Chapter Four: A Beacon
I sip my tea, shoulders hunched and staring out at the wisp of clouds stretching across the pale blue sky. My chest is hollow, the warmth in my tummy from the tea the only pleasant feeling inside me. The low timbre of his voice is nice, it's calming and I lazily turn, finding I can't meet his eyes. My gaze won't move beyond the curve of his jaw and it drops to the junction of his shoulder. I nod, not having caught what he is explaining.
He brought us a few strawberry jam tarts to share. He'd remembered, from our last meeting, that he'd bring me something sweet from his clan. I force myself to chew and swallow but it feels like stones in my hard stomach. Everything I've eaten today has tasted like ash and with all my wishing to experience the glistening treats, it had been the same for these as well.
Jelamet's vocal tones, rough with age, answer but in the middle of her reply, a coughing fit interrupts her. I frown feeling my eyes prick as she struggles with her breathing. She hits her chest as if restarting her lungs and after a moment there is a deep inhale from her. I rise, embarrassingly clanging my dishes together as my hands shake. Jelamet has accompanied us on the balcony today, standing by the railing. She'd been reprimanded, loudly, days ago for allowing me to be alone with my friend.
When I reach her at the railing I support her, guiding her to take my chair before Sir Meliodas. I move her shaking hands to take my cup and she smiles warmly, speaking, but I press the cup to her lips. The steam helps her lungs and she breathes it in. Her other hand touches my face and I feel my chin quiver, growing overwhelmed.
With both seats now taken, I walk to where Jelamet used to be standing and grip the railing to lean out over the greenery below to feel the wind a fraction sooner. I haven't dressed up today but Sir Meliodas had. He's in pressed slacks, button up shirt and when he arrived I felt lacking, dull. As if all my shine has been stolen out from under me. A jewel turned to a pebble.
He'd stared like he had the first time. Even now, with my back to him, I feel his gaze on me. I can't focus but I apologized before we even greeted one another that I am out of sorts today and won't be good company. Blankly he'd told me, "I'd still like to be here with you." So here we are.
When the wind picks up, I can't resist and I bloom my wings. I hear a deep inhale behind me, knowing it isn't Jelamet as her lungs can't handle such abuse. Quickly, I rise, stepping up to the railing and I dismiss them to vanish in a blink. If I wasn't being watched I would have enjoyed the wind through my wings a moment longer, so I could pretend to fly. Of all the rules, I think it's cruelest that I can't fly without Ludociel, Tarmiel, or Sariel. As if I am brave enough to demand time from any of them...
His voice calls out to me and I turn until my gaze meets his shoulder, folding into a seat to position myself on the railing. I don't understand what he says, the tone light and admiring but the words don't process. As if he is speaking another language and I wish I were different, that I had Mead's bravery in the face of certain defeat or Sir Meliodas' self-assurance. I slowly apologize, my hands shaking to clench together over my collarbone.
Jelamet does the talking while my dress dances around my ankles from the breeze. I do feel better. Being around people and hearing the tones of speaking is enough to lift me into a gentle stillness rather than my stifling one. I am bad company, bringing the two people I have remaining in my life that want to be in my presence, down.
Too soon the tea is gone and Sir Meliodas prolongs his stay much longer than the last time. I steal a glance, looking at the side of his face and I shy back when he is drawn to my gaze. Is he... being kind, sticking around while I succumb to myself? I look at the sky again. In the extra hour of stalling our parting, the clouds grow dark and a light mist of rain starts. I reach forward, catching what I can of the rain, cool on my skin. My feet kick out, toes spreading and I hear the glide of a chair push back from the table.
The smooth, unlabored movements indicate who is coming over and I smile at the gray around me.
He doesn't say a word, his hands grip the railing and in a smooth 'hup' of a jump, he sits at my side a foot between us. In slow motion, he extends his hand to catch the drizzle on his digits too. Sir Meliodas looks at the view, then the greenery and then down farther to the path inside the shrubbery hidden from peering eyes on either side.
"Elizabeth?" His voice is slick oil sliding through me and I meet his eyes for the first time today. Shining emeralds lighten as his lips tip up. I know what he will ask, a standard version of 'what's wrong'. He draws his wet hand back and when he opens his mouth I close my eyes, not wanting to see him say it because I can't explain it. After what happened with Mead, with my father stripping more of my freedoms away, I am having a hard time adjusting to the new desolation inside. I hadn't been in bed with another guy while betrothed... "Would you like to take a walk with me?"
I jolt in surprise, eyes widening as I see his face has blanked.
"I can't leave," I tell him, just above a whisper.
