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She feels the slight tug at her hand and comes to a stop, turning to look back over. Since when had she fallen out of step with her? It must have only been for a split second.

“Here! Come look at this . . .”

Gelda eyes her calmly, watching as Elizabeth stares in wonder at the storefront. It takes her a moment to realize that her partner has finally stopped, but Elizabeth turns back towards her, smiling brightly with a soft laugh. “What?”

“It’s just like you is all,” Gelda murmurs fondly in response as she takes a step back over, peering into the storefront window with her. Front and center on a mannequin sits a simple white dress. To anyone else, it might seem too simple, but something had clearly caught Elizabeth’s eye.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Elizabeth lifts her free hand up, placing it against the window lightly. Her fingertips brush against it lightly as she leans in, breath leaving a faint bit of fog along the glass.

“Hmm.” Gelda shifts her gaze back to Elizabeth, a small smile beginning to form. “It can be.”

She feels a small squeeze at her hand as Elizabeth turns back towards her, eyes shining with wonder. “You see it too, don’t you?” A quiet sort of excitement was beginning to build within her. “It’s simple now, and— ah, maybe it’s a bit plain? But I think if I added a sash here—” She points with her free hand, tracing the outline of the sash in the air. “Right here? I think that’s a good start, right?”

“It’s a good idea,” Gelda starts, closing her eyes with satisfaction as she brushes her thumb against Elizabeth’s hand. “I’d be interested in seeing where you take it.”

Chapter Text

Elizabeth lingers in the doorway, watching as Gelda carefully finishes applying the last bit of rouge to her complexion. It’s faint, just enough to leave the slightest bit of coloring without being entirely overwhelming.

It also fascinates her that Gelda is able to do it with such ease when the mirror in front of her reflects nothing but her surroundings — including herself, lingering by the doorway.

“Is there something else you wanted?” Gelda murmurs, lowering the rouge.

“N-No, it’s not that,” Elizabeth stammers, before letting out a light laugh. She steps in, making her way over, and smiles just a bit at Gelda as she gestures over at the table. “I was just impressed at how you manage to put yourself together.”

A small smile plays at Gelda’s lips as she tilts her head to the side up at the goddess. “Because I have no reflection?”

Elizabeth waves her hands in protest. “I mean— I couldn’t do it! I’d be hopeless without a mirror . . .”

Gelda reaches up to take one of Elizabeth’s hands in her own gently. “I doubt that.”

A calming sensation seems to come over her as the vampire turns her hand over, brushing her thumb against her palm. Elizabeth lets out a soft sigh. “Can I tell you, though? You’re really incredible.”

Her eyes shift up towards her. “And what makes you say that?”

She knows what Gelda is really asking of her. Elizabeth smiles warmly down at her and reaches over with her free hand, brushing it through the other woman’s hair once, lightly. “I like your hair,” she starts earnestly. “No matter what you do with it, it always looks so . . .”

“So . . . ?” Gelda echoes her trailed off thought, giving her a small smile, a fang peaking through her lips.

“Like you,” Elizabeth finishes with a hum.

“And what does that mean, exactly?” the vampire muses, practically issuing a quiet challenge.

“It means it’s like everything about you.” At that, Elizabeth kneels down a bit so she’s level with Gelda. And though the only thing the mirror reflects is the goddess, Elizabeth can still see the two of them together, face to face. “It’s you. That’s all.”

Chapter Text

Deldry sighs deeply as she turns on her heels, storming down the streets of Liones. “Men,” she huffs under her breath. “They’re always so—”

“Pig-headed, right?”

The knight pauses at the sound of the voice, raising an eyebrow as she tips her head to the side. Nearby stands a woman she’s never seen before and although her stature is short, her presence is commanding, to the point of almost being overwhelming.

“That’s a start,” Deldry muses, lips twisting into a smirk. “I’ve never seen you around here before.”

The woman barks out a laugh as she grins over at her brashly. “I don’t get out much. Or I shouldn’t, but—” She waves a hand idly at that. “Another idiotic man has me coming out here for whatever reason.”

‘For whatever reason’? Deldry hums slyly to herself, mildly intrigued. “You don’t exactly sound thrilled about that.”

“Because I’m not,” she responds, rolling a shoulder as she hops down a few steps, closing the distance between the two of them. “Jenna, by the way.”

“Deldry,” the knight responds, giving her a curious look even as the smirk — or is it an actual smile now? — continues to play at her lips. “I’d hate to ask which particular buffoon brought you here, but—”

Jenna heaves a dramatic sigh, shaking her head. “I was going to say the most foolish man you know, but! It sounds like you have quite a few of those here. No wonder he fits right in.”

