#melascyla

[galfridus1-fics]

The Soho Square Murder

@lickitysplitart did this INCREDIBLE picture to go with the next case of Eliminate The Impossible - The Soho Square Murder. Holmes fans will note she has used a pose from the original sketches done for The Strand Magazine where Conan Doyle originally published his work. I love you so much Beth, you are such an amazing person and the best of friends.

In this case, Merlin and Escanor are thrust into a murder investigation which takes them to a new part of London’s underworld. The case is told over chapters 7-9 and features Monspeet, Derieri, Melascyla and Cusack.

I’ve been mostly taking the Holmes canon and the BBC series as inspirations for these cases but this one was also inspired by The Abergavenny Murder which is a radio play written by Bert Coules who was one of the authors who adapted the Holmes canon for BBC Radio 4. He then wrote original stories featuring Holmes and Watson which told some of the tales Conan Doyle hints at but did not actually write up, such as The Lighthouse, The Politician And The Trained Cormorant and Colonel Warbuton’s Madness. These are absolutely incredible and superbly acted (Mark Gattis who co-wrote the BBC’s Sherlock and plays Mycroft is in one of them). They’re on audible so do check them out if you have a subscription.

#nnt #eliminate the impossible #merlin #escanor #escalin #monspeet #derieri #monderi #melascyla #cusack #beth’s amazing art #like really this is amazing #i’m so thankful you did this #you are the best

[galfridus1]

Geldris Week Day 5: Determination

Chapter 5 of The Call of Duty for Geldris Week. Last chapter being published tomorrow :)

“I want everyone back here in four hours.”

Zeldris glared around the Commandments and generals, pressing his lips together with dissatisfaction. Derieri and Monspeet looked ready to go, their dark eyes hard with a swirling rage, and Fraudrin was practically bouncing on the balls of his over-large feet. But the others could not have looked more bored. Melascyla was twirling her long hair through her hands, the strands of pink running like ribbons around her fingers, as Galand chuckled to himself, the sound reverberating around in his armour. Some crack squad these were supposed to be. 

“This’ll never work,” Melascyla said lazily, flicking an imaginary speck of dirt from her nails. “No one’s ever got to the goddess’ gate before and, no offence, we’ve lost our commander, and Aranak and Zeno…”

“This will work, and you will do as you are told.” Zeldris stared directly into his new colleague’s eyes, sensing the flickering movement in their depths. “And you would do well to remember your place. You are here to obey orders, not question them.” With that, Zeldris let forth a bolt of power, substantial enough to fell the mountain that stood behind them, the ocre rocks common in the demon realm crumbling to yellow dust to scatter on the wind. The air was filled with the stench of sulphur, but Zeldris did not care. He watched as the others choked, spluttering as their eyes went wide, one and all surveying the destruction before them. 

“You will all of you do exactly as I say. Do I make myself plain?” 

The nods he received could almost have been choreographed. Zeldris relaxed his shoulders, though his insides were still in an uproar, and he had to work hard not to respond to the splash of bile in his throat. If this went wrong, it was all over. He had written to Gelda, trying his best to explain the situation, and had received only a few scrawled words in reply. Be quick. Treason planned. He swallowed hard, failing to quell the fear that gripped him like a vice. As he had suspected, Izraf was planning some sort of mutiny. If left unchecked this would bring about the vampires’ death. 

What rankled most was that Meliodas must have been planning this for a while. Zeldris had sent out spies to Stigma’s headquarters as soon he had fixed the plan up with Gowther, knowing he needed to get the lie of the land. The reports had come back with almost gleeful news about how close Meliodas seemed to be to his new friends, how he and the fairy and giant kings were on the best of terms. Such relationships had not materialised overnight. 

Gritting his teeth at the rank injustice, Zeldris barked, “Leave. Now. And do not come back until you have accomplished your mission. This war ends today. If you capture the traitor, bring him back unharmed. If you cannot do so, inflict as much damage as required to subdue him. The one to retrieve him will receive a bonus.”

The air was filled with the rustle of wings as the demons around him shot up to the sky, soaring to Britannia to enact Gowther’s plan. A group were to distract the archangels, engaging them in battle at the edge of the fairy king’s forest, while Gowther’s doll and Melascyla took over the gate, casting their magic so that the entire demon army could pour into the Celestial Realm. He had not told Gowther of his own tentative plans, which had hardened to certainty the more he heard about his brother’s activities. As he listened to tales of songs by the fire, of his brother’s arms draped casually around a silver-haired goddess slut, any admiration he has ever felt for the shit had coalesced into a sludge of hate. He was supposed to be getting married and, because of the traitor, he was instead organising a war, Gelda’s life hanging in the balance as her father plotted treason. 

With a shake of the head, Zeldris summoned his darkness to build wings over his back, the membranes of the substance catching in the wind. He took off at a rush, gliding over the barren rocks and so up to Britannia, shielding his eyes against the sudden glare. Everything was fresh, vibrant, the cold breeze ruffling his hair and freezing the inside of his ears. 

It was not long before he found the village he was looking for. His scouts had informed him of the humans who had taken pity on one of their own, nursing the injured demon back to health. Stigma had objected to such an act of war from a bunch of puny ants with no power to speak of and had executed a brutal revenge. The houses were smashed, stones and the straw of thatched roofs spread out over the grass, a child’s broken doll crushed into the dirt. Zeldris smiled to himself as he spotted a few human survivors huddled round a small fire, their hands grasping everyday objects to be used as weapons: shovels, pitchforks, even a rusty old hoe. 

The group looked up sharply as he swooped overhead, casting the men into shadow. The tallest rose, his sky blue hair gleaming silver in the sunlight, his body tense and ready to spring. Zeldris alighted right next to him, holding up his hands in a gesture of greeting. 

“Do not fear, I have not come to visit any more harm upon you. I know you have suffered in the defence of my brethren. As the demon king’s son I am here to reward you, to repay you for all you have suffered.” Zeldris snapped his fingers, tendrils of darkness snaking from them, winding over the earth into a nearby copse. A squeal pulsed from the trees, and some of the men covered their ears as the darkness retracted into Zeldris’s form, dragging a dusk bison out from the wood. “This is just the start,” he declared as the human beside him quickly descended on the struggling beast, slitting its throat faster than thinking. 

Zeldris watched with fascination as they processed their kill. The humans were remarkably efficient, skinning the carcass, some scraping the leather clean so that it could be washed and slicing muscle free from bone. Even the tendons were saved, the long strings washed with water drawn from the nearby well and left in the sun to dry. The demon knew from his studies that the men would use this material to tie axes to their handles and to catch fish in the rivers. Soon, the smell of roasting meat wafted through the breeze, the tall man pulling out from herbs and spices from his pockets to season the meal. 

“And what do you want from us?” The leader rounded on him, crimson eyes narrowed. Zeldris returned his stare, unperturbed, and he found himself impressed that the man did not turn away. “Don’t pretend this is charity. I know your kind, you never give anything away for free.”

“Not an unfair observation,” Zeldris admitted, “but this is to your advantage as much as mine. I know where Stigma have their headquarters.” All the men looked at him as he made this remark, and he could feel their hatred as if it burned the air. 

Zeldris glanced around, allowing himself a slight smirk. “Well, shall I tell you? I’ll wager before I arrived you were all talk about how you would crush Stigma’s scum. Is that not so?” Some of the younger humans looked down, their cheeks flushing red. “They are in the fairy king’s forest. It is hidden to your kind but I will lead you there if you wish. Then you may do whatever you please.”

“I’m not sure about this, Rou,” one of the young men warned.

“Peace!” The tall leader crossed his arms over his chest, glancing round at his men before turning to Zeldris. “And if we go there, demon, what’s in it for us?” 

“My kind are attacking the goddess clan today. If we are successful I promise you that you will be treated as allies. We will rebuild your village so you can rebuild your lives, enjoy decades of peace to live and to love. If you are attacked you can rely on us for assistance. Or you can carry on scraping out a meagre existence as war rages around you, nursing your wounds and wondering what might have been if you had been braver and taken your just revenge.”

The one called Rou gave a gruesome leer, and he felt a surge of triumph to see the human had bought his arguments. “Alright then. Come on guys~” Zeldris watched with curiosity as every single man instantly sprang to their feet, shoulders tensed, hands gripping their makeshift weapons in earnest. Rou addressed them, his eyes blazing and hard. “Kill as many as you can. Whatever their race, whatever they say. If they fight for Stigma they will pay. We will have our revenge. Lead the way,” Rou commanded, and Zeldris smiled in return. 

***

The atmosphere was so sour Gelda could practically feel her mouth water. The royal vampires were lined up on the dais, surrounding their king as he sat still on the throne. The princess could feel Izraf’s disgust directed towards their unexpected guest - the vampires were natural enemies of the goddess clan - but the words that left his mouth were dripping with honey. 

“It is a pleasure you welcome you to Edinburgh, Lord Mael.” 

