#izraf

I’m publishing Chapter 4 of The Call of Duty for today. Hope you enjoy it if you’re following the fic.

Gelda smiled, just about managing to bite back a smirk as she watched Zeldris stare straight ahead. She knew him by now, and the way his face went completely still as he fought to hide his feelings from the world. Beside her, Izraf made a great show of pointing out the various objects which would play their part in the coming ceremony, explaining their importance to the vampire clan: the long, golden sceptre for power; the chalice studded with hundreds of jewels showing their wealth; and the crown set with a huge ruby to symbolise authority.

“When the bride has reached the dais, the music will stop and I will start the proclamations, some of which will require a response from the pair of you,” Izraf said sternly, his eyes squarely on the demon who was somehow managing to keep his face a mask. “It is crucial you follow them precisely. One word wrong…”

“Father,” Gelda said gently, “we’ve been over this a number of times. We have prepared and are ready for tomorrow. Nothing will go wrong.”

Izraf sighed, then sank into the throne, rubbing his eyes then resting his head in his hands. “I know,” he agreed as he reached for her to take her hand. “I just cannot shake this premonition that something will go wrong. These last few days, my sleep has been disturbed,” he confided as Gelda looked at him with concern. “But I trust you, both of you. I know you won’t let me down.”

“Everything is ready,” Gelda said reassuringly as the vampire king rested his head on the back of his chair. She saw Zeldris’s shoulders stiffen, a sure sign that he also was under stress, and she turned towards him with a wide smile. “The day has been carefully planned down to the last detail.”

Zeldris nodded, clearing his throat. “There is nothing else that needs to be arranged?”

“No. Just turn up.” At this the vampire king grinned, his hands relaxing in his lap. “You are right, my daughter, nothing has been left to chance. I need to stop worrying.”

[[MORE]]

“In that case, I will… take my leave, until tomorrow.” Zeldris’s voice sounded strained and Gelda felt her heart quicken, her father’s nervousness starting to become her own. She stepped down from the dais, walking towards the man she was to marry, tension snapping in the air between them as the demon bowed, formally taking his leave from his future sovereign.

The sound of their footsteps echoed across the halls as they made their way through Edinburgh Castle. Gelda wanted desperately to reach out for him, to pull him close, to hear him tell her everything was alright. But he said nothing, and she saw his throat move a little as he swallowed, saw him bite his lip as they approached the main entrance. Unable to take it any longer, Gelda murmured, “Zeldris what’s wrong? I… if you’re having second thoughts?”

“No!” Relief flooded through her as he turned towards her, folding her into his arms. His hold was tight, almost desperate, and she could hear the ragged sound of his breathing, feel the way his hearts thumped in his chest. “Your father is not the only one who has been plagued by premonitions,” Zeldris explained as he pulled back, taking both of her hands in his. “I cannot explain it, but I keep expecting something to go awry. I have never been happy, not really,” he admitted, his eyes sliding to the floor. “This seems… too much like a dream. One that could easily turn into a nightmare.”

Gelda stepped forwards, pulling him once more into a close embrace and pressing her lips to his cheek. “I love you,” she murmured, “nothing will go wrong.”

They stayed locked together for several moments until Gelda reluctantly pulled back. “Do you have to go at once?”

He smiled then, the rare sight calming her nerves. “No, not at once. If you would like to run through the vows…”

“I have a better idea.” Taking his hand, Gelda pulled Zeldris through the heavy double doors and out into the dark of the night. The cool summer breeze immediately rushed over them, ghosting along the skin of her bare arms and raising the hairs on the back of her neck. Taking deep gulps of the fresh air brought earthy hints of heather and bracken, the excitement she felt chasing away her fears. “Do you remember the last time we were here?” she asked with a giggle as Zeldris took her hand.

“I remember you throwing an engagement ring into the undergrowth. An action I sincerely hope you do not wish to repeat.” Gelda laughed, glancing down as Zeldris ran his thumb over the stone on her finger. She did not need to see the rare orange sapphire set in a platinum band, the heat-treated gem chosen to symbolise the fiery nature of her power. The way it looked was committed to her memory. She shook her head playfully as their hands strayed together, fingers interweaving in an instant.

