A/N: I updated this story just this week and realized I had never published chapter 6, so I'm doing both now. It's been well over a year but with the new sequel I've been revisiting NnT again. Hopefully this story will be done shortly, and more stories coming soon.

They tell me stories of you;
the blood of the goddess you carry in your veins
the prophecy deemed by the gods above
you carry in your name...

i can only hope that time will wait for us (it won't).
This ache in my chest won't go away
as i watch you march towards your death
spear in hand and your
aching heart inside your chest,
don't you see how death looms above you?

They say you won't live to see old age

Lover, our time as come.
we will never be brighter than we are now,
our youth and love is all we will ever have.
We will never be here again.

—V.S.

The day of the battle, Arthur takes only tea. He hates to fight on a full stomach, wanting his every thought on movement and magic. Once he had to move into action after a large dinner and ended up sick everywhere. He had learned his lesson then. Arthur is good at learning lessons.

"You don't have to do this," Zeldris says behind him.

Arthur sets the teacup down. "I need to see this finished."

"This isn't going to work. You're going to—"

"I know, Zeldris." Arthur sighs with a slight smile. He traces his finger along the river on the map before him, tapping one spot. "Do you suppose this is the best place for the rear guard?"

"We can leave. The two of us. I can make you safe."

Arthur tilts his head. "Maybe not. I don't think Escanor has ships."

Zeldris' fist bangs on the table, startling him. Arthur looks up in surprise to see Zeldris leaning over him, his eyes pleading. "You're not listening."

"No," Arthur says slowly. "You're the one not listening. You're my second-in-command, and you're not helping me at all."

"How can you be talking like this? We need to go. Now."

Arthur scowls. "And then what, Zeldris? So you stash me on an island and return to the Underworld? Leaving me to rot away in the sun?"

"No, not like that—"

"Perhaps I should leave my people to Escanor then, hm?" Arthur waves his hand about. "Forget all this king business, a free and united Britannia? I'll just leave tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands of lives up to the will of Escanor and Merlin. Allow the god of shadows to shroud the world in darkness forever?"

Zeldris' face goes cold, and Arthur sighs. "Leaving isn't an option. And besides, I don't want to leave. I need to see this through. This is my fate, my destiny. I need to take my rightful place as king."

"Screw destiny," Zeldris snaps, turning to kick over the chair. "Screw fate. Screw all of it! I don't care about people or Britannia—"

"But I do," Arthur says simply.

Zeldris looks away, and the flash of pain on his face makes his lungs ache. It is all still raw, their confession and their fight, the forgiveness that hurt almost worse afterwards. Arthur had always hoped to find love, but like this? At this cost?

He watches Zeldris run a hand through his hair, and it hardens his resolve. Their pain is the fault of the gods. Arthur will see men take control of Britannia and dash the gods into the ground.

"I can't go with you," Zeldris whispers.

The words now spoken aloud, Arthur is surprised by how much they still sting, even though he had known all along. "My brother expected me back a day and a half ago," Zeldris chokes out. "If I'm not back by nightfall…"

"I know," he replies quietly. "That's why I'm ordering you to leave."

Zeldris turns with a furious gasp. "What? You want me gone?"

"No, I don't want you gone," Arthur laughs. "I want to spend the days drinking wine and lying in the sun and making love between meals that consist of cake and jam. But that isn't my fate, is it? My fate is to be killed by your hand." He nods to Zeldris, who takes a step back, as if slapped. "So you leave. Don't give fate such an opportunity."

"I wouldn't kill you," Zeldris insists.

Arthur chuckles again. "Then don't let that rotten bitch win."

Zeldris looks unconvinced, so Arthur rises and moves to stand before him. He places his hands on the demon's arms, rubbing them soothingly as he tries to catch his gaze. "You say I am fated to die, but you have forgotten something else. I'm also fated to bring in the age of men. I will bring light to Britannia. I can't die until I do that."

"It doesn't have to be this way."

Arthur presses his palms to his face and tilts Zeldris' head back. He looks at him pointedly before leaning in to press their lips together, and to his relief, Zeldris returns the kiss without hesitation. "I have Excalibur," he whispers. "A sword that can kill a god. I will take care of Escanor. I will take care of Merlin if I have to. I will deliver men from the influence of all the gods." He smiles as he strokes Zeldris' cheeks. "Maybe once I do that, I'll be out from under all this fate nonsense, hm?"

