Work Text:
Zaratras didn’t know what he had expected as they neared Danafor. He’d heard the rumors, of course. Even in just the few days since Danafor’s fall, they had already reached far and wide. Zaratras wasn’t sure what to make of them; they were hard to swallow. One day, Danafor was a kingdom that rivaled Liones in power, the next a burning hole in the ground. It was hard to even imagine a destruction of that scale, capable of wiping an entire kingdom from existence. Perhaps that was what Zaratras had expected: overexaggerated rumors. Though, as he and King Bartra drew closer and closer to the fallen kingdom, the truth stared them down with unforgiving darkness.
If it hadn’t been for the king’s nightmares, he’s not sure they would have been here today. But as it was, here they were. Despite their disheartening quest, it was a nice day. The world seeming oblivious to the horror that had befallen this place. The clouds above provided a welcome respite from the summer days’ smoldering heat. The wind blew softly around them, ruffling their hair and sending the grass dancing beneath them. They came to a stop on a hill just a stone’s throw away from where Danafor was supposed to tower high. The sight that greeted them had both of them staring in horror. King Bartra spoke his shock aloud as Zaratras took in the scene that was once a bustling kingdom. Thick black smoke rose from the crater into massive clouds, darkening the skies. In a way, it felt like standing at the edge of hell looking in.
Over the wind, the sound of footsteps reached Zaratras’ ears, pulling his focus from the darkness. Slow, shuffling, and a bit uneven. Zaratras’ muscles tensed up, his hand going unconsciously to rest on the hilt of his sword. He narrowed his eyes at edge of the hill as the sound got louder. In an instant he was on high alert, prepared to defend his king if needed to. Then the source of the sound came into view.
“Look!” Zaratras called out. His hand left his weapon to point at the approaching figure. Surprise melted into his words and dug away at his apprehension. “There’s a young boy.”
He had his head down, blocking some of Zaratras’ view, but he seemed to be in a bad state – and oh so young. Seeing him reminded Zaratras of his own son, let behind in the safety of Liones. This boy must have thought he was safe in Danafor too. A new sense of unease settled heavily in Zaratras’ gut; no matter how old, no child should be involved in something like this.
“Hey!” Zaratras raised his voice even louder, trying to get the boy’s attention. “What happened here?”
The boy didn’t react. Zaratras wasn’t even sure he had even heard him or was aware of them at all. He just continued walking; his head pressed down as he hugged whatever he was holding closer to his chest. A striking smell of blood carried with him, breaking through the otherwise overwhelming smoke from the ruins of Danafor. The boy was limping slightly, but just kept walking.
Zaratras jumped off his horse and moved to approach him. He kept his hands free and raised, not wanting to startle the boy. At the same time, his instincts seemed to scream at him to grab his sword. He mentally shook his head at that, ridding himself of those thoughts as much as possible. He was just a child – even if it did look like he was holding onto a weapon himself – he was hardly a threat. What was concerning though was the fact that he still hadn’t reacted to Zaratras’ presence. Had his ears been damaged? Had his eyes? Was he even aware of where he was?
Suddenly the boy stopped. Zaratras stopped too, finally getting a good look at the boy as he slowly raised his head. A bad state was a severe understatement. His blonde locks were haphazardly miscolored by soot and blood and who knew what else. His clothes were in a much similar state. There was a large tear in the fabric of his right arm, showing off the pale skin below. Most of the boy’s face was tainted red with blood as well – a lot seemed to origin from some injury hidden by his bangs. It all, thankfully, seemed to be dried. As far as Zaratras could tell, the boy wasn’t bleeding anymore. Briefly he wondered, watching as the tears that silently ran down the boy’s cheeks mixed with the grime, if all of it belonged to the boy himself. There seemed to be an awful lot of blood. Then again, head wound did bleed a lot.
The most shocking part, except that the boy was still standing for his entire body seemed to tremble with the effort, was the baby cradled in his arms. It couldn’t be more than a few days old at most. Free from the boy’s tattered state, the baby slept quietly in his embrace. In the boy’s hand was not a weapon as Zaratras had initially thought – or not exactly; it looked like a handle, perhaps from a blade of some kind, shaped like a dragon. Its eye seemed to follow you, gazing into your soul.
Once more, Zaratras shook himself free of the eerie thought, focusing back on the boy. He still hadn’t said anything. He was almost as still as a statue too – if it wasn’t for the little things. The heavy breathing. The way he held the baby just a little closer. The unsteadiness of his whole being.
“Hey, those are some serious injuries,” Zaratras said carefully, stepping closer to the boy and bending down so he wasn’t towering over him. The boy didn’t react. His gaze seemed to be miles away.
“You should lie down for a bit,” Zaratras tried again. Before you fall down. He reached out a hand towards the pair. “Let me take the baby.”
SMACK!
The harsh surface of the dragon handle struck against Zaratras’ hand with surprising force. It left his fingers stinging as he quickly pulled his hand back.
