Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Zeldris still remembered the first time he saw Bloodstained Ellie.

He was young, far younger than he was now, and possessed by an arrogant overconfidence that filled his mind with visions of grandeur. Contrary to popular belief, his older brother’s rapidly growing strength and success hadn’t instilled a feeling of inferiority within him. On the contrary, Zeldris had been convinced that he would be able to surpass Meliodas in time, to rise to the top of the ranks within the clan and receive that glowing, rare approval from his father that he so desperately craved. How young and foolish he had been. 

Even now, with his memories dulled over time and twisted by his imprisonment, he still remembered Elizabeth with a cut-glass clarity. Despite his station as the Demon King’s son, despite his high ranking within the Demon Clan, nothing could have prepared him for just how terrifying she was. He had heard the stories, certainly; tales of brutality and merciless slaughter whispered by trembling mouths around a campfire in the dead of night, but he had dismissed them as the paranoid ramblings of unprepared, low-class demons. And really, how intimidating could a Goddess even be? They were prim and proper beings, with those deplorable, smiling, falsely innocent faces. They wrinkled their noses disapprovingly at violence and denounced confrontation in all its many forms, then turned around and schemed and plotted like the conniving snakes they really were. They didn’t get messy. They used Arks and kept their hands clean, and he had no doubt that the Supreme Deity’s perfect little daughter was as insufferable as the rest.

How wrong he was. The minute he stepped onto the field of combat, those silly ghost stories that he’d waved away without a second thought came crashing back, swirling through his brain in a screaming warning to run. Because Elizabeth didn’t do prim and proper. Elizabeth didn’t denounce and disapprove and fake haughty innocence. Elizabeth didn’t keep her hands clean from the blood of her enemies. 

Elizabeth tore her way through demons without a second thought, leaving a sizzling trail of blood and miasma in the wake of her destruction. She moved with the single-minded speed of a predator, darting across the scorched earth and dodging attacks by a hair's breadth of space, each movement unnervingly precise and leaving no room for wasted energy. She wore the same flowing robes as the other Goddesses, but whereas they were a symbol of grace and status among the Goddess Clan, on Elizabeth... On Elizabeth, they were nothing more than a costume designed to lull her opponents into a false sense of safety, to portray a soft, feminine weakness before she struck like an asp, all coils and venom and burrowing fangs, paying no heed to the carnage soaking into its fine white threads. She attacked with spheres and blades and rays of fierce, piercing light that rained down unforgivingly and reduced their legions to ash. The rapid motions of her arms left sweat gleaming alongside the blood on her skin, and she spun and slashed and soared on sooty wings until there was no one left standing around her. And then she went searching for more demons to kill. 

She was light and blood and vengeance, and the most terrifying part of the entire massacre was that there wasn’t even any anger behind it. She shredded their ranks without a hint of hatred in those burning orange eyes. Just cold, merciless execution. And when those eyes turned to him, when that delicate hand lifted into the air, glowing like a newborn sun, his panicked order to retreat tore his throat and filled his mouth with the taste of iron. 

It was the first time Zeldris remembered being terrified. She was a nightmare incarnate, and he couldn’t even wake up to escape her. He knew, as he stumbled off of that battlefield, bruised and bloody and among only a handful of survivors, that this would not be the last time he saw Bloodstained Ellie. He could only hope that he survived their next encounter, whenever that may be.

She didn’t seem the type to let prey escape a second time.

Chapter Text

Melascula had had enough.

At first, the plan had been magnificent. Recover their strength from being trapped in the Goddess Clan’s accursed seal, and then launch a siege against Britannia, reclaiming the continent in the Demon Clan’s name and exacting revenge on Meliodas for his betrayal. And then that girl of his had shown up, spouting off some nonsense about Meliodas being controlled by some machination of the Goddess Clan. And sure, even Melascula was inclined to indulge you a bit, guessing that this was some mixture of isolation-induced insanity and a coping mechanism for your lover’s betrayal. But then Zeldris and the others had found proof, and suddenly Meliodas was no longer an enemy to destroy, but someone to be saved, and this newfound evidence of his innocence meant that they could no longer sow chaos across the continent. No, they needed to focus on finding a way to free him. Admittedly, it was very satisfying to watch his little family take turns stabbing him until he died—the agony in the air had been absolutely delicious— even though she’d had to do so with a broken neck. But the knowledge that it was all to save not only a disgrace of a demon, but the entirely unworthy heir to the Demon King’s throne, had soured her pleasure.

And if all that wasn’t already bad enough, now their almighty leader had decreed, supposedly on behalf of their King, that no one could take any action until Meliodas returned. And why? Because they needed to wait and see what state Meliodas was in upon his return from Purgatory, and didn’t want to lay waste to his home if the so-called right version was the one to return. Melascula had protested, of course, and Grey Road had been equally incensed about their limitations, but without Galand there, they were bitterly outnumbered. Fraudrin had stood with them, but he’d always been spineless, far too inclined to roll over and obey whoever’s commands were the loudest. He wasn’t reliable, not like Grey Road and Galand and Melascula, who picked their side and stuck with it. 

So. It was just the two of them, now. Two true demons, champions of their Clan’s cause, surrounded by a host of pretenders, all far too concerned with the affairs of one overly sentimental demon and his pack of human companions. And after Zeldris’ most recent scolding, she had decided that she was done. She wasn’t going to be a part of their nonsense for another minute. She would do things her way, prove to them all just how big of a mistake they were making, and when they finally tired of playing nice, she would be magnanimous and let bygones be bygones. 

