Welp for anyone who has seen me on AO3, here is a thing. A thing that is sort of a flash-forward of I Will Never Be Your Friend, and a pre-canon experiment? Whether this will become part of the main fic, or the start of a completely different one, is yet to be seen.

But anywho, gotta do one of these thingies.

Disclaimer: I do not own Seven Deadly Sins. Nor do I make any profit from this fic. I also don't own Terry Pratchett's Discworld stories or his characters―two of which are alluded to here. (You'll see.)

Enjoy~

'I have stayed these years in my hovel because of you. I have taught myself languages because of you. I have made my body strong because I thought you might be pleased by a strong body. I have lived my life with only the prayer that some sudden dawn you might glance in my direction. I have not known a moment in years when the sight of you did not send my heart careening against my rib cage. I have not known a night when your visage did not accompany me to sleep. There has not been a morning when you did not flutter behind my waking eyelids….Is any of this getting through to you, Buttercup, or do you want me to go on for a while?'

― William Goldman, The Princess Bride

They are fighting, which is not a surprise in of itself. Even after Elizabeth started building this weird little bridge between them, after years of fighting him again and again, she and Meliodas still tended to bicker. That has not changed just because he's decided to ally himself with the Goddess Clan, as well as the other clans. If anything, it has only gotten worse.

It's Elizabeth's fault this time, she will admit that, if only in her own mind. Yesterday's battle with the demons had been longer and harder than most, especially with some of the Commandments there to lead the battalions, and Elizabeth didn't make all the smartest decisions then. While she defeated many demons on the battlefield, she also tried to do too much, to save too many people with her healing abilities. This led to a confrontation with Estarossa, who decided to be particularly sadistic and hateful that day—easily taking advantage of her weariness and "bleeding heart", as he'd sneered.

He had stabbed at her side and kicked her down, leaving Elizabeth to glare up at him, her teeth clenched in pain. With a cold grin, he lifted his sword to deliver the finishing blow—

Only to clash with Meliodas' sword—Meliodas, who was in a rage as his darkness swirled around him, inking his skin—and Elizabeth felt her shoulders sag in relief and a deep affection that has overwhelmed her these past few years, an emotion only focused on him. The fight didn't last long then, not with Meliodas' fighting experience and Estarossa's maddening rage at his brother's still-fresh betrayal, and before Elizabeth realized it, she was back in the Goddess realm, being healed and put on bed rest for the day.

By this afternoon, Elizabeth was all healed up and ready to fight another day—which would be a while, thankfully, but still—and while everyone approached her, glad that she was still breathing, Meliodas made sure to avoid her at all cost. His mouth was drawn down into a deep scowl all day, his eyes storming between coal black and forest green, dwelling on a conflict that left him simmering. Whenever Elizabeth tried speaking to him, he threw her a glare and walked the other way, disappearing somewhere to do—whatever he did whenever he got angry, these days. That in turn left her not only angry, but hurt; like someone had stabbed into her chest and left the knife there.

But like any fight between Elizabeth and Meliodas, it doesn't take long for it to come full boil—

"—Stubborn demon!"

"Oh, you are one to talk, goddess!"

—which has led to now, where they are screaming at each other inside her study. Faces red with anger, eyes flaring into each other, and their respective powers sparking ominously from their fingers.

At this point, Elizabeth isn't sure what they're arguing about anymore. Yeah, okay, she was stupid yesterday. She knows that. But she's always been like that, even when she used to lead her own battalion against him and the Ten Commandments. That hasn't changed, not even with Meliodas becoming her friend and battle partner—which is good, because Elizabeth knows that a big reason she's still alive is because he always saves her (which may or may not make her heart flutter a lot). Why is that bothering him now?

In her frustration, Elizabeth decides to ask him, leaving him gaping at her in shock, perhaps even affronted, before he roars his answer to her.

"Because I'm in love with you, you idiot of a goddess!"

