A/N: Here I am after five days without hot chocolate, stressed, and I have decided to leave the country and learn the ways of a shark. I will go swim in all the larges beaches of Australia, making sure to beach myself on the sand as much as possibly. I'm not worried about scaring people, because I am sure my face is enough to do that naturally. Lickitysplit will totally understand my journey for inner understanding of my need to bite things and roll around in salt water. She knows me well.
BettybBest2: Yes my love, this place is just wrought with danger and drama and dramatic dangerous drama. We love it. Elizabeth just hasn't had it easy ever since the love of her existance died in her arm, and really, this dying thing just keeps popping up with her. I'm sure she would be happy if it stopped but, meh. **Cue evil cackling**
sassykitten1701: In the ever loving hell there is many things going on. Yes. YES!
whitangel: Why thank you dear, we work hard on trying to be mysterious and suspenseful. We'll give credit where credit is due though; none of this would be possible without watching Law and Order Special Victims Unit. Those stories are nail biters.
Kristine: Oh… oh my lord, love. You said more than two words. I saw this review and Lickity had to give me the heimlich maneuver because I started choking on denial. We aren't going to stop now! OK OK!
Cerulean Grace: Yes, they are literally running up a hill! We are glad you noticed all those storm clouds on the horizon my love, I hope you brought a sturdy umbrella because it's gonna be a downpour of suspense!
Vhosek: Yea, this trip is a bit of a killer one (terrible pun intended, without any remorse) and hopefully you like what we have in store! We believe in you, you've made it this far we know you can do it!
Chapter eleven: Memories That Come
Meliodas grumbles out a thanks as he hands the reins of his horse to the waiting groomer, waving off the servants with a smile who approach as he takes the steps into Lioness Castle two at a time. He keep his hands in his pockets as he walks with a purpose.
His trip had done nothing but confirm the information they already had, and further frighten him about Elizabeth's situation. His mind wanders back to the man he had visited as he enters the castle. He had been a formerly active Holy Knight, ranking high among Lioness' finest ever in their history, and had been specially skilled in developing techniques for air-based attacks, revolutionizing military tactics in only a handful of years. But more importantly he was someone's husband, a father and a brother and soon-to-be grandfather. His bedside had been surrounded with people, and everywhere he had turned someone who loved the man was crammed into his home, worried and distraught. However he had turned into nothing more than a muttering, skittish shell of himself, skin and bones and unable to recognize anyone, unable to even tell them his name. The Knight was withering away.
That will not happen to Elizabeth, Meliodas promises himself as he goes straight to their chambers, his face showing nothing of the shock of seeing the man first-hand. To read the parchments he had of the condition, even glancing at the scribbled notes his wife had made on the side in hurried ink before she too had contracted this… nothing prepared him to see an illness that ate away at everything. Now he needs to see her, to assure himself that she was still here with him. He needs to hold her and hear her say his name, to still be his Elizabeth.
When he opens the door to their anteroom, he draws up in surprise that Ban and Elaine are there. "Yo. You're back," he says flatly to Ban, frowning only slightly as his eyes sweep around the room. He steps inside as Ban shrugs, cracking his neck with twist of his head. "Are you the first?"
"~No, Gilthunder is here too, and Diane was spotted not long ago~" he hums out an answers from where he was lounging in a chair. Elaine, who is near his knee, fumbles with the edges of her skirt as Meliodas stalks forward.
Meliodas nods, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yea, well, I hope your trip went better than mine did. I'll hear about it later though. I want to see Elizabeth first." He starts to walk towards the bedroom door, but Elaine hurries around the chairs to stand in his way. She's only an inch or so shorter than him, but she stands on the tips of her toes and she get him to stop. "Your Grace," she says quickly, blocking the door from him, "Meliodas. There's something you need to know."
He stops, his brows pulling down as she shoots a look at Ban behind him. "What is it?" he asks. He knows that tone of voice.
"Elaine~" Ban says warningly, sitting forward until his elbows rested on his knees, but she waves her hand at him to keep quiet, and says quickly, "Elizabeth isn't here."
Meliodas frowns. "I thought she was to stay here. Where is she?"
Elaine takes a deep breath. "We're not exactly sure."
He stops.