The archangel bowed, his long silver hair falling around him. “I too am delighted to make your acquaintance, Your Majesty,” he said, and Gelda found herself relaxing unwillingly into the sound of his voice. It rang like liquid light, the sonous tones filling the vast throne room with an unmistakable authority. 

“I have to admit, I was a little surprised on being informed by my queen that you desired an audience. But then perhaps it was to be expected…” Gelda bit down hard on her lip, her face burning as Mael glanced up in her direction, his golden eyes seeming to see right through to her soul. “I am told that the demons do not keep their promises.” Gelda sensed Ren shuffling uncomfortably as Mod and Orlondi fought to suppress cruel giggles. She allowed her eyes to drift to the floor, blinking rapidly in an effort to keep the tears pricking the back of her eyes at bay. 

When Mael next spoke his voice was hard. “If you are to join our alliance you will need to provide us with surety of your absolute, total, unquestioning loyalty. Nothing less than complete surrender will suffice in the circumstances. You have aided our enemies, financed the slaughter of hundreds of my people. What can you possibly give us that will make up for your sins?”

“Gelda, tell Lord Mael everything about the princes.”

The command fell like a whip across her back. She stared at her father, her hands twisting together uncontrollably as she dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands. “I… no!” she cried as she looked desperately from the vampire king to the archangel, both of whom glared at her in clear disapproval. “I can’t,” she begged, “I just can’t.”

“If it makes it any easier I do not need to hear about the eldest,” replied Mael bitterly. “Against my better judgement he has been accepted into Stigma’s ranks and, whatever I think of his dubious morals, I believe he has given us as much intelligence as he feels he is able to. The youngest though is an enigma, and his brother seems unwilling to give us information in that direction. Who is he? What drives him? What is he planning?” Mael demanded, his eyes squarely on Gelda. “If anyone knows then you do. Tell me, and my kin will be pleased to offer you allegiance.”

“No!” Gelda took a step back as Mael leaned slightly forwards. Her hands moved involuntarily to clasp at her necklace, the pendant of which concealed Zeldris’s last message to her. She was just thinking how next to respond when she felt her arms twisted hard behind her back, and she cried out as Orlondi pulled the chain she wore from around her neck, feeling the sting as the delicate chain broke against her skin. Orlondi grinned at her, then passed the locket to Izraf, who gave a pleased huff as he proceeded to open it. 

“Lord Mael, this is a letter from the person in question. It is not deeply specific, but there is a hint as to the demons’ next planned attack. I trust this will be enough for your purposes? No,” Izraf warned, his fingers closing tight around the letter as the archangel reached out. “I need to hear your assurance first.”

“Very well,” Mael said loftily. Izraf nodded then proffered up the folded parchment as tears spilled down Gelda’s cheeks. Mael read through the contents, his face darkening as his jawline grew tense. “I must go now. I will return to complete these negotiations.” Before Izraf could do more than bark an objection, the archangel had bowed stiffly and strode from the room, his footsteps echoing as he made his way out of the palace. 

“Orlondi, Ren, escort princess Gelda to her quarters,” Izraf commanded as his hands that rested on the arms of the throne balled into fists. “See to it that she cannot use her magic to escape.” 

Gelda summoned her power in an instant, the temperature rising as fire glowed in her hands. “Stop her!” Izraf yelled. Gelda screamed as Ganne thundered towards her, crushing her arms to her sides with his huge hands, extinguishing the flames she had called to her aid. Mod followed close on his brother’s heels, wrapping lengths of rope around Gelda as she struggled in vain against the tight bonds. 

“That ought to hold her,” Mod said with a grin. Gelda aimed a kick in his direction, but stopped sharp as she felt the edge of a blade on her neck, looking down to see the pearly sheen of Ren’s sharpened claw pressed right against her. 

“He’ll write to her again,” Izraf said confidently as he glowered at his daughter. “Make sure she communicates with no one and intercept any messages that are sent to her from the outside. We will make the demons pay - every single last one of them - even if that means helping the goddess scum. Take her away,” Izraf boomed. Seeing there was no persuading him, Gelda went silently, praying that Zeldris would somehow know what was happening, and knowing full well that there was no way he could.

***

“Utter failure!” the demon king bellowed as Zeldris stood stoically before him. “How could you have put your trust in that mage? How could you not have known he would betray us all?”

Zeldris grit his teeth. Truth be told he had asked himself the same question at least eighteen times as he had reluctantly returned to make his report. On being told by Melascyla of the doll’s betrayal, of the way Gowther had manipulated the gate so that it released his master for jail rather than transport the demon army into the goddess’ stronghold, it had felt as if scales had fallen from his eyes. He should have realised the mage was so keen to aid his endeavours only because he had a motive of his own. In part, Zeldris understood; after being incarcerated for so many centuries, the pull of freedom must have been almost unbearable. 

“It was not a total failure,” intoned Zeldris. “The kings Gloxinia and Drole are now our allies. At their request I have furnished them with Commandments. They are strong and powerful, worthy replacements for our fallen brethren, and their loss will grievously affect our enemies. The fairy king’s forest has also been attacked. Many of the fairies are dead at the hands of rebel humans. The trust Stigma is built on will crumble to dust.”

“Be that as it may, your objective has failed!” The king banged his gauntleted hand down hard on the arm of his throne, the sound reverberating through the room like thunder. “The traitor is still at large, the archangels are unharmed, and the goddesses have destroyed thousands of our kin while you looked on and did nothing!” Zeldris swallowed hard, but made himself return the king’s stare, forcing himself not to show the way pain and rage swirled within him. 

After several long moments, the king snarled, “If you have nothing to say of your failure on the battlefield, then perhaps you would care to know how I have deemed you will expiate your transgression.” Zeldris shifted, his stomach curdling as he saw a rare smile spread over the king’s face. “It will interest you to know, I am sure, that the vampires you have been so keen to befriend have received the archangel Mael as a visitor, clearly with the intent of forming an alliance.” 

Zeldris just managed to suppress the groan that rumbled in the back of his throat. “I see it is no surprise to you,” his father growled. “Then you will have anticipated my next instruction. You will deal justice on our former allies. I want them annihilated! Make no exceptions: you are to destroy every single last one of them. Leave no trace of them upon this earth.”

The pit of Zeldris’s stomach fell to his boots. “Do not even think of trying to dissuade me.” The demon king sat forward, his power blooming around him. “You carry part of my power. I can sense your emotions. If you are foolish enough to try and deceive me, know that I will be able to tell in an instant. Now go! And this time, do not dare to return to me unless you have completed your task, to the letter. You have left enough failure in your wake for one lifetime. Because of your ineptitude, I now have to deal with your traitorous brother myself. Do not force me to make you share his fate.”

Blanching slightly, Zeldris gave a stiff bow, not trusting himself to speak as he sped from the room. 

#nnt #zeldris #gelda #geldris #geldris week #demon king #izraf #mael #rou #melascyla #fanfiction #the call of duty

[uselessblogtrash]

👌

#👌👌 #nanatsu no taizai #the seven deadly sins #the ten commandments #dolor #gloxina #fraudrin #grayroad #Galan #derieri #monspiet #LOOK AT DERIERI AND MONSPIET IN THIS SHOT IM DIE #zeldris #estarossa #DEMON SIBS LOOKING LIT #melascyla

[wlwinry]

This one is easy: headcanon where the sins (plus Elizabeth andElaine) and the commandents are pokemon trainers, what pokemon would they have?

o worm I GOT this

i’m not going to go super in depth with the teams--three for each, yeah?

starting off with mel, he’s got sceptile because fuck you, garchomp, and gyarados

going in order of when we met them, next is eli. she has espeon, togekiss, and--wait for it--BLAZIKEN, BITCHES

diane has swampert--wow there’s all the hoenn starters, altaria, and oricorio

ban has shiny ninetales, weavile, and a braixen he just refuses to evolve

king does NOT just have faerie types, okay. he’s got scizor, primarina, and rimbombee

elaine has magby, heracross, and decidueye

gowther has malamar, mimikyu, and empoleon

merlin has salazzle, metagross (gods can you picture her flying on one) and serperior

escanor has solgaleo and that’s it. that’s all.

arthur has pyroar, galland, and meganium

COMMANDMENTS

zeldris has umbreon, absol, and lapras. his pokemon are one of the few things he loves openly

estarossa’s pokemon know why he’s so unstable and desperately want to help him; they’re tyranitar, luxray, and arcanine

monspiet has talonflame, liepard, and oranguru

derieri has all. fighting. types. lucario, medicham, poliwrath

melascyla...fuck her. she has arbok, scolipede, and steelix

galand has aggron, electavire, and a honedge that won’t fuckin evolve

dolor has machamp (insert arms jokes), rampardos, and snorlax

gloxinia has florges, midnight lycanroc, and vikavolt

grayroad and fraudin can kiss my ass. they’re not real.