Elizabeth freezes, nearly choking on her retort. She blinks wide blue eyes and stares at Meliodas, who is snarling at her, his mark in full bloom and eyes black but alight. Once again, Elizabeth feels his eyes pierce her like fire, and her heart hammers against her chest.

"W-w-what…?" She squeaks. Because, really, she must have heard wrong…?

But Meliodas goes on with his rant, not seeming to realize yet what he just said, his gestures almost violent as he glowers into her.

"I mean, really, did you think I just betrayed my own clan on...on, on a fucking whim?! No, it was all for you, you crazy, incredible...AGH!" He throws his head back and roars up at the ceiling, his hands clenching on either side of his head. "Why, of all people, does it have to be you!"

Elizabeth is now full on gaping at him, her silver hair still frazzled and eyes wide. What.

"—but do you care?" Meliodas lets out a bitter, rather mad laugh, threading a hand through his hair, and chokes out, "No, of course not. You just throw yourself in front of danger again and again and again—"

Her mouth opens and closes, but Elizabeth can't make a sound except maybe a choked squeak. She finds herself leaning back against the desk behind her, nearly sitting on it, her eyes glued to Meliodas. Her hands clench around the edge, the wood biting into her skin. Seriously, what is going on right now?

Meliodas whips to glare at her, and he strides toward her, still very lost in his...wrath? Elizabeth sees the anger in his eyes, but there's something else too. Something she's seen in his gaze before, but couldn't really name, was often too afraid to name as she got caught under the scrutiny, her face aflame and heart pounding. Something beyond warm, deeper than any emotion ever directed at her, intense and piercing and heart stopping and Holy. Crap.

"Why couldn't you be more selfish, just a little cowardly enough to think about your own safety? Why do you have to be the kind of person who sacrifices for others, even if you get hurt, or worse? Even for those who don't ask to be saved?"

Meliodas doesn't stop until he's in front of her, the anger merging with a deep sorrow that makes Elizabeth ache, even through her confusion. He tips his face towards hers, until their foreheads are near brushing, his eyes searing into hers.

"Don't you ever think," he asks, his voice low and raw, "of those you could leave behind? Those who love you?"

Elizabeth swallows in her dry throat, still feeling frozen, even with the blush flooding her cheeks and her heart pulsing in a fury. Because, crap, what does she do here? He's too close, so warm, and her heart is too loud, and the sudden want to touch him hits her. There is too much going on, too much for such a rough day, and Oh god, oh god, he's getting closer, oh geez, I'm so not ready—

Just as Elizabeth closes her eyes briefly, not sure what to expect, Meliodas wraps his arms around her and embraces her. His cheek is against hers, oddly cool compared to the burn under skin; while the touch isn't unwelcome, it does nothing for her fluster. Elizabeth takes in shallow breaths, her eyes open half-mast and clouded, and she lifts one hand from the desk to grasp his shoulder.

"M-Meliodas…?"

"...A minute," he says near her ear, his voice soft and warm, and That is really not helping, aaaah. Meliodas turns his head to nuzzle her neck, inhaling and exhaling a shuddering breath and Yep, I'm dying. "Please, Elizabeth, just a minute."

Elizabeth squeaks a little but doesn't push him off, even as his hands stroke her back, fingers brushing her wings. Her mind rages with confusion and more than a little anxiety. Again, Elizabeth blushes but then leans into the other shoulder, not caring about the stains in his clothes or the remnant smell of their recent battle with the Commandments.

Meliodas has never held her like this, is usually hesitant to instigate contact at all; even when Elizabeth hugs him...which, okay she admits, is a lot. But he always stiffened whenever she embraced him—whether it was after a battle or on a whim—so Elizabeth always assumed Meliodas had an issue with touching (but not huge enough to push her away or tell her to stop).

Now, though, Meliodas isn't hesitating. He is holding her like he never wants to let go, like this is the only place he wants to be; the only place he's wanted to be, for a long time.

