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The first time Meliodas met his would-be brother was in the secret highly reinforced cage in the pit of the dungeons. Of course, that was before he was forced into the form of a demon and enslaved into the life as a false son of the Demon King. It was years before he would even consider Zeldris his kin.
Meliodas was still reeling from the realization that he was the only one left of his entire clan and edging closer to meet them in death by the minute. He’d accepted it though. After all, death was a welcome embrace in comparison to swearing any kind of loyalty to the so-called king of the realm.
The Demon King was a monster. That was all there was to him.
It had been weeks since Meliodas saw the light of day or shine of the moon. He wasn’t even sure how long. It was all just a pointless circle of pain as demons came and went from the room. He’d seen the Demon King himself a handful of times – he’d bargained and threatened and sworn his horrible plans – but it had been a while since last. Mostly it was just his underlings coming into the room. Only the Demon King’s most trusted were allowed into this part of the dungeon. That also meant his most cruel. After all, who else would take the two young of a family and slay everyone else in hopes of making weapons of dragons. The demon didn’t even have the guts to fight his own war.
Zejlah was dead too. Meliodas was certain of it. With the way her back was shaped, she would never have been able to fly or even fight properly – they’d called her useless, defected. Meliodas knew in his heart they’d killed her when they took her away – and he had been completely helpless to stop them. His parents were dead. His sister was dead. He hadn’t protected anyone… He was alone now.
Meliodas had been lying down in the cage when he caught the new smell. His body screamed at the restrictiveness of the cursed chains. They weren’t pointless per se, even a dragon of his age could match most demons around here. At least the non-battle ones, whose focus lied with weapons and not directly participating in the conflict in the goddess clan.
It was a new demon in the room. One with a scent Meliodas didn’t recognize. They were powerful. Meliodas could sense a great power approaching – but also one that seemed… sheltered. Like its holder didn’t know how to properly use it yet. Like they lacked the knowledge and skill, maybe even the confidence to wield it. The demon peeked around the corner. Definitely lacked the confidence and-
Oh. It was the hatchling.
Meliodas knew about the hatchling, of course. Everybody knew about the prince of the Demon Realm after all. He had never seen him before. Given the way he was literally tiptoeing up to the cage, looking over his shoulder every other step, he clearly wasn’t allowed down here. Meliodas wasn’t sure how he got past the guard, but he supposed the hatchling knew his way around the palace. What he didn’t get was why? The spines of his back stood up as the hatchling came closer. Was he here to poke at him too? To hurt him like his father?
Meliodas let out a low rumbling growl. The hatchling immediately froze. His eyes widened as he met Meliodas’. The hatchling swallowed. The sound echoed slightly in the quiet room. He rose his hands up – he had no weapons or tools. Meliodas couldn’t help but notice that they were trembling. Was this really the Demon King’s hatchling?
When Meliodas didn’t move or growl again, the hatchling swallowed again and stepped closer. He stopped at the thick bars around the cage. He quietly watched Meliodas as Meliodas watched him. He seemed young. Old enough to sneak around the palace alone, but still young. Meliodas didn’t really understand demon ages – their lifespan was so short. The hatchling couldn’t be all that older than Zejlah had been, comparatively speaking. He had a wild tuft of black hair on his head and eyes in the greenest shade Meliodas had ever seen.
His father had told him about that. That a demon’s eyes turned black with their power. It happened when they used their powers, but they could also do it voluntarily. If they choose to, they could cover just their eyes without actually using their powers. They did that to intimidate, or when they felt threatened. Meliodas had never actually seen a demon’s true eyes before now. Why was the hatchling showing them to him? Even if Meliodas was chained and caged, no one else did that.
Meliodas tilted his head as he observed the hatchling. The hatchling gasped quietly at the movement and a spike of curiosity mingled with the heavy stench of anxiety. Meliodas felt his own interest rise. This hatchling was nothing like he’d imagined. Nothing like any other demon he’d met so far. There wasn’t anything evil to him, no sinister sadistic urge.
The hatchling kneeled on the ground, pulling the bag he had carried off his shoulder. As he opened it, Meliodas was hit with a scent so delicious that his stomach let out a loud earnest scream for food. He couldn’t remember the last time he ate something. The demons had given him food – a malnourished weapon was a weak weapon – but he hadn’t eaten it. The water he’d still drunk. Accepting death and choosing death was two very distinct things.
The food the hatchling pulled out of the bag was nothing like the food Meliodas had been given. That had barely counted as food. This was a proper, actually cooked meal. By the size of the fish, this wasn’t the hatchling’s food either. No, it was decent size for a young dragon. Meaning, he had to have gotten this specially with this in mind.
Meliodas rose as much as the chains allowed him, his spines rising in fear once more. He had brought him food. His father must have sent him. In an attempt to keep Meliodas from starving himself.
While the hatchling’s eyes widened again. He seemed determined to not shake this time. He met Meliodas’ gaze head-on. Oh, he reminded Meliodas of Zej. In his eyes there seemed to be the same spark Zejlah had gotten so often. The spark that meant she had just decided to do something inherently stupid that was going to pale Meliodas’ scale by the end of it. For a while, he’d been certain he would be the youngest dragon with pale scales – all thanks to his reckless little sister of course. He guessed he was saved from that fate now. It wasn’t like he actually cared if the demon hatchling was reckless or not. He had no reason to.
As Meliodas watched him the hatchling took a deep breath and opened the food hatch. With a strong push he sent the fish a good bit into the cage. When it came to a stop, he looked up at Meliodas. Meliodas glared at him. Nice try, but he wasn’t falling for it no matter how much his stomach rumbled.
