A/N: This update actually took much longer than I originally anticipated. I wanted to get it done much sooner than I was able to (because I wanted to knock down my long ass list of WIP stories). So far my quest to finish at least ONE of my twelve-ish open stories is definitely not going well. Barely a tiny dent has been made into the mountain of work I have left.
Nevertheless, I've decided to deliver another chapter for 'Behind the Clouds'! Because I really do like taking a break from my heavier stuff to actually focus on this.
Please try to drop a review about this fic. The poor thing is feeling dreadfully lonely.
Till next time,
Drama
Chapter Nine: Royal Summons
Only once before had Elizabeth been within Meliodas' room. Even then, she had only caught a brief glimpse of it because he told her that she didn't need to bother to clean it. In his words, his room was his responsibility and she only really needed to worry about the rest of the castle. Really, the only reason why Elizabeth didn't manage to worm her way into his room was because Meliodas had locked it. Otherwise she would have cleaned it just like the other room - the forbidden library.
Now, watching as the wind blew at the long grass of Star Lake's banks, Elizabeth could see why Meliodas had kept his room safe from her clumsy hands. Bright, airy, she could almost feel like she was some place familiar - somewhere that she had known ever since she was a child. A few trinkets were scattered about the room, most likely souvenirs from all of the places that Meliodas and Zeldris had visited over the years.
Personal. Everything about Meliodas' room seemed to be extremely personal - even if you weren't Meliodas himself. So, in truth, Elizabeth would definitely feel like an intruder if he had told her to clean this room. To her, it would be wrong to meddle as it didn't even seem messy.
"I brought some warm milk," Standing at his bedside, biting into her bottom lip, Elizabeth was dying for them to go back normal. For some kind of peace to be established between them. Hours had passed since his little episode, the oozing darkness removed from the floorboards and diluted with soapy water. Nevertheless, to Elizabeth, it still felt fresh. Raw. Voice soft and gentle, she asked, "Do you want a sip?"
Shaking his head, Meliodas made his intentions clear. Clearly, he didn't want to speak to nor see her for a while, not that Elizabeth could blame him. In her attempt to be kind and do a good job, she had accidentally ruined two years of his hard work. Two years that he would most likely never get back and had almost turned to desperate lengths to retain. Meliodas had been right to be mad. Elizabeth was mad at herself for making such a foolish blunder.
So, honestly, she couldn't blame him for not even wanting to look at her. Forced to rest, Zeldris and Hawk threatening to tie him up with rope, Meliodas was bed bound. Neatly tucked in, a cool washcloth on his forehead, it looked almost like he was recovering from an intense fever instead of a self-inflicted curse.
"I'll leave it here for you then," Blushing, Elizabeth bowed as she left the milk on his bedside table. Scurrying away, she could feel the skirt of her dress tangling around her legs, and knew that she must've looked like a frightened little mouse as she made her escape. But she couldn't help it; Meliodas made her a nervous wreck whenever they were around each other. Something about his presence turned her brain to slushy mush.
Plus, like stated before, he probably wanted nothing to do with her. After messing up his work - failing at her own job - it was a miracle that Elizabeth was still allowed to hang round. Any other person would have fired her on the spot for such a huge mistake. Any other person wouldn't have cared about how she felt, wouldn't have even tolerated the idea of her living under the same roof as them for a moment longer. But Meliodas did.
At least, for now he did.
"Elizabeth," Just as she got to the door, a dainty hand resting over the brass handle, Meliodas called out to her. Tired, somewhat raspy, his voice carried the tones of a tired warrior rather than an annoyed and frustrated boss. Something about that put Elizabeth at ease, made her heart race with a different emotion than absolute panic and fear. "Wait."
Pausing at the door, daring to turn back, Elizabeth asked softly, "Do you want something?"
As she stared at the man, blue eyes wide with innocent curiosity and confusion, the young woman couldn't help but feel like she was placed under a spotlight. Bright. Harsh. Intense. Beaming right down onto her, making sweat bead on the back of her neck and edges of her hairline, Elizabeth could feel the pressure of Meliodas' stare. A stare she hadn't been under for the past few hours, saved by her cleaning duties and a whole flight of stairs.
"The Witch of the Waste is trying to find my castle," Careful with his words - almost as if he were trying not to startle her - Meliodas glanced away. Instead, he nodded toward a strange object, an obsidian jewel nestled into the centre of it. From that jewel beamed a bright light, focused on a single point within a map hung up on the wall across from the object.
