A/N: Thank you for reading. Lickitysplit here, and you're probably wondering what I'm doing in a fic by Cerulean Grace. Well, several months ago I published a short fic entitled Sacred Inferno, and my good friend was… unsatisfied with the ending. So after about a hundred hours of debate, she came up with a very brilliant way for the characters, the readers, and even the author to have some closure.
When I heard her idea I immediately begged her to allow me to collaborate, and to my relief she agreed. So what you have now is part one of three parts of a sort-of sequel to that fic. Cerulean Grace is extremely talented, and the ideas in this fic belong to her. Her creativity is something I've been proud to be a part of, and I hope that you all enjoy this piece.
A/N 2: Cerulean Grace here. All my ideas, and my writing, is ugly. The above is False. The convo was me crying to Beth long enough so that she indulged my demented coping mechanism, which was sequel-ing her fic. What a wonderful world, in which if you STAN a fic hard enough and become pals with the author they'll let you rub your filthy paws all over their universe. What an honor. Anyways, I love her and her writing so much, I hope you enjoy as well.
Zeldris sat in the throne of Camelot, looking out at his empty kingdom. Disposing of the humans had been a simple task, yet completely unsatisfying. There had been thousands of unfortunate souls in the capital city, and he had easily pulled each and every one from the bodies of the humans and consumed their energies. It was easy enough, and Zeldris had had no trouble even with those that had bothered to stand up to him. With each soul, his power had grown, making it easier to take the next, then the next, then the next.
Now, he was consumed with hatred. As soon as he and the Commandments were released he had suggested to the other members of the Ten Commandments that they check Edinburgh for the possibility to recover their depleted magical energy. Instead, he had discovered that the kingdom of Edinburgh, which he had left in a seal for three thousand years, had been reduced to nothing more than a crater in the ground. What he had found was the destruction that could only be caused by an entity far more powerful than the Vampires: his brother's power.
Meliodas had shamed the demons, betrayed his race, abandoned his duty as the leader of the Ten Commandments. Abandoned his family. Any of those reasons would have been enough for Zeldris to hate him. But none of those caused the angry throbbing in his core quite like seeing the endless dark abyss in the alcove where he used to meet her each night, thousands of years ago.
Edinburgh was gone, not a trace of the castle or any signs of the Vampire clan that had lived there. The sheer amount of energy that was required for something like that… Zeldris clenched his hands on the arms of the throne. Only Meliodas could have done this, he was certain.
He wondered how it had happened. Did his brother know the Vampires were there? Did Meliodas go there intentionally? Zeldris doubted the Vampires would have been able to break the seal on their own. His magic was far greater than that of even Izraf, the king. Meliodas must have gone there to find them, and to exterminate them. But how would he have even known they were there? Zeldris had been so careful, making sure there was no trace of them left when he had created the seal. As far as anyone knew, he had slaughtered the entire clan.
Zeldris' thoughts turned to the spell Meliodas must have used to cause such destruction. The blast must have been immense, the heat as intense as the sun to annihilate them like that. He swallowed as he imagined what it would have been like for the Vampires. Were they aware of their own fate bearing down on them? Had Meliodas announced his intentions before he unleashed his attack? Or were they all caught by surprise with the agony of the searing heat and flames?
The truth was, Zeldris had not really expected that they would find much magic left in Edinburgh. What he had really wanted was to check the seal and see if she was still there, waiting for him, and finding them all gone was a shock. Initially, he hadn't thought it would bother him as much as it did. He was angry, but a lot of things made him angry. Meliodas going missing all that time ago in the midst of the war made him angry. His careless brother Estarossa made him angry. Being sealed, not able to do anything for three thousand years made him angry. But nothing had lingered as much as seeing the ruins of that castle, and that hole in the earth.