“Don’t touch her!” The boy’s voice was strong despite the slight waver in it. At least he was looking at Zaratras now. His gaze was sharp even with the tears still falling from his eyes. His arm shook under the weight of supporting the baby’s weight. His other arm was raised, pointing the handle out at Zaratras. The boy’s focus was zeroed into a single point: keep anyone away from the baby. “Don’t touch my woman!”
Zaratras floundered for a moment, “W-Woman?”
He didn’t get any time to ponder the very strange reaction any further, because it seemed that act of defense was the last straw for the boy. He let out a sort of shuddering groan as his legs gave out. The boy fell to his knees with a thud, bending over with the baby cradled to his chest. His breathing was reduced to gasps. Before Zaratras could reach out to help him again, the boy collapsed entirely. Even as he lost consciousness, the baby seemed to be at the forefront of his mind; the boy twisted as he fell, the baby turning up safely on top of him as he hit the ground back first.
For a brief moment it was as if the world stopped.
Then Zaratras sprung into action; shit! He quickly kneeled by the pair. The boy was sprawled out at an awkward angle; his legs was still tucked beneath him, the baby and handle still clutched in his hands. His head had rolled to the side slightly, showing more of the bloodstained face. He looked so incredibly young. Now, that Zaratras got a closer look, it seemed that none of the boy’s injuries were fresh. Something that was both reassuring and concerning.
How had he ended up like this? Why hadn’t those wounds been taken care of yet? Had he actually been in Danafor when it fell? Was he the only survivor? What about the baby? Where did she come from? How did she end up with the boy? How come she was unharmed when he clearly wasn’t? What the hell had he meant by ‘his woman’?
The questions were too many.
So, instead Zaratras focused on what he could do something about. The present. They could figure out everything else later. He gently tapped the boy on the cheek, then shook his shoulder, calling out to him. He didn’t react. It had been days since the supposed – and by all means real – disaster at Danafor. The boy clearly hadn’t gotten any medical attention, had he even slept? Zaratras wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.
While the boy was clearly out for the count for the time being, the baby had started stirring the moment he collapsed. Her face was now scrunching up distressingly, big blue eyes filling with tears. Removing her from the boy’s arms was a lot harder than it should have been. Whoever she was, it seemed the boy was willing to go to unknown lengths to keep her safe. Her first few cries echoed across the hill as Zaratras finally managed to pry the boy’s hands off her. He hushed her gently when Bartra spoke up behind them.
“Zaratras.” He looked back to meet the king’s gaze. “Give her to me. I think we’ve seen all we need here. Let us bring them back to Liones. They could both use a medic and a hot meal.”
He definitely wasn’t wrong there.
“Yes, sir!” Zaratras replied, standing up and handing the baby over. Bartra managed to lull the baby into a new sense of safety as Zaratras turned back to the boy. When he lifted him into his arms, he felt too light. Once more Zaratras couldn’t help but wonder about the odd pair’s fate.
– X –
It was almost a full day after their return to the castle that the boy finally stirred from his sleep. Zaratras had spent most of the time in the guest room that now hosted their two rescues from Danafor. It had been King Bartra’s idea – both the room and Zaratras’ presence – and Zaratras himself would be the last to oppose it. He wasn’t sure the boy would even remember him, but if he did, maybe Zaratras could help ease him into his new reality. Even if the boy didn’t, Zaratras couldn’t image just putting the pair out of his mind. Not before he knew they were okay.
They had already been looked over by a medic by now, of course. Zaratras’ initial assessment had been fairly accurate. Thankfully, the baby had been unharmed, and with a good meal and some warmth had fallen peacefully back asleep. Unfortunately, the boy had been as bad off as he’d seemed. Maybe even worse. Zaratras had noticed his limping but hadn’t quite thought much about the injury behind it. The medic had been horrified and shocked at the idea of the boy actually walking on that ankle. When Zaratras had gotten to see the swollen and blue limb, he’d shared that thought.
Over the course of the day, the boy’s injuries had been tended to as well as they could; cleaned, treated, and bandaged. With a lot of struggles, a servant had even managed to get some water into the boy. The baby for her part, was kept mainly in that same room, by the boy’s side – even as her own needs were tended to by a nursemaid. This was partly because they weren’t quite sure what to do with her yet – nor her actual relation to the boy – and partly because Zaratras feared how the boy would react if he awoke without her there. Even at the brink of collapse, he’d focused on keeping her safe, trying to ward Zaratras’ initial attempt to help them off.
When there was a sudden sound from the boy’s bed, it seemed like Zaratras was once again proven correct. The sound wasn’t exactly a gasp – or a groan or a cry or anything Zaratras knew how to describe. In fact, it was unlike any sound Zaratras had heard coming from a human before. One hand fumbled through empty air as the boy moved the dragon handle closer to his chest with the other. Through his rest, they had let the handle remain within the boy’s possession. His grip on it almost fiercer than the one he’d had on the baby back by Danafor. Since it was just a handle and not an actual weapon, it seemed like causing unnecessary distress to remove it.
On the bed, the boy’s eyes snapped wide open. That same harmless handle was now extended threateningly in front of him, ready to ward anyone unwanted off just like before. He was crouching on the bed before Zaratras had even realized he’d moved. When Zaratras rose from his chair, he made sure to do so slowly.