Following Meliodas' gaze, Elizabeth studied the peculiar device. Hanging from the ceiling, its golden chain sparkled in the warm sunlight slipping through the window. At the gemstone's beam's end was a single location, marked with the words of the very town that she had seen the Witch's henchmen within. Vaizel - the fishing village miles away from Elizabeth's own hometown. Close to the border nearby the neighbouring country. The main site of this vicious war that seemed to be swallowing their entire country whole.
If she truly was there, if she truly was trying to find Meliodas, then the Witch of the Waste was close to obtaining her goal. Vaizel was right where the infamous man was hiding.
"I saw her henchmen at the harbour today," Sucking in a shaky breath, squeezing both of her hands together in her lap, Elizabeth forced herself to stay calm. Taking a seat on the lone chair beside Meliodas' bed, she tried to suppress the choking sensation that screamed to clamp her throat shut, "It was during the... the bombing."
"I heard about that. I should've done something..." Closing his eyes, turning away from her, Meliodas frowned. Deeply. Obvious, visible, something was weighing on his mind as he spoke, continued to explain his thoughts and theories to the young woman, "I'm such a big coward all I do is hide. And all of this magic," He gestured around the room, "Is just to keep everyone away. To keep myself hidden."
"Meliodas," Breaking his tangent, removing the arm that he had flung over his face, Elizabeth spoke to him. Head on. Certain. Calm. Concern pinched at her pretty face, pulling her brows downward and tugging her lips into a small frown. Warm, soothing, the heat from her soft hand bled into the coolness of his skin, goosebumps prickling from the sensation of her palms, "Why is the Witch of the Waste trying to hunt you down?"
From his expression alone, Elizabeth could tell that it was a long story. Long stories tended to never sit well with their narrators, a constant memory that bugged and jarred them until the day that they died. Ever since she was a young girl, Elizabeth had been taught to ignore her temptation to ask about long stories. Growing up, her mother had loathed her small questions about their past. Not much changed as Elizabeth got older either.
Yet, with Meliodas, it felt different to ask about long stories. Even though he looked pained, tortured, by the memory of those events, he didn't seem like he'd reject her request. If anything, he looked as if he were preparing to relive it all, to remember the full extent of his actions.
"We grew up together and she wanted my heart," Quiet, blunt, the man reduced himself to only a few words as he returned the arm to his face. Hiding. Staying away. He didn't want to see her face, see her reaction, to his own crimes. "So, as usual, I ran away."
Of course he did. Of course, like always, Meliodas had believed that running away would be his answer. No wonder why the Witch of the Waste was so relentless in her search for him. No wonder why she had chosen to target Elizabeth, perhaps believing that Meliodas had replaced her position with the lonely, hatter's girl. Even when Elizabeth had first met him, had walked across the sky with his hand in hers, Meliodas had ran away; he had disappeared into the crowds and left her all alone.
Maybe that was why he had chosen not to face her in that moment. Ashamed, aware, he could most likely read the judgement rolling off her in waves.
"I can't run much longer, though," Changing the course of their conversation, Meliodas released a sigh. Removing his arm from his face, he looked almost melancholic as he explained, "I need to report to the palace as both Dragon and Jenkins."
"How many aliases do you have?" An innocent question. A thoughtless, rapid question. Immediately, Elizabeth could feel the blush covering her cheeks as she stared at the wizard, her brain cursing her mouth for getting carried away - especially when she noticed the slight cringe to Meliodas' body.
"As many as I need to keep my freedom," Smooth, calm, whatever emotion he had felt Meliodas had swiftly covered it up. Smoothed over like wet concrete, like glass in a silver mirror, his face was nothing more than a reflective pool of thoughts. Gated thoughts.
"Just refuse the king's invitation," After a moment, Elizabeth broke the silence once more. To her, it was simple. Refusing the offer would be possible. Unlike other rulers, those who chose a powerful army and an iron fist, their king was a kind man who wanted to listen to his people. Young, like her, King Arthur was someone who had lived through the troubles and perils and woes of the fall of the kingdom of Danafor.
Surely, he would not wish to drive his people into fighting. Surely King Arthur would not be misguided into believing that a universal forced morale was better than a voluntary one. Wise and sensible, their king would definitely want to hear his people's thoughts on the war; he would listen to those who he asked to risk their very lives for the reputation and status of his kingdom's society and royal crown, the safety of the wider public.
However, Meliodas' situation seemed to be a lot bigger than all of those factors. Otherwise, he wouldn't have pointed toward a framed certificate on his wall, a pair of scissors piercing the string meant to hang it up. Gleaming, the frame itself seemed enchanted, shimmering with a sheen that definitely wasn't just down to metal or stones.
