Chapter Ten: A Final Choice

Zeldris found Gelda relaxing in the tub in her washroom when he returned. "I wondered where you went to," she said sleepily. She smiled up at him as he stood by her, his arms folded. "Do you want to come in? The water is still warm."

"Where were you?" he asked, his tone clipped with annoyance. He drew his brows down as her eyes widened a bit.

"I was with the king," she said softly, a blush rising on her cheeks. "You knew that." He turned away, his jaw clenching with emotion, and heard her say behind him, "What's wrong?"

The prince did not answer, turning and walking out of the washroom. He stalked towards the window, peering out into the night. Sunrise was still a few hours away, meaning he still had time before he was due in Edinburgh. There was still time to figure out what to do.

He could hear Gelda moving in the room next door, and Zeldris turned his back to the door. His arms shook with the tension inside of him, the fear and dread of what he had to do churning in his chest and stomach. Blood pulsed behind his temples. His mind raced as he tried to think of something, anything, to do.

If he disobeyed the order, he would become a mindless slave, and be killed. But if he fulfilled the command…

Gelda's hand slid over his tightly folded arms, making him flinch. "Zeldris?" she asked tentatively. "What's wrong?"

He glanced over at her, the worry on her face piercing like a knife in his chest. Quickly he snapped his gaze away. "My brother is missing," he bit out.

"Which one?" she asked.

"Meliodas," responded the demon, noting the little gasp that escaped her. "He's abandoned us and joined the alliance of the other clans."

Her hand slid along his elbow, moving up to slide behind his shoulder. "But… why?" she whispered.

Zeldris turned and looked at her, opening his mouth to say he fell in love. But it suddenly seemed so ludicrous, and the parallel between the two was still raw. So instead, he told her, "I'm leaving tomorrow. I've been given orders."

Gelda's fingers dug into him momentarily before she nodded, blinking rapidly. "I understand," she said quietly. "This was bound to happen. We could not expect you to remain at the castle forever." She sighed. "When will you be back?"

"Never," he replied.

She made a strangled sort of gasp that sent the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. "What do you mean?" she cried.

His gaze remained steady on her, the cool expression he had mastered over decades of practice. "I have my orders. I've been made a member of the Ten Commandments, and I need to go."

Gelda sucked in a shaking breath, tears shimmering in her eyes. "Are you saying… we are never…"

"I have to go." Zeldris turned and pulled away from the grip she had on him. He needed time to think of a way out of this, how he could save them both, and Gelda's tears would only prove a distraction. He prayed she would forgive him for leaving her so suddenly, but when he reached the door, she was right there to stop him. "Wait!" she cried. "Please, just wait!"

He hesitated, and Gelda used the moment to put herself in between Zeldris and the door. "Please, just tell me what's wrong. I know something is wrong." Her arms went around him, and she pulled him into a tight embrace. "Please tell me what's happening."

"I can't," he bit out bitterly. His hands went to her waist, but she only gripped him harder. "Gelda, let go of me."

"No," she snapped. Gelda kissed his lips before pressing her cheek on his. "Why won't you be back? What is going on?"

Zeldris swallowed. His hands shook as he slowly slid them from her waist and around her back. If only he could tell her! He did not want to lie to her, knowing it would make everything worse. He had lied to her once and swore never to do that again. Zeldris knew he needed to get away from her, as it was the only way not to draw this pain out any longer than necessary. Of course, Gelda would not be feeling any pain much longer, when he eradicated the vampire clan…

But instead of pushing her away, as he ought to do, he pulled her up against him, his embrace crushing as he pressed his face into her shoulder. How could he go through with this? Gelda whispered his name, the fear clear in her voice, and he struggled to keep his breathing even. If he was smart, he would hurt her, and break this off before he could betray her. But the way her fingers wove in his hair and the way she kissed his jaw comfortingly made it impossible.