"Yeah, I pieced it together." He admits. "I did wonder over the years why you never appeared at any of the royal events. I'm guessing you were not actually ill that often?" I stare, no longer surprised that my father kept something else from me. I shake my head no, slowly and I notice dark flecks in his green orbs, his pupils growing wider. "Well, I'm glad for that." He quips, "but I meant a walk down there." He points to the path I used to walk as a child when I thought I was being so naughty.
When I break from his gaze, a few breaths later I find Jelamet's face to ask permission with my expression. She's relaxed, a strawberry treat in her hand. "There you are dear, we've missed you." I flush at her words, easing as her smile is kind. "Go on. I'll swear to my dying breath you were both on this balcony with me the entire visit, doubly so if you're caught." The old bitty shoves the whole cookie in her mouth and I laugh, looking to Sir Meliodas to share in the joke but he's already staring at me, looking startled.
He shakes his head, rising to stand on the stone railing and walks to the end, over the gap of grass there. He's graceful, walking off into the air and falling to the earth silently. I follow, walking along the railing as he had. I hold my dress in place at my thighs but it flaps around my knees anyway. I look down at him.
"I'll catch you." Sir Meliodas calls out, hand up toward me but I smile while spreading my wings from the ethereal and lowering myself down with ease. He doesn't drop his hand and I feel obligated to take it when it's within my reach, so... I do. My skin glides against his and he stills, skipping a breath before his fingers curve around mine to 'help me' to the ground. He's warm and rough, his hands are used to labor in spite of being royalty. No, not labor, it would be the fighting he partakes in.
Mead had called it 'underground'.
His touch awakens me. My haze clears and I curse myself for slipping so far into the dark that I couldn't enjoy the one thing I had to look forward too. Company. Tea with Meliodas is the only thing I have left to break up the monotony. His grip is loose and I slip out from his hand to clasp my own together over my core to start our walk.
The drizzle is cool, clinging pinpoints of liquid over the two of us. "Would you like my overcoat?" He asks. He had dressed up nice for our tea date and I flush, shaking my head no.
"Thank you though. I'm sorry about today. I was stuck in my own head." I explain and he brushes it off.
"If you want to talk about it, I'm here." He answers and I find it to be perfect. He doesn't push, offers and leaves it as it is. Our walk is wet but his breathing is steady and he jumps up to look into the windows of the first floor when we pass them. The pair of us are not tall enough to see in, a large stone foundation to our side and bushes on the other. We're over half way around when he asks, "Which packages have you opened so far?"
"I've been doing one a day, to have something to look forward to," I confess to him, watching his relaxation blank into his zero-expression. "Yesterday, I opened the mask with the feathers. The day before that it was a pressed leaf from the fairy tree- I really liked that one, even dried it was beautiful." My favorite is still the tiny white bloom, so simple in its appeal.
"Would you like to see the great fairy tree yourself?" He asks and I stop, that crack of hope renewing.
"Yeah," I answer, breathy and I stare into him hopefully. Will he... save me from my prison? Not from the pan into the fire but- to fly free and see the world?
"I'll see what I can do." He speaks and when he starts to walk on I reach for him, my hand grazing his hard bicep. I want to tell him to take me anywhere away from here and I'll be happy. Sir Meliodas stops, looking over to me quickly as if he can't believe I'd touched him and as my hand falls away, his face zeros out again.
"Sorry." I mutter, changing my mind about telling him. I shiver, not at all from the cold, before walking on. For my own sanity, I need to be content where I am. We walk on a while until we near a full circuit of the castle, Margaret's balcony coming into view ahead. "I heard of your fight, from Mead." I muse to start up talk again and Meliodas chuckles.
"I like that kid." He answers.
"What information did you try to buy from him?" I ask and his laugh grows deeper, more open and I peek to see his Adam's apple bob and his mouth twist in actual expression.
"That little..." He grumbles good-humored as he looks off, eyes dancing. "I suppose he did say he 'might keep quiet' if I shared my winnings, I should have guessed he'd out me." Sir Meliodas never answers my question, instead offering to jump me up to the balcony, opening his arms as if hoping I'd climb in them. His hair is matted down from the rain, his coat sticking to him.
I am not much better, but having walked on the inside I haven't gotten as wet. My dress clings but it had been snug to begin with. The wind blows, tickling my hair and making the misting rain feel colder than it truly is. I fly up, over him, reaching for the railing as I spin over the edge to land on my feet. He stays below looking up as if stunned, eyes wide and jaw slack.
"What?" I call down, confused and he scratches at his head, shrugging before I step back when he crouches low. A moment later he's beside me, landing silently on the tips of his toes. He smiles, his sharp canines coming into view.