There is one moment of silence before Meliodas takes a step back, turning away from them both, and his face is blank as he looks one more time around the room. Then he feels as his blood starts to boil, just enough, right under the surface to make the skin on his forehead prickle, and Elaine hurries on, "She is with Lancelot and Tristan! She's not alone, they've gone somewhere, but they didn't tell us where."
"Tristan? And Lancelot?" Meliodas says blandly, a picture of the two of them rough housing during training instead of learning enters his mind, and Ban is already up and walking towards the two of them as Elaine stands taller. "All three of them? How could this happen?"
Elaine folds her arms, sticking her chin up a bit, and now they are both sizing the other up. "She didn't appear at lunch yesterday-"
"Yesterday?" he seeths, and Elaine placing her hands on her hips as he throws out a hand to motion towards the empty door, "She's been missing since yesterday afternoon?" Immediately everything that could have happened to her begins to cycle through his head as his teeth grind; she could be lost, hurt, kidnapped… she could be sitting somewhere, stuttering just like the Holy Knight, unable to tell anyone her name… and Lancelot and Tristan were her only confidantes? Two children?
"Yes- but!" Elaine cuts him off as he opens his mouth again, a hand up and pointing at him, and Meliodas frowns at her finger as she continues, "Lancelot and Tristan went to find her! Since they haven't come back either, I'm sure they are together. They will be alright, Tristan had an idea where to find her."
"There's no way you can know that." His voice is rising in anger as the fairy and demon stand inches apart, and Ban steps forward next to Elaine as she huffs. "Those boys can't protect her!"
"Of course they can!" Elaine bristles and bites back, poking him squarely in the chest. "Those boys are Holy Knight apprentices, and both have reached manhood. They are powerful and smart and know right from wrong. I would trust them with my life."
"Don't care about your life," Meliodas grumbles, swatting at her hand, and she swats back, "And we both know the truth. I care about Elizabeth! She isn't-"
"Hey, cap'n, your tunnel vision is showing again~" Ban whistles, stepping between the two just to flick his hair, and Meliodas glances up at him in annoyance, but he just continues to say, "We have people looking. The castle has been searched, and Gilthunder got people looking in the city. Come on, we'll find Queenie."
"Ban, stop being logical." he says angrily. "They might not be in the Kingdom. They could be gone. Gone." Neither of them has an answer for that as he swats Elaine's hand one more time, which she does back harder, and there is an uncomfortable silence as she pouts. Finally Meliodas says, "I can't just stand around here. I need to go look for her."
"Meliodas." Elaine huffs, reaching out to touch his arm, gently, "Trust in our sons," she says firmly. "They will bring her back."
When Meliodas looks back at her, his face is still angry, but now it's mixed with pain. "I want to know as soon as Merlin gets here," he says over her head to Ban, who plops back down in his seat with a sigh. "Then we will find them and get them all back."
Lancelot watches the queen fall, and at first, it doesn't register. He stares at her crumpled form on the floor unable to move, or understand that the broken figure in the dirt is his unbreakable Aunt. A woman who couldn't get sick, who was the one saving people and curing their woes, a natural born healer- she is the same as this unmoving woman?- before Tristan's anguished yell pulls him back to the present and forward, and he is sprinting behind him to get to her. Tristan is taller and reaches her first, shouting with a panicked twist to his voice, "Mother? Mother! Mom! Wake up!"
"Shit! Shit shit, Aunty?" Lancelot is cradling her head to him, and he pulls up short, not knowing what to do with his hands as his friend frantically pulls her into his arms, and Lancelot wildly looks for a pulse on her neck. Tristan gives her limp form a small, careful shake, her face terrifyingly pale. "Hey," he says over his panic, putting a hand on Tristan's shoulder as the other man frantically searching the queen for any injuries, and he ignores him, so Lancelot says more forcefully, "Hey!" and he pulls his shoulder until Tristan was forced to look away.
"Look!" he hisses as Tristan looks up, with eyes so wild it makes Lancelot's chest constrict, "This happened before, alright? I was there with Gowther, so she's gonna to be all right! Just let her breathe for a minute!"
"No! No there's something wrong, something really wrong!" Tristan moans frantically, looking back down at her as he pulls her more off the ground and into his lap. "There's been something wrong since we got here! When she saw that mask, and then when she was laughing- Mom was laughing, Lancelot! I knew- I knew something was off, but I didn't…" Lancelot purses his lips as Tristan trails off before giving the queen another shake. "We shouldn't have come," his voice quivers as he tries to pick her up, his arms and legs shaking.