Zeldris sighed as he stared out at the night and Gelda watched as the clouds moved away from the moon, silver light pouring onto the earth below. “Will you miss the demon realm?” she asked tentatively. “It’s… a bit different here.”

“If you mean will I miss the shrieks of the hydra, no I will not,” declared Zeldris, “but…” He trailed off, his voice growing slightly wistful as he stared out at the land. “This is beautiful.”

With a smile, Gelda held up a hand, the tips of her fingers tingling as she summoned her power. Flames burst into the air, flickering in her palm to fill the black sky with streaks of orange and gold, illuminating the landscape in a fiery glow. The princess watched as the hills of Edinburgh were cast into sharp relief, her eyes running over the dips as the vast expanse of earth stretched before her. All of this was the vampires’ domain. She heard Zeldris take a sharp breath beside her but she continued to gaze out at the night.

Mulberry gauze spread through the night, curling together with Gelda’s fire. She felt Zeldris’s power licking against her own, the two forces mingling as their magic grew. Purple and orange flames burst around them like fireworks as a ball of colourful energy floated towards the sky, flashes of Hellblaze containing the fire and carrying it like a lantern into the dark.

The orb whizzed through the atmosphere, rushing over the castle, twisting around the towers and turrets. Gelda felt Zeldris’s arm circle her waist and she leaned into him as they watched their magic explore every inch of the structure before exploding in a shower of light at the very top. Sparks of every hue scattered through the dark, crackling and hissing as they shone like stars. Zeldris pulled Gelda closer towards him, his pulse quickening as she turned in his arms, their lips melding together.

The worry that had plagued him subsided as she tilted her head to deepen their kiss and he immersed himself in the aroma of roses and the spice of their magic. The ache of longing and want bloomed in his chest as he held her; he had carried it since the day she had accepted his suit, and he had been surprised to find that it did not fade, whether they were together or apart, a constant reminder of the love he bore. For he loved her, more than he could ever hope to explain.

“Master.” The unwelcome greeting rang through the still of the night, setting his teeth on edge in an instant. He practically snarled as he reluctantly left the warmth of Gelda’s embrace, her eyes going wide as he pulled back sharply. His jaw clamped shut as he looked at his tutor, long moustache gleaming in the light of their power which was still falling like a fountain over the earth, glitter dust swirling through the sky. Examining Cusack’s features, Zeldris tried to divine the reason for his presence, but the demon’s face was impassive, giving nothing away.

“My apologies, Your Highness,” continued Cusack suavely, his low voice sonorous and vibrating with authority. “You are wanted at home, without any delay. I was sent to fetch you with the utmost urgency.”

Without realising it, Zeldris cocked his head to one side. “Urgency?” he asked, allowing one eyebrow to raise just a bit. “You had better tell me what the problem is,” he added sternly as Cusack gave him an impassive stare. “You will not keep secrets from princess Gelda. After we are wed tomorrow she will be your liege.”

“I am afraid I am not at liberty to say what has occasioned the summons. But I can confirm that I would not be here if this ran contrary to your interests.” Cusack strode forwards, his hand resting on the hilt of the sword that swung by his side. “Come with me, young Prince,” she said softly, “it is worth your while.”

The maniacal look in his tutor’s eyes was a little unsettling but Zeldris complied, turning to the woman at his side. “I love you, always,” he whispered as he gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek in deference to Cusack’s presence. “I cannot wait until we are husband and wife. I will see you tomorrow.”

“I love you too,” Gelda called as Zeldris and Cusack summoned darkness to build wings over their backs and set off quickly towards the demon realm.

***

The atmosphere was frantic. The moment the pair set down outside the portcullis, Zeldris could feel the tension. Servants were rushing about in all directions, some yelling instructions at more junior staff. Zeldris’s eyes darted from left to right as he strode towards the gates; even in their present state of panic demons scattered before his advance, clearing a path as he made his way to the throne room.