[galfridus1]

Can you please do a Zeldris x Reader fic? My small demon prince is currently ruining my life 😭💖

Sigh. He is ruining my life too...

Sorry this has taken me so long. I did as part of the prompt series I’m writing at the mo, I hope that’s alright. I used the prompt “are you okay”.

This is the first time I’ve written something in this style so I hope it reads alright. And I’m sorry; advance warning this got angsty. Hope you like it!

The air is hushed, silent but for the soft snip of scissors and the light tap of shoes against stone. You stand in front of a full-length mirror, your slender body shrouded in crimson silk, the high colour and full skirt of the gown you will wear emerging slowly from fabric and fastenings as the seamstress works around you. This is his favourite colour, one you have selected carefully in anticipation of your meeting. For that evening there will be a ball to celebrate his coming of age, and that night he will take his place as second prince of the demon realm.

You and he have been betrothed for as long as you can remember, but rarely have you spent time in one another's company. You have seen him of course - what woman in your clan does not recognise his features? - but, as is the custom of noble families, never have you been alone. It is only now that he is on the cusp of attaining adulthood, and since your cousin Derieri has been accepted into the Ten Commandments, that preparations for your marriage are being taken in some earnest.

You sigh, drawing deep breaths of the air to your lungs, your senses somewhat soothed by the calming sage and rosemary drifting through the open window. But anxiety ticks through your veins: what if he does not approve of you? Hearts beating wildly, you peer at your reflection in the mirror, at hair as black as night, smoothed and pinned back to obedience. It looks well enough, you suppose, as do your eyes, which gleam turquoise in the soft evening light. There are imperfections though. The skilfully applied makeup cannot hide the shadows under your eyes, nor the scar that adorns your upper lip, a souvenir of your training.

But this is the best that can be done with the materials on offer. Setting your jaw, you activate your magic, smiling to yourself as a dark claw reaching for a dot appears on your cheek and your eyes fade to black. This is the family crest, the sign that you and Derieri share a bond of blood, a token of your lineage and strength. Like her, you have promise. Whatever your appearance, there are few demons in the realm who can truly match your power. Surely, Prince Zeldris will recognise you as a kindred spirit, someone who works as hard as he in pursuit of perfection.

As dusk falls and the burnished sun sinks below the horizon you summon your darkness, allowing wings to spread across your back. Pressing the balls of your feet into the ground, you catapult yourself into the air, enjoying the freshness of the breeze as it stings your skin and freezes your ears. You soar towards the castle, spiralling down to land at the palace gates and relishing the rush of the fall. Around you, other demons come to land, some in formal wear while others are cloaked in their darkness alone.

The guards check each guest carefully before they are allowed to enter into the grounds, but, eyes on your mark, they merely give you a respectful bow, not daring to fully meet your gaze. The recognition gives you confidence and you stride inside with your head held high, the silk of your skirt rustling with your movement. The celebration is being held outside and the chatter of the guests mixes with the call of insects and the welcome hiss of roasting meat. The smell is enough to make your mouth water, but you refrain from eating, not until you have seen him at least.

But where is he? Your eyes dart left and right across the grounds, spying groups of demons congregating under trees and next to to the fire which cooks a whole dragon, slowly being turned on a spit. You recognise many in attendance: Melascyla, laughing with her head thrown back as she practically inhales her wine; Calamiados with his enormous frame scowling indignantly; even Bellion is here, arms folded sulkily across his chest as he glowers at Prince Meliodas, who is holding court beside an ornate fountain. Girls have flocked around the blonde prince, fawning on his every word and your heart seizes in your chest. What if Zeldris is in a similar position? Your only consolation is that Meliodas seems entirely bored.

“He’s not here,” a soft voice murmurs in your ear and you turn to see a tall, dignified man, clothed in nothing but his darkness and a cloak, as is his wont. “No one has seen Zeldris for an hour or so. His presence is beginning to be missed,” the man continues as he quirks an eyebrow, his moustache quivering slightly as he talks.

“What should I do?” you whisper. You would not trust your insecurities with many, but Monspeet is practically one of the family. It will not be long before his line is joined to yours by marriage, and he has always treated both you and your cousins with respect.

“Go and find him,” Monspeet replies. “Zeldris admires those who take the initiative…” The demon breaks off as a raucous guffaw disturbs the chatter and you look round, unable to suppress a gasp as you spot Orlondi the Rose, who appears to have made the mistake of trying to chat up your cousin, though from the look on Derieri’s face his attentions could not be less sought after.

At once Monspeet’s face darkens, and you can see he will intervene. Quickly grabbing his arm you ask, “What are the vampires doing here?” for now you have seen Orlondi there are others you recognise.

“They are here to celebrate the alliance treaty which has been signed between our two clans. You had better brush up on your politics, Allura,” he scolds as he looks at you with narrowed eyes. “Zeldris was pivotal in negotiating the deal.”

“I know about it!” you protest. As if you had been idle these past two-hundred years, as if you had not studied the demon king’s court until your head spun. “But this is an occasion which is traditionally reserved for our clan only. Even with an alliance there is no reason for the vampires to be invited.”

Monspeet looks at you, a slight smile playing on his lips. “You will have to discover what is going on for yourself, for none can figure out what is going on. Not even Meliodas seems to have a clue. Now, if you will excuse me, I have business elsewhere.” With that, the crosses the slightly yellowing grass to loom over Orlondi, who shrinks back in fear as Derieri yells, “What an ass!” The sight should make you chuckle, but an unease you cannot quite place swirls in your stomach. Pushing it aside as best you can, you leave with as much dignity as you can muster on your errand, determined that you will find your betrothed.

Pressing out your powers is enough to tell you that Zeldris is inside the castle. You have visited it a number of times, but never alone, and never have you needed to navigate the labyrinth of corridors without assistance. They all look the same: grey stone walls set with polished suits of armour and somber oil paintings which are barely illuminated, the lanterns too few to light up the space. But Zeldris’s energy is unmistakable and it does not take you long to pinpoint his location. Your hearts beat with an uncomfortable pound as you work your way towards the room, the heels of your shoes sinking into the carpet in your haste.

He is in one of the smaller studies, and you are on the point of pushing open the door when, to your horror, you sense the signature of another. Quietly, you kneel before the door, pressing your face to the keyhole so you can look inside.

And she is beautiful. You catch a glimpse of your rival in all her glory before she turns away to face your intended, your insides boiling with anger as Zeldris presses his lips on hers. You have never seen such elegance and poise, and you hate the way her golden hair, spun like the sun, is twined into a neat braid, the way her unblemished skin glows in the candlelight, the breathtaking iridescence of her amethyst eyes. There are no scars on her face, no sign of arduous training and you scorn the indolence you detect in her features. How could Zeldris of all people be drawn to this jewel, a useless ornament good for show and not much else?

Your instinct is to burst in and demand an explanation but you push the impulse down and away. It will be better if you find out more about this woman whoever she may be. It is clear she is not of the demon clan, and the presence of the vampires suddenly makes perfect sense.

“I love you, Gelda,” he murmurs and you clench your teeth hard at the unexpected stab of pain.

“We have to stop,” the girl demands, but you can see the way she clings to his shoulders as she speaks. A clever bitch, you think to yourself. She knows how to play the game very well. “I couldn’t bear it if you were hurt because of me.”

“That is my risk to take, and besides we have been careful. No one will discover us,” he replies. “But we had better get back outside. You go first. I’ll follow you in ten minutes or so. You know the way?”

She nods, and you quickly scramble to clear the door, taking shelter in an alcove before she steps into the corridor. You hold your breath as she passes, suppressing your power so that you will not be discovered. She even walks perfectly, practically floating as she moves. She evidently know how to step without getting her heels caught in the carpet. Emotion overwhelms you, flooding every nerve in your mind. You hate her, loathe her, and a revulsion stronger than you have ever yet experienced tears at your soul.

You oscillate, but then Monspeet’s words sound in your mind. Zeldris admires those who take the initiative. Your jaw set and your shoulders held high, you move with purpose into the room, gaining some satisfaction as Zeldris stares at you, the look on his face decidedly guilty.

“Allura! Are you okay? What are you doing here?” You step forward as a plan begins to form and you smile. You have studied for this role, pined from him from afar and no stupid vampire is going to get in the way.

“I came to find you,” you explain simply, making sure your mask of calm does not slip, “and I saw… you together.” You allow your voice to break just a bit and force your gaze to the white rug on the floor. You are curious to see what he looks like, but you keep your eyes fixed downwards, biting your lip in a show of distress.

“Allura, I…”

You stop him with an upheld hand. “There is no need to explain,” you say, your tone reassuring. “We were betrothed by our families; I wasn’t your choice. Evidently you’ve fallen for another. It pains me, I admit, but… well, it’s your business, I suppose. I’ve no right to get in the way. So I will release you from your promise, such as it was. Your happiness is what matters to me.”

