Part Eight

Wrap your arms around
My dark heart, it's yours to own.
Lighten it with yours.

—Kirk Diedrich

Days turned into weeks, and Elizabeth begins to fade. Food and drink taste like nothing; her eyes and skin and hair turn dull. Nothing satisfies her anymore, not the song of birds or fresh cream or a field of bright yellow flowers. Nothing compares to the love she nearly had, and the love that had forsaken her.

There is no pleasure without pain, and Elizabeth knows this is her penance for experiencing such pleasure that goddesses are forbidden to have. She understands why this is; what goddess would give her life to service and spend eternity giving life to others? Not when such things exist in the world. And now Elizabeth struggles in her own duties as a goddess. She had thought that returning to Britannia would replenish her power. Elizabeth ate and drank and slept, but instead of feeling renewed, she is drained. It all seems to be pale, her life a dream, yet when she sleeps all she can feel and taste and hear is him.

The other goddesses worry over her, and Baltra himself examines Elizabeth, but there is no precedent for this. Her powers are slowly draining, and as she works, she grows tired more often, unable to fulfill her duties.

Margaret asks her about her experience in the Underworld, and Baltra demands details. But the goddess refuses to tell them of what she saw or what she did. It is hers alone, she decides. If she cannot have Meliodas anymore, then she will keep what she can. The rest of the goddesses look at her oddly now as well. Many remember the horror that happened on the day Elizabeth disappeared, and some go as far as to blame the girl for succumbing to temptation and bringing such a fate on them all.

Despite her fatigue and the waning of her power, Margaret begs her to come along to bless a wedding. Elizabeth is hesitant to go, remembering the last wedding she bore witness to; it was the first time she had kissed Meliodas, and a lump rises in her throat as she remembers. But the goddess knows she must do what she must, so she performs the dance with her sister, flowers sprouting beneath them as they complete the blessing. When it is over, she is weary with the way her power pulses through her, and Elizabeth is all but dragging as their roles are concluded.

Elizabeth begins to follow her sister away, but then she pauses. An overwhelming urge to see the human custom once more overcomes her, and ignoring the shout from Margaret the goddess turns and hurries towards the ceremony. Once more she ducks into the hedges to spy the group, and once more she witnesses the exchanging of words and a kiss between the man and woman. A tear slips down her cheek, for both the beauty of the love she witnesses, and the ache for the love she might have had.

This time, Elizabeth stays. She watches the humans feast, and dance, and the party goes on until dusk. Then the couple is sent off together to a tent set apart from the others, and barely breathing, Elizabeth follows.

There is rustling from inside, and the goddess creeps closer, moving silently over the grass until she can peer between the flats. The couple kisses again and again, and Elizabeth sighs as the woman does when his mouth moves down her neck. Quickly the two undress one another until they are wrapped around each other, naked, their movements now familiar to the goddess. She can feel the deep ache within her as she watches them roll onto the thin mattress.

He spreads her legs and moves between them, just as Meliodas had done; her arms are around him, and they kiss over and over, his hands sliding over her chest. She moans and arches her back as his hips move, and Elizabeth holds her breath, recalling the twinge of pain when her demon had slid inside of her body. It had seemed so right then, but ended up being so wrong; Elizabeth had been so sure they were experiencing love as husband and wife. He had called her his wife and his queen so many times she had nearly begun to believe such a thing.

A cry pulls her attention, and Elizabeth stares intently at the couple. His hips are thrusting hard, battering against her thighs, and the woman's face is twisted in pain, one arm reaching up to cover her eyes. The goddess moves for a second in an attempt to heal the girl, but pauses, wanting to know what happens. She watches in awe as her muscles tense with her husband's movements, her fingers digging into the muscle of his arm. He leans up on his knees, holding her thighs apart, and he slowly pumps in and out of her. Finally he presses his body inside of her walls, panting as his back and shoulders shake, and the girl moans, her head moving side to side.

Elizabeth can barely breathe as he finishes. Then he leans down and kisses the tears on her cheeks and murmurs, "You did so well my darling… so well…" His hand moves between her legs and begins to stroke her body, and their mouths meet in a passionate kiss.

"My sister said… it won't hurt so much the next time…" The woman gasps as he finds a spot inside of her, and her words die away as she pumps her hips against his hand.

He kisses her flushed neck, licking the glistening skin. "Yes my darling… I promise you it will feel good."

Elizabeth sinks to the ground, pulling the flap of the tent shut and closing her eyes. This couple is in love; they gave each other their hearts; they made their oath. And yet she experienced the same pain. Could she have been wrong? Her hand goes to her cheek and finds more tears rolling down her face.