All at once he pushed her forward, pressing her against the door as his mouth descended on hers. He kissed her hard, pouring his love for her and the pain of his choices into the way his lips stroked hers. Gelda was frozen, caught by his body, and she whimpered slightly when his tongue pressed uncaringly into her mouth. But he was relentless, and she tried her best to meet his kiss even as it left her breathless.

She was wearing only a bathrobe, and his hands snaked around from her back to quickly undo the ties. Then they were moving over her skin, still damp from the bath, leaving a scorching trail over her hips and up her waist. Zeldris cupped her breasts, squeezing her flesh as he pressed one leg between her thighs, and Gelda finally broke the kiss with a yelp of surprise. He ignored her startled protest as his mouth slid down her neck, pressing a kiss at the hollow of her throat. "Zeldris? What-?" she gasped, her nails scraping on the back of his neck, the other hand pressing against his arm.

"Take off your robe," he commanded. He watched as she swallowed visibly, and then quickly dropped the garment to the ground, her breath catching at his sudden change in demeanor.

Zeldris drew himself up, pulling her against him, then kissed her again. It was more careful this time, as he wanted to savor her, remember the taste of her mouth and the feel of her soft lips, every cry from her throat and shiver of her body. Her lips parted for him, and his hands pressed against her bare back before sliding down to grip her backside. Gelda slipped her arms around his neck before pressing forward against him.

He gripped her by the thighs and lifted her up, pinning her body against the door. "Zeldris!" she gasped, but again he ignored her to move her mouth down her chest. The need for her was fast and brutal, and he shifted his hips just long enough to bring a hand between her legs. His body kept her pinned, his other hand holding her leg tightly against his waist, and he began to stroke her body. His blood thrummed inside his head as the room filled with her soft cries, the sound blocking out the words of his father's command, the feel of her squirming against him driving away the reality he was trying to escape. Somewhere inside of him, he was ordering himself to stop, but that was impossible. Gelda was going to be gone from his life in just a few hours' time; he needed to consume her, to brand his mind with the memory of her, now.

Moments later he was tossing her on the bed, climbing over her. Zeldris still wore his uniform, in too much of a frenzy to stop and remove it; but the sight of her bare flesh pressed against the fabric, the leather of his belt and the studs in his shirt scraping against her thrilled him. She was shaking, whether it was with need or with nervousness or a combination he could not tell. Zeldris wanted to stop, he had to stop. This was Gelda, the woman he loved, not someone to be thrown and taken in a frenzy; never in all their weeks together had he used her or taken what he wanted like this. But the urgency and passion and loss were bearing down on him at once, pounding as he pulled her legs apart, growing thicker as he tasted her.

Her hands pressed against his shoulders to slow him down. "Zeldris, please, please," she groaned. He paused at her pleading tone, and looked up to see her face etched with concern before sliding up her body to cover her with his. Gelda's eyes were shining, and tentatively she brought a hand up to caress his cheek.

"Is this really goodbye?" she whispered, the soft sound trembling as she panted. "Am I—will I really never see you again?"

His mouth opened, but nothing came out. How could he answer such a question? Zeldris was mortified to feel hot tears forming behind his eyes, and quickly he swallowed and looked away in an effort to will them back.

But Gelda must have seen, must have understood, because slowly she caressed his face. Her fingers traced through the bangs that hung down, then over his forehead, tensed with worry, then down his cheeks, brushing over his jaw before finally trailing across his lips. It was if she was memorizing every inch of him, and when his eyes returned to hers, he saw that the fear and anxiety was gone, replaced only by tenderness. "Do you love me?" she asked.

Zeldris nodded, and her thumbs brushed over his eyes. "Then please, just love me," Gelda whispered.

He kissed her then, the passion between them igniting fiercely. Gelda arched underneath him, her legs entwining around his waist; then she was pressing her hands on him, and Zeldris allowed her to push him onto his back. He sank into the mattress as she climbed over him, her hands frenzied as she opened the front of his pants, her mouth hungry on his. Then she was sinking onto his hard length, wrapping him in her heat, and his hands caught her by the hips, guiding her on top of him.

