Summary: With Izraf dead, Zeldris makes himself the king of Edinburgh and takes the princess Gelda as his own. But as they both struggle for the throne, a wholly different war begins to erupt between them.
A/N: It's funny how every time I publish a story, especially about Zeldris and Gelda, I feel as though I must apologize. Still must be my penance for Sacred Inferno. Ah well.
So this story started out as a... joke? Gift? Experiment? My very dear friend Cerulean Grace wanted to practice her beta skills, and I volunteered as tribute. Since I'm a complete ass, especially to my friends, my goal was to write a story that would make her scream as she worked on it. However, the joke was on me. At some point in this story, I actually got serious about writing it, and Cerulean Grace's guidance as a beta made this rise above just a wild lemon into an actual story.
I must warn you going forward that this is rated M for very explicit material. There are also extreme themes throughout so please read with caution if you are sensitive to such things.
Finally, I must once again sing the praises of Vetur02 who created the cover art for this story. Somehow she always gets dragged into my nonsense and manages to turn my words into a thing of beauty.
Please enjoy! This story will update every Thursday. Thank you for reading, and I welcome your feedback and/or screaming. I deserve your wrath for spamming this fandom.
Chapter One: The Vampire King
Zeldris sat in the throne of the Vampire King, laughing to himself. Dispatching of that pitiful excuse of a king was practically contemptible. The rumors that the vampires were planning some sort of revolt against the Demon Realm had been circulating for a quite a while, until the Demon King himself grew tired of hearing them. He ordered his youngest son to take back Edinburgh for the crown, and Zeldris was happy to oblige.
The vampires fought back, but their diminished numbers and powers made it easy for Zeldris to enter the castle nearly unchecked. His company of soldiers controlled a group of red demons set to destroy anyone that opposed them, and when they began their assault the guards in the castle quickly threw down their weapons and surrendered.
That did not save the aging king, however. As Zeldris stalked into the throne room, he had first tried to stay firm, ordering him back with whatever authority he could muster. Zeldris smiled to himself as he remembered the look on Izraf's face as he drew his sword, the king actually begging for his life even as he slid the blade over his neck. The pathetic king of an even more pathetic race died a coward's death, and Zeldris found it hilarious.
For a moment he enjoyed the peace of the room, silent and still. Izraf's body still lay at the bottom of the dais, kicked off to the side a little, his head having rolled a few feet away. Blood dripped down the floor in tiny rivers, and Zeldris snorted at how far the fool had fallen in the end. He had ruled the vampires for nearly a thousand years; now he was nothing more than a heap of limbs and hair on the floor. It's no more than what he deserved, thinking the old magic would keep him and his own from harm. No one crossed the demons, least of all the king. Zeldris was suddenly filled with a deep sense of pride. Any who opposed them met the end of a sword.
The doors banged open, disturbing him for a moment, and Zeldris huffed to himself as he raised his eyes. Two of his own guard pulled in a figure between them, a tiny creature practically being dragged on slippered feet. Hands were bound in front, and a cloth was pulled over the head. "What do we have here?" he laughed, sitting forward in the throne with his elbows propped on his knees.
"It's the princess, Sire," one of the demons answered. Zeldris smirked, enjoying hearing the honorific used for him. "We found her hiding in the castle."
"Hiding?" he laughed, quickly standing and practically hopping down the steps. "Were you really hiding, princess?"
When he reached the bottom, he grabbed a hold of the cloth, yanking it from her head. The girl winced against the sudden light, gasping in fright for a moment. Then her eyes lifted to him, widening in surprise, and Zeldris smirked to himself over the the fear that tinged the edges. "You- you're a demon!" she breathed.
"Astute, this one," he laughed, the two guards joining in with their own. But the girl ignored them as her eyes moved around the room, finally landing on the body nearby. "Father!" she screamed wildly, pulling against the tight hold of the soldiers. "Father! Father!"
"Shhhh," he whispered, raising a hand to cup her cheek. She continued to sob and scream, and with annoyance he slid his hand into her matted hair and pulled her face away sharply. "That's enough now," Zeldris warned.
The girl's chest was heaving as she stared at him in shock. Zeldris used the opportunity to study her further. Long blonde hair framed a delicate face, a graceful neck of pale smooth skin. She was nearly his own height, but her frame was small, her curves soft beneath the layers of dress she wore. The lightness about her was unusual for the vampire clan, and he thought for a moment he would have pursued her under different circumstances.