You feel his hands cupping your face, raising your eyes to meet his own. “You are a remarkable woman,” he murmurs. “And… I am sorry… I…”

“There is nothing to forgive,” you make yourself say, and this at least is true enough. It is not his fault the siren targeted him, making him forget his position, his duties and his very clan. She will be punished for the ill she has caused, as long as you keep your head now. “I wish you well,” you add, as you smile bravely. “Now, get back to the party before people ask questions.”

“Thank you, really,” he rasps out, and he leans to kiss you on the cheek before he sweeps from the room. You feel the place where his lips have been, missing the warmth the moment it is gone, and you take several deep breaths of the stuffy air. If Zeldris thinks you will give him up without a fight, he has another thing coming. There is no way on earth you will let him go.

Mind made up, you walk with purpose from the room towards the demon king’s throne room, sure that his majesty will appreciate the news about his son you will give him.

#nnt #1000 follower challenge #zeldris #zeldris x reader #monspeet #oc - allura #gelda #geldris

[galfridus1]

Twilight AU. "I know what you are."

TWILIGHT!

Ok I have not read the books and have no intention of doing so but @maybeishouldwait and @penumbrcge made me watch the first (and in my case last) film so here we go.

Zeldris is the new boy at school after his family move to a new area following the death of his mother. He has an older brother he doesn’t get on with but secretly admires. Meliodas has always been the popular one and immediately makes loads of friends at their new school, leaving Zeldris out in the cold. He just wants to study and get on with things and this school is very focused on social activities (read getting drunk and behaving like teenagers).

That is until he meets Gelda. They are forced to sit together in a social studies class (no one will sit next to Zeldris and Gelda arrives late). He tries tentatively to make conversation with her but she is extremely rude and brushes him off. Annoyed, Zeldris decides after a restless night to confront her for being so brusque with him.

He follows Gelda to her car the following day after classes have finished, intent on confronting her. But one of the idiot kids at the school is joy riding and nearly crashes their car into him. Somehow, even though he is the direct line of the car, Zeldris is saved, the car ending up a blistered and broken wreck in front of him. Gelda is standing next to him, a bit of metal in her hands. They all go to the hospital and Zeldris overhears Gelda being scolded by her family (Orlondi and Ren who are at school with them and their foster father Izraf, who is a bit intimidating). He starts to think there is something not right with this family.

After the hospital incident, Zeldris and Gelda grow more close, even though Gelda tries to be standoffish at first. They go to the woods and Gelda turns a funny colour in the sunlight, they go to a restaurant and Gelda doesn’t eat anything. Basically the clues are all there and eventually Zeldris works it out. “I know what you are,” he tells her and she confirms she’s a vampire. At this point Zeldris is introduced to the family.

Ren, it turns out, is a bit unstable. She tries hard to break the couple up out of jealously and when that doesn’t work she kidnaps Zeldris, tying him up in a dance studio where she determines she will make him a vampire. She’s on the point of biting him when Meliodas shows up with the friends he has made, Derieri, Monspeet and Melascyla. They attack Ren with dark magic (while Zeldris looks on both fascinated and horrified) until Ren flies off into the night. Gelda shows up just as Meliodas is telling Zeldris that they (and Monspeet, Derieri and Melascyla) are all actually demons. It’s news to him, he has a hard time adjusting but Gelda helps him accept that he too is a creature of the night. She helps him master his magic and in the end the two of them go flying to celebrate, their dark silhouettes standing out against the moon.

#nnt #gelda #zeldris #geldris #geldris week #twilight au

[galfridus1]

@okamideimos asked for an 80s Geldris AU. With pleasure!

Zeldris is the lead singer in a band (Melascyla on backing vocals, Fraudrin on synthesier). They sing about death and boredom, wear too much eyeliner, and have a large following of teenage fans. They do well enough in the charts. Though they do not realise it, their manager Cusack dictates their every move down to what songs they release, what instruments and sounds they use, their entire artistic direction and press image.

Their world is turned upsidedown when a new band is launched. Unashamed manufactured, this girl group sings about feminism and politics, they are spiky and in your face, they wear really bold, colourful make up and way too much hairspray. Their members are Gelda, Liz and Derieri.

Both bands release singles in the same week. Zeldris, at Cusack’s encouragement, goes on a public offensive calling Gelda’s group a bunch of talentless hasbeens. He’s a bit scared of Derieri and Liz (who can blame him) so he singles out Gelda for his public vitriol. Gelda responds by calling them pathetic losers, saying that Zeldris in particular is a fake poser.

They both make it into the top ten, selling nearly identical numbers of records but Gelda’s group has a slight edge, coming in at number 3 to Zeldris’s number 4. They meet backstage as they prepare to perform on Top Of The Pops. There Zeldris realises that Gelda writes her own music and, despite being manufactured, their manager Zaratras lets the bad do pretty much what they want, helping them realise their ambitions rather than dictating them. He reflects that even though his band he formed, it is now more Cusack’s than his.

After talking Gelda and Zeldris realise they are actually pretty compatible and they spend more time together. Zeldris fires Cusack, replacing him with his brother Meliodas. As relations between the two bands improve, they decide to collaborate for a novelty record. They release it and it becomes Christmas Number 1. Zeldris and Gelda realise they are in love and get married in a secret ceremony the following year. The music press find out and make a big deal of it but neither of the two musicians care.

#nnt #zeldris #gelda #geldris #geldris week #80s au

[galfridus1]

Thank you @amxlm for entering the prize draw I ran recently. Here is a fic featuring Zeldris as the leader of the Ten Commandments. Thanks for requesting this - it was a blast to write. I really hope you like it.

With thanks to @okamideimos for his headcanon about the Commandment of Selflessness which I have used here.

Trigger warning for canon typical violence.

Nine pairs of black eyes. Zeldris looked over the group, examining each of his new charges in turn. Every single one of the team had something different they wanted to say, and he could tell what it was from the way they were looking at him. He felt his impatience rise in his breast. Because of his own brother’s perfidy, he now had to manage these gits.

Actually, on reflection some of the hostility he saw he could cope with. Derieri was glaring at him, hands on hips and her mouth twisted to a snarl, but that was to be expected. She had just lost her sister at the hands of an archangel and had been saved from madness by the traitor himself, not to mention that slut of a goddess his brother had run off with. That humiliation had to sting. And Monspeet’s studied nonchalance as he lounged at her side was most likely in character. Zeldris searched his memory of the Commandment of Reticence and wondered if Monspeet had once smiled since taking his decree.

He sighed to himself. If this were a proper organisation with a proper resources department - like the one he had learned that the goddess clan had, with shiny offices and appropriate policies for things like performance evaluation, parental leave and bereavement - the pair would be having a few days off. But no. His father had zero understanding of effective people management and had flat out vetoed his son’s idea to bring some systematicity to the process.

“This is the elite army of the demon clan,” the king had boomed at Zeldris, “not a damned nursery. Get on with your job and turn them into warriors.”

But it was a damned nursery. The rest of the ‘warriors’ standing before him on the gratifyingly neat training grounds were behaving just like little children. Melascyla was pretending to ignore him, twirling her long pink hair around a thin finger as she looked at Estarossa who was rolling his eyes and flashing his brother some sort of rude sign with his hands. Fraudrin was practically bouncing up and down with eagerness, a slack grin on his sort of a face, and Galand was scratching under his armpits which he does not even have, Zeldris thought with irritation. Gloxinia and Drole were standing off to the side, both with arms folded over their chests but he could sense the nervousness they both felt. Only Greyroad was behaving professionally. She was floating in the air sedately and was clearly paying attention.

“Thank you for coming,” Zeldris proclaimed, lowering his voice to give himself an air of authority. The ‘warriors’ shifted a little at the address but their response was nowhere near satisfactory. Indeed, Zeldris noted with some disgust that Estarossa was picking his nose.

“I am delighted to take on the leadership of this group,” Zeldris forced himself to continue, hands clenched at his sides to stop himself from punching his brother in his self-satisfied face. “Between us, we have the best skills in the demon realm. Greyroad, Gloxinia, Drole, welcome. You are a huge asset to the Ten Commandments and I am looking forward to seeing you in action. But to beat the goddess clan, we have a lot of work to do, and that starts now. Divide up into pairs and duel. You may use any of the powers at your disposal. The winner from each pair will take on another successful opponent, until an overall victor emerges. The champion will receive a surprise reward.”

At the mention of a reward, the group visibly brightened. “Alright!” Galand yelled as he stalked towards Melascyla. “Shall we, my dear?” he asked, his voice echoing over the fields. Melascyla nodded her assent, and the two immediately flew at one another, Melascyla morphing to an enormous, hissing snake as Galand gave a shout and raised his spear in the air.

Zeldris watched with satisfaction as, one by one, the Commandments followed his orders. He was just looking around to see who was left, when Fraudrin sidled up to him, eyes narrowed and teeth showing where his chest ought to be. “Can I have a word?” the former general asked coldly.