The doors to the demon king’s lair opened without ceremony, a fact that made Zeldris even more uneasy. Cusack had said nothing on the journey, given him no hint of what to expect, only looking at him with a lopsided grin. The throne room itself was far more calm, the movements outside it stilled. The king sat like a monolith in his golden chair, and Zeldris could feel his power snapping through the room. His father was evidently in the foulest of moods, if he could not even keep himself together.

As Zeldris approach the dais, Cusack following a respectful distance behind, he stopped short, biting down on his tongue. The palace was in an uproar and the king was swallowed by rage, so where was his brother? Invariably at moments like these, after the loss of a battle, Meliodas would stand at the king’s side, offering what comfort he could with his own bountiful power. It had always made Zeldris feel left out, knowing the king wanted Meliodas at such times, and not him.

“You took your time,” the king snapped, each word punctuated by a crackle of electricity. Zeldris ignored the temper, staring steadily back as his father glowered with menace. Eventually, the king relaxed back in his chair, but the heavy anger he carried did not dissipate.

“The wedding is off.”

Zeldris’s stomach fell like a stone, his mouth falling open in shock. “But… why?” he cried, his hands clenching into fists at his sides, and he pressed his fingers hard into his palms. “They sent us the dowry! I have to…”

“I sent it back.” The demon king stood, looming over his son as he stepped down from the throne. “I have kept my word. They have nothing to complain of.”

“Yes they do!” Zeldris protested, ignoring the way Cusack was pointedly clearing his throat. “This is their custom. Once the dowry has been accepted the engagement cannot be broken. I have to…”

“What you have to do is lead this damn war.” The demon king snarled, his low growl echoing through the chamber. “You will do your duty and right the wrongs that your br… the traitor has done to our clan. So you can forget the vampires. Your place is on the battlefield.”

As Zeldris stared, feeling his hearts pound, Cusack stepped forwards. “Young master, what you need to know is that Meliodas has…”

“Do not speak that traitor’s name!” The demon king’s face darkened, swirls of Hellblaze gathering like a storm around him.

Cusack inclined his head, then continued, “The traitor has left our clan, defected over the love of a disgusting goddess, so the rumours suggest.”

Zeldris turned to stare in unabashed surprise at his tutor. “W-what?” he managed to stutter as the blood drained from his face, remembering the way Meliodas had berated him for feeling affection mere months before. “But, that cannot be possible,” he protested. “Mel- he would never…”

“He killed Aranak and Zeno on his way out.” Zeldris watched in horror as Cusack’s eyes practically glowed with delight. He’s enjoying this, Zeldris thought as his tutor visibly worked to suppress a smile.

“So we are not only missing… him, we have lost two Commandments as well?” Panic squeezed at his chest, restricting his airways. He barely registered as Cusack started droning on about how the army would need a new leader, one more reliable and committed to the cause than the last. Shaking his head to clear away the buzz, he demanded, “Where is he? Do we know where he has gone?”

“Finally, someone has asked the right question.” The demon king shot Zeldris a look before returning to the throne, his height still dominating the room. “Derieri and Monspeet have been scouring Britannia, looking for our missing citizens. They have just sent in an interesting report. Our lost people are being held in the fairy king’s forest, along with some other unmentionables who appear to have claimed sanctuary there.”

Zeldris took several deep breaths in an attempt to force his pulse to slow. Thoughts ran in circles through his head, and he closed his eyes as he tried to make sense of the conflicting emotions which warred for dominance. The vampires would not stand for the insult his own father had visited upon them, his months learning their customs had taught him this much, though how they would respond to the slight he could only imagine. There was only one thing for it: Meliodas would need to be fetched back home and the empty Commandment positions filled, and soon. Otherwise, Izraf was liable to make a bold move, one that would assuage his pride at the expense of his safety.

“Then I will go, with your permission, Your Majesty.” Zeldris withstood his father’s withering stare. “I have a plan,” he said, making sure his voice rang with confidence he did not truly feel. “Give me the Commandments. I will find them new homes.” The demon king’s eyes narrowed, but he muttered the words of the spell, the spheres of his magic floating to his son.