Probably not, come to think of it, Lancelot thinks to himself, but doesn't dare say it out loud. But, they were already here, so, instead, he grabs Elizabeth by an arm. "We need to go. Let's get her out of here." He grunts as his own body protests the move, but Tristan is already standing, pulling her up into his arms, taking the majority of the weight even as the injury on his arm bleeds further through his shirt. Lancelot leads them back the way they came until they both stop short at the edge of the arena, looking down at the destruction and bodies that were left in Arondight's wake. It was clear there was no safe or stable way down the crumbling hillside. "How are we gonna do this, damn it." Tristan hisses with dismay.
"Let me think, let me think," Lancelot grumbles quickly, a hand in his hair, before he snaps his fingers with a loud, "Ah ha! I got it." He points at Arondight, still hovering above them and says, "Listen here, and I mean it. You are going to do what I tell you do you understand?" His voice drops into a low growl, and there is a moment as the two regard one another before Lancelot takes a steadying breath. He might actually be able to pull this off. "The queen is hurt and needs help. Spirit Spear Arondight, Form Two. Guardian."
The entire sky burst into a blinding light as the orb bursts, twisting and turning as the magic it emanates burns hot, and both boys cringe downwards. There's a swooping wind with a large and crushing thump, and seconds later a huge three-headed dog appears standing above them. Its fur is short and a deep red, its heads snarling and snapping at one another, as its large paws stand only inches from them. Lancelot gives a whoop in triumph, clapping his hands together, and Tristan can only gape for a moment. "How did you do that?"
"Like it?" he says proudly. He walks around the dog, larger than the biggest horse Tristan has ever seen, and gives it a scratch on the back of a leg. "His name is Cabal. I figured him out while you were away." He jumps on its back, and as one head turns to glare at him, Lancelot shoots it a warning look, pointing a finger at an eye as large as his head. Then he holds out a hand to Tristan. "Come on, climb. Cabal will take us down."
Tristan hands him the queen's unmoving form before sliding up behind him, eyeing the thousand pound dog as Cabal gives a whine of protest, but Lancelot says firmly, "Take us back down to the road." Even he is surprised at the tone in his voice, and the dog does not hesitate to leap forward, landing expertly on all four feet in the rubble along the side of the hill. Then it hurries forward at a brisk pace, barking and huffing as it slides over and dodges through the refuse until they safely reach the bottom, uncaring of the now crumbling hillside that plummets around it.
Lancelot urges Cabal forward, pressing his hand against the base of where the dog's necks connect, and it trots at a steady rate back up the dark road. It's hard to tell by just the starlight where they are, but he figures that they had to have covered at least a mile by the steady pace. "Where are the horses?" he mutters to himself, looking around the moving heads, before Cabal draws up short, a head shooting upwards to sniff the air, and growls.
"What is it?" he asks, giving it a reassuring pat, but the Cerberus only growls again, all three heads pointing in one direction for once, drool dripping down its quivering jaws. He looks up and peers through the darkness, and then senses energy moving straight ahead and to the right. "Stay here," he says to Tristan, who nods, sliding off of the dog's back slowly and stepping around front into the road.
It's silent for a moment, before a loud hiss comes out of the dark. "Look who it is, boys," it comes from the side, and Lancelot jumps, whirling towards the sound. "It's the men from the bar."
"I think you're right," says another one, shrugging as he saunters forward from the other side this time, and now Lancelot can see the figures clearly as they approach. There are five men, spread out around them, and he is sure they are the same group from the corner table in the bar. Why did he insist they go in there again?
It clearly wasn't his most defining moment.
"Fellas, fellas," Lancelot says, trying to chuckle, but his adolescent voice comes out too high, "I think you have us mistaken for someone else. There's definitely no way we know each other. So, uh, if it's alright with you, we're just going to get on our horses and be on our way."
The men give a harsh round of laughter, like he just sprouted a good joke. "We took your horses," the first one grinds out, and they step closer. "We'll be taking that sword too, and any other little valuables you boys have on yourselves."