The image of the couple is in her mind the rest of the night, and still haunts her when she wakes from restless sleep. With a heavy heart and mind the goddess goes about her morning, moving off on her own to rest as she watches buds begin to blossom on the trees. She thinks of Meliodas, wondering what he is doing. Does he miss her? Is he grieving, as she is? It hurts to think he may not be… he did send her away after all. Elizabeth wishes for a chance to see him and explain, and to apologize. She had wanted him to love her, which was impossible. The guilt of this sin weighs heavily on her shoulders.

In her lap is an orange, and the goddess slowly digs into the skin, pulling the peel away. The sticky fruit smells delicious, but off somehow, as if it is not for her. She swallows thickly as she rips a piece away, holding the plump fruit in her hand for a moment. Then she slips it onto her tongue, closing her eyes as she bites down, the pungent juice squirting out and filling her mouth. It is cool and sweet and perfect, as everything else in Britannia. And still, it feels wrong.

Nothing in Britannia will satisfy her now, the goddess knows this. Elizabeth cannot experience joy anymore, because there is no sorrow to counteract it. Her desire for the demon only sparked after he startled her; their passion evolved after the agony of seeing her precious charge in the Underworld. It was the pain of losing her family that allowed her to find comfort in Meliodas, and the more he gave to her, the more she wanted to give as well in return.

With a bitter sound she tosses the orange away in frustration. Nothing is the same, nothing ever will be the same. Her stomach churns and she places a hand over it, rubbing small circles. She thinks of the table in Meliodas' castle laden with every food that could be desired. He had tried to entice her with that table every night, and every night her fear had kept her from eating the food. She knew that accepting his table would tie her to the Underworld forever. But as she had sat in the king's chair, staring down at Estarossa's half-eaten meal, she cursed her cowardice and the lie she told herself that she did not want to be bound to the demon king.

So she had eaten a single pomegranate seed as a way to hold a part of him forever.

"Elizabeth!" one of the goddesses calls. With a heaving sigh she climbs to her feet and joins the others. They head in a group towards a home, and the feeling of death is heavy and thick as they approach the house. The others whisper and whimper, but Elizabeth is unafraid. She leaves them behind as she enters.

There is one dimly lit room, and inside an old man lays dying on a bed. Next to him is an equally ancient woman, knitting and waiting. Elizabeth moves around to the side, extending her powers out to assess the dying man. He is ill, and his body is frail and ready to rest; she presses between them and sees that there is a sense of relief from them both, and that the wife will not be far behind.

She pauses for a moment, unsure of what to do. Normally as a goddess of healing she would pour her magic into the man, give him strength and cure his illness so he could have more time. But what would be the meaning of such an act? He is ready for the Underworld, and he wants the freedom of the afterlife. Should she deny him this gift for another? Elizabeth thinks of Purgatory, and the rolling green hills and crisp waterfalls, the clear night sky and the trees heavy with fruit. Is that not preferable than this dark room and stale air, where he would be confined until another illness came along to invade his body?

The old woman looks up at her, and Elizabeth returns the stare in surprise. It is not often that she is recognized. "Have you come to heal him?" she rasps.

"No, Mother," Elizabeth whispers. "Only to ease the pain to the other side."

The woman sighs and nods. "Good. He is ready to go."

Elizabeth takes a seat on the side of the bed and takes the man's hand. His breathing is shallow, and her powers seep into him through his veins. She soothes his pain, and feels his sore body relax. For a long moment the three sit in silence, and Elizabeth pictures the great hall, the dark throne on which the king sits in wait, and the doors on either side that lead to fate.

Finally the man gives a last shuddering breath, and as his eyes close for a final time, Elizabeth cannot help but smile.

She turns at the feeling of a hand on her shoulder, and Elizabeth is surprised to see Margaret there. "You could not save him?" the goddess says sadly.

Elizabeth shakes her head. "He was ready to go. He wanted to go."

Margaret gasps. "No one wants to die, Elizabeth! How could you do this? You've betrayed what it means to be a goddess of life!"

She sucks in a breath and stands. "You don't understand, Margaret. You haven't been there as I have. It can…" The goddess clenches her fists in frustration, trying to find the right words. "The souls have a place of peace and happiness. How could I deny him that?"

"You denied him life, Elizabeth," says her sister harshly. "That is unforgivable."

But before she can argue back, there is a moan, and both goddesses turn. The aged man in the bed opens his eyes, and his mouth hangs open as he gasps for air. "Father?" Elizabeth exclaims, sitting on the bed again. "What happened? I thought you had gone!"