Feeling a tug at her heart, along with a pleased warmth at the touch, Elizabeth squeezes her hand around his shoulder and slides her other hand up the back of his arm. Meliodas sighs, then shifts to nuzzle his cheek against hers again.

"I can't ask you to stop being who you are, I know that. And I wouldn't want to, anyway. Because the truth is," he smiles shakily, almost into her skin. "No matter what I say, I love that about you most of all. And I'd do anything to protect you, anything you ask of me, you know that."

Elizabeth nods into his shoulder, her tongue like cotton. Of course she knows that, because she does the same, would always do the same for him—

"So let me ask this of you, just this once."

Meliodas lifts his head and looks into her eyes, his gaze still black even as his mark shrinks. He gently grasps Elizabeth's cheeks and tilts his face towards hers, the proximity making Elizabeth squeak. Oh damn it all—

"Please care about yourself, just a little, when you're out there. Remember, you have people to come home to—your friends, your sisters, and...and me," he says, as if after holding a breath. "No matter what, you will always have me."

Oh, no. Don't tell me that. Elizabeth feels her hands sliding to Meliodas' chest and curling into his tunic, pulling close and not pushing away, like how a proper goddess should do.

(Note: Elizabeth has never been a proper goddess.)

"Elizabeth, I would follow you anywhere," Meliodas murmurs, barely a breath from her lips. "So, please, don't go where I can't follow."

"I...I...I…" Say something, you idiot, Elizabeth screams at herself. Because she has to say something to this, right? That's how the stories go. She has to respond. But what can she say when her voice has failed her? What's the right thing to say, to do?

Elizabeth meets Meliodas once more, captured by the look in his eyes, the fear, the love, the longing—and she realizes one simple truth, one that's driven all her decisions up to this point.

Ah, heck. I've never done what's right...just what feels right.

That's enough to steel her nerves, to tighten her grip on his shirt and close the distance, her eyes shutting as their mouths meet.

The first kiss is nothing like how the romances, or even the fairy tales say. There is no spark, no fireworks, no burst of stars behind eyelids. It is a simple meeting of skin and flesh, warm and soft and tentative.

And yet, as Elizabeth parts to regard Meliodas—whose eyes have widened, red splashed along his cheeks—she feels her being tingle with a sort of magic, one that coaxes her to kiss him again. Carding one hand through his hair, she moans into his mouth and kisses him just a bit more greed and zeal, and absolutely no finesse.

Elizabeth feels a twinge of panic then, especially with how Meliodas has stiffened against her. What was she thinking? She's not experienced in this stuff at all, in love or being loved, let alone kissing; and it is likely bleeding through her movements. She must be doing it all wrong. No wonder Meliodas isn't—

Warm hands wrap around her hips and hoist her on the desk, the impact making her gasp from him. Meliodas groans and dives into her, his kiss deep and searing, his hands moving to her waist.

Oh. Elizabeth whimpers as she parts her mouth, allowing Meliodas to taste her, slide his tongue over hers. Oh, okay.

Apparently, she did do something right. So right. Very right. Incredibly right, Oh gods.

With her mind clouded and her knees feeling a little weak, Elizabeth wraps her arms around his neck and kisses Meliodas back with all she has. Meliodas moans into her mouth, his hands quickly moving to unfasten the snaps of her vest, itching to touch more. As soon as more of her neck is revealed, he dives in to start licking and mouthing at skin.

And as Meliodas focuses on a spot that makes her arch her neck and moan, desire overwhelming her senses and smothering any other reason, Elizabeth realizes how far up the creek she is without a paddle.

This is bad, she thinks as she wraps her legs around his hips, drawing him between her thighs, where the heat is pulsing most.

So bad, Elizabeth gasps as Meliodas rips her bodice apart like it's paper, exposing all of her to chilled air, reaching one hand so he could squeeze and rub one full breast. She moves her hands to take her nails behind his shoulders, needing him closer.