“What is it now?” Zeldris snapped. He was tired of this demon. Fraudrin was by far the weakest of the team. He had been a sub-standard general even before his promotion, and Zeldris had serious misgivings about his current employment. But, of course, his objections had been overruled. There were no others suitable soldiers to appoint, so Fraudrin had been chosen by default.

Fraudrin seemed to quake a little under his leader’s gaze. “It’s about my decree,” he eventually managed to say, his words only just audible over the sound of metal clanging on metal and the fierce rush of the wind, which was being whipped to a frenzy by the onslaught of magical attacks. The air burned with it, the smell of smoke and ash floating on the breeze. “The king made me one of the Ten Commandments. Ergo, I should have a Commandment. I know you have The Commandment of Selflessness in your possession. When am I…”

Zeldris’s laugh cut over this speech, which had all the hallmarks of being pre-prepared. Since when did Fraudrin ever use the word ‘ergo’? He stepped towards the former general, pressing into the demon’s personal space, and despite being the smaller of the two, Zeldris could see the other quiver a bit. “That decree belonged to the greatest mage in the whole of Britannia,” he said sharply, his words cutting through the cacophony of noise. “It is not for the likes of you. We both know that you are only now in this army because of a serious shortage of alternatives. Besides, you are hardly capable of wielding power of this magnitude. It would destroy you…”

“That’s bull,” hissed Fraudrin, and he turned to look very deliberately at Estarossa. “I know he had no power at all before he took his decree. At least I have something. I have my own power, that is mine, that I worked for. So don’t tell me I couldn’t handle it. You know I could.”

Zeldris watched as Fraudrin shook, his emotion threatening to overwhelm him. “Alright,” Zeldris said, conceding the point. “That Estarossa is useless cannot be denied. Very well. I will tell you what I will do. I will offer you a deal. The others are all engaged in battle, so the two of us are left to duel. If you can stand against me for ten minutes then I will actively consider your request.”

Zeldris smirked as Fraudrin visibly swallowed. He was pleased with himself. This solution was neat and meritocratic. “If you end up on the floor though it is all over,” explained Zeldris as his opponent looked at him with uneasy eyes. The prince allowed his hand to stray to the hilt of his sword, excitement running through him as he grasped at the metal. “I will even do you a favour. You may use whatever powers are at your disposal, but I will refrain from calling on my own magic. I do not need to so in order to subdue you, so all you will have to face is my sword.”

Fraudrin moved more quickly than his leader would have expected. Zeldris’s weapon was out of its sheath faster than lightning, deflecting the blasts of Hellblaze which his combatant hurled in his direction. It was almost too easy. He stood still, moving his arm in time with the missiles which rained down on him, not even breaking a sweat as they flew back at his opponent. Fraudrin cursed loudly as he crashed to first one side then the other in order to escape the rebounds of his own attacks. The ground shook as he moved, but the huge demon somehow just about managed to stay on his feet.

Zeldris smiled. “Three minutes left,” he called cheerfully.

“Full Size,” snarled Fraudrin, the frustration he felt clear in his tone. Zeldris watched, amused, as the former general grew to enormous proportions. As if height and girth were an advantage against his own agility. Fraudrin lunged, fist poise to strike. Zeldris waited until the very last second, then sped behind Fraudrin, slashing at him repeatedly with his blade. It was like a knife running through butter; in just a few moments he had carved Fraudrin up into several pieces, all of which thudded like stones to the floor.

Zeldris landed lightly on his feet. “My win, I think,” he intoned, doing his best to keep the triumph out of his voice. He watched as Fraudrin stitched himself back together, limbs reattaching and skin smoothing over to leave no sign of injury. “But you did comparatively well,” he said more kindly as the now-restored Fraudrin audibly ground his teeth. “I was wrong. You may not be as powerful as Monspeet or Derieri, but you do have a place here.”

“Then give me the decree!” snapped Fraudrin.

Zeldris cocked his head to one side and, rather deliberately, shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe, one day,” he said.

He was not about to tell Fraudrin he did not have the decree, that the Commandment of Selflessness had vanished with its owner. It would be somewhere up in Britannia, Zeldris was sure, and one day he would locate it. When he himself held all the decrees, he would be able to bring peace to the demon clan, to rule with Gelda by his side. But there was no rush, he reflected as Fraudrin skulked off. The princess was safe in her seal, protected from the ravages of war. There was time to train, to grow, and to learn to handle the power he knew he would some day have to make his own in order to save her.

#nnt #fanfiction #tw: violence #tw: canon typical violence #1500 draw #zeldris #fraudrin #ten commandments #amxlm #thanks for the request!

[galfridus1]

The Ten Commandments Christmas Party

So, @deadly-sins-writer and I missed the NNT Secret Santa, and so as not to be left out we did the honours for each other. Merry Christmas DSW! Hope you like this. Inspired by the panel above and cross-posted on FFNet and AO3.

***

“We have to have a Christmas party!” they had said. He had asked why. The responses had been unsatisfactory to say the least. Something about team bonding and getting into the festive spirit, as if the marks of their servitude were not enough to chain them together whether they liked it or not.

And at this moment, he most certainly did not. Galland had mercifully managed to keep Estarossa away from the stove but most of the food provided still left much to be desired. A large plate of burned cookies was being passed around, no one daring to risk a bite. A pile of fruit also lay to one side which Gloxinia was quietly edging away from as Melascyla tried to force feed him. His reluctance was understandable. The apples and pears had started to decay, white plumes of mould sprouting out of them like frost as the flesh dripped fetid liquid into the bowl. That was the last time he would ask Grayroad to help with logistics; he should have remembered that her touch brought death.

But there was some good stuff in amongst all the horror. Dolor had rustled up some human grub he’d grown fond of while in Stigma, and while it pained him to admit it the rich stew was surprisingly palatable. Pork was quite acceptable as a meat. Derieri had also done rather well, providing a large number of human souls which Monspeet was languidly munching on, and by the look on his face they were tasty enough.

But as usual, it had fallen to him to save the situation. The enormous tyrant dragon he had slain single-handed took up the whole room, and his comrades were gleefully eating it raw. It was still warm, Zeldris thought appreciatively as he tore off another chunk with his teeth, enjoying the feel of the thick blood splattering over his face as he did so. This kill had taken him hours but it had been worth it.

He had also made sure that there was enough alcohol sloshing about to satisfy everyone, no easy feat when Estarossa was chugging it straight from the barrel. His brother had bagged the best bit of the dragon for himself too. The large, yellow eye he clutched in his hand was likely to be extremely good eating. A fond smile began to form on Zeldris’ lips as he looked over at Estarossa before memories of another who used to drink that way wiped the joy clean off his face, the brief flash of humour quickly replaced with an habitual scowl. The expression came so naturally now it was like a second skin.

“You don’t want any?” Estarossa called as he thrust the barrel in Zeldris’ direction.

“You know I don’t drink that cheap stuff,” Zeldris scoffed as he stared round at the demons who were his to command. They were all pissed as newts, most of them lolling about over the corpse of the dragon as they drank themselves into a stupor. Gloxinia and Dolor were chatting off to the side, dragon meat not being to their taste, and Grayroad was no doubt floating around somewhere. Come to think of it, Zeldris was not sure if she even needed to eat or drink. The rest of them were just lazing about, clutching greedily at the many barrels of ale. Fat lot of good they would be if any goddess scum showed up.

Still, they were deep within the demon king’s castle and the odds of an interruption were mercifully small. His father, in something of a strange, puckish mood, had allowed them the biggest room in the palace and even Dolor could stand up without crouching too much. The demon king had been pleased with him for converting the fairy and giant kings and had readily agreed to endorse the festivities, even making some crude remarks about supplying entertainment if they wanted. This should have made Zeldris proud, but it didn’t. Nothing really felt good anymore.

“Right, presents then,” Estarossa called and Zeldris’ scowl deepened. His brother seemed to keep forgetting who was in charge. He’d have to take control of the situation, even though he’d not warmed to this fool’s idea in the first place. But it had been nine votes to one so, contrary to his wishes, the first Ten Commandment’s Secret Santa was now a reality. Being their leader should bring more perks than this.

“Ok, everyone come round,” Zeldris called, summoning the wrapped gifts from their spots all over the room. They floated gracefully through the air past contented, drunk faces to lie in a pile in the middle of the polished stone floor. The others all crowded round, sitting in a tight circle without being asked. That was better, Zeldris thought as he took his place amongst them, Melascyla shuffling aside to make room.

With a flick of his finger, Zeldris sent a small, flat package in green wrapping paper into the air. It paused for a second before spinning round and heading straight towards Monspeet. The Commandment of Reticence raised an eyebrow, examining the gift that had plonked itself in his lap with a haughty glare.

“Come on, open it already!” Galland snarled, his armour clanking as his arm moved with his impatience. Zeldris was grateful for this intervention. No need for this ridiculous exercise to go on for longer than necessary. Then they could get back to the dragon.