“The fairy king’s forest is practically impenetrable…” Cusack began as Zeldris said the reciprocal spell to stow the power away.

“Practically being the operative word.” Zeldris ignored his tutor to regard the king. “I know how we can do it. Give me your blessing and I will bring them down.”

Slowly, the king nodded his head in agreement. “I will do more than that.” Zeldris gasped as tendrils of darkness shot from the king, slithering through the air to circle his wrists and ankles, holding him firmly in place. He could feel the king’s power running through him, tearing at him as it burrowed through his veins. He grit his teeth, forcing himself not to cry out with the pain as part of his father’s power became his own.

“You should find that gives you a little advantage,” the king intoned as Zeldris shook with the pain. “Now go, and spare no expense. Take whichever of our warriors you require. My only command is that you bring the traitor back alive. I have unfinished business with him.”

Zeldris bowed low, taking his leave. He wanted to run, to ready the demon forces and start his campaign at once, but he made himself walk at a sedate, steady pace. If I do not act soon, Izraf will get there before me. He shook his head, trying to shift the fear which was slowly trickling through his form.

“And Zeldris, do not mess this up. Failure will under no circumstances be tolerated. Cusack, you and Chandler are to remain here,” the king barked as Zeldris’s tutor also made to leave. Zeldris frowned, hardly understanding the command. If anyone would be well placed to fetch Meliodas home, it was Chandler. But it was not his place to question the king.

Without further word, Zeldris moved as swiftly as he darted out of the throne room. Once on the other side of the doors, he quickened his pace to an undignified trot, pelting through the corridors and so down to the basement where the man he needed to see was being held prisoner.

Without ceremony, he disintegrated the barrier erected to keep the danger at bay. Even his father had his doubts about this individual but Zeldris knew with certainty, whatever sin he was about to commit, that in this moment he had nothing to fear.

“Good morning, or is it good afternoon?” Gowther asked kindy as he turned his chair to face the new arrival, his hands deftly controlling the wheels of his seat. “I lose track down here. But news of your brother’s latest act has reached even my ears. Since you are apparently unaffected by my Commandment, I presume you are not here to exact any sort of revenge?”

“No. I just want to bring him back here, and fast.” Zeldris rested his hands on his hips as Gowther’s mouth twisted to a smile. “Now here is the plan, and you are going to tell me what I need to do to make this work.”

NNT Week Day 4: Favorite Species

I think @extremelypoorperson and I knew right away we wanted to do the Vampire Clan for this day. The ruthlessness of their rule and the mystery of what happened to them are tantalizing and led to the creation of this portrait.

Edinburgh had been ruled by a powerful dynasty until the king was overthrown in a coup. With the help of the demons, the new royal family held control of the throne for over two thousand years, in exchange for their loyalty to the demons.

Izraf, the current king, was reviled by his people. He was ill-equipped to rule, and one war after another made the people anxious, and hungry. The vampires were rampaging in civil war, and finally the demon king decided step in, sending his executioner to put them all to death.

After the assassination of the vampires, rumors of one daughter escaping the massacre circulated for years. Many wondered if the princess would appear again one day, and claim her title as the ruler of Edinburgh... 

There is another time-lapse gif that shows the process we used under the cut!

Chapter 5 of The Call of Duty for Geldris Week. Last chapter being published tomorrow :)

“I want everyone back here in four hours.”

Zeldris glared around the Commandments and generals, pressing his lips together with dissatisfaction. Derieri and Monspeet looked ready to go, their dark eyes hard with a swirling rage, and Fraudrin was practically bouncing on the balls of his over-large feet. But the others could not have looked more bored. Melascyla was twirling her long hair through her hands, the strands of pink running like ribbons around her fingers, as Galand chuckled to himself, the sound reverberating around in his armour. Some crack squad these were supposed to be. 