Incredibly bad, Elizabeth turns her head to lay open mouthed kisses on Meliodas' neck, softly murmuring his name and saying, "Please, don't stop."

And while Meliodas does pause his ministrations, long enough to gulp audibly in Elizabeth's ear, he nods his warm cheek against hers and turns to slant his mouth over hers. Elated, Elizabeth uses her trembling hands to rip at his shirt, itching for his skin against hers.

Next thing Elizabeth knows, she is on her back, the desk smooth against her even with her folded wings. With her bare breasts plush against his chest, Meliodas strokes his hands up her still clothed thighs and pulls her closer, his own desire prominent near her own. Elizabeth squeezes around his arms, feeling a thrill at the tension in his muscles, and squeezes her legs around him with an eager moan.

Oh, this is absolutely terrible, she thinks as her bottom lip is deliciously drawn to teeth in a light nip, as Meliodas growls against her. I haven't even told him yet, that I...that I—

"Ellie?"

...Crap.

Elizabeth freezes, just as Meliodas lifts his head and stares down at her, his eyes wide. Then, with a sharp gasp, he immediately jumps from her as if she's on fire. Elizabeth slowly sits up, leaning shakily on her palms, and she stares at him. Her eyes widen, their gazes locked.

She tries to speak, low and rough but also soft, "Um."

Another knock, louder and harder. "Ellie."

"J-j-just a minute, Veronica," Elizabeth stammers, before shuddering. Blushing bright, she lifts her arms to cover herself, remembering her half-naked state. Knowing her bodice and vest were basically ribbons at this point, she looks around the study frantically. She has to have spare clothes in here, right? Right? "Oh, bollocks."

"Damn it," Meliodas hisses at the door before picking up the dark jacket he threw in his anger, and going back to her. "Here, put this on."

Elizabeth blushes harder, but nods. The jacket isn't as long as it is on him, but her slim arms slide through the sleeves without resistance, and it wraps around her as she fastens it closed, snug but not tight. The wool immediately warms her, but then she realizes. She looks to Meliodas, worried.

"W-what about...?" Elizabeth makes a little gesture to his stretched shirt, eyeing the rips along his collar, the light red marks along his neck, remnants of her frantic licks and nips; she licks her lips, nervous and still tasting his skin. She did that. She did that to him.

What else could she do...?

Meliodas shrugs, his mouth quirked up. "I'll just say that this is from yesterday. No big."

Elizabeth is not sure that would work, but nods anyway. No matter what, Meliodas is always clever and quick on his feet when it comes to a cover. She moves to stand, only for him to put a hand up, stopping her.

"Hang on, you..." His cheeks redden, his eyes focusing on a spot on her neck, and Meliodas takes in a deep, shaky breath. A little more composed, he moves to pop the collar of the coat over Elizabeth's neck, clasping it closed. Satisfied, Meliodas nods and stands back. "Okay, better."

Elizabeth gives him a look, then stands up. She quickly smoothes down her mussed hair and rubs at her still burning cheeks. She then inhales deep, then exhales as much, until she can square her shoulders. She's a goddess, the ultimate epitome of poise, grace, and above all else, virtue.

No way anyone, especially one of her older sisters, will be able to realize how close Elizabeth was to basically offering herself on a silver platter, or in this case a desk—

Oh, I am so doomed.

Biting back a whimper, Elizabeth casts a glance at Meliodas—who already has his arms folded behind his back, is standing up straight and looking cool as a cucumber, which Elizabeth finds so unfair—and feels reassurance steel her, like the comfort of his back against hers in a battle, the feeling that she can do anything.

So doomed, Elizabeth thinks again before clearing her throat and saying, "Come in!"

"Hey, Ellie, I just wanted to talk about yesterday—oh." Veronica pauses as she steps in, focusing narrow amber eyes on Meliodas, and she tilts her head. "You're here...?"