Outside, a horn blares, and they both look to the door. "Come help me dress," Arthur says, pulling on his hand.

They take as much time as they can afford. Arthur washes first, splashing some water playfully at Zeldris, who huffs good-naturedly. Then he pulls on his clothes: first the underthings, the leggings and tunic, before Zeldris helps him with his armor. It shines bright gold, picking up the little flecks of sunlight that escape into the tent. Usually it feels good to put it on, and makes Arthur feel powerful. Today it only feels like a heavy burden.

Zeldris kneels to attach the greaves, and Arthur makes a joke about him finally taking a knee for this king. To his delight, Zeldris laughs, and a small smile remains on the demon's face as he snaps the breastplate in place before helping him slide on the arm pieces. Then the gauntlets, Arthur's least favorite thing to wear, and he flexes his fingers uncomfortably as he jokes, "You should feel lucky you don't have to put on all this nonsense."

"But it does make you look handsome," Zeldris says.

"Zeldris! Did you just pay me a compliment?" He laughs as the demon blushes, and Arthur reaches out to tug him closer. "Now I really can't die. You've already slayed me with your charm."

"Stop," complains Zeldris, but he shares in the laugh.

They kiss again before Arthur takes his helmet. But this time, it doesn't feel desperate. Zeldris slides his arms around him as their kiss deepens, and Arthur feels confidence bloom in his chest. He is going to survive this, for them. For the first time since his confession, their kiss does not feel like the last time.

"We will see one another again," Zeldris says against his lips. "In this world or another."

"Don't be so glum," Arthur replies. "I'll be fine. You'll see."

Arthur takes Excalibur and exits the tent. His mount is waiting, and he leads the army he has amassed, more than twenty thousand men strong, towards Escanor's castle.

They are ready for them, of course. Arthur's men have cleared the forest leading up to the castle to allow for the fighting, and he can see that Escanor's army has prepared the defenses with raised spikes in the ground and archers on the towers. Quickly the Britannian army gets into position, and before the morning is out the battle begins.

Their strategy is slow and methodical. Arthur had spent every waking moment not wrapped around Zeldris studying the plans with his generals. They had come so far, he was determined not to stumble now at the finish. "I want as little risk as possible," he had commanded. "No surprises. No unnecessary loss of life. Escanor has nowhere to run, so we will use time to our advantage."

He looks up at the sky as the fighting continues. The sun is nearly at noon, and he remembers the story of Helios, who rode a chariot of fire across the sky every day. Arthur wonders if the story is true; up until three days ago, he would have scoffed at a god of the day, dismissing it as nothing more than a tale for children. But if the Underworld exists, surely the others must as well?

"King Arthur!" A page runs up and bows. "Lord Escanor is leading his charge. Their men are weak and not even a third of our number."

Arthur smiles. "We advance. For Britannia!"

Like the king he is, the king he is born to be, Arthur leads his men to their destiny. Sword and shield clash in the bright sun, sweat and blood drain onto the grass. Arthur gives a prayer for the dying as he makes his way through the throng, until he comes face-to-face with Escanor himself.

As if the armies know, they part for the two, human and god. Arthur smiles as he draws Excalibur, and Escanor's moustache twitches as if impressed. "You wield a sword of great power," he says in compliment.

"I know what you are," Arthur says. "I know you are not Escanor."

Escanor shrugs. "It makes no difference."

"It does to me!" Fury bites at him as he settles into his stance. "You want to be a king of men, but you are no man. I am Arthur Pendragon, rightful king and light-bringer, and I will not allow you to shroud Britannia in darkness!"

"Darkness? I am the light."

Arthur's eyes go wide as Escanor changes. His body grows larger, almost grotesque, his height over seven feet tall and his chest and arms and legs bulging with inflated muscle. "I am light itself," Escanor says. His voice is sharp and makes Arthur's teeth ache, and in the corner of his eye he sees that men on both sides have stopped fighting to gape in awe. "I will not allow the darkness to fall."

"No," Arthur breathes. "No, this can't be—"

"I am Belios, god of light," Escanor says. "Would you kill me now, Arthur Pendragon? Will you use your sword of magic to bring death to the sun itself?" He laughs, and it echoes over the field. "Kill me then, if you must. My brother Belialuin will thank you."