"Nothing," he rasps, his eyes wide and wild. "Nothing."

A sinking feeling rolls down her spine. "What? What is it?"

The man gives another moan. "There is nothing," he groans. "Death has locked its doors."

Elizabeth jumps to her feet, gaping down at him in horror. "What does this mean?" Margaret cries out, her hands covering her mouth.

"Something is wrong," says Elizabeth slowly. "The entrance for the dead is shut. Meliodas has closed the Underworld." She turns around and looks at her sister frantically. "I must go! I must see what is wrong!"

She runs for the door, hurrying out into the afternoon, but Margaret catches her wrist before she can get far. "You are not going!" Margaret screams. "You are a goddess!"

"Let me go!" cries Elizabeth, yanking her hand away. "I need to see him. I need to know!"

She runs as fast as she can, not knowing where to go, what to do, but knowing she must get to the Underworld as fast as she can. But how? Where? Meliodas had brought her there, and her father's power had brought her home. There is no hope of asking for Baltra's help, and no way to contact Meliodas.

Elizabeth sinks to the ground, a sob escaping her. Her heart aches and she buries her face in her hands. Fear and sorrow overwhelm the goddess. For the first time, she sees life as a curse.

Suddenly an idea sparks. If she cannot find the entrance to the Underworld, she will seek admittance the only other way she knows. Goddesses are immortal, but not invincible. They will live forever unless their life is purposefully taken away.

She scrambles on the ground, looking for a sharp rock. Her hand finally clasps around one and Elizabeth collapses against a tree. The tears are flowing freely now as she takes one trembling breath after another. She must do this for him. She must do this. But once more her fear holds her back, once more her cowardice makes her hesitate.

Elizabeth looks at her arm, smooth and unblemished. She grits her teeth and places the sharp edge of the stone against her flesh and pushes, wincing in pain as the first beads of blood appear. With an anguished cry she continues to dig, the blood dripping and then spilling down her arm and onto the white fabric of her dress. Her shoulders shake and she drops the makeshift blade on the ground, watching as her life drains from her in rivers. The weakness that begins to overtake her as one minute after another ticks by is welcome.

An energy that is dark and familiar approaches, but Elizabeth cannot place it at first. She hears her name, and in a daze she lifts her eyes. Two demons stand before her, the brothers of the king, and her weeping turns to a burst of laughter. "Am I dead?" she asks dreamily. "Have you come to take me to the Underworld?"

"Your Grace," says the younger, kneeling down. He covers her bleeding arm with his hand. "This way is locked."

"I need to see him," she whispers, looking into his dark eyes. "I need to go back."

"You ate the fruit, didn't you?" Estarossa asks. Elizabeth looks up, squinting in the sun to see him staring down at her with folded arms but not looking entirely unpleased. She nods and he continues, "Then you will be tied there forever. Nothing here will fully satisfy you."

Elizabeth briefly closes her eyes. There is a tingling on her arm, and when she glances down she can see her skin repairing itself, the blood clotting as Zeldris presses his fingers around her skin. Goddesses can heal others but not themselves; she knows it must be the demon's powers that are mending her arm "Why are you doing this?" she whispers.

Zeldris looks at her. "I sacrificed a love once, just as you did. That was my offering to the gods for my power."

Elizabeth blinks, and instinctively she reaches out to slide her fingers over his hand, her powers pressing forward to comfort. "You loved someone?"

The demon nods. "I did, and I gave her away. I walked away from her as you walked away from the king, and I can feel your heart regrets it as deeply as mine." His eyes widen a bit in surprise and he looks up at his brother. "I can feel her healing. How is this possible?"

"Your Grace," Estarossa says, also kneeling down before the goddess. "You ate the food of the Underworld. Now you will not feel complete. You will not be truly satisfied by anything, as I can never be. This was my sacrifice."

"It's not true," she replies. She takes his hand as well, allowing the healing energy to flow to both. "I am complete, when I am with the king. I love him."

The brothers exchange a glance before pulling her to her feet. "Then we will take you to him," Zeldris says, and at once they take off in a flurry of dark wings and rushing wind.

Elizabeth is breathless and trembling when they reach the entrance to the Underworld, but when they let her go on shaking legs she can immediately see what the old man had spoken of when his soul returned to his body. The doors are shut, and the cavern they lead into are covered in a thick darkness that Elizabeth had only seen a handful of times before. It looks at though the Underworld has become overrun with the black energy, but she walks towards it unafraid, stretching her arms out to allow the wisps to touch her skin. It feels like sparks on her arms, the hairs on the back of her neck rising; but they make way for the queen as she moves through the clustering shadow.