"That's the oath I took when I entered the royal sorcerers' academy," Solemn, resigned, Meliodas stated the fact of his reality like it was nothing more than a simple truth. An inevitable destiny. Perhaps to him it was, his entire freedom signed away on a simple slip of paper. Just like that. "I must report to the palace whenever summoned."
"You know, Meliodas," Pursing her lips, slipping into thought as she stared at his oath, the contract binding him to appear at the palace, Elizabeth hummed, "I think that you should go to see the king."
"What?"
"Give him a piece of your mind," Smiling now, the pieces clicking within her own mind, Elizabeth nodded as she formulated her own little plan. If Meliodas went to talk to the king, then he could get his point across. If he did that then he wouldn't be breaking his oath, he would still appear before the king as he was honour-bound to do. Overall, it all seemed like a win-win situation. "Tell him that this war is pointless and that you won't take part in it."
Shaking his head, Meliodas groaned, "You obviously don't know what these people are like."
"But he's our King!" Now filled with disbelief, something sharp tugging at her face, Elizabeth felt herself frowning as she balled her fists within her lap. This country was one built on the belief that all of its citizens would be heard - no matter their history nor status. King Arthur had always upheld that promise, allowed the people of his kingdom to speak against what they saw as unjust. Why would this war change that? "He must want to know what all his citizens have to say."
Fast. His reaction was so fast that Elizabeth nearly fell from her chair as Meliodas sat up, his eyes staring right into hers as a gigantic smile broke across his face. Beating rapidly, her heart was racing as she could sense the closeness of his proximity, the weight of his excitement, without even moving.
"I've got it!" Both of his hands were on her shoulders, light and yet steady, as a sudden bolt of brilliance shot through his bright green eyes, "You can go to the palace for me!"
"Me?" Breathless, definitely blushing from the weight of his hands and the depth of his stare, Elizabeth pursed her lips as she stared at the man. Swallowing slightly, trying to remain calm and not have her heart leap out of her chest, she repeated, "You want me to go to the palace instead of you?"
"Just say that you're Dragon's sister-in-law," Waving off her confusion, plans and calculations already working themselves out in his mind, Meliodas was far too nonchalant, breezy, in the face of his possible arrest. His possible change from elusive person to a wanted criminal of the royal crown. Elizabeth couldn't help but frown as he listed off his idea, "And that he's such a cowardly wizard he's too afraid to show his face. Maybe then Jenna will finally give up on me."
"But..." Pressing her lips together once more, Elizabeth attempted to protest, "Wouldn't it be risky?"
"There isn't any other option," Brushing aside the risk - a move a cowardly man would never actually make - Meliodas shook his head, "I've thought about it. Believe me, I have."
Taking in a deep breath, twisting her hands together in her lap, Elizabeth whispered, "So it's up to me?"
"It's up to you," Meliodas confirmed, nodding.
For a while, only silence sat between the two. Heavy, weighted silence that hung with the balance of the future and its possible outcomes. Nervous, uncertain, Elizabeth definitely didn't feel like she was suited for a responsibility like this. Confident, her complete opposite, Meliodas appeared to be placing his faith, his future, in her. This wasn't a decision she should take lightly. Nevertheless, Elizabeth couldn't prolong it for long either; one could only twiddle their thumbs for so long before it became uncomfortably awkward.
"Then I'll do it!" Puffing out her chest, Elizabeth stood from the chair and smiled determinedly with a confidence she had rarely possessed throughout her entire lifetime, "I'll go and see the king."
Maybe, for once, she would actually prove to be useful.
Only once before in her life had Elizabeth ever been invited to report before the king. Back then, a young girl who had freshly crossed the border from Danafor into Camelot, she was amazed and awed by the invitation her mother had flashed and gushed about before her eyes. Dressed in her very best dress, a pretty white thing that was designed in the style of her old kingdom, Elizabeth avidly remembered her younger self feeling nervous as she squeezed her gloved hands and stared out of the carriage's windows.
Grand buildings and people dressed in opulent uniforms she'd never seen before had met her curious gaze. There were countless soldiers marching around, the rich green of the kingdom's military uniform blending with the healthy plants that bloomed on the castle's grounds. Ladies of the court had also been present, there to greet the young Elizabeth and her mother as soon as their carriage had halted at the front entrance to the castle.
One decade later and Elizabeth still felt like she was a child; those same nerves still sat in her system as she thought about the palace, the king. Even though Elizabeth had reported to the king before, stood within the grand splendor of his throne room before his variety of advisors and politicians, the entire experience felt somewhat new again. But perhaps that was because she was attending the meeting for an entirely different reasons than before.
