Perseverance: "Let us not become weary in doing good" (Galatians 6:9)
Prudence: "In everything, the prudent acts with knowledge" (Proverbs 13:16)

Chapter Two: Sloth/Gluttony

Elizabeth steps inside and the door slams shut behind her. Immediately she is blistered by an overwhelming assault on her senses: a bright light forces her to cover her eyes; the sounds and shouts of dozens upon dozens of people surround her; she feels and smells people walking hurriedly by, some knocking into her.

Her eyes finally adjust and she slowly lowers her arm. The scene before her makes her gasp. She is in Lioness Castle, in the courtyard, and there are people everywhere. Soldiers run back and forth, shouting at one another, most carrying wounded men and women in to lay on the ground. The injured surround her, their cries and screams filling the air, and as she turns in horror their hands raise up to reach for help, their heads move violently back and forth in agony, their limbs jolt as bandages are pressed against them. Men and women and children huddle next the bodies, caring for wounds and screaming for help and crying for the dead. Even more terrifying are those that do not move at all.

She chokes on dust and heat and the smell of blood. Pressing her face into the bend of her elbow, she coughs as she tries to make some sense of what is happening. She was just in Cadbury, wasn't she? There was a staircase, and then a voice, and a door—

Of course. This must be something she must do. The old woman said it would not be easy, so this must be the way she earns her heart's desire. This is how she can win Meliodas back.

There is blast somewhere in the distance, and the screaming somehow gets louder, the Holy Knights shouting at one another as they drop the dying on the ground and hurry back to the battle. Quickly Elizabeth steadies herself and moves to the first person she sees. She drops to her knees and takes one soiled hand in hers, placing the other on the man's forehead. She closes her eyes and wishes him well, imagining her light and power streaming into him through her touch.

She can feel the man stir a moment later, and as she opens her eyes, she sees him looking at her. "Princess? What—" Elizabeth shakes her head and smiles, relieved that it worked, and then stands, moving to the next patient. This one is covered in blood, and she removes his helmet as he moans in agony. She places her palms against the sides of his head and repeats her work, pressing her healing wish into him. The bleeding stops and the man begins to breathe easier, so she moves to the next body. She heals him in turn, and then moves on to the next, then the next, then the next…

Elizabeth sits back and takes a deep, steadying breath. Her arms shake slightly, aching from her powers surging through them. As she looks around, she realizes more people have been brought in, and those that she has healed already have been replaced with more sick and dying.

For a fraction of a section, she hesitates. How can she ever hope to help them all? Their cries turn her heart and the sight turns her stomach. It would be easier to just stop, to get back into the castle and see if there is something to be done to stop the fighting. Maybe this isn't her task at all, and she is wasting time when she could be finding Meliodas. But that thought only lasts for a fleeting moment before she pushes it away. There are people here, now, that need her help.

As she moves to the next person, her heart twists to see it is a young man, with wild blonde hair, and for a moment her eyes even flicker to his left arm to check for the dragon. Of course it is not there, and she shakes away the sorrow that threatens to bring her mind crashing down as she lifts him in her arms. He gives a soft moan as she pushes her powers into him. His head turns and presses on her shoulder in search of comfort, and Elizabeth feels her powers falter for a moment. She must get a hold of herself. Losing herself to emotion will be a death sentence to this boy and countless others.

"Princess Elizabeth?" a small voice says, and she looks up to see a young girl standing over her, wringing her hands. "Can you please come and help my mother?"

She checks on the young man in her arms. He breathes easily in a healing sleep, so she gently lays him back down on the ground. "Of course," Elizabeth says, starting to stand. But as she rises, others call for her too. She looks around frantically, her heart in turmoil as she tries to decide who to go to first. She is engulfed in their pain, and she asks them to wait, assuring them all she is coming and will help them all. "Princess Elizabeth! Princess Elizabeth!" they cry out for her, hands reaching out to her, and as she reaches for one, the girl takes her other hand and tugs on it hard. "Princess!" the girl cries. "You promised! You have to help my mother!"