Since their release, he had managed to get a few details of what was happening in the present. His brother Meliodas was no longer the cruel, merciless commander he had reluctantly feared. His brother had turned into a joke. Perhaps he still had the same massive power and abilities of his original self, but he took no joy in war, battle, or death anymore. And Zeldris had found out why. He'd seen the girl himself, an apostle, and a potentially powerful one from what he could tell. The Goddess clan had once been their greatest enemy; how Meliodas had found himself with one of them was beyond him. But there she was: blue eyes, silver hair, gentle temperament.
Zeldris wanted her dead.
He sat back in the throne, trying to decide how to take revenge in a way that would cause Meliodas the most pain. Taking her would be easy; the Sins and their companions were nearly as pathetic as the regular humans, none of their powers coming anywhere close to his own. All he had to do was go there when Meliodas was gone, or distracted, and he could simply reach out and grab her. His lip curled at the thought of the fear in her eyes, the panic his brother would feel. Would she cry at first, he wondered? Would she beg for her life?
Then he'd give Meliodas hope. Hope that she was alive and maybe they'd be together again. Zeldris could drag it out, make him wait months, years. Meliodas would need to carry on not knowing if she was alive and well or already dead. He smiled as he imagined leaving him hints, little clues to point him in one direction or another. Then, when Meliodas arrived, he would find her gone, just as Zeldris had found Edinburgh gone. If he was feeling particularly generous, perhaps he would leave something behind: a piece of clothing, a chunk of her hair maybe.
Finally, Zeldris would shatter that hope. They'd have no chance to see each other before her death. No goodbyes or finality. As he made his way through the castle, he made a list in his head of all the painful ways he'd seen someone be killed, or killed a person himself. The options were plentiful. He wanted her to suffer and he wanted Meliodas to know she had suffered.
Yes, he would make Elizabeth suffer, make her suffer like…
Zeldris paused. Make her suffer like… the Vampire clan? No. He had spent months with the clan and had found them to be a dull, bleak people. He did not care in the least about the Vampires and what they suffered. Good riddance to them all.
Shaking his head, he tried to clear his thoughts and focus on the mission at hand. He'd properly taken Camelot and its population. The supposed King of legend was nowhere to be found. He wondered if the other Commandments were as thorough as he was in completing their tasks, but doubted it.
He looked around the giant hall, filled with intricate arts and stone walls. A place that had once been bustling with life, now so silent he could hear nothing but his own breaths. It was unsettling how much it reminded him of Izraf's court. The Vampires had been as cold and soundless as as the rock that surrounded them. There had been no displays of wealth, no banquets, no celebrations or calls to war. It had felt as empty as Camelot did now.
He cursed himself. No matter how much he tried to keep his thoughts away from Edinburgh, the memories kept sneaking in, his frustration beginning to boil up under his skin again.
Finally, he gave in and allowed himself to think of her: his Gelda. Beautiful, fiery Gelda, the daughter of the Vampire king. She had been his tool of vengeance on her father that had slighted him, and a distraction from a mission that was boring and uneventful. Ever since he had seen the fate of Edinburgh, he had been trying to keep her from invading his mind, trying to keep the memories of her away. Now that the door had been cracked open, the memories began pouring into his mind, making him feel almost winded with each wave. He thought of the delicate features on her face, the smooth slope of her neck, the soft skin of her hands. Her long blonde hair that she always kept in a neat twist on her head, and the pleasure he would get from yanking it free, watching it spill over her shoulders. Zeldris could still picture the sloping curves of her hips, her tiny waist, her slender legs, the way she fit so perfectly against him and under him.
The only one of them worth something had been Gelda. But he hadn't cared for her. He didn't care for anyone; caring was a weakness. She had belonged to him, nothing more. But was he willing to go through so much effort to take revenge for her? Slowly Zeldris nodded to himself. He'd simply take revenge on his weakened brother for painfully destroying what was his by doing the same. It wasn't Gelda being gone that bothered him, but the fact Meliodas was the one to kill her. Killing Elizabeth would surely end his anger on the topic.