Jelamet walks Sir Meliodas out with me. She takes his arm when he offers to help her and he is patient with her pace, seeming to have all the time in the world for her. When we reach the heavy double doors, he opens it for us and Jelamet stays on the landing while I see Sir Meliodas to the fence. On our way in the front gardens, I ask if he wants another tea date, giving him a date two weeks away. He agrees, not having to check his schedule and I hope he knows where he needs to be well enough in advance. He does have obligations.
"Goodbye, Sir Meliodas," I rasp, feeling strong enough to face the next few days alone with myself. I close the fence between us.
For the next three visits, he comes, slowly drinks all of the tea with me and over the month, I count Sir Meliodas as someone good in my life. My father has dinner with me every evening that he comes and I narrate some of what we talk about. Although my father is strict, there is always a reason for his rules and I can tell with each happy recounting he is growing easier with the thought of me marrying Sir Meliodas. He'd never say it, but when I repeated the joke Sir Meliodas had told me, a cheesy play on words, my father actually smiled. It was a happy moment between us, as father and daughter, as I called him out and he jokingly denied finding it funny.
My father may get mad at me for breaking his rules but he always loves me. I know, regardless of how often he forgets his appointments with me or forces me to stay indoors, we are family.
A parcel comes and Jennah delivers it to me, flush-faced and sputtering about 'orders' but I am not angry with her. The gifts were hidden at my father's insistence. I hug her, granting her peace through a soft glow, and she cries when she goes. I walk to my study where all the other parcels are to open it. Inside the package is another book since I'd enjoyed the first so much. The note says,
Elizabeth,
Is it the words that entice you or the thought of adventure? Tell me and it will fill your world.
-Meliodas.
I flush, wondering if there is a deeper side to Sir Meliodas.
I sit at my desk, pulling out a sheet of parchment and I try my best to answer his question. I ramble on in my looping scrawl handwriting for two whole pages about loving the descriptions of different places and visualizing being there. I explain how I used to be allowed in the meadow below our floating city when Jelamet had been well, that those outings gave me something to look forward to. The letter turns sad when I confess how lonely I am in the silence that follows me here. Books made me someone else, I can be brave and take down villains if I want or I can be a seductress that uses their body to trick evildoers.
In the end, it doesn't matter one iota what I write to him because I don't have Mead to send it. When I read it over and flush over the dramatic way I hint at wanting to be anyone but myself, the decision is finalized not to have it delivered. I crumple it up, abandoning it beside my Udumbara flower.
Jelamet holds steady, having great days where we dance while she teaches me to make sweet rolls layered with jam and bad ones where I stay in her room to read out loud to her grimacing face. Sir Meliodas is scheduled to come and for the first time, I tell Jennah and Zaneri that I'll be hosting in my own sitting room. Jelamet is having a bad day and I don't want her standing on the balcony, or alone, so I set her up in a chair with a warm mug, a blanket and a fire.
"Elizabeth?" He calls out, down my hall. He's early! I stand, flustered as I prop open the door and step out to show him where I am. I hadn't the time to set up the gift he'd sent, who knows how long ago, but I suppose now I can ask if he even wants to play while we take our tea. He's looking into my bedroom and I flush, hoping I have kicked my nightgown and underwear into my closet when I'd dressed for our meeting. His eyes are dancing but his face is blank as he blandly asks, "So these are your rooms?"
Meliodas is in a loose button up, no overcoat. It's white with a logo of a place I've never heard of. His slacks are loose and I notice something off about him. He dressed more relaxed than I've ever seen, but it... isn't that, is it? I frown looking Sir Meliodas over and he flushes, his cheeks pinkening as he brushes imagined dust off the front of his shirt.
"Are you... okay?" I ask, and for a blink, his mouth pops into a shocked 'o' shape. Then he's zero-faced again. He walks toward me but he stops at the door to the next room between us to open it and look in. Sir Meliodas is being nosy and I haven't cleaned! "It's only a mess because I gathered all the... well, your gifts." I flush, wishing I hadn't made that face to him while waffling between stopping his curiosity or letting him explore. He is growing more comfortable with me, I can tell because he chose to wear something less formal and I've embarrassed him. He's been so patient and kind to me so I wish I returned the favor when given the chance. Instead I feel like I've blown it.
"I knew I sent too much but seeing it all piled like that... I did go overboard, huh?" Sir Meliodas scratches his head, leaving the room to come toward me. I step back, giving him a clear way through the entrance but he stops before me, eyes light. "I'm glad to see you again." He whispers, face neutral but I grow warm hoping he means it in more ways than just a greeting.