The doors open on their own, but as soon as she passes through they slam shut behind her. The darkness is complete inside, and Elizabeth must wade through completely blind. Yet the goddess trusts the energy she knows belongs to her demon, and in turn it guides her down the journey all souls must make to meet the king. It keeps her on the path, saving her from even a stumble.

Her heart is beating wildly as she walks. She can feel Meliodas growing closer, and it is everything within her not to run forward, no matter the consequences. Somehow the darkness becomes dimmer, and whether it is fading as she moves towards the source or her eyes simply adjust she could never say for sure. Even though it blankets her and the Underworld, never does Elizabeth feel suffocated, never does she feel fear. Her footsteps grow surer as she finally reaches the great hall.

Meliodas sits on his black throne, bent over, his back rising and falling with agony. The darkness that has seeped through the realm leads into markings along his skin, and he stares blankly and unblinkingly forward. Elizabeth calls his name, and when he does not answer she stops for the first time, afraid she is too late.

"Meliodas?" she calls as she approaches the figure sitting frozen in the throne. "Meliodas, I need to give you something."

There is no sound as she approaches, the darkness absorbing the echo of her voice, the soft footfalls. Slowly she climbs the stairs of the dais until she stands before the king. With a hesitant hand she reaches out for him, and finds his skin surprisingly cool under her touch. Elizabeth kneels at his feet, her hands sliding along his thighs, and she tilts her face to look up at him. "Meliodas. I have a gift for you."

Still he does not answer. Her hands move up his arms, and then she presses one flat against his chest. "I want to give you my heart."

The king does not move, so Elizabeth closes her eyes. With all of her strength, she pours her emotions into the demon, willing his darkness back, praying he will accept her gift. A moment goes by, then another, when suddenly there is a tearing inside of her. Elizabeth bites her lip sharply to keep herself from crying out in pain. It feels as though her chest is being pulled apart, and she gasps with labored breathing through the sensation.

The seconds tick by in a blur of agony. She is both overwhelmed by sorrow and joy, and her cheeks are wet. How many times has she cried today? But it makes no difference; she enjoys the pain and tears while she still can feel, before her heart is gone.

Fingers grip her wrist and wrench her hand away. Elizabeth goes limp, her energy spent, and she whimpers. She tips backwards into the blackness as arms grab her up, the searing in her chest fading into a dulled sort of pulse. The goddess of life and queen of death whispers the name of her love as she sinks into nothingness.

There is no pleasure without pain. No joy without sorrow. No life without death. This is a lesson that Meliodas and Elizabeth learn in their final moments as she gives him her heart. Rewards are only given to those who sacrifice.

The goddess and the demon understand this now, and so does all of Britannia.

This had not been Elizabeth's intention. She had wanted to give her whole heart to her demon, but the king had revived with the force of her resolve and had stopped her before she gave it all away. Meliodas had awoken as if from a dream, the darkest dream that could be imagined. Sending Elizabeth away had torn out the sliver of emotion that had taken root inside of him. His mind had awakened by being with her, his passion and feelings coming to life like some long-lost muscle memory, the legs of a lame man relearning to walk. The loneliness and loss had filled the void inside of him, until it spilled out and consumed his realm, the thing he had sacrificed for in the first place.

When Meliodas felt again, it was the press of her hand that brought him back; when his senses returned, he then could hear her voice and see her eyes and smell the scent of wildflowers. Immediately the demon knew what she was doing, what she had already done, and tried to put a stop to it. If he could not survive her being gone without a heart, how could he hope to go on with one beating in his chest?

Now the two are forever a part of each other. The light and the dark cannot survive without one another. The goddess of life and the lord of the Underworld now share a heart, each with a perfect half. They are forever connected in their love.

It was the goddess' turn to sleep, having nearly died in the task. She had used almost the last drop of her healing magic to transfer the precious heart into the king. He watched over her as she slept, while he set his brothers to the task of opening the doors and sorting the souls that had been waiting. Meliodas sat and waited, as he had in his throne, but the heart inside of his chest kept the darkness at bay. He had the ability to feel and to love and to grieve and now he could understand himself, understand it all.

When she wakes, he goes to her, and the kiss they share is sweeter than their first, more intense than their last. For the first time, Meliodas is unsure, hesitating as his hands grip her waist. But it is Elizabeth who urges him closer, tears weighing heavily on her lashes to hold the demon again. The passion that builds between them is new with their connected hearts, and with a steady pace towards the inevitable, they worship one another.