He tried to imagine what his brother had done to her. Based on the ruins, it had been an explosion. He could imagine it now: Gelda, sitting on her rock at the alcove like she had every night waiting for him when she sought to be "alone". He thought of her the first night he'd seen her in the moonlight. Then, he imagined her screams as Meliodas set her to the explosive flames. Her flawless skin, her beautiful features, all burned away in a flash.
It was so vivid, he could nearly hear Gelda's voice.
Zeldris whirled around, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the room. He thought he had heard his name, whispered in such a familiar way it had made his stomach drop. He had always felt a thrill when she would say his name, whether she was pleading with him, her voice rising with her need, or sighing in pleasure, the sound wrapping around him and settling over his mind. He thought of the last time he had heard it, when she was begging him after he had learned of her betrayal.
His breathing increased as he thought of what happened next: his punishment for her disloyalty, for humiliating him. He remembered how he had used her body to make her feel the same, and made her beg for him. But it had backfired, somehow, and Zeldris had ended up feeling almost sickened by her shame, and had pulled her into his arms to erase the pain on her face and in her voice.
It took several deep breaths to calm his shaking and stop his blood from boiling. Zeldris had to remind himself he was thinking of this only because it was what he'd later do to Elizabeth. Gelda was gone. She wasn't sitting on the bench where he had seen her so many times. She had been in the seal, where he had put her and the rest of them.
Zeldris quickly stood and paced the room, staring at nothing but the cobblestoned ground, now entering a strategic mindset. Kidnap Elizabeth. Let his brother search. When Meliodas nearly gave up hope, he'd give him a sign that she could still be alive; then he'd rip it away. But how? Elizabeth's death needed to be similar to Gelda's, but Zeldris would do his best to make it worse. There would be no mercy. Having seen her before only allowed him to make his thoughts more vivid. He imagined her blue eyes widened with terror. He pictured her bound, only able to look on as he set the room to the flames. The fear crossing her expression as she knew this would be the end.
His only wish was the Meliodas could see without interacting with her. He didn't want to let them say goodbye, but he wished he could see Meliodas' face as he came to the realization that he had failed her completely. To see the pain that crossed his expression as he saw the woman he cared so much for, the woman he'd promised to protect, burn to ashes. For the last noises he would hear from her to be cries and screams of pain. To leave him on such a bitter, painful note that would haunt him for the rest of his eternal existence.
Zeldris slowly smiled as he imagined the sting of the fire burning her, the agonizing pain she'd suffer through before her body gave in to death. The Goddess clan had been one of their fiercest rivals and enemies; her death would bring him double the pride because of that. He wanted to see the life fade from her eyes, and as her soul departed for the afterlife, he'd consume it himself.
But as he imagined the scorch of her skin and features, the silver haired girl he'd briefly seen kept switching in his mind. For one moment, he relished in Elizabeth's suffering; in the next, he was seeing Gelda, her eyes as hurt and filled with tears as the last night he'd seen her before sealing her away. He imagined her Sacred Inferno spreading from the cups of her hands, spreading up along her arms and slowly burning her in its path. He could hear her crying out for him as the fire of Meliodas' attack consumed her.
Zeldris… There it was again, like a whisper against his skin, causing him to jump and startling him from his dark thoughts. Again he scanned the room, peering into the shadows for anyone who might be hiding there.
He leaned his palms against a windowsill, looking out at the broken and deserted land. Zeldris took several deep breaths, trying to get a hold of himself. There was no one there. No one was calling his name, least of all Gelda. Gelda was dead.
oooo
Night had arrived, and Zeldris made his way to the grand chambers of the king. He was nervous and restless, yet incredibly tired at the same time. He had kept hearing whispers throughout the afternoon, and conducted a complete search of the castle, from the highest turrets to the dungeons far below the surface. There was nothing there-of course there was nothing there-but he had wanted to make sure. There were other odd feelings too; a shadow that seemed to move when he did not look, a breeze on his neck or arms or cheek when there was no wind.