“This’ll never work,” Melascyla said lazily, flicking an imaginary speck of dirt from her nails. “No one’s ever got to the goddess’ gate before and, no offence, we’ve lost our commander, and Aranak and Zeno…”

“This will work, and you will do as you are told.” Zeldris stared directly into his new colleague’s eyes, sensing the flickering movement in their depths. “And you would do well to remember your place. You are here to obey orders, not question them.” With that, Zeldris let forth a bolt of power, substantial enough to fell the mountain that stood behind them, the ocre rocks common in the demon realm crumbling to yellow dust to scatter on the wind. The air was filled with the stench of sulphur, but Zeldris did not care. He watched as the others choked, spluttering as their eyes went wide, one and all surveying the destruction before them. 

“You will all of you do exactly as I say. Do I make myself plain?” 

The nods he received could almost have been choreographed. Zeldris relaxed his shoulders, though his insides were still in an uproar, and he had to work hard not to respond to the splash of bile in his throat. If this went wrong, it was all over. He had written to Gelda, trying his best to explain the situation, and had received only a few scrawled words in reply. Be quick. Treason planned. He swallowed hard, failing to quell the fear that gripped him like a vice. As he had suspected, Izraf was planning some sort of mutiny. If left unchecked this would bring about the vampires’ death. 

What rankled most was that Meliodas must have been planning this for a while. Zeldris had sent out spies to Stigma’s headquarters as soon he had fixed the plan up with Gowther, knowing he needed to get the lie of the land. The reports had come back with almost gleeful news about how close Meliodas seemed to be to his new friends, how he and the fairy and giant kings were on the best of terms. Such relationships had not materialised overnight. 

Gritting his teeth at the rank injustice, Zeldris barked, “Leave. Now. And do not come back until you have accomplished your mission. This war ends today. If you capture the traitor, bring him back unharmed. If you cannot do so, inflict as much damage as required to subdue him. The one to retrieve him will receive a bonus.”

For the rest of this week I’ll be publishing the remaining chapters of my fic The Call Of Duty, the first two chapters of which can be found on AO3. In the first two parts, Zeldris and Gelda go on a date and then meet some months later at a ball in Edinburgh, where Zeldris fights Gelda’s fiancé, before learning that she does not want the marriage to go ahead. Here is chapter 3 where Zeldris gets to practice his skills as an orator and the demons make a move to secure victory in the Holy War.

The throne room was dark, the only light seeping from the few torches that dotted the walls, their blue flames casting most of the vast space into a deep shadow. Zeldris stood his ground, unintimidated. The vampire king was evidently trying to unnerve him. Izraf was sitting on the throne, his hands curled into fists atop of armrests fashioned from skulls. Tasteless he thought, but made sure his disgust did not show on his features. He had attacked the princess’ fiancé, in the vampires’ own kingdom and he was likely in for a significant dressing down. It would be a miracle to keep it from Meliodas’s ears.

Still, he stood his ground as the vampire king narrowed his eyes, his mouth twisting up a touch at the corners. “Your little display was very interesting,” Izraf mused, “and unorthodox certainly.”

“I apologise for my outburst,” replied the demon stiffly. “I considered the conduct I witnessed to be unconscionably degrading towards the princess, but I accept that it was an internal matter. It was not my place to intervene.”

“Oh, there’s no need to apologise, it was most entertaining!” Izraf leaned a little forward in his seat as Zeldris sucked in a sharp breath. “But what I want to know is this. Why did you do it? What does my daughter mean to you, exactly?”

[[MORE]]

Zeldris felt his blood run cold. He hated to lie, the idea of doing so leaving a taste of cotton in his mouth, but he could not say anything that might cause Gelda harm. The silence stretched on, Izraf’s smirk morphing to a leer as he looked down at the demon from his place on the throne, lightly drumming his fingers on the armrests in a way that very clearly marked the passage of time. “I choose not to answer that question,” Zeldris finally stated, feeling heat on the back of his neck.