Belialuin? Arthur trembles in horror as the old stories of childhood flood back. The god of shadows, his name is whispered among children and old women, a scary story that lurks under beds and in the deepest part of night. If he kills Belios, then nothing will stop Belialuin. Without light, the shadows will flourish.

He blinks away tears, facing Escanor with a pit inside of him. What is he to do?

Then his thoughts go to Zeldris. Zeldris of Piety, who punishes those who defy the gods. Arthur looks down at Excalibur, and he is suddenly so angry. "No," he says. "I am king. I am the deliverer of men."

He raises his flashing eyes to Escanor. "I will escape my fate. The gods do not have any claim on me. I renounce the gods! Now the age of men will begin!"

Arthur raises Excalibur and plunges it into his chest. The sword goes clean through, and it is with some satisfaction that he sees the shock on Escanor's face a moment before he collapses on the ground. He rolls to his back and gazes upwards at the sun on its journey across the sky.

Meliodas finds Zeldris sitting on the edge of the bed he briefly shared with the king. Zeldris does not bother to lift his chin to greet him, his elbows on his knees with his head bowed. "I am ready for your punishment," he says.

"I'm not here to judge you," Meliodas hisses sharply. "Do you really find me so heartless?"

Zeldris glances up as the king sighs. "I do have a heart now, you know," he says.

"Are you honestly making jokes?"

Meliodas huffs. "Not if you won't appreciate them."

He offers a small smile, but Zeldris looks away. It would be much better if Meliodas were cold and uncaring, raising hell itself to drive him under his boot. A compassionate Meliodas is something he had not been prepared to see.

"But it is time, Zeldris," the king says.

"I know." He winces, something piercing his chest. "It's been so long since I felt this way. Was it always so sharp?"

"Did you feel this acutely with Gelda?" asks Meliodas.

Zeldris' shoulders droop. "Gelda. My sweet love. How can she forgive me? How can I even ask?"

"I think Elizabeth would say something like, love is not to be forgiven," Meliodas offers. "But she will understand. Besides, it's over."

Nodding, Zeldris presses a palm to his chest. The feeling is still there, heavy and hot and like a knife. It may be over, and now he must carry it. But for how long?

Outside, there are voices that erupt into song. The brothers look up at the same time, and Zeldris stands as they listen. "They are celebrating," Meliodas says in confusion.

At once Zeldris is running, ignoring the call from his brother as he dashes from the tent and stumbles through the camp. Nearly everyone is gone, save some of the younger boys and the women who were left to tend the livestock and prepare for their return. In the distance he can see a swarm of men riding and walking towards the camp, and as they approach he hears their singing growing louder and louder.

It is a song of victory, and Zeldris' heart swells. Desperately he scans the crowd for the king; surely he would be at the front to lead the celebration? But then he notes the words.

The Paeon is one of victory, but it is also of the fallen king. "No," he whispers to himself, and in the center of the crowd he sees the litter being carried by the soldiers.

Zeldris stumbles backwards and knocks into Meliodas. "Come, Zeldris," he says, his hand tight on his arm. "Before you forget yourself."

"He's dead. He's dead." Zeldris turns in fury, his rage only growing when he sees pity in the king's eyes. "Escanor killed him."

"You don't know that—"

"He's dead!" Zeldris' voice booms through the camp, his powers flaring in a dark pulse. The women scream and the song falters as Zeldris tries to draw his powers back. But the drive to kill, to destroy the camp and everyone in it, to take the lives of those who failed their king, leaves him shaking and sick.

"Leave them," Meliodas orders. "Your dominion is not for sins against man."

Zeldris looks at his brother wildly. "He was killed! And for what? Because he wanted to help them, because he wanted…" His voice fades as his breathing stutters, and then a new evil boils in his mind. "Merlin. She did this."

Meliodas grits his teeth. "Perhaps she did. Return with me to the Underworld and we will figure this out. Together."

"No." He pulls from the king's grip, stepping backwards. "No. I can't return until I see him avenged."

"And where will you go?" Meliodas demands. "You've meddled too much in the fates of men. This is on your head as much as hers."

Zeldris smiles. "I will go to Belialuin and see her stopped once and for all."

His wings unfurl and Zeldris takes to the air, pleased that Meliodas does not try and stop him this time. Whether he agrees, or decides that stopping him is not worth the trouble, Zeldris can't be sure. But the wind feels good as he flies towards the realm of shadows, the cold air of the atmosphere numbing the pain in his heart.