So here she was, floating up the side of a mountain to find her closest and oldest friend, her true partner in all things, and the only person she’d ever needed. Not that she'd ever admit it to anyone other than herself. She had a reputation to maintain, after all.

“Long time, no see, Galand,” she greets the other demon warmly. “Still waiting up for me after all these weeks?”

“Haha, very funny,” he deadpans, bringing a smirk to her face. “And here I thought you had finally written me off.” 

“Don't be mistaken, I’m still angry with you for playing that stupid little game of yours,” she retorts flippantly. “But I don't blame you. That human was an abnormality, and he even got the better of me. It was only expected that he'd be able to take you if he was a challenge for me.”

“Humble as always, I see,” Galand says dryly. “Did you 

“Ugh,” she huffs. “It’s terrible, Galand. I'm almost jealous of you, being stuck up here and all.” She rolls over with a sigh of frustration, laying flat on her back in midair and staring up at the starry night sky. “This whole situation just sucks. We aren't allowed to hunt humans, we aren't allowed to eliminate the Seven Deadly Sins, I still don’t know a way to turn you back to normal, and we're just supposed to sit around and wait for Meliodas to magically revive. And yeah, sure, if he comes back still messed up and lovey-dovey with that pet Goddess of his, then we can do whatever we want to this world, but it's not enough. I finally went to Zeldris about it, but he didn't even listen, just spouted off some threat about treason. So we left, me and Fraudrin and Grey Road. We'll restore the Demon Clan to its former glory ourselves, no more of this Meliodas nonsense.” She sighs deeply, feeling drained from her mini-rant.

“There really isn’t a way,” he replies after a long moment. “To free me, I mean. The effects of a Commandment, once triggered, are permanent unless the wielder is killed, defeated by the victim, or otherwise chooses to relinquish it. I can hardly defeat myself, and for obvious reasons, I can’t perform the incantation necessary to give my Commandment up. I guess the effects might end if someone else removed my Commandment, or had some way to negate its effects, but Zeldris is the only one I know who could do either.” He snorts to himself. “I suppose he’ll be back to collect it sooner or later. Not that I’m expecting to survive that encounter, whenever it happens.” 

“You can't just give up,” Melascula says, aghast, and Galand laughs bitterly, echoing her own sentiments.

“It’s not giving up to recognize when you’re out of options,” he replies dryly. Melascula hisses at him disapprovingly, but he seems unfazed. Well, as unfazed as he can seem when he’s already literal stone.  

“There are others, you know,” she begins, half hopeful and half conspiratorial. “Other demons in Purgatory who don’t agree with this neutral, wait-and-see stance. We have a plan to summon them. With enough demons backing our side, we’ll be able to remind Zeldris and the others just who they really are, and what our priorities should be. It’ll take time, of course, since I can only summon a few at a time, but we’ll get there. And if we’re lucky, maybe one of them will know how to help break the Commandment’s effect on you.” She had intended for her words to come off as encouraging, but instead of the expected reaction of sinister laughter or some other form of agreement, Galand goes quiet. She can tell he’s thinking, and a sliver of unease creeps through her at his uncharacteristic silence. 

“There is another way,” he finally says. “For you to carry out this plan of yours.” Intrigued, she rolls over and stares at him, silently inviting him to continue.

“You could take my Commandment.” 

Melascula bursts into laughter so intense that it makes her stomach hurt and tears leak from her eyes. Gasping for air, she points at him with a snarky quip on her lips, but pauses at the realization that Galand isn’t laughing. He’s still painfully silent, and slowly, her laughter ceases. She stares at him, and the realization dawns on her slowly that his comment was completely serious.

“Are you crazy?” She asks. “I mean, discounting the fact that I’d go even more insane than I am now, weren’t you just saying that we wouldn’t be getting any favors from Zeldris? Are you saying you want him to kill you?”

“No,” he says, deadly calm. “I’m saying I want you to.” The words seep into Melascula like cold poison, chilling every inch of her body, and she reels back. He couldn’t be asking for that. He couldn’t... how could he ask her to do that? 

“You can’t be serious,” she whispers. “You... want to die?”

“No, I don’t,” he quickly corrects her. “But... I don’t think there’s any way for me to come back from this, Melascula. I can’t do anything. I’m stuck like this, and as far as I see, this is the only way I can help you. With my Commandment, you’d have enough power to summon as many demons from Purgatory as you’d like. I know there’s a high cost to holding more than your own Commandment, but—”

“I don’t give a damn about the cost!” She interrupts him, her throat tight. “I give a damn about losing my... my friend. I’m not going to kill you, Galand, I can’t kill you.” 

“I’m going to die regardless,” he says quietly. “And I’d much rather it be at your hands than Zeldris or one of Meliodas’ lot. At least, this way, I die knowing I’m a part of the revolution.” Melascula’s protests die in her throat at his words, and just how tired he sounds. More tired than she’s ever heard him. She licks her cracked lips, feeling her venom sting in the small cuts.

“Thank you, old friend,” she murmurs. “You won’t be forgotten, I promise you that.” 

“Just put my power to good use, yeah?” Galand says with a small laugh. “And give them hell.” 

Melascula’s lips curve into a slow and venomous smile as she gathers her power to herself, and prepares to strike. “Oh, don’t worry. I intend to.”