Izraf let forth a loud guffaw, the sound echoing in waves off the dark, stone walls. “That tells me all I want to know. Not that I needed your verbal confirmation. I can tell you’re in love with her. Don’t try to deny it, I recognise the symptoms. You are not the first to look at my daughter with ardent eyes.”

Hearts skipping their beats, Zeldris took several breaths, trying to determine how best to respond. “Even if your observation was correct, it makes no difference,” he finally muttered. “Gelda is engaged…”

“Oh no she’s not, not in a binding way at least,” Izraf boomed heartily. “I’ve not sent a dowry to the Transylvanians yet. According to our customs, until the agreed dowry is received by the groom’s party, the engagement is nothing more than a verbal agreement. Easily made, easily broken.”

The assault of raw emotion was completely unexpected; hope and excitement bloomed within him, making his chest ache, before being dampened almost immediately by overpowering doubt. Zeldris looked hard at the king, trying to scrutinise his rather jovial expression. It was as if he were seeing the pieces move on a board but had no way of discerning their strategy. “I... do not understand,” he eventually murmured.

“Then I will make myself plain,” Izraf declared. “If Gelda prefers your suit over that of Karayan, I am not minded to stand in her way. You are, after all, the third son of our most powerful ally. I would have preferred Meliodas,” the King mused, and Zeldris felt his teeth grind hard together, “but you are a perfectly acceptable alternative. Indeed, you proved as much when you won your fight.”

“So that is why you allowed it.” Zeldris’s pressed his lips together as the events of the previous evening suddenly shifted into focus. “You wanted me to challenge that vampire.”

Izraf shrugged his shoulders, then relaxed back in his chair. “I’m pleased to see you’re not totally devoid of intelligence. I’d hoped Gelda had managed to attract Meliodas’s eye when we were in the demon realm and that this engagement would flush any feelings he had for her out of the woodwork. No harm if he didn’t of course, but a bit of me hoped he’d try and assert a claim. For all his cold blood, he’s well known for being impetuous. You on the other hand are supposed to be a study in control, is that not so? The fact you’ve shown your cards so plainly is proof enough of the depth of your feeling. Well, that’s good enough for me, as is your position as one of the most powerful of your clan, and a member of the demon royal family. You’re clearly a better specimen than Gelda’s current betrothed.”

Zeldris had to swallow hard to keep the rage off his features. He had been used, manipulated. Had Gelda too been in on this plot? Perhaps the tenderness she had so recently shown him was all part of the same ruse. “I am no one’s pawn,” he hissed as anger curdled in the pit of his stomach.

“Understood.” Izraf was not quite able to keep the smirk off his face. “But there’s no need for hostility. The choice is yours,” he added as he spread out his hands before him. “I am merely suggesting that if you ask for permission to court the princess, I’ll listen to you with an open mind. And before you decide, I can tell you the dowry attached to her is… significant.” Zeldris watched as Izraf nodded sagely. “I think you’ll find it’s sufficient to finance your clan’s military plans. And you need the money,” Izraf added darkly. “There’s no reason for you demons to have forged an alliance with me unless it was for the tribute.”

Zeldris folded his arms across his chest. The vampire king was more astute than he looked; the alliance between their clans had indeed been motivated by money. To get access to more would do his own standing at court no harm at all. “I will even increase Gelda’s dowry from the amount I planned,” Izraf said carefully, and Zeldris realised his thoughts must have shown on his features. “Recognition of your superior situation. But, in return, I must ask that you give me an answer now. I cannot keep the Transylvanians waiting.”

He should say no. Zeldris knew he should say no, but it was hard to ignore the way his hearts pounded in his chest. Visions of the future, their future, flashed through his brain: her golden head resting on his shoulder as the two of them gazed out over a starlit Britannia, his arm pulling her close as they whispered love to one another. His throat tightened, and he tried to swallow, stomach turning as the vampire king chuckled.

“I…” Zeldris began. But before he could give voice to the jumble of thoughts he was trying to make sense of, muffled voices percolated through from outside the throne room, followed by a loud creak as the great doors swung open.