“Hmm.” An idea begins to form in Deldry’s head. She gestures off down the street. “Well, perhaps I could tell you more over a drink?”

In an instant, Jenna is on to her and despite the fact that Deldry has a few inches on her, the blonde woman’s presence still manages to loom large. “Tell me more over a drink huh,” she practically leers as she grins up at her. “Is that how you do things around here?”

Deldry practically stumbles over her feet as she takes a step back, mildly flustered. “That’s—” she starts, biting at her lip. How had this woman seen through her already?

But Jenna merely barks out another laugh, throwing a thumb over her shoulder. “Don’t get me wrong! I’m taking you up on it. But you’re buying.” She pauses, considering for a moment, before adding, “And don’t think I’m cheap, either.”

Chapter Text

“Wow, Guila, are you going easy on her or something?”

Veronica smirks as she sees Guila falter, stumbling slightly on her feet. It isn’t often that she’s able to catch the knight off guard, so she’ll take any chance that she can get.

“Princess Veronica,” Guila starts once she’s regained her footing, managing to force the same calm smile onto her face. “If you could refrain from unnecessary commentary—”

“Hey, I’m just adding some spice to it,” Veronica responds with a wave of her hand. “Jericho doesn’t mind, right?”

“Huh?” Jericho perks up at the sound of her name, shifting her attention away from Guila. “I mean— I guess? It’s not that distracting, is it?”

“It’s extremely distracting,” Guila responds curtly.

“Maybe because someone’s already distracted,” Veronica retorts with a sly grin.

Guila’s hand wavers just a bit, causing Veronica’s grin to widen. Too easy. She tilts her head off towards Jericho. “You know she’s taking it easy on you, right?”

“Wh- what?” Jericho turns back towards Guila, protesting. “Hey, Guila, come on! You don’t have to do that—!!”

“I’m not,” Guila grits her teeth, trying not to shift her attention back to Veronica. “The princess is merely baiting you.”

“Is that what we’re calling it now?”

Princess Veronica.”

Veronica leans back with a chuckle, watching as Jericho lunges in again, engaging in close combat with Guila. “I’ve got this, Guila! You can come at me with everything, alright? Don’t hold back!”

Guila’s rapier twists, blocking hit after hit as they engage in a dance that only they know, that Veronica can only dream of. Griamore may be slowly warming up to the idea of helping her train, but he wasn’t nearly as nimble on his feet as Guila and Jericho were.

Of course, they wouldn’t be tangling quite as much if Guila weren’t even remotely flustered and Jericho hadn’t been incited into it.

“You’re welcome, Guila,” Veronica smiles to herself as she leans back, crossing her arms.

Chapter Text

Ban’s whooping can still be heard in the distance, accompanied by Hawk’s indigent squeaks while Meliodas cheers them on in his own way. Diane rolls her eyes at their antics for a moment longer before shifting her attention back towards Elizabeth, who sat perched at the edge of the tavern, atop of Hawk’s Mom. It had only been a few days since the incident that had left the princess injured, but she seemed to be feeling better at least.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Elizabeth?” Diane peers over at her, squinting a bit.

“Y-Yes!” Elizabeth laughs softly, turning her attention towards Diane. “I’m so sorry to have worried you.”

“What—” The giant sighs, shaking her head. “Geez, what are you apologizing to me for, huh? You’re the one who got hurt!”

“And you all had to wait because of me,” Elizabeth notes, giving her a small smile. “But I’m fine now, I promise.”

A redness rises to her cheeks as Diane lets out a huff, looking off to the side. “You— you better be,” she says with another sigh. “Geez, you’re going to make me worry by trying to not make me worry, you know that?”

“Ah, really?” Elizabeth blinks, as if the thought just occurred to her. “— Oh, no! That’s not what I meant at all!”

“I know that, silly.” Diane lets out a small laugh at that. How long had it been since she’d been able to laugh like that? Too long — ten years at least, or maybe even more. But now, with Elizabeth at their side, a warmth was beginning to spread within her chest — a warmth she hadn’t felt in ages.

Unconsciously, she reaches up to tug at her twin tails, drawing them in front of her face.

“Diane?” Elizabeth calls over, concerned. “Are you okay?”

“I—!!” Diane lets go of her hair in an instant. “I’m fine! I’m totally fine!”

“Are you sure? You looked almost red there for a moment or two. Are you coming down with a fever, perhaps?”

“You’re the one we’re supposed to be worrying about here—!!”

Chapter Text

“Oh wow, look!”