Elizabeth nods, turning sorrowful eyes back to the man grabbing her hand desperately. "I-I'm sorry," she manages as the girl pulls her away. Her heart stutters as the screams follow her, and the girl weaves her through the crowd to where a woman lay on the ground. Three young children surround her, and the girl pushes her closer. "Please, princess!" she cries.

She nods and crouches down next to the woman. She places a hand on her forehead, pressing her healing forward, as her eyes trace down the woman's body. There is blood soaking her arms and her stomach, and Elizabeth's own stomach turns at the sight of such a grievous injury. She catches her breath in her throat and closes her eyes, willing the woman to be healed with every ounce of her spirit, as her children cry desperately for their mother.

Suddenly a hand catches hers, and Elizabeth's eyes fly open. The woman gazes at her intently. "Don't leave me!" she begs, but Elizabeth can see that her wound is healed, and the cries of the others carry over to her through the air.

"You'll be all right," she assures her. "I must go." The woman clutches her tightly, but Elizabeth shakes her off and stands again. Now there are more people surrounding her, all shouting at her, begging and pleading for her to come to them first, they are in most need, praying to her for help. For a moment she is disoriented, and she stumbles as someone tugs her arm as another is pulling on the skirt of her dress. One after another, they pull her in every direction, and Elizabeth is pouring her powers into as many as she can.

But every time she stands, there are more screams, more blood, more bodies pulling and clawing at her. No matter how many she saves, no matter how many are healed, there are always more calling for her help. And now they are getting angry; the fear and the heat and the bedlam that surrounds them all turning the crowd with a renewed frenzy. Shouting soldiers run through the courtyard, bringing more and more of the wounded, and Elizabeth feels as though this will never end, not until every soul in Britannia is dying and begging at her feet. They all want her, and Elizabeth gives what she has, knowing it will never be enough.

She begins to feel despair, and it threatens her with a menacing glee. I can't do this, she thinks, placing her hands on one person after another as they crush against her from all sides. Elizabeth is overcome with their pain, feeling it herself, taking in their wounds and agony even as she gives out her own healing light. Every part of her hurts; her heart aches with each cry; and Elizabeth begins to feel as though she will be overrun not by the misery surrounding her, but rather her own weakness.

Yet she continues, seeing Meliodas in the face of each person, reminding herself that she is doing this for him. The torture of this place will be worth it to hear his voice and feel his warmth and see his eyes look into her own again. Her throat is raw, her eyes blurry from the dust kicking up in the air. Her arms and hands are coated in dirt and blood and her dress is blackened from her work. Elizabeth wipes at her sweating brow, pushing her hair back in clumps. Each person she saves takes another sliver of her strength, and the faces and voices and injuries begin to blend together in one. For hours she presses on, working through the crush of people, before she hears a familiar voice.

Elizabeth looks up wearily, her bleary vision scanning the crowd for the owner of that voice. She is healing two children, one cradled in each arm, and with her concentration broken they both cry out in pain, snatching her focus back to them. Their desperate parents hover nearby, scolding her for taking so long, wanting their children healed now. With an apology she finishes her task, blocking out the voice that shouts her name, even though she knows it; if she could just concentrate she can identify who it is…

There is a whisper in her mind, that sounds just like her own voice, but Elizabeth wonders if it truly is. Just leave them, it tells her. You cannot save them all. She hands the bawling children back to their parents and slowly climbs to her feet. She is drained, utterly defeated by her own shortcomings, her own exhaustion. She knows she must stop, she must just rest for one minute. But there are more dying, more that need comfort, and Elizabeth searches deep within herself for another reserve of strength, terrified that she is empty. "I have to keep going," she says to no one, trying to sound strong and determined; but she does not believe her own words, and that scares her more than anything she has seen.

A hand catches her arm, and Elizabeth nearly shakes off the person, suddenly irritated that these people won't stop grabbing her. "Elizabeth!" a frantic voice cries. It's the one from before, and she whirls around, nearly sobbing as she sees it's Diane.

"Lady Diane!" she cries and goes to throw her arms around the woman, who is human-sized, but Diane stops her.

"Elizabeth, what are you doing?" she says harshly. "We don't have time for this. You need to come with me, now!"

