Chapter Text
There was a secret, in the kingdom of Liones, that everyone knew but no one dared speak of outside the walls of their home, a rumour that no one had ever dared to dispute or affirm.
A secret in name only, then.
Lancelot did not know this. He did not belong to the Kingdom of Liones ruled by his father's dear friend whom he affectionately called Uncle Meliodas. The latter often came to Benwick to meet Ban, although, on the contrary, the prince and his family had never been to Liones.
He didn't know why, and it wasn't as if Lance had ever cared more about it, being in the forest than being out in the human world.
He didn't care, he had never cared...at least until that day.
It happened a few days after his tenth birthday, his father took him to Liones to visit Uncle Meliodas and Aunt Elizabeth, and that day everything changed in the little world of the Prince of Benwick.
The city was full of life, joy, human people mingling with giants and fairies, it was an inclusive and fun place where everyone respected each other. Lance was captivated by the food stalls, the village songs, the colourful lights and the scent of freshly baked cakes that hovered and surrounded him as he strolled the streets with his father.
"Having fun, Lance?" asked Ban with an impatient boyish grin, causing the bob-cut child to freeze and blush, who could hardly admit that it was probably the funniest thing he had ever seen in his life.
Most of all, he was so proud of his father. How people cheered him on as they passed through the crowds, how he seemed to be literally the most respected man in the world along with the other seven deadly sins.
Lance was amazed when Uncle Gowther showed him the whole story behind the seven heroes of Britannia. He was happy and elated at the thought that his father and mother had been so incredible during the great sacred war, it was a source of great pride for him and he decided that day that he wanted to be like them when he grew up.
While making this decision, he also noticed the sadness in the eyes of his uncles and his father, when the rulers of Liones apologised to everyone, saying they had to check on their son before the fireworks.
"I didn't know Uncle Meliodas had a son..." said Lance aloud, tilting his head to the side innocently, not understanding why his father suddenly looked so sad, his Uncle King however answered him before he could think about it further:
"He's your age, Lance. Today is really his birthday, we are celebrating just that...even though he can't be here at the moment."
Lance was even more confused at this point, however, because there was no point in celebrating the birthday of someone who was not even there, when he expressed his doubts, however, Uncle Gowther intervened in place of the Fairy King as the latter seemed hesitant to answer him again.
"Sometimes, celebrating a person's birthday gives more pleasure to the guests than to the birthday person."
He didn't understand what he wanted to say, but the speech fell there, and he didn't want to think about it any more... at least until an hour later when, ignoring his father's warnings and recommendations, Lance decided to explore the castle while he was there anyway, stomping joyfully on the precious marble floor and jumping from room to room like an explorer, perhaps a little childish for his age, but he couldn't hold back his curiosity!
The rooms were all spacious and interesting, but there was one, located in the west wing, that immediately caught his attention as he entered the corridor and heard a gentle singing through the walls to his sensitive fairy ears.
There was definitely someone inside, and it was quite strange, because Lancelot could not imagine how a person would prefer to be locked in a room, when literally the whole village was outside the door singing and celebrating.
So, in defiance of the common sense and good manners his mother had tried to teach him, he opened the door to that single curious room, peeked inside and felt his heart leap for a moment at the sight.
There, in the half-light, illuminated only by the torches outside the castle and the light of the full moon that was there at that moment, was a little girl, with long silver hair, blue eyes and fair skin, she looked like a miniature photocopy of her Aunt Elizabeth.
The little girl was singing a bedtime song that he also knew, her voice was melodious and soothing, Lance saw that her small hands moving gently and moving his eyes, he noticed at that moment a ball of blue and a green wool and knitting needles.
This made him snort, the idea that a little girl would actually prefer knitting to going out to play was hilarious and he couldn't help himself, but his burst of laughter, though brief, had caught the attention of the little girl who suddenly turned in his direction.
Lance froze and cursed mentally, knowing that he had been caught, he had no choice but to at least apologise to the girl for spying on her; he then opened the door fully and raised his hands, beginning to justify himself:
"Sorry, sorry! I didn't mean to spy on you, I was just taking a walk and...." he interjected, not knowing what else to say and also because he was quite surprised, the girl had turned her face completely around, revealing an emerald green left eye in contrast to the blue one.
"...oh, you have such strange eyes." he said, before he could restrain himself. He immediately regretted it, when the shocked girl touched both cheeks, blushing, Lance noticed that she was still wearing her nightgown under the covers, it was strange because it wasn't so late that she had to go to bed already...not for him at least!
"Who... who are you?" the little girl asked, looking mortified and confused by the sudden unexpected visit, but not seeming frightened by it.
"My name is Lancelot. The son of Ban, of the seven deadly sins." replied the blond, unable to restrain himself from puffing out his chest with pride as he announced that he was the son of a hero acclaimed by everyone here in town, delighted to see the clear surprise in the little girl's eyes at that exclamation.
"And you? Who are you, what are you doing here in the dark...in bed and all alone?" the blond prince asked, approaching the little girl's huge bed as he closed the door without thinking, curious to meet such a strange little girl.