He can see from the corner of his eye as Tristan slides off of Cabal's back, Elizabeth still held tightly in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder, and his back tenses. None of the men seem too worried about the giant growling three headed guard dog, which has Lancelot cursing like his father in his head. "Well, yea, I don't think so," Lancelot answers mildly, eyeing Tristan. "Look, If ya know what's good for you, you'll leave us be." The men make no move, so Lancelot puts a hand on his hip in exasperation, rolling his eyes skywards. "Really? I'm telling you, you don't want to do this-"
"Sir Meliodas?" Elizabeth tired voice draws everyone's attention, her soft gentle whisper cutting through the group, and Lancelot grits his teeth as one takes a few steps forward. "Well would you look at that," he says. "You boys have tired this girl right out!"
There is another round of laughter that makes Lancelot's skin crawl and his hair stand on end. "Don't worry, we'll take her off your hands too." Another man laughs, making a lewd movement with his tongue towards his aunt, and there is the soft sound of multiple weapons being drawn as a low, deep growl starts at the base of Cabal's throats.
"Over my dead body," Tristan says threateningly.
From up ahead, one of the men approaching rapidly yells, "That can be arranged!" Lancelot sees a weapon being swung at him through the dim light, and he shoots out his hand on instinct as he ducks, Cabal disappearing in a bright snap as the Spirit Spear flashes before his hand. He swings it around, blocking the sword just in time, and a spark of green magic erupts from where the two clang together. The man looks down at him in shock as the larger spear vibrates under the muscles in his arms, before he pushes it off, the spear still solid in Lancelot's grasp.
"This one thinks he's a Holy Knight with his oversized spear!" the man laughs. He steps back, brandishing his curved sword around for a moment, and Lancelot lets Arondight go, the spear hovering beside him as it twirls around theatrically, but listening. "Here's a lesson for you," he continues with a grin. "Holy Knights aren't the only ones with powers, you know." He sneers as he raises his sword and calls, "Sonic Roar!"
Lancelot can only yelp in surprise shock as he crashes backwards, Arondight sailing overhead as a wave of overwhelming energy knocks into him and slams him into the ground, rock and dirt flying up around him. His ears seem to explode with the sound of the attack, pain racing up his temples and for a dizzying moment, everything is muffled and ringing. "That- ow- really hurt," he coughs, rolling his neck carefully to look around as he slowly tries to get up. His spear jerks itself out of the ground before swirling off the dust somewhere off in the distance, and he sees Tristan behind him, coughing and covering Elizabeth with his body, also struggling to get to his feet as a dust cloud dissipates around them.
The men are now approaching, laughing and cheering as Lancelot forces himself to move, sticking his hand out for Arondight again. And not a moment too soon; there is another swipe of the sword, another sonic blast that rockets dirt and chunks of earth up around them, but this time Lancelot has Arondight pressed to the knuckles of his fist, now in the form of a huge metal shield that blocks the three of them from the magic attack.
It strikes the metal of the shield like a gong, the weapon vibrating so hard that the roar of the technique echoes for miles, the air forced back, and everyone quickly covers their ears with agonized screams as the air shakes.
Lancelot huffs, wincing as his arms shake from the amount of magic he's had to throw around in such a limited time, but he keeps his eyes trained on controlling his sacred weapon, "Are you alright?" he calls over his shoulder to Tristan. When there is no answer, he dares a look behind, and his eyes widen at what he sees.
His friend is standing slowly, drawing his sword from its sheath, but his head is bowed limply to the ground at an awkward angle. Elizabeth lays unmoving by his feet, but Tristan just steps over her, walking forward and past where Lancelot is crouched. "Hey!" he shouts, reaching out to try to grab him. "What the hell are ya doing?" he yells around the shield that Tristan doesn't hesitate to go around.
Tristan shakes him off, his face blank. "Stay back," he doesn't so much as warns, as simply tells him to and Lancelot drops his arm, backing up a few steps. He has never heard that voice come out of him before, and the sound of it sends a chill down his spine as he looks on with wide eyes.
Quickly he gets to the queen, pulling her up with one arm and trying to drag her out of the road as gently as he can, his shield covering the both of them, and when she moans and clings to him, Lancelot curses under his breath. "Aunt Elizabeth," he whispers through his teeth. "Are you awake?"
She begins to rouse, her forehead scrunching up before her eyes blink slowly open, still dazed even as she brings a hand up to her head. "What- what happened?" she groans, her voice hoarse, and her fingers darts down to hold her throat.