Elizabeth shakes her head but follows, steeling herself for what is to come. The dying reach out for her as she hurries by, and she looks at her feet, not wanting to see the bodies that stretch for miles in all directions. Diane is practically dragging her across the courtyard, and when they finally stop she is out of breath.

Diane presses her to the ground and Elizabeth nearly collapses from weariness. She lifts her tired eyes and chokes in distress when she sees it is King. His arms are wrapped around his midsection, and she has difficulty swallowing as her eyes slide down the blood and gore covering him. King's eyes are closed as he struggles for each breath, puffing the air from his lungs in what can only be extreme pain. This will take all of her strength to heal. The dread of pushing herself again, of giving all of herself again, fills her completely and Elizabeth cannot stop herself from whimpering. She knows that it may finish her, that she herself may not survive this final task, but what else can she do?

"Help him, Elizabeth!" Diane screams, pulling her from her shock. With a nod she reaches for his face, but then King hisses, "No."

It's so quiet, Elizabeth thinks for a moment that she imagined it. But when her fingers graze his skin, he bites out forcefully, "No!"

"It's me," she says with a shaking voice. Gingerly she tilts his face so he can look at her. "It's Elizabeth. Just lay still and—"

"No," he gasps as another tremor rocks through him. "Don't do anything. I want to die."

She freezes, utterly stunned. Behind her, Diane is screaming, "Elizabeth! What are you waiting for?", over the shouts and cries from the dying. Elizabeth does not answer, instead listening to the thundering in her ears as her blood pounds, her heart racing in dismay. Her vision clouds for a moment as the idea of not saving him, of watching him die, flashes in her mind. She begins to shake as she imagines the light going out of his eyes, and frantically she moves her hands to cup his face. It is now critical that she saves him, because she cannot let him do this, she cannot face Diane and Ban and Meliodas when they find out that King is dead, and she did nothing. She could never look in the mirror again.

"Sir King," she whispers, but he croaks, "I don't want you to save me." His words are so earnest, and his eyes implore her to understand, to give him the release he wants. Inside, Elizabeth feels as though she is being torn in two.

Her hands tremble as Diane crouches down across from her. "Elizabeth, you have to save him," she urges frantically.

"But—but he—" Elizabeth cannot finish, cannot find the words.

"Do it!" Diane screams. Elizabeth is jolted by the mania creeping into her voice, her body stiffening almost painfully as she braces herself against Diane's hands reaching towards her. What will Diane do to her if she allows King to die? She grabs Elizabeth's hands and pushes them onto his shoulders. "He's dying, Elizabeth!"

King shakes his head, his eyes glazed in pain. "No, I don't—" He is wracked with a fit of coughs, and blood leaks from his mouth.

Elizabeth screws her determination and presses her palms against his chest. Her healing moves through her hands and into him, and King cries out at her, "Elizabeth! Don't!"

She yanks her hands back, afraid she has hurt him, and now Diane is protesting, "Heal him! Heal him now!"

"I—I can't—" Elizabeth looks at her hands, nearly black with streaks of grime. She has so little left, she doubts that it is even enough to heal him, and there are so many more. Her head turns towards the cries of the others suffering, many of whom are calling her name, screaming at her to help.

"Elizabeth," Diane says coldly. She looks up at her friend, and feels herself crumple at the pain in her face. "If you don't heal him, I'll never forgive you."

Elizabeth's hands ball into fists as she drops her head down, her chin touching her chest. She is so incredibly tired, not feeling such exhaustion since her days walking across Lioness in the giant rusted armor. The fatigue and the fear and the waste of it all has frayed her nerves, and hearing Diane's threat brings fresh tears to her eyes. She cannot betray Diane like this. She cannot be the reason for her pain. Elizabeth believes that she will never, ever be forgiven.

She swallows around the lump in her throat as she pulls up the last reserves of her power. It is almost painful as she practically scrapes together her will to continue. Elizabeth wants to choose to save him, to save all of them, every last citizen that is wailing in pain and suffering all around her. She wants to give him life, give them all life. With another glance at his wounds, it becomes clear to her that this will be impossible. King will die without her intervention. But so will everyone else. How can she sacrifice so many for one? How can she not? How can she be expected to decide who lives and who dies?