Diane points up at the night sky, practically beaming as another firework shoots up and bursts into a dozen different colors. How long had it been since she’d seen something like that? Not since her previous time in Liones, anyway. “Isn’t it amazing?”

“It is, isn’t it?” Elizabeth agrees, smiling over at her brightly. “I can’t remember the last time I saw everyone in the kingdom like this.”

The Battle of Liones had been a difficult one, with the enemy constantly shifting — from the Seven Deadly Sins to the two disgraced Great Holy Knights — but now, now it was finally over and they could rest. And Diane, armed with Merlin’s tablets, wanted to see everything the kingdom had to offer.

Which is why she and Elizabeth staked out a quiet spot on the castle rooftop and laid out a blanket where they could sit together to watch the fireworks burst off in rapid succession. Or at least, they would in theory — if Diane could sit still for more than five seconds.

“How many do you think they’ll set off before they stop?” Diane breathes with wonder as she leans against the parapet, staring off into the distance as the bursts continue. “It feels like they’ve been going forever now . . .”

Elizabeth walks over next to her, staring up at the sky curiously. “They have been going on for awhile, haven’t they,” she says with a small smile. “That must mean that they’re happy though, right?”

“Right!” And at that, Diane turns and grabs Elizabeth’s hands, taking them into hers with a bright grin. “And you know? You know, I think it’s great that they’re celebrating like this.”

Elizabeth seems momentarily taken aback by Diane’s enthusiasm before she rolls with it, giving her hands a light squeeze. “Because it’s nice for them to have something to celebrate finally?” she guesses.

Diane nods, tugging her over to the parapet next to her. “Yeah. I mean, how long have they lived like that? Years at least, right?”

“Or more . . .”

Elizabeth’s voice trails off as a melancholy sets in. Diane catches that in an instant, frowning a bit as she peers over at her. She hadn’t meant for it to go this way, really; she was just happy for them, rather than dwelling on what had come before. “But hey, it’s different now, right?” Diane continues, nodding up at the sky as another burst sets off. “So let’s be happy for them, too.”

The princess stares up at Diane with wonder for a moment before she nods, a warm smiling crossing her face once more. “Mm!”

Chapter Text

“Hendrickson? Hendrickson, what’s wrong?”

Dreyfus reaches over to shake at his shoulders, even as the druid stares up at him vacantly. There was something off about this, something all wrong about the listlessness that lingers around him.

“Hendri— Hendy . . .” Dreyfus murmurs, lowering his voice. He reaches over to brush a thumb against the other man’s cheek. They’d been at odds for years — for what reason, why? Why would they fight, why would they be at each other’s throats? But even this was wrong, too wrong.

The druid pulls away, giving him a quiet, dazed look. “Who are you,” he murmurs, taking a step back.

“Who am—” Dreyfus falters as a dull ache sets in his chest. “It’s Dreyfus, Hendy, your—” He swallows back his panic, trying to clarify. “Dreyfus.”

“I don’t know you . . .” Hendrickson’s voice trails off as he cranes his neck, looking around. “Where is this . . .”

“It’s Liones, it’s—” He turns his head, staring at their surroundings. It is Liones, yes, but there’s almost an unnatural stillness to it, like he’s looking at the world at a slight angle.

And then, he realizes.

Fraudrin!” Dreyfus turns, shouting up at the sky. His lip curls, a snarl escaping his throat. “Show yourself, you coward.

Fraudrin sits at his desk, pouring over several tomes. He knew the blissful silence that had reigned in his head would come to an end eventually, but he didn’t expect it to be quite so abrupt. At least he was alone for once.

He grimaces, glancing upward. “What now, Dreyfus?” The demon heaves a sigh, tossing the tome back onto his desk. “Be grateful. I’m showing you a vision of what could have happened.”

It could never happen. ‘Selflessness’ doesn’t work like that, he knows. If it hadn’t worked in that moment, all those years ago, then it would never work between the two of them. And that was a bitter fact that had stuck with him even after all these years.

But Dreyfus didn’t have to know that.

Chapter Text

In the days following the Holy War, Hendrickson finds that Dreyfus is particularly clingy, hovering over him constantly. He doesn’t mind it really, especially after the painful event that was their separation, but he’d expected more yelling on Dreyfus’s part.

Of course, Hendrickson got an earful from him the moment he returned to Liones. By his count, he’s called a “damn fool” twice and an “idiot” at least three times before Dreyfus devolves into a misty-eyed mess, hugging him close for dear life. And frankly, Hendrickson can’t complain about any of that.

“I almost lost you,” Dreyfus notes over an ale a few nights later, staring at Hendrickson from across the table. With Griamore off celebrating with the misfits and the princess, the house had been quiet, allowing the two of them to fall back into step. “I almost lost you, and I didn’t even say anything.”