Monspeet carefully peeled back the paper, making sure not to damage it before gasping in surprise as a thick, white cloak emerged. It was made of an extremely rare material fashioned by the fairies, breathable and yet water resistant. Gloxinia cooed in awe, fluttering over to examine it, shooting Monspeet a glance of appreciation. Monspeet indeed looked happy enough, and quickly discarded his old garment to replace it with the new. There was only one person who would have bought him that genuinely thoughtful gift, Zeldris considered, and he caught Derieri’s eye with a knowing smirk.

With the first present having gone down so well, the expectations round the circle were heightened and Zeldris could feel the tension as the next gift drifted into the air. This one was obviously a box from its shape, and it whirled around enticingly before flying to Melascyla, who shrieked with glee. She tore the paper away as quickly as possible, practically ripping the box in her impatience. Inside were tens, if not hundreds of little balls of wool, commonly used as padding to help ensure delicate objects did not get harmed in transit. Melascyla tossed these away with abandon and Zeldris had to clench his teeth to stop himself from snapping at her as one hit him square in the face. A quick glare at the others however was enough to ensure no one commented.

After what felt like ages, Melascyla finally hit the bottom of the box and pulled out a headband adorned with a pair of long, pink bunny ears. Zeldris bit his lip quickly so as to suppress the bubbling laugher which threatened to break to the surface. Wondering what Melascyla would do, Zeldris was surprised to see her immediately clamp the ears onto her head before she bounced around like a rabbit, earning herself a large round of applause and catcalls from the others. Say what you like about Melascyla, she had always been fun.

Beginning to enjoy the proceedings despite himself, Zeldris again raised an armour-clad finger and a third present sorted itself to its rightful owner, this time Fraudrin. One of the newest members of the Ten Commandments, and having achieved this pretty hefty promotion purely because his better had deserted the cause, Fraudrin was still pretty insecure and was right to be so. He wasn’t even truly one of their number and was very obviously the weakest link in their chain. Most of all, he had nothing compared to the magician he had purportedly replaced. Zeldris clenched his fists as Fraudrin peeled back the paper. He did not like the former general.

After some clumsy manoeuvres with his massive hand, Fraudrin finally exposed the gift, revealing it to be a human doll. Now this would cause havoc, surely. Whoever got Fraudrin this was an imbecile, determined to put an end to the fun. It was times like these Zeldris wished Estarossa would do more to help him manage the team, but he never did. Ever since the traitor had gone, Estarossa had become one the most indolent layabouts in the entire demon realm, and the only reason Zeldris did not discipline him sharply was that this attitude was by far and away preferable to his previous sycophantic fawning. That and, if he was honest, Estarossa would be hard to beat.

To Zeldris’ intense surprise, Fraudrin just picked up the doll and looked at it. There were no yells and no tears. His head was a funny kind of shape and it was generally impossible to read Fraudrin’s emotions, but from the careful way he handled the doll, Zeldris could have sworn he was pleased. Did this leviathan of demons have some affinity with this pathetic race then? He would have to have words; there must be something in the code about not fraternising with humans, and if there was not he would add it first thing in the morning.

Next up was Estarossa who also received a box wrapped in tasteful silver paper and tied with a dark red ribbon. This package had the novelty of actually moving on its own, although magic was still needed to guide it in the right direction.

“It’s hot!” Estarossa exclaimed as he picked up the parcel, dropping it back onto the floor in his amazement. Gingerly, he grabbed one end of the ribbon and pulled. Once free, the top of the box started to bulge upwards before a flash of bright green shot out and darted all over the room with a burst of flames. Estarossa yelped like a little boy as he caught the baby dragon up in his large hands, stroking it tenderly down its spine. The beast purred loudly, before turning round in circles in Estarossa’s palm and promptly falling asleep as the others made cooing noises. Zeldris grit his teeth. Now he’d have to add something forbidding the ownership of pets to the code as well. Using his power to fashion a silver cage so that the newest member of the family would not bring destruction upon the festivities, Zeldris moved on to the remaining gifts.

The next three presentations went smoothly enough. Galland was given a book entitled ‘The Art Of War’ and Zeldris could not prevent himself from releasing a bark of laughter at the sight of the gangling mass of metal trying to peel back the pages with his spiky gloves. Fortunately the sound was drowned out but a sudden, loud snore from the dragon and the booming voice of Dolor who was showing some interest in Galland’s present. That book was an apt gift from a genius. He would have to make sure Galland read the tome, anything to improve his strategic approach to combat.

Grayroad received some royal jelly from someone on the team who evidently knew more about how this queen of demons worked than he did. The floating horror set about devouring the delicacy without delay, the sight causing most of the party to wince slightly as she hovered it up with her many death masks of faces, the slow, sucking noise causing Zeldris to grit his teeth. Still, he would have to make sure there was plenty of that in stock. Grayroad was creepy but useful, and needed to be kept on side. Dolor’s gift was a small postcard adorned with a rather good drawing of the wilds of Britannia, the words “IOU one hug” written on the back. Zeldris caught Gloxinia’s eye and a look of understanding passed between them as Dolor blushed silently. Zeldris was pleased these two had joined their ranks. They both raised the tone.

The next present was his, and despite himself Zeldris felt his hearts race in anticipation as the others started a drum roll. Most of the gifts had been fairly thoughtful but Estarossa’s choice of present had not yet been opened and Zeldris hoped he was not going to be on the receiving end of whatever his brother conceived of as humour. As soon as the parcel landed in his hand however he knew he was safe. It felt like an ornate glass bottle.

Carefully unwrapping the sombre grey paper, Zeldris’ face worked as his scowl disappeared to be replaced by an expression of surprise and gratitude. It was a bottle of aged fire whiskey, extremely rare and wonderfully smokey, made with the help of the wet, spring rains and soft peat to be found in northern Britannia. The others gasped when they saw it, and Zeldris allowed a smile to curve over his lips. In a gesture of extreme generosity, he conjured ten glasses into the air, and poured the amber liquid out. The aroma of the alcohol tickled his nose pleasantly and he felt his mouth water in his impatience. Each one of the team, even Grayroad, took a proffered glass and drank contentedly. It was excellent, the hot bite of it warming him right down to his stomach.

There was only one person who would have given him that, and Zeldris grinned broadly at Dolor, pouring him a sneaky extra glass in thanks. They had agreed on the merits of this vampire speciality only a few weeks back. This thought made Zeldris pour himself a rather large second helping, and he drank deeply to try and forget, but he was not at all surprised when the fire which spread through him only reminded him more forcefully of what he had lost. It had been about a month since he had unwillingly sealed her and her clan and he had not slept properly since.

With another flick of the finger, a spherical package rose into the air and made its way towards Gloxinia. Zeldris tensed slightly as the fairy king started to peel back the shining red paper. He’d thought long and hard what to get for the new Commandment of Repose and hoped this would go down as well as expected. Gloxinia stared at the dark ball he had unearthed, dumbfounded and unable to speak.

“Is that what I think it is?” Dolor boomed as he leaned over his friend to get a closer look.

“I think so,” Gloxinia managed to squeak out, his voice sounding thin and forced. “An orbuculum.” He held it carefully, cradling it to his chest as it shone in the candlelight.

“What does it do?” Melascyla asked curiously, sliding over to get a better view. “Looks like a lump of glass to me.”

“It’s crystal. If you look into it, it will show you the face of the person you most want to see, whether they are dead or alive. It is the most wonderful thing I have ever been given.” This last phrase came with a heartfelt tremor, and Zeldris felt more warmth running though him which had nothing to do with the whiskey he was still knocking back. When he had found Gloxinia, a blubbering mess of tears and anger, the fairy had screamed and screamed his pain at the loss of his beloved sister. With complete understanding, Zeldris had gently coaxed Gloxinia back to his normal self, and the scar of his loss had begun to fade. But the agony was still there, and would be forever. Seeing Gerheade, even if it was only an image, would no doubt give Gloxinia some comfort. He found it helped anyway.

The last present made its way towards Derieri. This had gone well and Zeldris was just on the point of congratulating himself on a job well done when Derieri let out a vicious snarl. Of course. Estarossa. What had he done this time?

“Whoever is responsible for this is dead!” Derieri yelled as she shot to her feet, her eyes raking over the assembled faces as her huge hand of darkness raised to strike.

“What is it?” Zeldris asked. It was his job to arbitrate. Derieri did have a bit of a habit of over-reacting. When she tossed the pamphlet at him however, Zeldris decided that her fury was justified. The offensive thing was entitled ‘How To Behave Like A Lady’.

“I think we can approve of you taking revenge for this,” Zeldris said suavely as he rose to his feet. “This is an unconscionable insult. You are one of our clan’s most accomplished warriors and I will not allow this go unpunished. Estarossa, what have you to say for yourself?”

“Thanks a bunch,” Estarossa muttered darkly as he glared at Zeldris. “Some brother you are!”