Elizabeth flounders, heat rushing to her cheeks as she searches for a perfectly reasonable excuse for Meliodas to be in her study. There are a lot, really, since she and he spend a lot of time here planning how to proceed in upcoming battles and reviewing tactics (which Meliodas is amazing at, Elizabeth can't help but notice). However, under Veronica's scrutiny, she suddenly finds it really, really hard—

"Coincidentally, I was also discussing what happened yesterday," Meliodas speaks up, his voice carrying some bite as he sends Elizabeth a look—one very much implying they weren't done with this argument yet—before coolly regarding Veronica.

Veronica stares, first at him, then at Elizabeth. She blinks slowly, once, and then smirks wide.

"'Discussing'," she quotes, a pointed look to Elizabeth, who blushes. "Is that what you two are calling it...?"

Ah, she totally knows! Elizabeth squeaks, not trusting herself to speak. Luckily, Meliodas steps in front of her and puts himself in Veronica's sight, locking hard eyes with hers.

"Yes," he says, casual but also very cold. "That's all."

Veronica stares at him, her expression stony. Only when she shifts her gaze back up to Elizabeth—who is all red and regarding Meliodas the way she always does, perhaps longer than Veronica has noticed, like he's the world—does Veronica defrost. She smiles softly at her sister, feeling something heavy but also light twinge at her chest, like an acceptance of loss.

Then she shrugs, going back to casual.

"I'll leave you to it, then." Veronica turns to walk out, then pauses, looking at Elizabeth, "I'll see you tonight, Ellie. Margaret is making your favorite soup, so you can't miss it, okay!"

"O-okay."

The door closes, leaving Meliodas and Elizabeth alone again.

...Oh.

Elizabeth feels a lump in her throat as she looks at Meliodas, who turns to look back at her. His expression is overall blank, except his eyes—his eyes that regard her with a look she knows now, a look she can name, but still blushes furiously under—and his arms loosen to hang on either side of him, hands clenched. Licking her lips, she stares at him, her own hands clenching and loosening. What should she do now? What should she say?

"...It's getting late. I think I'll go."

"W-what?" Elizabeth says, her eyes gleaming and wide at Meliodas. "B-but, I—"

Meliodas watches her, with a resolved expression that makes Elizabeth ache, and she realizes she can't let him leave. Not like this.

"You should stay, for dinner, tonight!" She spits out, shakily attempt at a smile. "I-I mean, we don't serve meat usually, but we have fish and, and I'm sure we can find something good for you, and—"

"No. No, I shouldn't." Meliodas pauses, and then smiles. "But thank you."

Elizabeth opens her mouth again, but the lump in her throat makes her choke. She places a hand over her chest, the space where the ache is particularly piercing, clenching into the jacket he's letting her borrow. A slow horror falls on her. She messed up, beyond being reckless and troubling him to rescue her, and everything is just ruined. That's why he wants to leave. She chews her lip, feeling the ache rise to her throat, her eyes burning with unshed tears.

"Wait, no—Elizabeth."

Meliodas places a hand on her other arm, his thumb rubbing into the crook where her arm and elbow meet. The action grounds her, coaxes Elizabeth to blink and look at him again. He smiles up at her, this time with some humor and a lot more warmth.

"I'm just going back to the inn, to sleep. It's been a long day, you know. But I'll see you tomorrow, okay."

"...Oh," she says, feeling silly but also still worried. "Um, o-okay."

He looks at her again, his smile widening to something impish, and says, "You should keep the jacket."

Elizabeth falters. "H-huh?"

"It looks good on you."

You'd look even better on me—oh sweet Goddesses, no, I can't ever say that. I would die. Elizabeth bites harder on her bottom lip, making it more red and swollen than before, and her heart hammers. Meliodas follows the movement, his gaze darkening with a predatory sort of hunger, and his tongue lightly swipes the corner of his lips. Elizabeth blushes hard.