His weariness made him agitated, and he banged through the door of the bedroom. There was a huge four-poster bed in the center, with rich furniture and beautiful paintings decorating the room. Two doors opened to a balcony, and Zeldris wrenched them open, finding the air in the room to be choking. Quickly he undressed and climbed into the bed, unable to enjoy the richness of the fabrics and the softness of the pillows in his keyed-up state.
Zeldris closed his eyes, and to his annoyance she appeared again. He had often laid like this on her bed, stretched out on his back, while she moved over him. As he thought of her now, he began to relax, so he allowed the fantasy to form in his mind: her hands gliding over his chest, her lips dusting on his cheek, her legs entwining around his.
Since the image of Gelda didn't seem to be dissipating any time soon, he decided to give in and think about her. It was only in a quiet moment like this, when he was completely alone, that he would even dare to imagine her with him again; that he would think about her beauty, and her spirit, and the way she was enchanting and frustrating all at the same time. After he had left her in the seal, there was enough to distract him from thinking about her. A war to complete, Meliodas being missing, his new and long-awaited appointment to the Ten Commandments. Between her sealing and his, he had a constant distraction; now, he had all the time in the world to think.
And now that he had the moment, she was overwhelming him in the same way she did alive. He had thought that when his mission was over in Edinburgh and he left, thoughts of her would stay behind in the cold, stone walls. How wrong he'd been.
He sighed, staring up at the ceiling, his mind rapidly sorting through every aspect of her, the strange churning of his feelings that he had not experienced since his time with Gelda. The pride in her eyes as he helped her master her power, and the night he had seen her summon that flame for the first time. The way she had rushed to him in joy and kissed him for the first time, surprising him in a way he had never experienced. The way his feelings and attraction for her had quickly spiralled from there. The satisfaction of protecting her when the Holy Knights had attacked Edinburgh, and the unfamiliar fear for someone else when he had left her alone, surrounded by her own kind, who would kill her if their secrets were discovered.
He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply through his nose. When he first put the pieces together about her death he was angry, but now he didn't know how he felt; he just knew the bedroom around him felt larger and emptier than any he'd been in before.
A soft sigh blew through the air, the breath tickling his cheek as his eyes snapped open again, immediately turning towards the sensation. Zeldris was well aware that his actions throughout the day were paranoid at the least, but he knew something was following him through the castle. Throughout their time together, he had become intimately familiar with every sound and feeling associated with Gelda, and if it had not sounded so crazy, he could have sworn it was her. Sitting up and resting on one elbow, he reached his hand where he had heard the sound come from, but there was nothing but air.
His eyes darted around the room one last time before Zeldris laid back down again. Instead of soothing him, the memories of Gelda were making him jumpy, his stomach turning the more he thought of her. Each time he would picture her beautiful face, her graceful body that fit with his perfectly, he would also see himself pinning her under him and using her for himself. Every time he imagined hearing her voice or one of her rare soft laughs, he would also hear her crying as he had called her every name he could think of. And as he thought of being inside her again, of taking what was his again, he could not help but ask himself, would she want him to, this time?
Zeldris swallowed thickly, beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead, and he cursed himself for being so ridiculous. He sounded like… a complete fool. But as much as it pained him to admit it, he wished he could have another day, another kiss, even another moment, but whether it would be to find out for himself or to cut this hold she had on him once and for all, he did not know.
Another breeze floated in the room, this time brushing on his lips, and he could almost, almost, imagine it was her. He could feel her warm mouth on his, her soft hands against his chest, her hair falling over the side of his face. Zeldris froze, not wanting to disturb the sensation. Amazingly, the feeling continued, and his hands clenched at his sides as he imagined reaching up and grabbing hold of her. He tilted his chin up, just slightly, and to his astonishment, the feathered air against his skin adjusted.