Smoothing out the now shimmery material of her dress, Elizabeth tried to still the shaking in her hands. Wanting her to look nice, worthy enough to present before the king, Meliodas had insisted that he use a little magic to spruce up her old dress. Unable to object, Elizabeth obliged. This moment was one where she could prove herself - her usefulness - to Meliodas. Such an opportunity would not be wasted. Not after all of her other screw ups and messes along the way.
So she had humoured him. Falling into the role, having noted the little lines he wanted her to say, Elizabeth easily slipped on the mask of being Meliodas' sister-in-law. Even as she was getting ready to leave, putting on her trusty hat, she couldn't help but feel like she could play the role easily; it was more walking into the palace that was daunting her.
"You're wearing that hat?" Seeming to be filled with disbelief - most likely because her hat was a pretty plain and embellished thing for their times - Meliodas raised a brow at her. Ever since his little episode, he'd been a little feverish so Elizabeth had instructed him to rest as much as possible and always have a blanket on him. Hence the impromptu cloak that he now had on, making him look more childlike than anything as he frowned, "After all the magic I used to make your dress look pretty."
"Take care of him, Zeldris," Ignoring his little strop, Elizabeth shook her head as she took the formal invitation from Meliodas' hands. Stamped with the seal of the king, it outlined the severity of this situation.
"Mhm," Zeldris nodded, amused by his brother's tiny frown and Elizabeth's brusqueness.
Confident that Zeldris would make sure Meliodas remained out of trouble, Elizabeth gave her own little nod before making her way down the stairs and toward the magic door. Heart pounding, each step felt like a life-changing moment as she went, holding the skirts of her magically altered dress in a still-trembling hand. Just as she reached the bottom of the steps, her hand about to reach for and twist around the metal handle, Elizabeth froze.
Swift, much faster than she could ever be, Meliodas had slipped behind her. Warm and textured, his hands had been a complete contrast to the smooth, cool material of the strange ring he'd slipped onto her slim finger. Silver, it gleamed like a previous metal. There had even been a gemstone lodged into it, almost like the multiple wedding bands her mother had been gifted over the years from many different men.
If this had been a different circumstance, Elizabeth would have taken the ring off and shoved it right back into Meliodas' hand. But something told her that it wasn't a wedding ring like her mother's were; there was something magical about this ring he'd given her.
"This charm will guarantee your safe return," Low, sincere, Meliodas' voice had a tinge of a strange emotion she had never sensed in him before. Even though he had barely grazed her, had swiftly slipped the ring on, Elizabeth could have sworn that it felt much longer than that, much more significant. As she turned to look at the blonde, a question brewing in her throat, he laughed, "Don't worry, I'll follow behind you in disguise. Now, off you go!"
Before she could say anything else, Elizabeth had been ushered out of the door. When she turned back around, still wide-eyed and partially confused by what had just occurred, she was faced with a closed door and no answers to soothe her aching brain.
So, sucking in a deep breath, Elizabeth squared her shoulders and began to walk along the polished, pretty streets of Camelot's capital city - home and birthplace of King Arthur Pendragon, the man she was meant to meet this afternoon.
The Capital's streets were much more different from the industrial towns that Elizabeth had spent most of her years within. Bustling, large, they boasted a much more grand and traditional architecture than the mixture of rural and modernized walkways of her childhood and adolescence. Glossy department stores towered much higher than the seamstress and hat shops she recalled from back home; the train station she did pass far dwarfed the tiny passage that passed as one in her town. Even the streets were much more grand, paved with large slabs of grey stone that were smooth and uncracked.
Many more people also filled these streets. Mostly women - due to the war - flocked and frolicked around the expansive parks and neatly lined walkways. Dressed much more finely than rural folk, they took time to put on gloves or hats or step over muddy puddles. Many of them also traveled in automobiles, not at all in awe of the vehicles because they had become the norm. Most people owned them here.
Nervously twisting her hands together, Elizabeth couldn't help but feel her nerves getting to her as she approached the palace. Immense and intimidating, a large stone wall stretched around the perimeter, speckled with the royal crest and peppered with guards dressed in navy blue uniforms. Many of them simply eyed Elizabeth, taking in her weary face and most likely associating her with the staff, another young woman coming to see if there was work available for her in the castle.
As she passed through the castle gardens, surrounded by beautiful greenery and shrubs, Elizabeth couldn't help but feel out of place. Young women, just like her, were gasping and shrieking and giggling as they spoke to the soldiers on duty. Most of them were fluttering around the strange air machines, a new invention made due to the war effort; they grinned brightly as they were helped up onto the things, their dresses billowing in the breeze as they took off.