"Why would you do this?" she cried. "The vampires and demons are allies!"
Zeldris frowned. "Are you really so sheltered and naive? Or are you just stupid?"
Gelda aimed a kick at him that he easily dodged. "Let me go! Let me go!" she screamed.
"Enough." His voice was loud, and menacing, and enough to shock her out of her hysterics and force her focus back on him. Their eyes locked again, and his black ones bore into her light blue ones. There was something else besides the fear there now, a spirit of defiance that both intrigued and annoyed him; but he intended to crush it out of her. He eased the tight hold on her, and without leaving her gaze said, "Leave us."
Dropping her arms, the guards quickly followed orders and strode from the room, the door shutting with a loud bang behind them. The princess took in a shaking breath and tried to step backwards, but Zeldris held her firm, his eyes still roaming over her. "Will you kill me too?" she whispered.
Zeldris shook his head, amused by the question. "Not at all," he murmured. "I have other plans for you." He grabbed her roughly by the shoulders, squeezing his fingers into her, and then dragged his hands up and down her arms. "What is your name?"
"Gelda," she said after a moment's hesitation, her voice shaking.
His hands roamed down her chest, smoothing over her sides. "Gelda," he said softly. "Did you love your father, Gelda?" Her eyes darted to the side, where his body grew cold on the ground, and Zeldris grabbed her chin and pulled her gaze back to him. "Tell me," he said, his thumb running along her bottom lip.
But she did not answer, her body beginning to tremble slightly as his fingers slid down her throat, dancing along her chest. "I see," he said. "Well, Gelda, I've always wanted a princess for a slave."
"No," she whispered, shaking her head, but he ignored her and continued, "I am your king now. You will serve me in all things. Do you understand?"
"No!" Gelda cried out. She turned to run, but Zeldris was much, much faster. In a moment he had a tight grip on her arm, yanking her against him before throwing her over his shoulder. He turned and stepped up the stairs of the dais towards the throne, dropping her in a heap on the large ornate chair. Gelda yelped as she caught herself from falling to the floor, and Zeldris stepped up over her, forcing her to scoot backwards on the throne.
"You're mine now," he said, firmly. Reaching down, he dragged her up against him, using one hand to grip the collar of her dress and pull as she pressed her bound hands against his chest uselessly. The fabric began to give way and the princess made a strangled sound in panic, the seams pressing into her before tearing apart. Without hurry or threat, he casually ripped the dress from her body until she was completely uncovered. Gelda shrank back into the chair, covering herself with her arms.
"Come now, Gelda," Zeldris said with a scolding tone. "Is that how you kneel before your king?"
"You are not my king!" she screamed, her eyes flashing with a sudden hatred that surprised him. "You are an animal! You are nothing but a disgusting demon!"
Her rant was cut off by Zeldris' hand gripping her by the throat. He turned her around so that her back pressed against him. Gelda whimpered as her hands flew to his arm, but she had no hope of pulling him away. He laughed in her ear as his other hand slid down her body, leisurely stroking her breasts and her stomach as she squirmed delightfully against him. "Yes," he said, giving her earlobe a nip with his teeth, "you will do nicely."
Zeldris chuckled at her intake of breath, the sound a sharp gasp against the hand pressed on her throat. "I am your king, Gelda," he said, his mouth sliding down the side of her neck. His hand moved to grip her hip, digging his fingers into her soft flesh. He grazed his teeth over her shoulder, laughing again as she shivered against him.
His hand moved across her thigh, and then slid between her legs. She stiffened, her head falling back against his shoulder as his fingers lazily stroked her, slow and deliberate. He continued to taste her skin, enjoying the softness as he kissed her cheek and her neck and her shoulder, running his tongue over her to savor the few beads of perspiration, inhaling the soft perfume she must have sprinkled on that morning before his attack on Edinburgh began.
Zeldris closed his eyes, his hand cupping her sex and stroking her as she grew wet against him, and imagined her in her room, choosing her dress and sitting prettily as her hair was brushed. He pictured the bottles of lotions on her dresser and the rich fabrics of her pillows. The silk ribbons and flashing jewels waiting for her attention. This princess was delicate as a flower but bold as fire. He had little doubt that he could smother that boldness, and she would break just as easily as the other vampires had. It would be a treat to do so, before he continued the rest of his plans for her. Almost absentmindedly his fingers pressed inside of her, not hearing her moan as his mind was too consumed with the image of her on her knees. She would do well after all.