“Your Majesty,” a servant stuttered and Zeldris felt his hearts lurch as he spied Gelda approaching, her long braid swinging gracefully with her movement. She was even lovelier than he remembered, her face a little flushed and her lips parted. The world spun on its axis as he drank her in, the brief exchange between the servant and king going completely unnoticed as he watched her walk towards him, eyes locked in his. The doubts he had entertained were gone in an instant, his resolve firm as he turned back to face the dais.

“I ask for your permission, Your Majesty.” Zeldris felt his ears burn red, but was pleased to have kept the threatened tremor out of his voice. “If Princess Gelda permits, I would be glad of the opportunity to court her.” He sensed the princess still her approach, hearing her gasp, but he kept his eyes resolutely on the king. “If the princess is in agreement, I will have to gain the consent of my own clan, of course. But I will not proceed unless she is happy with the arrangement,” he said firmly as Izraf smiled beatifically.

“And what do you say, Gelda?” Izraf asked, the words sound casual but Zeldris could hear the bite behind them.

Gelda took several paces forward until she was standing at his side, and he could see the look of anguish etched on her features. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “This is a mess and…”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” Zeldris murmured. He reached out, tentatively taking her hands in his own, relief flowing through him when Gelda did not draw back. “I am well aware that we have both been used, and yes, I wish it could have been otherwise. But this is what we both want, is it not? It is what I want at any rate. I promise.”

He felt her pause, before her fingers interlaced with his. “I want it too,” she said softly.

“That’s all settled then!” Izraf pushed himself to his feet and stepped down from the dais to loom over the couple. “I am delighted to give you my blessing. You had better go make it happen,” he added quietly to Zeldris, the demon giving a nod in return.

***

It was as if he were walking on cloud, his feet barely touching the floor as they passed through the throne room. Gelda’s arm was looped round his own, and he could feel the warmth of her body pressed to his side. He swallowed hard, wondering if he should break the spell; they had much to discuss but the moment he opened his mouth he knew their moment of peace would be over.

In the end it was Gelda who was the first to speak. “The Transylvanians are gone,” she said softly, her voice little more than a whisper and he could hear the melancholy in her sonorous tone. “When I made that discovery I came to find you, to warn you there was some sort of trap. I… I think my father must have planned this all along.”

Zeldris sighed, then turned her to face him, running his hands up and down her arms. They were standing in one of the grander hallways, large, colourful tapestries hanging like banners on the walls. Judging by the light streaming through the stained glass windows the day was now firmly established, and the castle was quiet, only their voices echoing through the space. “I had divined as much before you arrived, and I meant what I said. Assuming I can somehow persuade my family to agree.”

“Do you think they’ll object?” asked Gelda.

Zeldris bit his lip, lifting his shoulders a little. “Possibly. The dowry will help. As long as that is a solid promise…”

“It is,” Gelda said, her eyes snapping to his. “The amount was set aside in the treasury. I was surprised it hadn’t been sent, but I assumed Karayan’s family wanted to inspect it or something. Please believe me, I never dreamed my father had an ulterior motive.”

“I know.” Zeldris felt Gelda’s lips press to the corner of his mouth, the scent of roses and the feel of her hair against his cheek pulling him back to the dark hills of Edinburgh. “I love you,” he murmured as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, never wanting to let her go. But before she could respond, there was a sudden rush of wind, shadow passing over them as the windows went black and a menacing power pushed through the air. “Stay back,” Zeldris barked as he moved Gelda behind him, drawing his sword with a harsh grate as a louring presence strode into the hallway.

“Well hello little brother.” The sneer on Meliodas’s face was enough to make his blood boil. “Cusack told me you needed a rescue. Something about how you were making a fool of yourself. Usually he’s full of so much hot air but this time I see his panic was justified. What the hell is going on?” Meliodas looked Gelda up and down, his eyes bright with dark flame.

Zeldris stood more firmly in front of Gelda, placing himself between her and his brother. “This is none of your concern,” he barked. “As it happens I was about to return home. I have something I wish to speak to father about.”