"Me too, Sir Meliodas," I reply softly, and he nods in acknowledgment before going into my sitting room. He gives Jelamet a similar greeting with a side wave and my heart gives a small skip. Why am I... let down? Do I want Sir Meliodas to have feelings for me? It doesn't seem like this demon has many feelings. I want him to be as kind to Jelamet as he is to me, but I must want something special from him. My own intimate greeting, one he doesn't give to others? He calls my name and I realize I am foolishly still in the hall.
Scrambling, I fuss over my arranged table with the tea, pouring him his no-sugar, no-milk, no-honey tea and fix myself a cup. Jelamet gets a top off and when I return Meliodas has taken a seat. I look out into the sky. "The flying fish have been migrating. If you watch, we may see a school of them." I tell Meliodas to fill the silence but he doesn't look away from me.
Before I sit, I grab the box on the couch, showing Sir Meliodas the wooden front of it, engraved with checker squares of light and dark over a dragon wrapped around a castle. "I opened this one a few days ago and thought you'd like to break it in with me?" Immediately his lips give a small tip up and he turns to the table to move things from the center of it so there is room for our game board.
I had broken the seal to see what had been inside but I haven't removed the pieces from their soft molds. Gently, I set the box down, unhooking the clasp to lift the lid. On my side are the white stone pieces, carved and etched in such detail it still takes my breath away and I've looked at them every day since I've opened it. Each piece has its own tiny dragon. The queen had a golden razorback dragon on top, roaring; the king a silver horn at the base, sleeping. The bishops are wrapped around it as if the red fire dragon is climbing the base with wings extended looking a moment from flight. The pawns are tiny wyverns with gaping maws. I could stare for hours but Sir Meliodas moves to start taking his pieces out so I break my stare to spin the board, so the black, onyx stone carvings are on my side.
I meet his gaze with intent. "Being dark just means they're someone that shouldn't be taken lightly." I wonder if he understands this will be the only warning he receives as I already have a strategy, and based on this I will make a final assessment of him. Sir Meliodas thinks about it, tilting his head to the side and I flush, realizing he had dark magic, opposite my own light, and it could apply in that way too. "I meant... well sometimes the dark can be very appealing," I whisper my confession, breaking my eyes from his to start removing my game pieces.
After a few breaths, he does the same, saying softly. "I find white to be utterly endearing, a shining beacon." Sir Meliodas speaks but I don't dare look, shaking as I pry the next dragon, a blue razortail knight piece with a faceless rider on its back, from it's mold. When all the slots are empty we silently flip the board and fill in our pieces to begin.
And we do.
We are feeling one another out, I can tell we both are playing tentatively. Occasionally, either of us will stop to sip our tea and I find this silence to be enjoyable. I smile when he makes a bold move and I admire his mind. He may have a low emotional range but his brain is full of surprises. I can sustain on that if he can challenge me mentally. We meet piece for piece, only sacrificing minor players until, with a long sip of my tea, I reconsider what I am trying to accomplish. I think, 'with all his self assured confidence, would he be a boastful winner?' So, I shift my tentative aggression into openings to allow him to win.
It is more important to find out what type of man Sir Meliodas is than to prove I can win. My first opening, he passes up and I look at him, he's already looking at me so it's easy to catch his eye whenever I choose to. Of course, I can't read him. I don't look again, leaning into the table. As we play for the next twenty minutes, where it's just hard enough to meet piece for piece, the gears click in place. He's... letting me win. He's playing at what he believes my skill level is. Oh, what a naive man.
Then it becomes fun, rather than playing to win we are both trying to lose and the strategies take a turn. I pass up easier and easier openings and our game turns into a dance of teasing the other into taking bigger prizes. After the third lure I set, Meliodas leans forward, elbows on the table in attention. "You're trying to lose."
"Hm?" I smile deviously at him and his lips part with his sharp inhale. "I figured that same thing about you, fifteen minutes ago." His responding grin meets me where I'm at and the game shifts again to try and force the other into moves that take pieces. The difficulty rises and rises. When both of us are setting our traps he stops and leans back with his tea to look at me. I feel his eyes on me and when I raise my orbs to his, he speaks.
"Your mind is a delight to behold, Elizabeth." Sir Meliodas says assured as if he knew it all along and now that his suspicions are confirmed, he is simply reminding himself 'I told you so' in his compliment to me. I open my mouth to tell him how thrilled I am he isn't a witless dummy but another, older scratching voice fills the room. Her pride shining through in her words.