“And some comrade you are. This is unforgivable. Derieri, you have no need of anyone to fight your cause. You two can settle this in the usual way. But as you are the injured party, I think the rest of us can give you a bit of assistance. Dolor, would you be so kind?”

With a grin, the huge blue giant waved his four hands and a line of golems rose out of the stone. Derieri lost no time at all and started pummelling them furiously. She kicked, punched, clawed and even head-butted the huge stone goliaths to Zeldris’ absolute amazement. Her skull must be made of some seriously hard stuff.

With a raised eyebrow, Zeldris shot his brother a look of triumph as he and the rest of the Commandments stepped back away towards the edges of the room, giving the two combatants more space to brawl. Zeldris hopped onto the top of the dragon and started to devour it, ripping away the still tepid flesh and chewing thoughtfully, relishing the soft, silky texture and the metallic aftertaste. It was delicious. Watching fights always made him hungry, and the flavour went surprisingly well with the fire whiskey.

“No weapons, Estarossa. I don’t want Derieri damaged,” Zeldris called as his brother started to summon a curved blade from the air. With a look of pure loathing, Estarossa tossed the sword away and it landed with a loud clang as he squared himself up. Derieri had smashed most of the golems to pieces and was flying across the room towards her target, screaming a war cry in her rage.

“Don’t forget about his Full Counter,” Monspeet advised as he took a seat next to Zeldris, offering him one of the shining souls. Zeldris smiled; the soul tasted like pure light as he crunched it, the tang of sadness from the mortal who had built it up causing a throb to vibrate through his core. He took another experimentally and felt the appealing warm spice of anger flowing through his veins, giving him new strength. He’d always rushed these, swallowing them whole in a completely business-like manner and had obviously been missing out by not savouring the flavour.

“These are really good,” he murmured appreciatively to Monspeet, who gave a slight nod in return before passing him another.

“They are, just make sure to avoid disgust. You can tell them apart by the slight green tinge. Joy is the best.” Taking the offered soul, Zeldris bit into it slowly, smacking his lips as the sweet taste of honey burst over his tongue and a gentle contentment trickled to his hearts. The sensation was almost one of being stroked from the inside, momentarily relieving the dull ache that was now always there. It was amazing, and he closed his eyes to concentrate on the feeling. Monspeet looked at him thoughtfully, and passed him another.

“Come on Derieri, bosh him up!” Galland shouted as the rest of the demons cheered. Derieri was circling round Estarossa trying to decide on an angle of attack. She could not go for him directly of course, but she couldn’t hold off forever.

Quick as a flash, the room suddenly went black as Derieri snaked out tendrils of darkness to snuff out the candles. In the confusion, she must have attacked Estarossa judging from the harsh grunt. Zeldris summoned a soft, red light to illuminate the room and was impressed to see his elder brother lying prone on the floor, darkness smoothing over the back of his head to remove the injuries Derieri had inflicted. Most would have been permanently damaged by a hit from Combo Star after that much preparation, but Estarossa was made of sterner stuff. He stood up hesitantly, looking disheveled and dazed, but alive.

“Zeldris, no fair on the lights! They have to stay on,” Estarossa whined as Derieri flew at him again. Zeldris nodded regally as he turned his attention back to the fight. They wanted to be able to see it after all.

“Full Counter!” Estarossa put his hand out, palm facing forward as Derieri slammed into him again, and this time he hit his mark. Derieri flew backwards with tremendous force to land with a blood-curdling smack on the opposite wall. Bits of mortar crumbled away with the impact, and particles clung to Derieri’s coarse, orange hair as she staggered slowly to her feet. Zeldris expected her to build up the combo again with the few remaining golems but Derieri had other plans. Before he could process what was happening, she catapulted herself into the air, soaring across the room with a shout to land on top of Estarossa’s head, pointing her toes so that they gouged into his eye sockets.

Estarossa roared in fury as his eyes bulged. He thrust his fist upwards into Derieri’s stomach, knocking her towards the ceiling. She bonked into the stone, narrowly missing the chandelier before plummeting downwards amidst a flurry of dust, miraculously twisting in midair to right herself. Before Estarossa could react, she changed her trajectory to crash into his chest, at which point she hit him as many times in succession as she could manage, her massive hand of darkness smacking him repeatedly, pulling skin away from bone and turning muscle to pulp. In utter amazement, Zeldris watched as his brother sagged, holding up his arms in surrender. Evidently the alcohol had affected his proficiency. Derieri yelled as she clenched her fist, punching the air in triumph as a fierce grin morphed her face.

“That’ll teach you to treat the team with the respect they deserve, and to watch how much you drink. Come on, let’s get you to bed,” Zeldris said kindly as he picked up Estarossa and slung him over his shoulder. His brother’s darkness had already begun to heal his many wounds, smoothing over the abrasions and knitting bits of his body back together. He would be fine by the morning.

“You’re coming back, right? This party’s not even started!” Melascyla simpered as she twirled round the room. Monspeet had found a lute somewhere and was playing it rather well and a number of the company were taking advantage of the rhythm, twisting and jumping in time to the music. Even Dolor was taking part, his graceful war dance drawing eyes and admiration as the room oscillated wildly with his efforts, the chandelier tinkling as it swung dangerously close to his head. Zeldris looked round at the many faces as they cavorted and swayed. His team all looked happy enough.

“Of course. This is the best Christmas ever!” Zeldris said to Melascyla, a rare smile spreading over his face as he carted Estarossa out of the room.

#nnt #Ten Commandments

[galfridus1]

Doctors In Waiting Published

As part of NNT Week, I posted an extract of a story I was working on set in 21st century Oxford. Doctors In Waiting is now finished and is up on FFN and AO3. Meliodas and Ban are PhD students and the early chapters focus on their friendship (and yes they do arm wrestle). Zeldris, Elizabeth and Gelda are also studying at the university (History, Medicine and Medieval English respectively) while Merlin and Arthur are faculty staff. Estarossa, Melascyla and Elaine show up too, as does a human version of our hero’s father.

I know these types of AU are not everyone’s cup of tea but I worked hard on this story and I hope it’s entertaining enough. It was 2.5 month’s solid effort, every section has been re-written at least twice and it got to the point where the characters were telling me what to do, especially Gelda and Estarossa who radically changed the plot.

Here are two extracts which give a flavour for the story. First is Meliodas and Ban celebrating the end of the Michaelmas term. Second is the full transcript of the rather nasty conversation between Zeldris and Elizabeth which featured in NNT week.

If you have some spare time, I’d be honoured if you’d check it out and let me know what you think.

***

Meliodas and Ban from Chapter 2

“Here you go, thanks for waiting. Five pints of lager. Drink up!” Meliodas said brightly plonking the foaming cups down on the table in front of his friend, the glasses clinking slightly as they knocked together.

“Wow. You rock!” shouted Ban, grabbing two of the glasses and pouring the contents of them straight down his throat, one after the other.

“He, he. There was a special offer on, five for the price of four,” Meliodas sang out with a smirk. “Way too good to pass up.”

“How did you even carry them all over here?” Ban asked with difficulty, his words slightly slurred. “Your hands are tiny.”

“I was a bartender in a previous life.” Meliodas grinned back, copying Ban and drinking two pints himself.

“So who gets this one?” Ban asked, gesturing at the remaining pint, a definite hic showing he was beginning to feel the effects of intoxication. Normally it would take Ban more than this to show he was drunk, but the club did not open up until ten so they had shared a couple of bottles of wine over dinner and downed two shots of vodka for luck before setting off.

“Wanna arm wrestle for it?” Ban asked, leering with the effects of the booze.

“Nah, we’ll bust up the place and I don’t wanna leave till I can’t see straight,” Meliodas replied, also beginning to slur his words slightly. It took a lot for him to get truly drunk, but even he was on the way to reaching his limit.

“Tell you what, I got paid yesterday. Next round’s on me,” Ban said, rising unsteadily to his feet and making his way towards the bar, swaying slightly with the effort.

Meliodas sat back and watched his friend as he disappeared off into the crowds. He looked around. The idea of tonight was to get laid or get wrecked and Meliodas wondered if there was any prospect of taking someone home for the night. It had been ages since he’d spent time with a woman romantically and a sexual liaison was long overdue. It was easy enough. With a certain class of female the mere mention that he was Lord Lorimer’s son was enough to bring them around to the idea. Most people knew his family was loaded and that was all it took for some, the thought of the wealth outweighing any distaste they felt. While he did not like flashing his family name about he was more than prepared to do it to secure an easy one night stand, however crap he felt about it afterwards. The thought made him impatient for Ban to return so that he could go and take a proper look round.

Ban came back, multiple glasses in hand.

“Great offer!” he said unsteadily as he set five more pints down on the table.

“Cheers to that!” Meliodas replied downing another two pints. “It’s been too long since I’ve got wasted like this.”