"You- I don't know, you collapsed or something again," he says, trying to be reassuring, and he rubs her shoulder gently as she shakes her head, even patting the top of her hair nervously as he glances behind his back. "Do you feel alright? Are ya hurt?"
"No, no," she says softly, and then looks around. After a moment she finally spots Tristan, even as Lancelot tries to hide her view, approaching the men, and she gasps. "What is he doing?" she croaks, sitting up fully.
"No idea," Lancelot mutters back, keeping a firm hand on her shoulder to keep her put.
Wind is whipping around Tristan now, his head still tilted at a wrong angle downwards, and his hand grips the sword tightly by his side. He flips his wrist as he approaches them, dark flames begin to dance along the blade, even darker than the surrounding night, and Lancelot sucks in a breath. "This is bad," he whispers to no one in particular. "This is bad. Bad bad bad bad."
"What's happening to him?" Elizabeth cries out. The flames move from the tip of his sword, down the length of the blade, and now lick along his arm to his shoulder. They watch as Tristan raises the sword out in front of him, and the flames shoot down both arms. His back is bent weirdly, his shoulders rigid, and he stands unmoving, not even looking at the men surrounding them.
Lancelot shakes his head. "I don't know," he tells her. "His ability is called Strike, and I've seen him use it loads of times, and I've seen the flames on a small scale, sure, but this…" His voice fades away with another flash of the flames licking by his arms, almost like a living snake through the air. "I've never seen this before."
Elizabeth looks on for a moment more, noticing how the black flames move in a way both like fire but drips like ink, and suddenly another time springs to her mind; where the sun is still up and they are still at Vaizel, where it's just as desperate, her sister screaming and the explosions, and it isn't Tristan standing there with silver hair and a sword and the uncontrolled demonic power, but it is blonde hair...
"He looks like…" Suddenly Elizabeth is gripping Lancelot's shirt, and he looks back sharply at her. "You have to stop him," she urges him, trying to stand. "You have to stop him before he does something terrible."
Lancelot looks at her strangely, before he nods. He stands and starts towards Tristan, holding his arm up to shield his face from the increasing winds that are wrapping around him. "Tristan!" he calls. "What are you doing?"
He can hear the men shouting at him, taunting him even as he draws forth his power. Are these guys stupid? Lancelot wonders, cursing left right and sideways in his head, and quickly darts his eyes among them. Two of the five have power levels he can sense, and could have probably been Holy Knights if they had the inclination, but the others must think they'll be protected. Hawk was stronger than them.
"Be a good boy and hand over the sword," the one who had attacked them shouts, standing smugly in the middle of his men. "If you do, maybe we'll let you all go."
"Yeah!" yells another one. "I'm gonna pick my teeth with it!"
The others laugh, cackling hotly and Lancelot just shakes his head. "Come on, Tristan," he calls, ducking under a wave of wind that almost whips him back a few steps. "Three of them are just regular humans! They're a bunch of idiots!"
"Come on, boy," hollars the first one again, stepping forward and he is no longer smiling, raising his sword again. "Put the sword down, and we'll take it easy on you. We'll take it easy on your girl, too."
Two of the men start to approach, and Tristan twists his sword in the air, the flames flicking at the edges, "Stop!" Lancelot calls. "You don't have to do this! The hell man, knock it off!"
Tristan finally gives a growl, the sound barely recognizable even as his face stays mostly blank, his lips parted slightly. "Get out of here, Lancelot," he says, his eyes an inky black. "I don't want to hurt you."
Helplessly, Lancelot looks around. He doesn't want to get in front of this attack- he can only imagine what a half-demon pissed off Holy Knight will do, looking like that- but he can't just let him take out these men. The Tristan he knows will regret this forever. He needs to stop him, now.
Taking several steps back, Lancelot holds out his hand and swallows. "Spirit Spear Arondight-!"
"Massive Strike." Tristan calls, and Lancelot falters in his own command. He had never heard of this attack before, and he watches in horror as Tristan gives one swipe of his sword, the blade arching through the air. He starts to shout at him to stop, but a split second later the flames shoot forward, ripping apart the air and ground and shattering forward into five perfect blades, angled just right to hit all the men at once, followed by an explosion of white.