl comes out from the darkness, and when Zeldris turns around a tall, massive Vampire is approaching him, showing his fangs like a beast. Zeldris snorts - it's almost funny how he thinks he stands a chance. He is lucky the Demon has no time to lose with him. The second time he looks at him, the Vampire is lying on the ground, Zeldris' boot pressing against his neck, blood staining his lips and both his hands crushed. Around them, silence fell, and the sound of his laboured breathing clearly echoes in the room. Zeldris keeps his eyes fixed on him as he asks coldly, "The throne room. Where is it?"

"The king will not let you get away with this - " the Vampire shots, but he shuts up when Zeldris narrows his eyes, letting his power free to manifest to these fools. He can hear the gasps of the ones who are watching, their steps as they run away, some quietly, some other not even caring to muffle the sound of their escape. He doesn't glance at them, and when he presses his foot a bit harder on the Vampire's throat, he breathes in and coughs and whines, "Up the stairs! Down the corridor, behind the last door - the iron one! I -"

It's enough. Darkness arises around him and with a flutter of his wings he flies over the stairs, leaving the Vampire alone, panting and still lying on the floor. Zeldris lets his darkness disappear once again as he walks down the hall; now he is slowing down, his grip on his power still loose. He wants Izraf to know that he is coming, he wants him to spend the seconds before his arrival wondering why a so powerful Demon is here. If he finally made a mistake and now he is going to pay the price. And as he comes closer, he feels Izraf's presence getting stronger - he is surely the most powerful among the Vampires, though he is still nothing compared to one of the Commandments. Around the king, other powerful presences are gathering. The royal members of the Clan, he realizes with a snort. As this could make any difference; even without his father's power, he could wipe them out without any effort.

Moments later, when he finally slams the iron door, they are waiting for him. Vampires are hiding in the shadows near to the walls, but they are nothing more than insignificant spectators. Their whispers follow him as he walks towards the back of the room, where king Izraf is waiting for him, sitting on his large throne, his spine straightened in an effort to look intimidating. His pale eyes are fixed on Zeldris, his face motionless, yet he can't stop his fingers to clench a little and his claws to softly scrabble the armrests. The other royal Vampires are gathered around him, silent and still like marble figures. A young-looking boy at his right, his body relaxed and his head lazily tilted, but even though his lips are curved in a little smirk his eyes are wide and follow carefully Zeldris every step. Next to the boy stands a muscular Vampire, his face partly hidden behind a helmet, and on his shoulder Zeldris notices another one, small and repulsive like a parasite. They are both afraid, those two, and they can't hide it, even though they grit their teeth and narrow their eyes as to look dangerous. When his gaze moves on the King's left, two women look back at him; the black-haired one parts her lips to show her fangs, rage burning in her white irises as she tenses, her body ready to snap and to fight. The other one ... Zeldris flinches a brow as his stare lingers on her. She is more difficult to read. She is not blatantly relaxed as the boy, yet her body is not stiffened and doesn't show any sign of nervousness. She simply stands expressionless, hands by her sides, her gaze cold and indifferent as Zeldris' come was nothing unexpected or extraordinary. Yet, there is something more behind those purple eyes, something he can't quite name. He doesn't think he likes it - the way she looks at him, like he was nothing more than a distraction, irritates him, even more than the stares of fear and hate the other Vampires throw at him. She – all of them should learn some respect. After all, that’s why he is here.

“We weren’t expecting an emissary from the Demon Clan,” Izraf states when Zeldris stops in front of the throne, "and one of the princes, no less." His voice is deep and controlled, it sounds almost calm, but there is a hint of irritation that doesn’t escape Zeldris’ hears. “To what do we owe the  pleasure ?”

Zeldris doesn’t answer immediately, staring back at Izraf and giving the time to think about the answer himself, to analyze every single move he made, looking for a tiny mistake that could have brought the Demon King to send him one of his own sons. Giving him time to wonder if Zeldris is here to warn him or to destroy him. Only when Izraf shifts on the throne and grits his teeth, obviously about to speak again, Zeldris answers. “The Demon King,” he says, voice cold and firm, loud enough that everyone can hear him, “couldn’t help but notice a certain lack of Vampire soldiers in his line, recently. He wants to make sure that you are not forgetting your duties towards him."

Izraf presses his lips in a thin line, his white fangs showing up against the pale skin. "Of course, I'm not. I called them back because there is no need to display so many forces. We are not at war, after all."

“Not yet," Zeldris says without changing expression, "but the Demon King wats to be ready for when we will be. And when it happens, Izraf, you should remember where your loyalty lies, if you want your Clan to survive."