“So it’s true.” Meliodas took several paces forward, his power cracking like lightning. Zeldris could taste the electricity on the air, feel the hairs stand on the back of his neck. “You’ve been tricked into proposing marriage… to her.”

“This is no trick,” Zeldris said calmly, though he sensed Gelda fidget behind him. “It is a straightforward arrangement to our clans’ mutual benefit, one princess Gelda and I both wish to enter into. I was on my way to tell father the good news. The vampires have promised a dowry large enough for him to find useful.”

“You are a fool!” Meliodas snapped. “I suppose you are aware that she tried to ensnare me first,” he remarked, lip curled to a sneer. “I was wise enough to stay clear, for all her title is The Thousand Temptations...”

Zeldris held up a hand to stem the flow. “You would do well to watch your tongue,” he managed to rasp out through clenched teeth. He realised his sword was still in his hand, and he could feel himself ready to spring, however reckless such a move would be. It was with some effort that he left his feet planted firmly on the floor. “When our father agrees to the match, as I am confident he will, you will regret you have spoken of my betrothed in such an uncouth way.”

“You always were such an ass,” Meliodas said with a sigh. “But I never had you pegged for an idiot as well. This is folly,” he scolded as he crossed his arms over his chest, his scowl directed firmly at Gelda. “Love is no more than a pathetic emotion, an illusion that ensnares your mind and makes you weak. And you are not weak,” he added with a low hiss. “You have the potential to be one of our most accomplished warriors. One of the best we have ever cultivated. And you would throw it all away for some slip of a girl?”

The blow was hard. Zeldris inhaled a cool breath as he struggled to maintain his composure. “This is what you have trained for your whole life,” Meliodas said more gently, taking a few steps forward and moving the sword Zeldris pointed in his direction away with his hand. “You are close to succeeding. Do not give up now.”

“I will not be giving up,” Zeldris muttered, though the drop of his stomach robbed his words of the full force of conviction. “Zeldris…” Gelda murmured behind him, but he cut her off with a snarl. “This union will give our clan victory. That is what my duty is, is it not? To bring us success in this damned war. There are more ways of achieving that than the bloodlust you revel in. Unlike you, I have fought because it is my task, not my pleasure. And where has it got us? A spiral of eternal conflict with no hope of an end. The vampires’ wealth will give us surety of victory. So tell me this, Meliodas, when history is written by the survivors of our clan, which of us do you think will be judged more harshly?”

The laugh that followed was a familiar sound. “You should give up oration, it doesn’t suit you,” Meliodas said with a grin. “But very well, more glory for me, I suppose. I will support this… whatever you chose you label this nonsense. Estarossa can take your place at court.”

Before Zeldris could reply, Meliodas pulled the strands of darkness that had bled from his form back into his body with a snap. “I will sort things out for you with the king,” his brother said brusquely. “He will agree to this arrangement if I give it my backing. But I will need to take the dowry now,” he added, glaring at Gelda as he spoke. “His Majesty will need proof of its worth before he consents.”

“Are you sure, Zeldris?” Gelda’s voice sounded choked, piercing his hearts. “You… we don’t have to go through with this is it’s not what you want. Once the dowry is sent there’s no going back…”

“Then send it.” With a last look of disdain in Meliodas’s direction, Zeldris turned to face her. Doubt swirled through him, but the nagging sensation subsided as he smoothed his hand over her porcelain cheek. “Now you see you are being used as much as me,” he said flatly. “We spoke about this the first time we met, remember? How neither of us will ever have freedom. But I choose you,” he added as his eyes locked onto hers. “I said I love you, and I mean it. I will do my best to make you happy.”

Gelda swallowed, her throat moving as she nodded. Looking over Zeldris’s shoulder she addressed Meliodas, her voice full of authority. “Your Grace, if you seek an audience with my father he will make arrangements for the dowry to be sent with you. You will want a convoy for its secure transport. It is permitted by our customs for an inspection to take place, but if the dowry is not returned by sundown tomorrow, it will be assumed that your clan have consented to the match. Once that has occurred, the engagement is binding by law.”