He could recall spending so many nights like this, laying back on Gelda's bed as she moved over him, her mouth feathering kisses over his face. He had never thought he would be one to like such gentle affection, but he had grown to enjoy the soft touch of her lips when he would first pull her into the bed with him. Even when he had her pinned beneath him, she would lift her face to his and brush her lips over him, as if it was her signature on his skin.
His lips would touch her skin too, but mostly to taste. He loved the sight of her mouth after sucking on her lips, biting and punishing. The way his tongue would explore her mouth, her neck, her chest… by the end of their time together, there was not an inch of her that he had not sampled for himself. She would shiver beneath him as he knew each and every way she enjoyed being touched, where to kiss, where to hold her tightly, where to caress. Even after all this time, the thousands of years, as Zeldris laid there, he could remember the feel and taste of her; he could recall the sounds that she made and the way she would move against him. She truly had become his; he had complete control over her body in those moments.
But Zeldris also recalled that she had control over his as well, as much as he hated to admit it. His own hands unclenched from his sides and moved across the bedsheets as he pictured her gentle touch on him. He chuckled as he thought about the first time he had allowed her to explore his body, how hesitant she had been as she traced her hands over him, her fingers grazing the dips in his muscles. Zeldris had concentrated on staying perfectly still, watching her as her expression changed from curiosity to lust, until finally her hands had moved down his body. Now, in this bed, his own body was responding just the way it had that night, and he was stunned and unnerved by how just the memory of her has him straining with his need.
His heart began to beat faster as the memories of Gelda started to surface, one after another. Besides the taste of her body was the pure vision of it: silky skin and curves in all the best places. When she had been beneath him, bare, flushed, and gasping… he couldn't picture a more alluring sight. Zeldris barely noticed as his hand began to move, trying to ease the throbbing that had begun in his body. He could see her lips, her slender legs, the flare of her hips and the curve of her breasts and the dip of her navel on her smooth stomach, and his body positively ached for her.
Her body, her being, had completely overwhelmed him. The first time he'd taken her, he'd thought he could move on immediately afterwards. That his desire would be satiated. But the more he'd had her, the more he'd wanted her. He wanted her to deluge his senses again; to hear her moaning beneath him, to taste her heat, to see her face twisted in pleasure. His hands moved steadily against his body as the desire thrummed inside his head. To have Gelda again; to feel her over him and beneath him and around him… the craving for her was becoming an all-consuming hunger as he allowed himself, for the first time in centuries upon centuries, to really, truly remember.
He remembered one of the rare occasions he had allowed her control over him. As much as he enjoyed the power of claiming her, it was an occasional treat he would allow them both, and he would indulge Gelda, permitting her to use his body for her own pleasure. He'd been laid down on her bed in the middle of the night, much like right now, and she'd hovered over him, nervously biting on her lip. She'd slowly sunk her head against his torso, planting a series of signature feather kisses across his bare chest. Her mouth had slowly become more intense, nipping at his skin as she'd sunk lower down his body, his blood following her path downwards. Her lovely mouth had found its away around him, his hardness teased by the warmth of her mouth and tongue. Remembering that moment, Zeldris now groaned out loud as he thrust his hips forward, just like he had that night, as he had struggled to maintain control of his body even as she had teased him into new heights of pleasure.
He skipped ahead in his memory to when she'd been on top of him, straddling him. One of her smooth hands grasped his hip for balance, the other his length, as she slowly tried to lower herself. In vivid detail, he recalled the way her slick heat had teased his tip as her body began to swallow him. How her body had twitched and clenched around him, the moan she'd made as he'd teased her with his fingers. Both of her hands had pressed against his chest and shoulders, her nails digging into him: a pain that had only brought him more pleasure. She had ground her hips in circles around him, and he had only needed to lay back, watch, and feel her. His hands had greedily explored her breasts, ran over her sides and hips. His eyes feasted upon her open mouth, her hardened nipples, the sight of her wetness moving up and down his length.