Izraf's entire body seems to turn into stone as fire ignites in his gaze, his mask of unconcern breaks revealing a mix of rage and wounded pride. Around him, the Vampires rise and the room is filled by hisses and growls and muffled cries. The young boy at the king's side straightens his spine, fangs shining behind his lips, and so do the other members of the royalty, gathering around their king as a united front. Zeldris doesn't flinch, his body relaxed. None of them is a threat for him, and even if they attacked him all together, they wouldn't stand a chance; if they stopped only for a moment to think, they would know. Yet, can't help but notice, he is not the only one who remained at his place. One of the women of the royal members, the blonde one, hasn't moved an inch, she is still composed yet relaxed, her lips settled in a line. For a brief moment, their eyes met - and again, even though hers look like cold gems on her face, Zeldris catches glimpse of burning flames under the apparent indifference. It doesn't look like blind rage, though, it's way more controlled and - and smart, he would say.

"How dare you -" It's the other woman's voice that makes him look away; she is almost trembling for the anger, her eyes so narrow that he can barely see the irises. The only warning that she is about to attack is the way she slightly raises her arms and the blades that cover her hands, but before she can take a single step, the blonde woman's hand is on her shoulder, grabbing strongly the tissue of her clothes, nails almost digging in her skin. What she whispers to the other’s ear, Zeldris can't hear, but it's enough to make her breath in sharply and her body stiffen. The shorter Vampire swallows and grits her teeth, but then she hangs her head and takes a step back.

King Izraf glares at the two of them before returning his eyes on Zeldris. “Those accusations are rather offensive, Demon prince. I called back my warriors because they were no use to your army, you soldiers are more than enough.”

Zeldris shakes his head, crossing his arms, "You'll leave this decision to the Demon King - and what he wants is that you send them back."

"I can assure you I will do so when the war begins," Izraf replies, fingers wrapping around the armrests until the skin is pure white.

"You will send them back now, Izraf." Zeldris' voice is lower now, not a growl but deeper, his dark eyes fixed on the king. He has enough of this foolish Vampire and his apparent desire to get himself and his people killed.

"What if I don't?" The king snaps, but he immediately regrets it, his eyes widening as he watches tendrils of darkness swirling around Zeldris' feet.

When he answers, the Demon's voice is hard and cold as steel. "If you don't, I will kill you. I'm sure that one of them will take your place fast enough," his eyes wander over the royal Vampires, lingering for a moment on the blonde woman. She doesn't look scared as she stares back at him, she simply purses her lips and tilts her head, apparently unimpressed. "And if your successor will not cooperate, I will kill them too," Zeldris continues, clenching his jaw when the woman doesn't react. "And if the Vampire Clan can't be trusted, it will be eliminated as well. The Demon King doesn't tolerate traitors," he finishes as he returns his eyes on Izraf.

The king inhales, his nostrils flaring, then he breathes out and bows slightly his head, his arms relaxing. He finally got it, Zeldris realizes as he flinches his brow, waiting for an answer. "There is no need for any of this, as no one in this room is a traitor," Izraf remarks, but his voice is lower and defeated. "I still believe my people shouldn't be forced to leave their home, but if this is what the Demon King desires, I'll send them back."

Zeldris nods. "You have two days," he says and waits for the king to nods, even though he is obviously forcing himself not to argue, before adding, "Remember where your place is, Izraf, or my next visit will not be as pleasant as this one."

The Vampire clenches his jaw so hard that Zeldris can almost hear it crack. For a moment, the Demon wonders if he will be really so foolish to attack him and actually, he wouldn't mind that. He has no sympathy for a man who can't understand his place. But Izraf apparently is not a complete fool, and finally, he nods again as he whispers with gritted teeth, "Of course, Demon Prince."

Zeldris nods back and takes one last moment to let his eyes slid over the Vampires until they stop on the woman with purple eyes. "She will escort me to the door," he states, eyes flickering towards Izraf as he nods towards her. Confusion flashes in his eyes, turning into anger and outrage as soon as the words sink. His jaw trembles, his lips parting as he shows his fangs, but before any foolish word could leave his mouth the woman gracefully bows her head.

"As you wish, my Lord," she says, and her voice is soft and cold as silk, clear and strong even though so low. Her gaze runs to Izraf as to tell him not to interfere, and the king frowns but eventually, he nods, his lips pressed together as to prevent the words to get out. She really is smart, Zeldris decides as her gaze returns on him; surely smarter than the king and most of the Vampires in this room. Fierce and yet careful. He is almost surprised when he realizes how this awakens in him something different  – interest, that’s it, and some form of respect he shouldn’t feel towards people like her. Annoyed, Zeldris, waits until the Vampire moves, surpassing him and walking towards the door with a rapid but controlled pace, before following her. He can feel the eyes of the other Vampires on his skin, and their low growls, barely muffled, fill the room as soon as he steps out the door. It doesn’t matter. If he turned around, they would fall silent in the blink of an eye and look away, praying that he will spare them, like the miserable parasites they are.