“It was my fault, Dreyfus,” Hendrickson replies calmly as he pushes another glass of water towards him. “And it’s over with. We’re free.”

“Hahh.” Dreyfus stares down into his stein, a pensive look crossing over his face. Hendrickson had seen that look a few times in the past few days, as though there was something chewing at him from within. “Hey, Hendy,” he continues after a moment.

“Hmm?” Hendrickson peers over at him. “What is it?”

Quietly, Dreyfus chews at his lip, as though he’s trying to figure out how he wants to string his words together. “I almost lost you,” he begins after a moment.

“You’ve mentioned that.”

Dreyfus lets out a sigh of frustration. “I can’t lose you again. Do you understand, you damn fool? I almost lost you to Fraudrin, I almost lost you to Ludociel, I almost lost you to my own ego—” He throws a hand in the air and then sighs, lowering his head. “I can’t lose you again, Hendy,” he murmurs, clasping his hands in his lap.

Hendrickson’s brows crease as he leans forward a bit, scooting his chair around to close the gap between the two. “You won’t, Dreyfus,” he whispers soothingly. “It’s done.”

“Yeah.” Dreyfus pauses, looking up at him. “It is.”

And then, he unclasps his hands, shifting so he can reach into his pocket. Hendrickson watches him make this motion, puzzled, but says nothing. After a moment, Dreyfus holds out his hand towards him. “I’m not losing you again,” he states as he unfolds his hand.

In the palm of his hand rests a plain silver band.

Hendrickson stares at it curiously, and it takes a moment before the meaning behind that clicks in his brain. “Wait, Dreyfus, you—” He stares up at him in shock.

And though he may not be in a state to get on one knee, Dreyfus still bows his head to Hendrickson, lifting his hand up a bit more.

“Marry me.”

Chapter Text

“You wanted to speak with me, father?”

Dreyfus shifts in his seat as Griamore stares at him earnestly from across the table. Even with how busy they’d both been, they still made it a priority to carve out time together. It was particularly important to Dreyfus after he’d missed ten years worth of time with Griamore. And though their little father-son dinners or activities would never fill the gap that ten years had left behind, it made a bridge, at least.

And so, it was over one of their meals in that Dreyfus finally decided to address what he’d been meaning to for ages.

“Is there something wrong?” Griamore asks, brows furrowing with concern.

“No, no, don’t worry,” Dreyfus reassures him as he pulls his ale close to himself, considering.

“You looked lost in thought for a moment there,” his son muses, sitting back and watching him quietly. He tips his head to one side. “Is there something on your mind, then?”

“Well—” He hesitates briefly before letting out a sigh. When it came to him, Griamore was just as perceptive as his mother had been. Dreyfus rubs at his forehead and nods before continuing. “We need to talk, Griamore.”

Those four words are four words that a child never wants to hear from their parent. Griamore’s eyes widen slightly as a fear seems to grip him. “I-Is everything okay? Were there complications or—”

“What?” Dreyfus starts, before making an exasperated noise at Griamore’s overactive imagination. “No! No. Where are you getting this from?!”

“It’s just,” Griamore taps his fingers together, looking down guiltily. “Howzer said there’s been some complications with people and demons, and I thought—”

“Why are you listening to Howzer,” the older knight grumbles, slumping in his seat as he knocks back some of his ale. “I’m fine. My health is better than it’s been in years. Griamore, that’s not it.”

“Then . . . ?” Griamore’s voice trails off as he stares over at him.

Dreyfus runs a hand down his face, mumbling something incoherent.

“I— I’m sorry, father?” Griamore leans forward, looking sympathetic. “I didn’t hear that.”

“Hendrickson and I are involved,” Dreyfus snaps.

“Involved?” His brows furrow with confusion. “Do you—”

Dreyfus can feel himself slowly dying inside. “We’re seeing each other,” he grumbles, rubbing at his brow with both hands.

“Oh.” Griamore looks puzzled for a brief moment. “I know?”

“You—” Dreyfus’s hands freeze in place. “You what.”

“I know that, father,” Griamore replies with a chuckle, leaning back again. “Honestly, don’t scare me like that.”

“But— but how,” Dreyfus sputters.

Griamore hums softly, tapping at his chin. “I noticed it a few weeks ago. Honestly, I was surprised it hadn’t happened sooner.” He shrugs just a bit. “But then again, you didn’t see Hendy during his recovery.”

Dreyfus rests his head against the table, mildly mortified. “So you’ve known.”

“Of course I have. Was I not supposed to?”