"I should go," Meliodas says again, a tone lower, a voice full of promise. A promise of what could happen if he doesn't leave.

Elizabeth squeezes her thighs together, suddenly feeling too warm in her formfitting pants and aching too much. But she nods, shakily and hesitant. Because as much as she really, really wants to, she knows she's not ready. Not yet. But she wants to be, soon.

Meliodas nods in turn and then slowly turns towards the door. He lingers a moment longer in the doorway, gives Elizabeth one last look, and then leaves. The sound of the door closing is a soft sound, but it weighs heavily as Elizabeth finds herself alone.

That's when it all hits her—the argument, Meliodas' confession, the kiss, the chaos happening inside her body and mind and possibly even soul, what it all means for her now—and Elizabeth feels her eyes widen.

Oh. Near breathless, she once again leans against the edge of the desk. Oh, bloody hell.

If there's any principle Meliodas has ever clung to, it's that of control, especially over one's composure. And for a demon whose life was all rage and blood and violence, and the desire to basically take over the world, control was key. Can't really be a force of pure evil if you lose it all the time, right?

So, when Meliodas walks out of Elizabeth's study and walks through the military compound, he is wearing a smile. Wide, warm, friendly, and the perfect mask. He continues to wear this face as he walks through the central city of the realm, right to the inn where he has been staying for the past year or so since turning his back on the Demon Clan.

Once he shuts the door, the mask shatters like glass to the floor. Meliodas doesn't mind, he can always make another.

"Hey, crone," he announces as he nearly stomps to the rather empty bar. "You better have something stronger than ale tonight, and lots of it."

A portly old woman, not a goddess but also not human (Meliodas has honestly given up figuring her out), pauses in cleaning the glasses in her hand. She releases an almost hissy, knowing cackle and turns to give him a near toothless grin. Her glazed eyes nearly bulge from her head, full of laughter and this knowing that pisses Meliodas to no end.

"Rough night, little prince?"

Meliodas scowls as he sits on a stool, and he props his cheek on his palm. "More like rough lifetime. What you got?"

Without bothering to check her stock, because she never needs to, she says in a light accent, "Just got an import of fairy whiskey this mornin'. Very rich, but 'll put some hair on even yer chest."

"I'll take it."

"Glass or bot'l?"

Meliodas narrows his eyes, glaring into the grain of the bar, his free hand tracing circles into the wood. "Bottle."

"Com'n right up," she says. With a wave of her bony, calloused hand, a huge bottle appears. Inside it is a brown liquid that smells of spices and sweetness, and it assaults Meliodas' nose like a wall to the face. It smells like it will taste terrible, all burn and sickening, even as his mind dulls in a drunken stupor.

Good. It will do perfectly, then.

Meliodas wastes no time in opening the bottle and downing the whiskey in several steady gulps.

The old barkeep stares at him, blinking wide eyes. "Crikey, a really rough night, then?"

The bottle now empty, Meliodas nearly slams it down on the bar. From a fringe of wild blonde, he glowers at her and just says, "Get me another."

It really hits him when he's on the third bottle, grasping it by the neck and spinning it around, watching as the brown liquid swirls into a near whirlpool.

Motherfucker, I actually fucking said it, Meliodas realizes, feeling his hearts give a painful seize then jump start into a marathon.

He actually fucking did it, said the thing he swore he'd never say, and worse during a fucking argument. And that's not even the worst of it—she kissed him. Elizabeth kissed him, and it was so clumsy and zealous and lacking so much skill, and perfect. Then, of course, he kissed back. And they kissed and kissed, until they almost, almost—

Shit, what did we almost do?

HA, stupid question. Meliodas nearly laughs. He knows what almost happened, what he totally wanted to do to Elizabeth on that damn desk. After all, it's something he's imagined doing before, when he and her meet up to talk tactics and war and it almost actually happened. Just the way he dreamed about too, too often for any sane man. With how she kissed him and touched him, and wanted him, Elizabeth was right in his grasp and, and—

And it didn't happen.