"Meliodas is probably one of those flashy soldiers," Watching as a pair zoomed off into the horizon, their laughter lost in the clouds, Elizabeth couldn't help but sigh. Part of her wished to be one of those young women, lucky enough to have the courage to actually believe in a thing like love, a commitment like marriage. "He definitely wouldn't be pigeon."
Soft coughing beside her captured Elizabeth's attention. Looking for the source of the sound, she found a little dog that stood by her side. Dark fur decorated his body, with little patches of white that tipped his ears and speckled his back. Oddly, there was a crop of fur on his head that was quite wild, as if it would stick up no matter how many times someone would brush through it. Almost exactly like...
"Meliodas?" Her voice came out in a whisper, uncertain and unsure as a blush filled Elizabeth's cheeks, "Is that you?"
Coughing again, the tiny dog seemed to nod. Although that did nothing to soothe Elizabeth's nerves in the long term. After all, why would Meliodas choose to be a dog of all things? Who was to say that this was definitely Meliodas? If anything it could be a trap, a way to get Elizabeth's guard down and make her spill all of her secrets to the enemy. If that was the case, then they would have to try a lot harder.
Continuing ahead, ignoring the little dog, Elizabeth walked through the gardens and its clusters of excited onlookers. All too soon she was approaching the courtyard leading to the grand stairway that led into the palace's interior, the marble material pristine and polished under the afternoon sun. Along the steps, standing post, she could just about make out guards who were dressed in the signature bright blue of the royal army.
Racing ahead, the little dog was now attempting to clamber up the front steps. Half of its body was hanging onto the next step, its plump little belly and tiny legs scrabbling to find some kind of purchase as it let out little cough-squeaks of effort and annoyance.
Travelling at the same speed as Elizabeth, her two smartly-dressed henchmen carrying her palanquin, the Witch of the Waste drew back the velvet curtain of her little window. Bewitching, her golden eyes crinkled with amusement as she gazed at Elizabeth, the determined look she seemed to wear on her face despite the awful curse that had been inflicted upon her. Judging, gloating, her motive was obvious as her red lips stretched into a feline smirk.
"Look who's here," Sensual and lilting, the older woman's voice was certainly somewhat belittling as she looked Elizabeth up and down. Most likely she was sizing her up, seeing if she could intimidate her once more. "The tacky little girl from the hat shop."
"The Witch of the Waste," Elizabeth murmured, trying to keep herself calm as she glanced at the little dog no longer struggling up ahead. Now he was waiting for her, sat on his hind legs and looking rather defeated as he studied the pair of approaching women with calm brown eyes.
"I must thank you for passing my scorching love note to Meliodas," Smiling even wider, playing with the glass beads of her necklace, the Witch of the Waste tittered with laughter as she snapped open a feathered fan, "You have no idea how much I had been dying to give it to him," For a moment, she remained silent, studying Elizabeth's face, "How is he doing, by the way? He's been awfully quiet recently."
"He's awfully lazy," Deciding not to say a truthful word to this woman, Elizabeth kept her head high as she marched on faster. Not too much farther and she would be at the steps, able to pass the woman with ease. "Right now he's working me to the bone as his cleaning lady. I wonder why I even asked for his help to fix my curse in the first place."
"Hmmm," Instead of laughter, a light hum left the woman as she leaned out of her palanquin. Crimson, her painted nails stand out against her pale skin; they remind Elizabeth of blood fallen onto fresh snow. "Isn't that just dreadful?"
Deciding not to answer, Elizabeth remained silent. For a while, only her footsteps and the squelch of the Witch's henchmen punctuated the air. Maintaining conversation with this smug woman was something Elizabeth couldn't care to expend effort on. Every word she uttered, every sneer and condescending comment just felt like another punch to the face. Especially since she was the reason why Elizabeth was here in the first place.
"So tell me," Breaking the silence, the Witch spoke once more. Leaning an arm out of the palanquin, lighting up a cigarette on her fancy holder, she raised a brow, "What business do you have here at the palace?"
"Job hunting," Elizabeth answered brusquely, focusing on the way in which her boots stomped against the cobbled courtyard. Balling her fists, hoping it would pass as her annoyance with Meliodas rather than for the Witch of the Wastes, she added, "I'm done working for Meliodas. He doesn't appreciate my efforts," Turning to the Witch, a gleam in her eye, Elizabeth asked, "And what about you? I'm sure a busy lady like yourself must have a reason for being here today."