Meliodas had always found her beautiful, sweet, breathtaking, delicious; now she is more precious than he could have imagined. He watches in awe as she removes her dress, shaking in anticipation, feverish with the raging need. Still he is anxious, even as she pulls on his clothing, even as their mouths taste one another again and again. Her whispered promises of love and trust settle his nerves even as her fervent kisses on his neck and chest stir the flame inside of him in a new and thrilling way. He can barely keep up with the way she moves on him, the way her tongue teases him, the way her fingers graze and caress him.

"Elizabeth," he says, rolling her over, caging her in with his limbs. To lose her and get her back so suddenly has him in a whirlwind, and he wants to pause and think and breathe her in. But the goddess has other ideas, her hands moving down his sides. The gentle touches make his body twitch, his blood pounding as the desire within him roars to life. His eyes drag down her body, growing hooded when they slide over her elegant neck, her hardened nipples, her squirming hips, her gleaming thighs. "I can't hurt you again," he moans, blinking slowly, trying to drag himself out from under this shroud.

Her hands go to his cheeks, her palms tilting his face so he has no choice but to look in her eyes. "I love you," she says, and his heart skips a beat. "I promise to love you and stay with you forever. My heart is yours." She spreads her thighs to wrap around him, pulling him closer until his body is pressing against the blazing heat of her center.

Meliodas leans down and kisses her chest, her heart beating beneath his lips. His kiss trails down the inside of her breast, and Elizabeth sighs, her body arching a bit as her frantic movements still. Now that she is giving herself to him, he begins to roll his hips, grazing her slit with the length of him, teasing her until she is moaning softly.

Then he draws himself over her, brushing a kiss on the corner of her lips. "I love you," responds the king. "I promise to love you and keep you forever. My heart is yours." He covers her mouth with his, and they pour the love they have pledged into the kiss, which is slow and deep and passionate. The words have been spoken, the oath has been made. Nothing can undo this vow between a god and a goddess.

Elizabeth sighs in pleasure as he slowly rocks into her body, the sound sending a spiral of bliss through him. She is perfect, delicate, delicious. Her head falls to the side, her eyes closing bashfully, and he kisses her dark lashes as they brush her cheeks. Slowly, slowly, he inches inside of her, until he is swallowed by her heat, until they are once more joined in ecstasy.

Their hands entwined, they move together, both moaning as Meliodas thrusts slowly, shallowly. His heart feels next to bursting with pleasure. Never had he dared to imagine the sound she would make as he slid in and out of her walls, never had he pictured the rosy tint of her flesh as she shuddered in his arms, never had he thought to hear the deep groaning that comes from her chest. He tastes her flushed skin; he drives himself into her tight, wet body. Elizabeth's cries ignite his blood. Her lips on his intensify his building rapture.

And then, it hits, the moment of bliss, and Elizabeth is twisting and squeezing and calling his name, even as he is thrusting and groaning and dragging her earlobe between his teeth. His mind spins with the pleasure, afraid of it ending, afraid of it never stopping. She goes limp beneath him, and he grinds his hips with his own pleasure as he finishes spilling inside of his goddess, his queen, his wife.

There is no pleasure without pain, and the same is true for the king and queen of the Underworld. For though she belongs to Meliodas, Elizabeth is still a goddess of life, and her duty means she must return to Britannia. Without her, the world is withering away, the plants dying as the sun disappears, the ground growing hard under the freezing wind. The humans do not understand the change, and they are dying, unable to farm or hunt or provide for their children. Baltra demands her return, and the gods must step in for her to fulfill her purpose.

But Elizabeth has eaten the fruit of the Underworld. She has given her heart to its king, has spoken an unbreakable oath of love, so she will return. She will perform her tasks and bring life to the world, and then return to her place by her demon's side, only going back once again when Britannia is ready for rebirth.

While she is gone, the king waits. He watches Elizabeth in the ceiling of his throne room, just as he had when she made flower crowns and laid among the tall grasses, wondering how the humans showed love. He smiles now, however, the half of her heart that she gave him beating steadily. Meliodas rules his kingdom as he is bound, maintaining the beauty of Purgatory, which the souls have renamed Paradise. He waits for the return of his other half, so they can join their hearts and voices and bodies as they have always been meant.

A/N: Endings are so bittersweet, and now I have two in as many days. This story was meant to be a oneshot, if you can believe it, until it took on a life of its own. I am so very happy to have shared it with all of you, and I welcome your comments, both good and bad. I appreciate all of you who have read this story. I do believe I may return to this world at least one more time, so perhaps this isn't the end.

Once more I must commend the amazing BettyBest2 for her role in reading this story, and for crafting the most incredible companion piece with Take My Heart. I am still amazed by you, my dear, and I am humbled by your talent.