Their joining was raw, almost rough, as they sped rapidly towards their release; the hurried passion between them made the air itself thick and hot with the sounds of their moaning. Gelda let go a cry as she came undone, her hands grasping his chest desperately, and Zeldris thrust himself up, the threads of his control snapping as he emptied inside of her for what he knew would be the last time.

His hands gripped her by the arms and yanked her down on top of him, cradling her body on his even as the last waves of pleasure pulsed through his own. "Gelda," he groaned, his face pressed against her hair, and he breathed in the delicate scent of her, wanting every piece of her, needing every one of his senses filled with her. Her arms slid beneath his shoulders, and for several minutes, they lay there, not moving. Zeldris could feel his neck getting wet as she cried quietly, and his heart felt as though it was being squeezed through a vise, his body shaking with the torment that was to come.

"You'll never be really gone," she choked through her tears, her voice muffled as she pressed against him. "No matter where you go, you won't be gone from me."

Zeldris weaved a hand through her hair, holding her closely. He needed to tell her the truth, but how? If he uttered one word about the king's command, he would be finished. It was bad enough he had to destroy the vampire clan, and kill her; the betrayal of the lie would be—

Suddenly he was seized with a thought. The king had said he wanted the vampires gone. Not dead. Edinburgh was to be destroyed, but the vampires he commanded to be gone. Zeldris' mind whirled as a plan formed, and he tightened his arms around the woman still draped on top of him. But could he do it? His powers were expanding with his Commandment, he could feel it under his skin. If he used the right spell, then perhaps…

"Gelda," he whispered. "I want you to come with me tomorrow, to Edinburgh."

"Edinburgh?!" she exclaimed, pulling up to look down at him. "What—how would we—the king—"

"Trust me," he said fiercely, raising a hand to cup her cheek. "Please."

Her eyes searched his face, and then slowly she nodded. Zeldris leaned up to catch her mouth in a kiss, dragging them back under a heavy shroud of passion that continued until the sun rose on their last day together.

.o0o.

Gelda was filled with trepidation laying eyes on Edinburgh castle again. The past twelve hours had been a whirlwind of sorrow and confusion, and her courage was hanging by a thread, worn thin by her nerves. She had not seen her father or the others in weeks, not since the wedding, and had no idea what her reception would be. "Can you please tell me what we are doing here?" she asked the prince for the hundredth time as he led her firmly through the great entrance.

For the hundredth time, he ignored her, and Gelda followed silently. A guard stopped them just inside, and Zeldris glared at him viciously. "Get back," he commanded, a tone she recognized from months ago when he had first taken her through Britannia. "I have the queen of demons on a visit to her father, King Izraf."

Is that really why we are here? It couldn't be, but Gelda kept her demeanor cool, following his lead. The guard was intimidated by the prince's voice and the power that seemed to rise off of him, and stood aside to let them pass.

"Gelda," he hissed as they walked quickly through the main hall, "where can we go that is safe?"

"I don't know," she answered. "My father has a—a mirror. He can see everything—"

"Stop right there!" Zeldris paused at the voice that came from the side, and as he turned he stepped in front of Gelda to shield her. His hand went to the hilt of his sword. "You're not welcome here, demon."

Two vampires approached slowly. Orlandi and Ren. One looked like just a child, smiling viciously at him as he licked his lips. The other was a tall beauty with dark hair, who resembled Gelda. This one looked at him with a scowl and carried a long knife. "Did you not hear what I said?" the woman shouted. "You aren't—"

"Ren, please," Gelda called behind him, and Zeldris put his hand out to stop her from stepping forward. "This is my guard. I'm here on an errand from the Demon King," she said, praying the lie would work.

"I know who he is," Ren sneered. "And you are a traitor and not welcome here either."

"That's not true," she replied. Gelda drew herself up, raising her chin in an attempt to project royal authority. "I am no traitor."

"I suggest you move," Zedris said viciously.