"I received a royal invitation," Chest puffed with pride, her fan fluttering as she inhaled the smoke of her cigarette, the Witch smirked, "That foolish Jenna has finally realised how much she needs my power."
Arrogant. Perhaps even conceited. Elizabeth couldn't help but feel slight disgust for the woman before her, so consumed in her own power, her own greed, that she couldn't see how unlikable she was. How lonely it must be to be the Witch of the Waste.
But then, nestled within her disgust, there was also some kind of pity. Part of Elizabeth that felt bad for a young woman who was suffering from a broken heart - a victim of a love that would be never be returned. Yes, the Witch of the Waste seemed to be a person with so much sadness within her that she couldn't help being awful to everyone she saw; she simply sought to keep herself happy, to stay away from ever having her heart broken once more.
"If you're so great, why don't you break the spell you put on me?" Elizabeth asked, hoping, praying that there might be a glimmer of goodness left within the woman. A tiny slither of humanity that could see how much pain and turmoil she put others through.
Unfortunately, there was none.
"Ah dear..." Releasing a smokey sigh, the Witch shook her head as she glanced at Elizabeth with jeering, teasing eyes. Snapping her fan closed, putting out her cigarette, the woman smirked, "My talents lie in casting spells not breaking them. Goodbye, sweetie."
Shutting her curtains, the Witch of the Waste's palanquin then began to speed up. Both of the blobby men walking, rushed in their pace and much more efficient than Elizabeth could ever be, the Witch easily surpassed the young woman. Even when she had shouted for the Witch to return, to listen to her plea, Elizabeth knew it was futile; the Witch of the Waste simply didn't care enough to fix Elizabeth's curse.
Maybe that was why her blobby men began to fade into nothingness as soon as she crossed the metal arc above the grand staircase. Each step became more wobbly, both of the henchman quaking and slowing the closer they got to the palace and its mountain of impressive steps.
Popping her head out her palanquin, the Witch of the Waste seemed confused as she yelled out, "What is wrong with you two!"
"I'm sorry Miss, but you must walk from here! No magic vehicles are permitted beyond this point!" Dressed much more formally than the uniform guards standing post on the steps, a man's voice rang over the area just as Elizabeth stepped under the golden arc.
Faintly, she could hear the Witch of the Waste muttering something about 'Jenna' and 'magic' and 'godforsaken stairs'. Then, with a poof that rattled the thin walls of the palanquin, the Witch of the Waste emerged from her vehicle and gracefully stepped over the melted bodies of her henchmen and their piles of now useless clothes.
Elegant, the woman was certainly dressed to impress. Once more she was dressed all in black, glittering beads depicting strange symbols on the blank material of her thin, shapely dress. Crystal earrings hung from her pale earlobes, casting small rainbows onto the ground and at her painted feet, adorned in black heels. Crowning her head was a black hat with a curling white feather tucked into the band. A hat from Elizabeth's old shop.
And she had said it was tacky.
Shaking her head at the Witch's hypocrisy, Elizabeth continued on to the steps. Scooping up the waiting dog - most likely Meliodas in disguise - she cuddled the tiny animal close as she stepped up the first step. Surprisingly, it had been an easy step to take. So Elizabeth went up one more, than another and another. Although her arms did ache from carrying the dog (he was a little on the chubby side), she was faring rather well.
Conversely, the Witch of the Waste wasn't doing as well. Much more delicate and pale, she took her time going up the steep steps. Sometimes she wobbled in her heels, or had to take a breather from a threat of fainting under the heat of the sun. Clearly, she didn't walk much; her palanquin was her main mode of transportation.
"Wait! Help!" Clutching onto the railing, her pale fingers digging into the marble carvings, the Witch of the Waste was sweating now. Breathing heavily, gasping, she placed a hand over her chest, "I can't make it!"
"What did you say?" Continuing with relative ease, Elizabeth ignored the tightness to her chest as she hauled the dog up with her, "You've finally remembered how to break my curse?"
"I told you!" Shaking her head, glancing to look up at Elizabeth, the Witch of the Waste looked sincere for once, "I don't know how!"
"Then start trying to figure it out!" Elizabeth responded, turning her back on the woman and continuing to plod on.
Now she was nearing halfway, the fatigue was starting to set in. In the past, Elizabeth had never really used stairs much as her wings enabled her to somewhat glide over them as she walked. Stairs used to be a mere inconvenience, something she could bypass with a quick flutter of her wings. Now, though, Elizabeth could actually feel her lungs burning in her chest, her muscles aching with a use they had never owned before.