The woman doesn't stop when they leave the room, nor she glances at him once; she walks quickly and confidently in the darkness, almost as if she was alone, leading him down the hall. All the other Vampires that populated the place the first time seem to have vanished without a trace - probably they didn't want to get in Zeldris' way. The Demon curves his lips in a disgusted curve, then stops minding about them and glances at the woman instead, observing her graceful profile and long hair. She is beautiful, he thinks, incredibly so, then he frowns - that's of course not the reason he commanded her to lead him. He wanted to teach Izraf a lesson, to show him that there is nothing he can deny to the Demon Clan. But at the same time, he asked for her because he wanted to see how she would have reacted, if this would have at least cracked the cold mask she wore during the whole meeting. It didn't, and Zeldris doesn't know if he likes it. She is not disrespecting him, not directly, but she is not even considering him, as if he wasn't a threat, as if he couldn't kill her in a moment if he wanted. It reminds him too much the way some members of his Clan and his own father threat him. Like he was nothing, not compared to his brother. Briefly, Zeldris wonders what Meliodas would have done at his place, today. If Izraf would have discussed with him as long as he did or he would have simply bowed, shaking like the rat he is. If the royal Vampires would have even tried to defend the king, or they would have accepted their fate and bowed with him. If this woman who is so unnervingly composed and cold with him would be like this with his brother as well, or if she would avoid his gaze and tremble under his stare. Somehow, he doesn’t think she would. Maybe he is fooling himself, hoping that in this place there is at least someone who wouldn’t treat him differently from Meliodas, but she looks so sure and controlled even now that she is alone in his presence that he can't believe that she would be terrified by his brother and beg and submit to him, as everyone does. Maybe she doesn't care about getting killed, he thinks, snorting - or maybe, she does, but this is not enough to bend her. And this is strangely intriguing.

It doesn’t take more than minutes to reach the entrance hall. Someone closed the door, but the woman doesn’t seem to mind. Her hands look delicate, pale as snow when they lean on the wooden door, which opens silently under her gentle push, revealing the darkness of the night and the white of the snow. Zeldris grits his teeth - of course, the blizzard has already started.  Only then the Vampire turns towards him and once again her purple eyes are on his face, fearless and calm as a frozen lake. “Demon prince,” she whispers, barely bowing her head as to invite him to leave.

Zeldris doesn't move; instead, he looks back at her – she is taller than him, but he is used to people being always taller than he is and by now he learned that this doesn't make them stronger. “What’s your name, Vampire?” He asks before he can stop himself, as he crosses his arms.

The woman blinks, a spark of surprise glowing in her eyes. “Gelda is my name,” she answers softly, “they call me Gelda the Thousand Temptations.”

Her beautiful features and body would be enough to explain the nickname, yet Zeldris wonders if there is more, hidden behind her pretty face. She is powerful, he can sense it - not as Izraf but close enough. “Gelda,” he repeats as he furrows his browns, then stops to take a moment to decide what exactly he wants to tell her. “We may see each other again, as the war os approaching," he says, finally, "and what I told Izraf applies to you as well. I do pretend respect,  Gelda .”

For a moment, he thinks, not without annoyance, that she will feign surprise - after all, she has never openly disrespected him. That would irritate him, he has no intention to waste any more time in useless games. But she doesn’t. She tilts her head instead, her eyes narrowing a little. “I can give you my obedience, my Lord, and assure you that I – and my Clan, will follow your orders and your father’s will. My respect, I’m afraid, must be earned.” Her lips tremble and for a moment the curves into something that looks like a smirk, her fangs showing up between her lips, white as just fallen snow. It makes her look even more beautiful, but that's not the point. She is playing with fire. Zeldris stiffens, his palm suddenly brushing against the hilt of his sword, cold metal biting his skin. Her gaze lowers, following the movement, then returns to his eyes. He could kill her, for this. She knows that, and yet, she is playing with fire.

Maybe, Meliodas would kill her. Reading the cold darkness in his brother's eyes has always been difficult, and Zeldris can't be sure about it, but it's so easy to imagine Meliodas doing it, slicing her body with a sword stroke. It would be nothing for him, to get rid of someone that doesn't respect him as they should. And maybe, that's what stops Zeldris from doing the same. His hand returns to lay at his side, his face still expressionless, a hint of satisfaction blossoming in his chest when he a glimpse of confusion emerges in her eyes. Killing her would be easy and quick and any other Demon, including his brother and his father, could do so. No, he will not kill her. He will make her respect him, instead, not because of his nature or his heritage but because of who he is - one of the best warriors of his Clan. It's foolish and unnecessary and he shouldn't care about this Vampire's respect so much - but he is sick of doing exactly as his father would and not getting any credit from him. This time, he will do it his way. “I will earn it, then, if you will earn mine," he says, and suddenly he realizes that he is lying; somehow, she already has his respect - and maybe that's another reason why he wants her to respect him as well.

The Vampire takes a moment before answering, staring at him with a new spark of interest in her eyes. "I suppose we will see, my Lord," she whispers, and this time, a smile enlightens her features as she nods.