“So are you going to go home for Christmas?” Ban asked matching his drinking partner pint for pint, the words only just distinguishable. “Coz I’m staying right here.”

“I’ll go to my father for the day itself, but otherwise no. Estarossa and I spend as little time as possible at at the ancestral place,” Meliodas replied. “Father takes us to church to show us off, well to show Zeldris off anyway, and then we spend the day drinking and avoiding each other. I’ll come back here on Boxing Day.”

“Wow, that’s rough,” Ban replied. “Don’t you ever go home to visit properly?”

“Nah. Zeldris goes back sometimes but Estarossa and I avoid the place like the plague. We only go to my father’s twice a year, for Christmas and February fifth”.

“What’s so special about February fifth?” Ban enquired, his eyes glazing over.

“We all go to put flowers on my mother’s grave. She died when I was seven. Placental abruption,” Meliodas said quietly. “I remember looking out of the window and seeing her being lifted into the ambulance. She was bleeding so much I thought the white blanket they’d put over her was red…” Meliodas shook himself. He must be more drunk than he realised to have said all that out loud.

Ban put his pint glass down. “I’m really sorry,” he said, the slurring a bit less evident, his red eyes unusually soft. “My mum’s dead too. Died when I was eight.”

Meliodas waited. They’d been living together for nearly three months now and in all that time Ban had not revealed a single thing about his life. Meliodas had respected his privacy, but admitted to himself that he was curious. He’d watched Ban as he embarked on his PhD, dragging Ban along to the seminars the Social Policy research students put on to showcase their work. Ban gave off the impression of being less than astute but Meliodas had long since discovered that this was a facade. When he got talking, it was clear that Ban had an easy command of the broad discipline which was home to students studying everything from international development to demography, from poverty measurement to spending on pensions. He’d made intelligent enquires of Gowther’s complex examination of demand for brand-named drugs when generics came on the market and found a serious hole in King’s plans to look at adult social care. His own work had however remained shrouded in mystery, though Meliodas had weedled out of Ban that it was something to do with higher education policy.

Meliodas could not believe Ban had not secured funding for his work, but then the availability of grants had dropped dramatically since the economic crash. He felt a hot flush of shame when he thought about this. He had funding himself, receiving an annual stipend from one of the UK’s research councils thanks to his supervisor’s recommendation. Merlin knew how to pull strings for her students. But Ban both needed it and deserved it more than he did.

“My dad killed her,” Ban blurted out, and instantly Meliodas felt the warmth being sucked out of his cheeks and his heart miss a beat. “He was a nasty drunk, could never keep his fists to himself. That night he gave me this,” Ban slurred as he gestured at the gash on his face. “She stood in front of me, tried to protect me and I was useless, I couldn’t do anything…” Ban trailed off into silence.

“Oh, Ban!” Meliodas cried. He wanted to reach out and hug his friend tight but knew Ban well enough to anticipate that this wouldn’t go down well, even in his current state of inebriation.

“My sister was four when we went into foster care. She was ill and starving. We only ate what I could steal and I was crap at it. I kept getting caught. They tried to save her, but she died too…” Ban trailed off again, his head bowed and his eyes fixed on the wooden table, scarred with white rings from alcohol-soaked glasses.

“She should have been taken into care years before, and your brother thinks too much public money is spent trying to protect the likes of us,” Ban spat angrily, his eyes still looking downwards.

***

Zeldris and Elizabeth from Chapter 3

“You all go on ahead. I have some business to attend to here,“ Zeldris ordered, his voice ringing with authority. Elizabeth was surprised to see the others immediately comply with his instructions. They moved quickly to the staircase which led to the dorms, leaving Zeldris standing alone in the quad.

"You can come out now,” Zeldris barked as he spun round to stare at the place where Elizabeth was hiding. “I know you’re there and that you were listening.”

Elizabeth unwillingly stepped out into the open, her face showing plainly her nervousness as her hand went to play with the scarf round her neck.

“Elizabeth Liones. If you want to hide I suggest you learn to control your breathing.” Zeldris stared at her coldly, his raven eyes flashing with anger. “You want to explain what you were doing?”

“I… nothing. I just came back from my shift…”

“Don’t lie to me! I saw you leaving my father’s apartment and there’s only one reason you’d be there at this hour. You’ve been stupid enough to let yourself become one of my brother’s many conquests now he’s back on the market. Even I would not have thought he’d be so desperate that he’d sleep with the enemy, though he evidently doesn’t care about you enough to let you stay for the night.” Zeldris snarled, his words sounding rich with the honey of pure loathing.

Elizabeth flushed up to the roots of her hair and her mouth fell open as she struggled to find her voice. She felt like she’d been slapped.

“It… it’s not like that at all…” she flustered.

“Oh really? Your face says otherwise,” Zeldris shot back.

“We were only talking.” Elizabeth managed to squeak out.

“Just as well. I advise you not to get too attached. Meliodas will happily use you, as he has so many other women, but he will never do more for you than satisfy his own needs.”

“I don’t believe you,” Elizabeth said coldly, her nervousness gone. “He’s not like that at all.”

“Seems you know more about my brother than you were letting on, or at least you think you do,” Zeldris crowed triumphantly, a smirk spreading over his face. “Proof enough of your feelings. But did he tell you what he did to his ex?”

Elizabeth paused, a question about what Meliodas had done that was so bad was on the tip of her tongue, but she suppressed it. It was his secret to keep and she would not give his brother the satisfaction he was obviously craving. She returned Zeldris’ gaze, her jaw clenched hard and her hands balled into fists at her sides, determined not to show him how much he frightened her.

“He threw her out. He got what he needed, then cast her aside with nothing to her name. They were talking marriage and children, and she thought everything was fine. But did he care? He’d had enough, so that was the end. That’s what he does. Everything is always about him.

"Still, it was for the best. She was not good enough. She would never have held her own with my family. We used to laugh at her. Even Estarossa thought she was thick. The only reason father put up with her was her title, and you would be no different. I know all about you. Your grades are reasonable but you work like a dog for them. You have no verve, no genuine intellect. Without your family connections you would not be here at all. Oxford is for people with brains, not cart horses like you. For all his faults, Meliodas is brilliant. No one can hold a candle to him. How can you of all people ever hope to keep up? Once he’s done with you physically, how could you possibly hope to hold his ever-wandering attention?”

Elizabeth felt herself flushing profusely, her face and neck flaming with uncomfortable heat as she gave into the urge and dropped her eyes to the floor. Try as she might, Zeldris’ words were upsetting her deeply. She did her best to take even breaths of the cold December air in an attempt to control the adrenaline coursing through her. The last thing she wanted to do was burst into tears. But his words hurt. He was right, she wasn’t that clever. She had enough intelligence to get by, but unlike her colleagues she had to study hard. She enjoyed the work, but it did not come naturally. The thing she liked about medicine was putting the patients at ease, helping them understand that she would do her best, building their trust and reaping the rewards when their health slowly recovered. She was not an academic and never would be.

“You will leave my brother alone if you know what’s good for you,” Zeldris warned quietly, taking a menacing step towards Elizabeth, seeming to tower over her despite his small stature as he pressed into her personal space. “If nothing else, do you know what my father would do to him if he found out about this? He hates Bartra Liones and will hate you just as much. And enjoyable as it would be to watch my brother get the discipline he deserves, I give you fair warning it will not be pleasant. If you know what’s good for you both, you will stay away.”

#nnt #seven deadly sins #fanfiction #meliodas #ban #zeldris #elizabeth liones #doctors in waiting #oxford au

[galfridus1]

Demon quidditch team

Suggested line up. What do you think?

Keeper: Fraudrin

Beaters: Estarossa and Derieri

Chasers: Meliodas (team captain), Monspeet and Melascyla

Seeker: Zeldris

Reserve: Gowther’s Doll

#nnt #harry potter #where did it all go wrong #i need help

[galfridus1]

NNT WEEK DAY 3: FAVOURITE MINOR CHARACTER

Gloxinia and his amazing weapon! I guess he's not minor really but he's neither a hero nor a villain and deserves some time in the spotlight. Hope you don't mind. Here he is with Gelda, another wonderful minor character, outside the fairy king’s forest in an extract from my story ‘Invasion’.

***

Gelda braced herself for the impact as she saw Melascyla surge on her, fangs gleaming, but before it hit she felt something rushing up behind her, forcing the serpent to still its approach.

“Spirit Spear Basquias ninth configuration, Death Thorn,” she heard a voice sing and Gelda watched as green tendrils rushed passed her. She held her breath, willing the attack to hit its mark as barbed shoots pounded into the ground one after another. But Melascyla was too quick. Faster than thought she shrank back down and slithered away, successfully dodging the attacks and Gelda sensed her energy fading into the background.

“Fine, run away,” Gelda yelled in her anger. “And tell the King that if he cares about his sons he’ll make peace with the goddesses.”

#nntweek #nnt #fanfiction #gelda #gloxinia