"I have to take a little break," Setting the dog down, releasing a heavy sigh, Elizabeth wiped at her sweaty brow, "This is actually tiring."
Glancing back down the staircase, fixing her gaze onto the Witch of the Waste, Elizabeth couldn't help but feel pity well up in her heart once more. Clearly struggling to make her way up, clutching her skirt in her hand, the woman was clinging to the railing as she climbed upward at a snail's pace. Sweat piled on her delicate brow, running her makeup and making her raven hair stick to her gorgeous, bewitching face.
"Why don't you just give up?" Calling down to the Witch of the Waste, feeling upset that she would put herself through so much turmoil, Elizabeth shook her head, "You're killing yourself by doing this!"
"I've waited for fifteen years to be invited here!" Tears streaming down her face, melding with the sweat running down the contours of her nose, the Witch of the Waste heaved herself up another step with a heavy breath. This time she nearly staggered off the step completely, scrabbling to clutch onto the railing with her now chipped, crimson nails. "Ever since that Jenna banned me to live in the Wastes I've been waiting for this day!"
"Too bad I don't have wings then!" Shaking her head at the witch, Elizabeth turned away from the sight of her suffering to scale the steep steps. One of her hands even dismissively waved in her direction as Elizabeth sighed, "Maybe then I could've helped you," Bending down, she scooped the tiny dog - who she now was thoroughly convinced was Meliodas - into her arms once more, "Come on, Meliodas."
Without another glance back, Elizabeth continued her journey up the steep steps. Hauling up the heavy weight of the dog, taking each step one at a time, she maintained a steady pace despite her puffing breaths and gradually reddening face. Behind her, in a much worse state, the Witch of the Waste was a profusely sweating mess, the black material of her dress and hat clinging to her alabaster skin as she staggered.
"You cold-hearted, useless girl," Cursing under her breath, her hands clutching more and more tightly at the stone banister of the staircase. Breathing harshly, she yelled, "Next time I'll turn you into a toad!"
Ignoring the witch's babbling, Elizabeth continued to make her way up the steps. Ten more. Five more. Three more. None. All too soon she was at the top, setting Meliodas onto the ground and sucking in deep breaths. Around her, the guards were motionless as she turned to face the view - oh a wonderful view it was - of the Capital city laid before the palace. From so high up, the entire city looked like a picture, painted in soft oil paints and watercolours that seamlessly blended into picturesque buildings and parks.
Then, right in the middle of it all, was the Witch of the Waste. Face an unnatural shade of red, sweat rolling down the sides of her face, the witch was constantly swaying from side to side as she slowly climbed upwards. One hand was balled tightly in the dark fabric of her dress. Impossibly pale, her other hand was clawed around the stone railing, only breaking loose when a guard would refuse to budge out of the way for her.
"Come on!" Despite the resentment Elizabeth held toward the witch, her horrible curse, she didn't have the spirit to watch her suffer. To not cheer her on. Not when she had waited for this moment for fifteen long years. "You can do it! You're almost there!"
"Honoured guest," Snapping Elizabeth out of her cheering, a man dressed in a smart uniform approached her. Bright red decorated the material of his jacket, his shirt a stunning and pristine white beneath its vivid colour. "Please follow me."
"You should go and help her up those stairs," Nodding toward the struggling witch, the source of the grunts and noises of frustration, Elizabeth remained solemn and tight-lipped in the face of the palace's staff, "She's struggling to get up on her own."
"I am strictly forbidden from giving such assistance," Bowing a little as he spoke, the man seemed more cheerful than apologetic as he regarded Elizabeth. Even though his words came out in a gentle tone, an understanding tone, the tiny smile he wore along with the little bop of his bow, indicated a different feeling than sympathy. "She must make her own way up these steps. That was my direct order."
"My, that's awfully rude!" Shaking her head, Elizabeth couldn't help but puff her cheeks in indignation as she looked at the man. Folding her arms across her chest, Elizabeth pointed out, "The King himself invited her here. That makes her an honoured guest and therefore, you would think, she would be treated like one," Turning away from the now blushing man, Elizabeth cupped her hands around her mouth, "Come on! Let's go! Are you a witch or aren't you?"
Gradually, slowly, the Witch of the Waste made her appearance at the top of the stairs. Changed, very different from how she had once looked, she hunched over herself as she took each step, her body sagging into itself as more and more sweat piled from her brow. Askew, her raven hair fell into her eyes, clung to her skinny neck, as she moved. Even her eyes, once teasing and golden, looked dulled and exhausted.
As the Witch of the Waste hauled herself up one more step, she sneered, "Oh just shut up."