The shorter vampire giggled, but Ren glared at him. "How dare you come here and threaten—"

"I don't care," he responded with a cool menace. The demon grabbed her arm, steering her down the hallway, but in a flash she was pushed to the side. Gelda crashed into the wall with a shout, her palms pressed against the cold stone to steady herself; when she turned around, she saw them fighting, Ren swiping at Zeldris with the knife, which he parried back with his sword. Orlandi stood to the side, his hand outstretched, and when he twisted his wrist a spray of blood exploded out of Zeldris' shoulder. The prince gave a growl and turned, sending a ball of dark violet flame at the vampire. Orlandi shouted and moved, the attack only missing him by a hair's breadth and crashing into the wall, the rock raining down on him.

Ren yelled in anger and advanced while he was distracted. But Zeldris was ready, and in a flurry of movement that she could barely see, he had her disarmed. His blade was pointed straight for her heart, and Gelda could see the power pulsing from him and down the sword. "Zeldris! What are you doing?" she cried out.

Neither he nor the vampire responded, holding each other's gazes for a long, tense moment. "You're different," Ren finally bit out.

The way Zeldris looked at her made Gelda's blood turn to ice. The power and malice that seemed to rise straight from him made her afraid. "Never speak of the queen that way again," said the demon, his tone a thinly veiled threat. "Now, move."

After a moment's hesitation, Ren stepped aside. Zeldris kept his weapon out, but followed Gelda as she shakily continued down the hallway and around a corner. When the others were out of sight she paused and whispered, "Zeldris, what—"

"Keep going," he ordered. "I told you, we need to get somewhere safe."

Although the look he gave her was not as dangerous as the one directed towards the others, it was still cold. This was the soldier, the demon prince made Ten Commandment that others feared. It had been so long since she had seen this side of him, it was becoming overwhelming. She looked at the spot he had been injured, amazed to see there was no longer any wound there. When Zeldris had last fought a vampire, it had taken him days to recover; now only minutes had passed. Was this the power of the Ten Commandments? "My rooms are this way," she whispered, and they continued on in silence.

A part of Gelda had worried that her chambers in the castle would be gone, but to her relief they were just as she had left them, only a bit dusty, as if no one had come in at all. Zeldris strode through, pulling the curtains closed and shrouding the room in darkness, but Gelda walked slowly around, tracing her eyes over the furniture and her fingers over the things around the room. So many days and nights she had spent here, waiting to leave. Waiting for someone to come and take her away; and it happened, not as she imagined it, but exactly right all the same. Even though her life did not turn out the way she had always assumed, she did not regret any of it. She refused to regret.

Her eyes lifted to look at Zeldris peeking through the closed curtain. The first and only person to ever see her as more than an object to be won, a prize to be displayed. The first and only person to ever love her. The first days they spent walking across Britannia had been fraught with pain and anger and humiliation, but at some point a change had come, a shift in the demon that had caused her to start to fall in love, something she had never thought she would do, with him or anyone. Gelda had been raised to be obedient, and quiet, and strong, fit to be on the arm of a powerful being; with Zeldris she could be bold, and vulnerable, and he held her beside him, not underneath.

She was blinking away hated tears when he finally looked over at her. Zeldris visibly swallowed, and then he walked over to stand next to her. "Gelda," he said quietly. "I have something to give you."

He took her hand, and placed it in his, covering her palm with the other. Her skin began to warm, and then there was a flash of heat, so sudden that she jumped. It lasted only an instant, and then she could feel his skin against her again as he smoothed his fingers over her palm. "This is purgatory fire," he said, his voice and eyes intense. "If anyone tries to hurt you, if any of them—" and here he jerked his head towards the door, "—hurts you, you can use this to protect yourself."

Gelda flexed her fingers, staring at her skin. It was unchanged, but she could feel something just beneath the surface. She pressed her hand over her chest and looked at him. "Thank you."

He nodded, reaching out to place his hands on her arms. "Gelda, I don't have much time."

"Why did you bring me here?" she whispered. She was still so confused, so scared as to what was going on. He had told her they would never see each other again, but how could that be? Did the king no longer want her? Maybe she had displeased him, and Zeldris was trying to save her from some horrible fate. She began to tremble at the thought.