She shakes her head, looking back down at the dying King. His face twists with another wave of pain, and without even realizing it she is pressing her powers towards him again. Again he protests. "Let me go," he says, looking at her with determination now. "I've been here long enough. I want to see my sister."

"I don't know what to do," she whispers.

You must choose, a voice says into her ear, and Elizabeth's startled eyes widen. Choose before he dies.

"Choose?" she cries. Her chest heaves with panic. She has to make the right choice?

Elizabeth looks up at Diane. "Please," she sobs, and suddenly it's as if a floodgate has been opened. "Please don't let him die." She clutches the front of her dress as she watches Diane break down, not bothering to wipe her tears as she weeps. Elizabeth can feel her own tears welling in her eyes, and as they slip down her cheeks she looks back at King.

She reaches out and takes one of hands, which are pressing against his chest. "King," she says, pleading, "please let me heal you."

She allows just a sliver of her power to slip into him, and King moans. "No," he groans. "Please, I don't want this."

"He doesn't know what he's saying," Diane shouts at her. Elizabeth can see the giantess' hands are shaking even as she grips his shoulder. "Save him, now!"

Elizabeth moves her own hands off from his, maintaining only a tiny bit of contact. She brushes his hair back, his skin hot from fever, and King looks at her, beseeching her with his eyes. His breathing stutters, and suddenly she realizes she has made her choice. Her power flows forward, this time not to heal, but to simply take his pain away, allowing him to ease into death without fear.

Instead of healing light, she gives him comfort. She thinks of King with all of them, and how happy they all were together. The picture of him and Meliodas together pierces her heart, but she ignores the stabbing pain to push the image towards him. More memories come unbidden to her mind, and Elizabeth weeps silently as she settles into her own grief, knowing that this is the right thing. King was always so kind, so loyal, ready to give his life for any of them, and she will give him this, his final wish.

King's eyes slide closed and Elizabeth cries over him. Her tears slip down her face and fall on them both. She can feel his heartbeat slow and stop as he exhales for a final time. The sounds of the others, the soldiers and the explosions and the screams of the dying, are all muffled as she is filled with the grief of watching King die. The knowledge that this is another person she loves is gone, another person she could not save is dead, stabs her sharply in the stomach.

You could have saved him, the voice says. You let him die.

"No," she whispers, suddenly unsure. Did she make the right choice? Isn't this what he wanted?

"You let him DIE!" Diane screams, and Elizabeth snaps her eyes up to her. All of a sudden she is assaulted again by the heat and the noise and the misery surrounding her. People are crying and screaming her name, and she can feel the hands tugging at her again, but all Elizabeth can focus on is the rage in her friend's eyes, the way she snarls at her, and Elizabeth is all at once very, very afraid.

"He—he didn't want me to…" Her voice trails off as someone grabs her arm, and she yanks it away. "Please, just give me a minute…" Elizabeth looks back down at King in a panic. Isn't this what he wanted?

"You could have saved him," Diane accuses with a tremble in her voice.

"But he wanted to die!" Elizabeth cries out. Another hand grabs at her, another voice yells her name, but Elizabeth ignores them and leans forward, reaching out for Diane. She needs her to understand, but Diane slaps her hands away. The stare at each other for a long moment, both women crying, and then Diane launches herself at Elizabeth.

With a cry Elizabeth is knocked to the ground, and Diane's hands are around her neck. "I'll kill you!" she screams at her through her tears. "You could have saved him! You could have saved his life!"

Her fingers squeeze the breath from her and Elizabeth tries to fight, but Diane is too strong. Desperately Elizabeth pushes on her hands, trying to pry them away. Diane's face looms over her, all traces of her friend gone, replaced only with hate as she screams at her, choking the last of her life away. Within moments she begins to spin, the lack of oxygen causing spots to come to her vision, and she closes her eyes.

The voice whispers in her mind again. Sloth and gluttony, it says. Perseverance and prudence. Elizabeth does not understand, however, and slowly, painfully, she feels the life leave her body.