Not only because Veronica interrupted, but also because Elizabeth still looked so shocked and at a loss, even with her face all red and eyes glazed with desire. And despite everything Meliodas didn't want to push, didn't want to corner her with his feelings while she hadn't even answered for hers and he didn't want to lose himself to hope, especially when rejection was still such real possibility—an even worse one now, because he actually knows what Elizabeth tastes like now, how she feels, and shit, I completely fucked up.

And he still has to face her tomorrow, possibly act like tonight never happened. Fantastic.

Meliodas groans and slams his face onto the bar. Then he lifts his head and slams it down, again and again, and again.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," he grinds through teeth with each impact.

That cackle again, knowing and harsh, but also lacking cruelty. "Love confession didn't go so ideal, it seems."

And despite his snarl, Meliodas doesn't stop. "Shut. Up."

To review: this isn't the first love confession a goddess has received. Goddesses are creatures of beauty, mystery, and wonder for many a species—except, well other than the few exceptions, those from the Demon Clan. For the Goddess Clan, a love confession every decade or so is basically par for the course, especially from mortals.

At her most graceful and holy, a goddess will politely reject such passions, even if she returns them in some fashion, choosing instead a typical immortal life of chastity and piety.

At her cruelest, a goddess will take advantage of such emotions, especially if the one who loves her is of use to her.

As you can see, Elizabeth is neither graceful nor cruel. In fact, while she enjoys the romances of others, she's pretty oblivious to such matters when it comes to herself—including her own feelings. So, when she's home hours later and taking a particularly cold bath, it all really hits her like a brick to the face, and...well.

Elizabeth gasps as she pokes her head up from the tub of cold water, her face still very much burning as much as the rest of her, and she shuts her eyes. She sees his smile, hears his voice, remembers the scorching feeling of his lips, his touch—

"Because I'm in love with you, you idiot of a goddess!"

A whimper works her way up to her throat, and Elizabeth has to dunk her head back down under the water, her wings spread wide and anxiously tight from her bare back. There's no way she can face Meliodas again after tonight, not without losing her mind and saying things, or worse, doing things to him and UGH, because really, How dare he do this to me.

(Worse question: Why did it take me so long to realize he, that I, I, I—)

Elizabeth lets out a muffled, drawn out scream under water, her heart pounding and her blood still thrumming with love and want and the mad realization of how doomed her life has become.

S-s-stupid demon!

Somewhere in the huge house, Margaret and Veronica are setting up the table. When they hear a muffled, piercing sound from Elizabeth's room, they share a look across the table.

"What do you think that's about?" Veronica asks.

Margaret pauses, blinking thoughtfully at the ceiling. "I think she just figured it out."

"...Seriously? I thought they were already having a love affair."

"Well, apparently, that's news to her."

"Ugh, that stupid demon," Veronica grumbles, running a hand through her hair. "He should have told her the minute he helped us rescue her from the Demon King."

"And she should have realized her own feelings when she fought the Elders for his right to stay here," Margaret adds.

"I think we can alls agree," an elderly woman steps into the dining room and sits at one end of the table, wearing a worn black dress with a crooked, black pointed hat. Her white hair is tied in a painfully tight bun, and her diamond blue eyes are rather dry and just done. "That these two are absolutely the most idiotic love story to ever be told on this side of the 'verse."

Margaret and Veronica blink at the woman, then share a wry look. After a thought, they start nodding to each other, their wings sagging at the realization.

Just then, Elizabeth lets out another scream, one that is thankfully muffled by the walls of the house, even as the house shake from the pitch. The three women stare at the ceiling.

"Granny?" Veronica asks, suddenly.

"What?" The old woman asks.

"Is it too early for us to get white hairs?"

Margaret snorts. "Please, we'll be lucky enough to get out of this without getting a heart attack."