Shaking her head at the witch, Elizabeth simply pointed out the obvious, "What happened? You look so much older."
The Witch of the Waste's lack of response gave Elizabeth every answer she needed to know. Instead, walking beside her, silent and watching, she began to realise why Meliodas had been so nervous about coming here today.
Honoured guests certainly wasn't an underestimate. As soon as Elizabeth and the Witch of the Waste stepped into the palace and its grand foyer, they were greeted with the splendor and magnificence of the royal family's wealth. Opulent chandeliers and other metalwork hung from the richly decorated walls and high ceilings of the room. Portraits framed with golden frames, candelabras that shone with gemstones and tiny trinkets were all scattered around the room.
Numerous staff members stood to attention, all dressed in matching red and white, uniforms pristine and positions just as perfect. Many of the staff were young boys, leftovers from the latest draft for the war effort, their youthful faces beaming with innocence and excitement as they scanned the latest guests. Speckled between the young boys were a few older men, mostly butlers and porters who had rounder tummies and more muted, matured expressions.
Multiple other guests were also gathered about the room. Most of those were aristocrats, the polished, respected men of high-class society that Elizabeth recognised from her childhood; many of them had been possible suitors to her mother. Hopefully none of them would recognise her now, especially as she now sported the title of 'Mrs' instead of 'Miss'.
"Try to pull yourself together," Soft and hushed, Elizabeth tried to offer encouraging words to the heavily-breathing witch beside her. Shuffling and bumbling, the Witch of the Waste was no longer the confident and bold young woman she had been. "Isn't this what you've been waiting for?"
As their names were called out - 'Mrs Dragon' and 'Merlin, the Witch of the Waste' - the witch could only supply a gasping, wheezing gurgle of a response. Shrunken, withered, she was a shell of her former self as she ambled along beside Elizabeth. Behind them, sticking close, was the tiny body of the disguised Meliodas, his little paws sinking and leaving slight prints in the plush red carpet of that stretched across the foyer.
"Your name is Dragon?" Picking up on the surname, the Witch of the Waste asked the question in an almost dreamy tone, "Why does that sound so familiar?"
"Uh... that was the name of my tacky hat shop," Smoothly thinking of an excuse, a way to throw the witch off, Elizabeth supplied as quick of a response as she possible could. Raising a brow, trying to play it cool, she asked, "Don't you remember?"
"Is that what it was called?" Thinking on it, frowning, the Witch of the Waste returned back to silence, "Strange."
Once they had reached the other side of the foyer, the pair were guided into a new room off to the side. Away from the watching, prying eyes of the general guests of the king and his palace.
Different, more dim, this room was lit up by a multitude of candles that were arranged in pretty candelabras. Deep red decorated the walls, rich and almost the same tone as fresh blood, as it arranged itself into subtly striped patterns. More golden frames hung from the walls, this time detailing what Elizabeth recognised to be portraits of the King's late mother, a beautiful woman who had died to due to a sudden illness.
As soon as they had stepped inside, the staff member had shut the heavy door behind them. Abrupt, jarring, the wooden door made an ominous clicking noise as it shut. Only Elizabeth had turned to see its source.
"A chair!" Gasping with relief, the Witch of the Waste instantly perked up as she rushed toward the tiny thing. Fanning out behind her skinny frame, the sheer material of her shawl looked like bird's wings as she ran, "It's mine!"
Shaking her head at the witch and her antics, Elizabeth simply sighed as she watched the woman settle into the small armchair. Releasing a relieved sigh, she seemed to be at peace as she closed her eyes and leaned her head back, took a break.
About to enjoy the peace and quiet herself, Elizabeth had almost been tempted to let her guard down as well. That climb up those stairs had been horribly brutal. But then, suddenly, Meliodas jumped out of her arms and scampered across the room, his little paws clicking against the floor. Frowning at his sudden change in behaviour, Elizabeth followed the dog's path, leaving the Witch of the Waste to her own devices.
"Meliodas?" Calling out to the dog, Elizabeth couldn't help but feel confused as she stared at a dead end and no Meliodas. A normal wall and a missing dog. "Where are you?"
As if answering her question, the wall popped out and slid upwards. Bright light flooded from inside, revealing a young boy with a shock of dirty blonde and a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. Bright and recognisable, the red and white of his uniform alerted Elizabeth to his status as a member of the palace's staff.
"This way please," Bowing in greeting, he stepped aside to make way for Elizabeth, "Madame Jenna will see you now."
Following the boy's guidance, Elizabeth stepped into the now open passageway. It seemed that Meliodas was right to fear coming here; there was something going on behind the scenes.