“It’s okay, you’re safe here,” Zaratras tried to assure the boy, keeping his hands raised as a sign of the truth in his words. He wasn’t a threat, he just wanted to help him.
“Elizabeth,” was the boy’s only response. His voice was hoarse but determined. Ah, so that was the baby’s name. That was a start.
“She’s okay, she’s right over there.” Zaratras motioned to where the baby was resting. “She’s just sleeping.”
The boy moved before he had a chance to stop him. He jumped off the bed and scrambled over to her – despite how he was limping heavily, despite how it must’ve aggravated his injures. Pain pulled at the boy’s face, but he didn’t even slow down; focused only on the small baby. He favored one leg as he leaned over the baby’s crib and with shaky fingers stroke her puffy little cheeks. The baby – Elizabeth – smiled in her sleep.
“You’re okay, you’re okay,” the boy mumbled almost as if to himself, tears shining in his eyes. “I’ll protect you this time. I promise, you’re gonna be okay.”
Zaratras cleared his throat gently, “She’s fine, you have my word. But you should lie back down.”
The boy turned his face to meet Zaratras’ gaze, one hand still hanging low inside the crib. He was now holding onto Elizabeth’s little hand; her fingers curled around one of his one, holding onto him just as much. His thumb rubbed soothing patterns on the back of her hand. It seemed to calm both the little girl, who had moved slightly at Zaratras’ words, and the boy watching him with that look. It was guarded and calculating, unfit for such a youthful face.
After several long seconds in tense silence, the boy turned back to Elizabeth, watching her sleep peacefully. Another moment passed. Zaratras waited. Then the boy spoke up again.
“Where are we?”
“In the kingdom of Liones. You are both safe here. I am Zaratras, the Great Holy Knight. King Bartra and I met you outside of-… We met earlier. Do you remember?”
The boy’s expression turned pinched for a moment; his mouth turned into a tight line, his jaw tensed up to what had to be a painful amount, his eyes narrowed slightly. On the hand still gripping the dragon handle, his knuckles turned white. Then it all went away just as quickly. The boy smiled softly down at Elizabeth.
“Liones, huh?”
He didn’t ask about Danafor, or if there were any survivors. Maybe he didn’t need to.
“Yes,” Zaratras replied, even if the comment hadn’t really seemed like a question. “His majesty wanted to make sure you were both okay. You are free to stay here as long as you want.” Or need. Did they have somewhere else to go? Some family that was worried about them?
The boy nodded his head, “She’s really okay?”
“Very much so,” Zaratras assured, stepping a bit closer. The boy had started looking more unsteady on his feet, as if his legs struggled under the weight of keeping him standing. He was now bracing himself against the crib with both hands. His gaze seemed a bit dazed as he continued watching Elizabeth sleep.
“I’m more worried about you,” Zaratras continued. He placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder, causing his eyes to snap to him. “What’s your name, son?”
The boy’s eyes widened for the briefest of moments as he regarded him, “…Meliodas.”
“Okay, Meliodas.” Zaratras nodded his head, squeezing the boy – Meliodas’ – shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting matter. “You should get some rest. Those injuries still need time to heal.”
Meliodas shrugged his shoulders, “I’m fine.”
He still sat down in the chair next to the crib, so Zaratras would take it as win. He doubted he would be able to get the boy back into bed anytime soon. So, instead, he gathered the bowl from a nearby table and handed it to Meliodas.
“You should at least eat something,” Zaratras told him. Meliodas looked about ready to protest when his stomach let out a loud grumbling protest. Zaratras chuckled as Meliodas’ face flushed red. He then silently accepted the bowl and began to eat the soup, his gaze falling back on Elizabeth.
Always watching, always returning to her.
As Meliodas ate, Zaratras talked about what had happened since their arrival at Liones, especially in regard to little Elizabeth. He watched as Meliodas relaxed more and more at each reassurance that she was fine and taken care of. Halfway through the meal, Zaratras had to save the bowl midair when it slipped from Meliodas’ grasp. Meliodas blinked at him a couple times, almost unseeing, then just curled up on the chair. It couldn’t have been all that comfortable, given his still healing injuries, but Meliodas seemed content. He watched Elizabeth’s chest rise and fall as he steadily lost his own battle against sleep. Zaratras returned the bowl to its former place on the table quietly. At least he’d gotten some food into Meliodas for now. They could try again later.
When he turned back, the boy was fast asleep in the chair, his head leaning against the edge of the crib. Zaratras couldn’t help the soft smile that crossed his lips at the sight. Stubborn boy, that one, that was for sure. He placed a blanket over Meliodas’ sleeping form and managed to sneak a pillow under his head to give him some softness during his rest. He didn’t dare to move him to the bed again, not at the risk of the boy once more jumping out of it as soon as he awoke.
If Meliodas wouldn’t take care of himself, Zaratras would have to do it for him. At least for now, until he was properly healed. Then they could figure out what to do.