Gelda thought of all the times Zeldris had told her he would protect her, no matter what the cost. As his hands squeezed her shoulders, she knew that whatever this was, whatever he was doing, it was for her.

"I can't—" he began, and huffed in aggravation. "There's something—Gelda, there is something that is going to happen. I need you to be here when it does."

"What is it?" she asked, but he just shook his head. "I need you to trust me," he answered. "Will you do that?"

Gelda nodded, and he briefly closed his eyes. Then Zeldris squeezed her shoulders and said, "No matter what happens, I'm going to come back for you. I swear it."

It felt as though the color was draining from her face as fear slid its way into her mind. "I wish you would tell me something."

"I can't," was all he answered. "Believe me, this is the only way I can protect you. It's the only way to save you."

"Save me!?" exclaimed Gelda. She moved back a step, but Zeldris tightened his grip on her arms. "Yes, I'm trying to save you," he hissed at her. "Now you need to trust me."

Her heart heavy in her chest, Gelda said quietly, "I do trust you."

"Good." His eyes dragged over her slowly, and Gelda watched as he seemed to drink her in before they returned to her face. "Don't forget what I said. I will come back for you."

As Gelda looked back at him, there was a sudden aching inside of her, the start of some horrible emptiness beginning. Her chest felt hollow, as if her heart was gone, barely able to comprehend as Zeldris slid his hands from her shoulders and up to the back of her neck. He leaned in a bit, and suddenly she was so aware of him, more aware than she had ever been before: the curve of his lips, the faint shine in his dark eyes, the smooth skin above his brow covered in the branded mark of the demon race. There was the feel of his slightly calloused hands on her soft skin, the sound of his breathing, but the thing she was most acutely aware of was his mouth, the shape and softness as it grazed over hers, the way it felt as it curled against her bottom lip.

She reached for him, needing him like a lifeline, as if she was drowning right there. They pressed together, her hands pressed firmly on his sides, his digging into her hair as he kissed her. It was tentative at first, and Gelda allowed his lips to brush over hers, until she tilted her face up to press her lips to his. Even then the kiss remained slow, soft, lingering. "I love you, Gelda," he finally breathed against her mouth.

"I love you," she answered, barely a whisper. One last time she pressed inside of his heart, just to be sure, needing to see if he still wanted her. The barrier was still gone, and relief tinged with bitterness flooded through her when she saw herself as his heart's desire.

With one last brief brush of his lips, Zeldris pulled away. "Wait for me," he said.

She watched as he left, and when the door was shut firmly behind him, the terrible pain in her chest grew stronger. There was so much fear, and sorrow, and loss inside of her, that Gelda melted into numbness. She sat in a chair in the corner of the room, looking around at what used to be her life, barely even recognizing it anymore. Why did he bring her here? What was the meaning behind it? Her mind turned the question over and over, but still she did not understand. Gelda assumed at some point the vampires would arrive to take her to Izraf, and once more she would have to face his pompous wrath; if not them, then the demons would come to return her to the king.

So Gelda closed her eyes and waited. He told her he would come back for her, and whether that was in an hour, or a day, or a century, she did not know; but she would wait. But instead of thinking about her life as the vampire princess, waiting for Izraf to turn his wrath on her, or her life as the demon queen, the trophy to be used by a powerful and dangerous creature, Gelda imagined what it would have been like to have the life she wanted.

She would have married him, if he would have had her; she still would, even knowing how unthinkable the idea was. She dreamed of her wedding day, not to the king, but to Zeldris, thought of the way he would have given her one of his rare smiles. Their lives would not have so much heartache, but instead hope, Gelda would make sure of that. He would care for her and protect her, just as she loved him and cared for him. She saw them happy together, pictured the children they would have and the life they would create.

It was impossible, her daydream a foolish one, she knew that. But still it brought her some comfort as she waited for Zeldris to return, even as one hour after another went by, even when she felt a familiar energy fill the castle, pulling her into darkness.