“No, that’s—” Dreyfus lets out a soft groan. “That’s fine.”

Chapter Text

“It’s your space, too,” Dreyfus huffs as he crosses his arms, staring over at Hendrickson. “You should fill it however you want.”

With the Holy War finally over and everything beginning to settle down, Dreyfus and Hendrickson had also decided to “settle down” in a manner of speaking by moving the druid in to Dreyfus’s old home. It was partially out of practicality; the two had been almost attached at the hip ever since Hendrickson’s return from Camelot, so it really made the most sense. That, and he didn’t really have much in the way of a “home” anymore anyway.

Even so, it still strikes Hendrickson as strange to call Dreyfus’s home “his” home. Of course, it always had been; for as long as he can remember, he’d been coming in at all hours, which Anna had very kindly tolerated when she was still alive. But this was different. It had been home, but it felt strange to call it home.

Hendrickson looks back over at Dreyfus with a sympathetic smile. “I don’t have a lot, if we’re being honest,” he says quietly, chuckling to himself.

“Well, you used to,” Dreyfus states pointedly, throwing a hand in the air. “You were always cooking up something in the barracks.”

“That was medicine,” Hendrickson corrects him. “And I don’t have any of that anymore.”

Without even missing a beat, Dreyfus puts an arm around Hendrickson’s shoulders, gesturing at an empty space in the room. “So get some,” he states plainly. “There’s room.”

Hendrickson starts at that, looking up at Dreyfus, puzzled. “Get some . . . ?”

“What do you need? Herbs? Flasks? A table?” Dreyfus scratches at his chin with his free hand, deep in thought. “We’ll find a place for it.”

The house had seemed barren once they’d cleaned away ten years of neglect and sorted through what remained. But still, it felt almost wrong, like a betrayal of some kind. “Are you sure?” he asks quietly after a moment.

Dreyfus rolls his eyes at him, pulling him in and pressing a kiss against the top of his head roughly. “Knock it off, Hendy,” he grumbles. “If I say it’s fine, then it’s fine.” He pauses, raising an eyebrow down at him. “And if that’s what you’re concerned about, she’d be fine with it, too.”

“Ah—” His breath catches, and he can feel his face flushing with embarrassment. “That’s—”

“What, do you think she’d want me to be miserable and alone forever?” Dreyfus eyes him sternly. “You know she wasn’t that sort of person.”

“And I do clean up more around this house than you ever did,” Hendrickson murmurs as he considers that. “She always appreciated that.”

“Right, well—” There’s a brief pause as a realization washes over him. “—hey!”

Chapter Text


“Yes, Dreyfus?”

“We’re on vacation.”

“I know that.”

“Do you?” Dreyfus mumbles into his pillow as he presses it against his face. Maybe if he tries hard enough, he’ll block out the light spilling into the room. Or manage to suffocate himself. One or the other will work at this point.

He lets out a soft grumble as Hendrickson pulls the pillow away from his face with a good-humored sigh. “Dreyfus, it’s almost noon.”

With a groan, Dreyfus submits to his fate and slowly pushes himself up, locking eyes with the druid. How had he managed to get himself so put together already? Oh, right, the whole “almost noon” thing. “We’ve earned this,” he grunts as he gestures at the bed.

Hendrickson sets the pillow down on the bed next to Dreyfus and smiles over at him quietly. “I don’t want to sleep away the entire day though, Dreyfus.”

“Why not?” Dreyfus lets out a yawn, scratching at the back of his neck. “You were fine with it earlier.”

“That was earlier.”

“And it can be now, too,” Dreyfus notes, waggling his eyebrows at him.

Hendrickson calmly picks up the pillow and proceeds to throw it at Dreyfus’s head. It hits him with a bit more force than he was expecting, sending him scrambling back just a bit with surprise. “H-Hendy!”

“You’re fine,” the druid replies, waving a hand before holding it out — an offer to help him up. “Now come on. We still have most of the day ahead of us.”

He grumbles as he reaches over to take Hendrickson’s hand, slowly getting out of bed finally. “I don’t know why you’re in such a hurry to get out of here.”

“It’s not that.”

Dreyfus raises an eyebrow slowly as Hendrickson’s expression sobers. He tugs the older knight towards the window as he stares outside quietly. “So much has changed over the last ten years,” Hendrickson muses. “We still have so much to see out there.”

“. . . We do,” Dreyfus quietly admits, dipping his head as a smile slowly crosses over his face. Leave it to Hendrickson to forever be the same sentimental fool he always has been.

“Dreyfus? What—”

Hendrickson doesn’t get the chance to finish asking his question before Dreyfus leans in, pressing a kiss against his lips.