Villainous [Wattys 2021 Shortlist]

Bonus Scene: Delilah Meets Dante

A/N: When you've got the urge to write something, I've learned it's best just to do it. I wanted to write the scene in which Delilah, Nell and Kaya arrive in Irkalla for ages, and I thought I'd post it here for you guys!

The howling of lost souls. That's what haunted the moors of Vale, the stories said. A bleak grey and brown patchwork of rolling hills spread out before the three young outlaws, nothing like the lush seas of purple heather Delilah had travelled through in the past. In the south. Where she truly belonged.

She cursed as a thorn snagged the hem of her cloak. Once rich, vibrant red, it had faded until it was almost as dull as their surroundings, and Delilah was ashamed to admit it was her best attire. She'd stolen the glorified rag off a drunkard in an alleyway, and now she was wearing it into Vale because she had nothing better.

"Careful," Kaya said cheerfully, "you'll tear a hole in your robe."

Delilah glowered at the Anlochian; Kaya knew full well the rag was full of holes. She felt the wind biting through all of them, and goosebumps stippled her skin.

"Why is it so cold here?" she complained. "Nell, surely you can't stand it."

Nell's straight, unyielding back had infuriated Delilah these past few weeks. For as long as they'd known each other, Nell had not complained about the hardships of their journey, skirting the roughest, dirtiest places of Pelenu before they reached the border between their country and Vale. Not like Delilah, who had hissed and cursed and swore about everything. Memories of her previous soft life, full of golden light, ornate jewellery, slippers and dresses and servants who would carry her around on a litter if she asked... The memories kept clouding her thoughts, making everything worse.

Come on, Sun Warrior. Complain about something for once. It would fill Delilah with grim satisfaction to know Nell was suffering as much as she was. And surely a woman from the Southern Desert would feel every chill like knives in her bones.

"It's cold because the dead roam here, in the northern country," Nell replied without turning around, her lovely long braided hair clinking. Metal beads flashed like hidden stars as she moved. "The cold winds chill the hearts of the Valians, making even their babies grim and frightening and... different."

"What do we know about them? About the king?" Delilah asked.

"Can I interrupt?" Kaya said.

"Too late to ask, you already have."

"I know." She flashed a grin. She never stopped smirking. "Isn't this a bad idea? The Valians will kill us for sure, or sell us back to Pelenu without a second thought. They're, you know, the scariest people in Avalon. They wanted to take over everything."

"The dead king wanted to take over everything," Delilah reminded her. "The new, young king is who we're going to be dealing with when we get to Irkalla."

"If we play our cards right, we can use their bloodthirsty nature to our advantage and strike an alliance," Nell said.

"Or they'll just put us in their dungeons," Kaya pointed out glumly. "Most likely they'll have a lot of those."

"The young king is vicious and cruel, just like his father – that much I've heard. He hasn't made much of a solid impression on anyone yet, as he's had to deal with confinement underground due to his father's mistakes, but the secrecy has fed the fearful rumours people are telling about him. They've spread all over the four nations. We shall have to tread lightly."

Delilah bristled. She didn't want to tread lightly. She wanted to throw the doors off their hinges and stalk in, bedecked in finery as she demanded her throne. Only, the chance of that happening was about as likely as her father showing up and offering to let her come home with open arms.