Zeldris moved his hand, mimicking the movements that were clear in his mind, and he ground out her name in a harsh whisper as he felt his body rushing headfirst towards the release he craved. "Gelda," he said, the whisper soft but biting. But then the feeling of being watched returned, the sensation that someone or something was there, and his eyes flew open, landing on a figure standing in the middle of his room.
Even his wildest imagination would not have dreamt a sight as incredible as his Gelda standing before him: her eyes wide, brimmed with tears and filled with longing; her hands delicately placed, one against her neck, the other over her mouth; her golden hair pulled back into an intricate braid over her shoulder; the thin dress that seemed to cinch her waist and accentuate every curve. He gasped at the sudden sight of her, and even though he recognized his own madness, knowing that her standing there was impossible, he was moving up, out of the bed, and towards her in an instant. She was only a figure of his imagination; for all Zeldris could tell, he was asleep and dreaming. But none of that mattered, because he wanted her so badly in that moment.
He had no time to marvel at her, more beautiful than even in his previous fantasy, as he grabbed her and pressed her back, knocking them both into the furniture. His hands roamed her body, pulling her dress down her shoulders and he leaned in to bite her, shuddering as the taste was even more exquisite than he had remembered. Gelda cried out, the sound swirling in his mind, his hands moving on their own and pulling her dress up.
The lunacy of this moment, the utter madness of her being here, was pushed away as he continued to taste her shoulders, her neck, the line of her jaw. Zeldris did not care why this vision was so vivid, or what it could mean. All he cared about was the feel of her trembling thighs as his hands gripped her body, pushing them back and apart as he ground himself against her.
"Zeldris…" she whispered, the sound of his name sending a chill down his spine, and he bit her again, his hand now moving roughly between her legs. He knew he could wake up at any moment, and he was determined to take what he could while this dream continued. His fingers delved inside her body, and he felt her palms pushing against his shoulders, her back arching up, and Zeldris dipped his face down to kiss her breasts over the fabric of her dress as he worked his hand against her center. The feel of her becoming hot and wet against his hand, and the sensation of the fabric straining against her body was so incredibly real that he almost faltered. What is happening to me? he wondered briefly. Was this an enchantment of some kind? Had he lost his mind? Hallucinating? Or was this simply the most vivid dream he had ever experienced?
Then Gelda's legs slipped around his waist, gripping his hips and pulling him against her, and suddenly Zeldris was lost. All thought and doubt disappeared as he thrust himself forward, all of his questions disappearing as he entered her scorching body. Frantically he began to move, thrusting hard and fast inside of her, one hand wrapping through the pleats in her hair and tugging fiercely, the other gripping one of her thighs and forcing it up, opening her body for him. Zeldris felt her hands clutching at his neck and his back, digging in until it hurt, but it only fueled him further as her body swallowed his again and again.
Then it was over, the few moments of absolute bliss crashing into its conclusion as his body jerked almost violently, and Zeldris cried out as he emptied himself inside her. The thudding of his blood roared inside his head as he came down from his climax, and he leaned forward, pressing against the furniture, reaching out to steady himself as his limbs began to shake.
He expected the vision of her to be gone. He thought that as his senses returned, he would snap out of this madness and see that she was not there after all; that his hallucination had been just that, a trick his tired and agitated mind had played on him. Zeldris reached out to grip the table, expecting to feel the smooth wood that would bring him back. But instead, she was still there, her soft body still wrapped around his, and as he opened his eyes, he could feel her breath against his forehead as she panted ragged breaths.
Zeldris jerked backwards, shocked, and as he slipped from her body, he realized she was real. Gelda was before him, his Gelda, panting and flushed and bracing herself against the furniture as she lowered her unsteady legs to the floor. Then her eyes met his, and he could not think of anything else but that she was real.