"Imagine what she's capable of out in the world. When she's raising nations from nothing-"
"Jelamet..." I complain, shifting uncomfortably with another compliment to my person. I fold my hands in my lap and push the cuticles back on my nails. We abandon our game, both not interested in winning and finishing our tea as we marvel at the details of the shining scales of each dragon. Sir Meliodas points out the window. "A school of Flying Fish," he draws my attention. We watch them fly through the clouds, arching and gleaming in the sun.
Our time seems to pass quickly today. Already it is nearing lunchtime with the sun high in the sky and Sir Meliodas has prolonged his time long enough. He helps Jelamet up as we begin our walk through the castle when I notice he's being overly gentle. His face blanks but nose flares and I realize in a rush. "You're hurt." Sir Meliodas turns to me in surprise and Jelamet looks him over with furrowed brows, concerned. "You fought recently and you came anyway. When you needed rest to recover."
Slowly, he scratches the back of his head, elbow up to the sky as he winces at my words, me having figured it out. "I lost." He admits in a way that explains why he hasn't said anything. Sir Meliodas hadn't wanted to tell me?
"That doesn't matter so much." I smile reassuringly and his mouth parts again in exhale, his palm dropping from his head as if the shock slacks his grip. "Would you... if you want... I can heal you?" I stumble with my words but step toward him steadily, a foot away, and we stare for a moment as he considers my offer. How many times in the history of our world has a goddess healed a demon for comfort, as obviously, he will survive?
"Yeah." Meliodas breathes and under his intense stare, I grow uncomfortable. Jelamet excuses herself and our stare remains unbroken while she hobbles out and I jump when she softly clicks the door shut behind herself. With effort, I fight my own apprehensions, raising my hand up between our chests and I'm not sure where to touch him. He's looking at me, blank-faced but it's like his eyes are asking me something and I fight to keep eye contact until I can't. I frown, sighing as I look away, defeated again by my own deficiencies and doubts.
"Close your eyes," I request of him, pleading softly. "When you stare at me like that I... just, close them." He doesn't give me any indication of whether he's complied and I shift my weight nervously from one foot to the other. My hand between us covering my chest and I turn to look at him through my hair. His eyes are shut and he looks at ease, breathing steadily before me.
Not his chest, that seems too intimate... as did his hands. His face maybe? Would that be invasive? If I were in his place, where would I want to be healed that's not awkward? I look my fill of him, more comfortable doing so without his roaming gaze on me and I bring my hand forward again, between us. I bite my lip noting his dependable, silent patience.
My fingers rose higher, to hover over his face and I brush the tips of them over his forehead, easing them forward and up into his hairline as my palm rests over his brow. His hair is soft and parts like silk in water. He's warm like heated blankets and his skin is smooth like worn, eroded stones under a rushing stream. Sir Meliodas stills at first contact, a statue and I hope it isn't tension or fear of my magic that makes him react this way. He's not even breathing.
"Don't worry," I whisper as I close my eyes for fairness. My glow spreads, at first contact his lungs restart in a solid, quick inhale. I can tell he closed his wounds superficially. It is an upper-level demon trait, to be able to seal wounds with your darkness. I knit him up, from top to bottom. The slices on his face, the chunk out of his arm and it is all regular fighting wounds of blunt force until my magic reaches his core. I gasp, both our eyes opening, his in content warmth as if he is in the midst of a bath but mine in alarm.
He has a hole as if a fist went through his stomach. My other hand tentatively presses to the flesh over his shirt and the wound. He exhales at the contact when I focus that hand to connect the muscles and fill in the hole with him again. As soon as he is healed and the last of the veins reconnect, I pull away. He's stone-still, staying in the position with his head tilted a little back, stance relaxed but rooted and his lips are a sliver apart.
Will his lips be smooth, like a gentle soft press or a hard frenzied touch like the muscles I've just touched on the inside of him? At the thought, I squeak, drawing his attention and my hands flail as I turn, mortified and red-faced going into the hall. Jelamet laughs heartily and deeply with one look at me. I am quiet at our goodbye, he thanks me for fixing him up with liquid swirling in his eyes. He isn't blank but just above it as he is relaxed without any emotion expressing.
"When will I see you again?" He asks, "Name the day." I flush, tentatively looking at him and uttering the date, a little sooner than usual. Ten days away, rather than fourteen. "I'll see you then, Elizabeth."
"Goodbye Meliodas." He strolls away and I stay at the fence, watching him walk down the street. Some goddesses clear out of his way, while others are accepting of our mixed world not caring who or what is walking in their city. Before he has to change course toward the exit, in the distance, he turns back to look at the castle and he finds me. His arm rises up, overhead waving at me and slowly, I give one in return. We stand there, looking until another school of flying fish frolic across the sky. I point and he looks up, without his gaze pinning me in place, I leave him to go.
I like him.