The hatchling frowned when Meliodas didn’t eat it. He rubbed his hands together. The determination gave room for the anxiety again. Good. He should be anxious. It didn’t matter what his feelings were; Meliodas had made up his mind. He wasn’t going to be some weapon. The goddesses had never done him anything. If they’d declared war against the demons, it probably was the demons’ fault. It wasn’t like Meliodas had seen any reason to save them. So, the Demon King could continue his poking and his hurting and his stupid little games. Meliodas didn’t care anymore. The demons had already taken all his reasons to live, why not let them take his life as well.
A loud sigh pulled Meliodas’ focus back to the hatchling. There was a clear smell of frustration coming off him. It seemed so out of place with the nervous fiddling, Meliodas tilted his head amused. Only for a moment. Then he lied down on the ground again. The hatchling wasn’t here to hurt him, and he didn’t have the energy to play his games – whatever they were.
The hatchling shifted from foot to foot, his hesitation hanging heavy in the air – until suddenly he pushed himself through the food hatch and into the cage.
Meliodas startled. What the hell was he doing?
The hatchling stared at him wide-eyed as he got to his feet. Yet still, there was no darkness in his eyes. When was the last time someone was this close to him without any weapon or tool to hurt him? They watched each other, waiting for someone to strike. Slowly, the hatchling moved to the fish – and pushed it even closer to Meliodas.
Why? This didn’t make any sense. Sending the hatchling into his cage, unarmed and unsupervised, it didn’t seem like something the Demon King would do. It didn’t make sense. If this wasn’t the Demon King’s doing, the why was the hatchling so determined to get Meliodas to eat.
Why?
The hatchling gasped and stumbled backwards until he fell on his back. Sitting up, he stared at Meliodas. His eyes were impossibly wide, and his mouth hung open. Meliodas stared back, equally shocked. He hadn’t meant to communicate with the hatchling.
The hatchling drew a shaky breath and got back to his feet. He stretched to his full – yet still very small – size, and kept holding Meliodas’ gaze.
“You need to eat,” he said. Meliodas was too busy to wrangle his own emotions to even try to get a grasp on the hatchling’s. What was he doing?
Why do you care? Meliodas asked. The hatchling’s eyes widen slightly again as Meliodas’ voice reached his mind. The hatchling dropped his gaze. The frown was back on his face.
“I… There’s enough death as it is. We shouldn’t be killing creatures of our own realm.” He looked back up at Meliodas. “Father will kill you if you don’t cooperate. And you will kill yourself if you don’t eat!”
Well, yeah, that’s the idea, little hatchling, Meliodas wanted to say, but he kept the thought to himself.
But why do you care? Meliodas asked instead. This still didn’t make any sense.
“I don’t want you to die,” the hatchling admitted. Tears shone in his eyes and oh by the goddesses, how was this Meliodas’ life? How was this the Demon King’s hatchling.
Meliodas huffed out a sigh and pulled the fish closer to him. The hatchling got a stupid grin on his face as he saw him eat it. Meliodas ignored how fucking good the food tasted and instead focused on how ridiculous the situation was. The Demon King’s hatchling had snuck into the dungeon, broken into his cage and then manipulated him into eating with the power of hatchling tears, all because he didn’t want a dragon he didn’t even know to die.
While Meliodas ate, the hatchling talked. Meliodas didn’t know if it was because he was nervous being in cage with a dragon or if he just didn’t have anyone else to talk to. He talked a lot. He didn’t mention the war or the goddesses or the dragons. Instead he talked about stupid everyday things. Mostly what he had done today, and how dumb he thought his master was for not letting him carry a sword outside of training. It was almost endearing. Of course a hatchling wasn’t allowed to carry a sword. Not even the Demon King was that foolish.
When Meliodas was done, the hatchling was too busy to notice. He was in the middle of a story of how his master – Cusack? – had been teaching him to form his wings. He wouldn’t be taught to fly yet, he’d told Meliodas grumpily, but he was learning how to shape his wings. The idea of creating your own wings with the power of darkness was absurd and intriguing to Meliodas. Meliodas didn’t stop him from his story. He just put his head on the ground and listened to the hatchling talk.
Neither seemed to realize what they were doing until suddenly a door open with a startling creak. They both shot up to their feet. The hatchling’s eyes widened yet again as he stared at the staircase leading to the door, his hands pressed against his mouth. His fear was almost overwhelming.
Without thinking, Meliodas pushed him to the ground with a gentle nudge and folded his wing around him.
He was hiding a hatchling under his wing, and he had a demon against the most sensitive part of his wing, were two thoughts that fought for the prize of most panic-inducing.
The guard peeked his head around the corner. His tense expression quickly became a bored one when all he saw was Meliodas glaring at him from the cage. By some miracle, he didn’t notice – or didn’t care about – the open food hatch or the hatchling’s discarded bag. He disappeared up the stairs again, grumbling about someone hearing voices and the door slammed shut behind him.
Meliodas sighed deeply, pulling back his wing. What the hell was he doing?
“Thank you,” the hatchling whispered as he looked at him with a genuine expression.
Meliodas just huffed and lied down on the ground. He turned his head away form the hatchling. He hadn’t done it for him. Meliodas would just have been blamed if the hatchling was found in his cage. That was all. He was just looking out for himself. He had no reason whatsoever to care for the hatchling. Least of all try to protect him from his own kind.
It didn’t matter if he reminded him of Zejlah. Or if he had stupidly green eyes that never turned black as he looked at Meliodas. Or that he had a stupidly pure grin. Or that he stupidly cared that Meliodas lived. Or that he stupidly would just sit around and talk to him.
Behind him, the hatchling crawled back through the hatch, picked up his bag and snuck back out from the dungeons. In the absolute silence that followed, Meliodas told himself he was still just trying to understand the confusing night. He didn’t actually wish that the hatchling had stayed.