"My...my name is Tristan..." replied the little girl, who apparently, was not really a little girl at all because Lancelot was sure that was a boy's name that and besides...
"Wait...you're the son of Meliodas and Elizabeth?" he asked shocked at the revelation, almost squealing in surprise as the other child simply nodded.
"But...what are you doing here? Isn't this party for you?"
The little silver-haired boy smiled, a small, delicate smile that did not even reach his eyes, but which Lance could see, was sincere even if uncertain and a little shy.
"Yes it is. I'm watching everything from here, in fact..." the boy said softly, setting down his knitting needles and pointing to the window of his room, which was wide open despite the fact that it was a bit chilly today, after all it was only early May.
Lance also noticed how the prince's bed was purposely placed so that it was as close to the window as possible, as he got even closer to the bed, he could have a clear view of the people below them who were celebrating, the lights of the parade in honour of the little prince, even the voices and music were clear and distinct from there.
Lancelot looked out of the window for a moment, before turning his eyes back to the smiling child and asking again: "So why don't you go outside instead of looking away?"
He continued to smile shyly, taking the irons again and starting to move them calmly, looking down as he replied: "I can't go out...but it's OK, I'm happy to see the others having fun."
"What do you mean you can't go out?"
"...I can't walk...not today at least, but it's OK. I have fun here too."
Lancelot tilted his head again in confusion, then looked outside and saw his aunts and uncles laughing and joking, he found it rather depressing if he put himself in the child's shoes; watching others having fun at your birthday party when you are not there was depressing!
"This is no fun at all! It's so much more fun to go out!" blurted out the blond boy insistently, crossing his arms over his chest, towards the child on the bed who looked at him in confusion as he stammered out a soft sound, "But...I can't go out so..."
"I'll take you!" blurted Lance, before he could think about it any further, coming to the side of the bed with a bounce and turning his back as he squatted.
"Well? Jump on!" the half-fairy urged him on with a mocking smile, while the other child stared at him in shock, blinking a couple of times before nodding hesitantly.
Lancelot didn't even know why he was doing it, honestly.
It was probably just a whim, he had seen this little boy who was the prince of Liones, son of the captain of the seven deadly sins, standing all alone in his room on his birthday and the urge to do something was just too much, so he found himself running through the corridors of the castle with a weight on his back and determination in his eyes.
"Where... where are we going?" the two-toned-eyed boy asked hesitantly, holding tightly to his peer's neck as they moved further and further away from the west wing.
"I told you, out!" replied Lance confidently, and finally, after a few more seconds, they reached the exit without any problems, arriving in the small square below the castle, exactly the place visible from the window of the little prince's room on his back.
"See, being here is better than being down there alone..." the blondie said again, walking over to a pumpkin pie stall and asking for two pieces for him and the prince, who strangely enough, had not yet said a word.
"Here!" said Lance, as he stretched his free arm above his head, spurring the child above his back to grab the treat, after a few seconds of hesitation, he did so, and although he could not see his face as he ate it, Lance was certain, from the happy sound that came from his lips, that the other prince was enjoying himself.
After almost an hour in which the two of them kept wandering around the stalls, buying sweets or silly toys with Lancelot's money (which his father had kindly given him before they parted), Lance remembered that his uncle Meliodas had told him that at this hour, there would be fireworks, and the boy couldn't miss the opportunity to see them in the best place!
"Hold on tight and....keep calm, I won't let you fall!" reassured the half-fairy, starting to jump onto the stable canopy, hearing the other squeak in surprise, but keeping a tight grip on his neck and legs around his waist, until they reached the nearby tree.
Lance had thought so as soon as he saw it, that this tree would be perfect as a place to watch the fireworks, and he was right; as soon as he reached the sturdiest branch and leaned the other child against it, a bang was heard throughout the square, followed by a shimmering red light causing both children to turn towards the stupendous spectacle before their eyes.
One after the other, at irregular intervals, a tide of fireworks lit up the night sky of Britannia, causing Lancelot to sigh with excitement, enchanted to see a new colour every second, but most of all, delighted by the happiness of the people around them; the smiles, laughter and cheerfulness of the city was contagious, and Lance loved it.
"Lancelot..."
He heard a soft voice call out to him and when he turned around, the Prince of Benwick saw the Prince of Liones face watching the fireworks with sparkling, almost shiny eyes, with a huge smile that grew bigger and bigger with each burst, with each light that lit up his face, until finally, she turned to him, showing an even bigger smile above all, sincere.
"I thank you, for taking me out with you!"
Lacelot blushed, feeling his palms suddenly sweat and his cheeks become glowing, his heartbeat quickening, he had never felt like this before and the only thing he could do was nod stupidly as he stammered a small and hesitant; "Don't worry...!"
His heart did not stop pounding throughout the evening, until Lancelot took Tristan back to his bed and the two of them said goodbye, although before the blond child could really leave through the door, the other called him from the bed again, causing him to freeze.
"You'll...um...come back...to see me?" asked the prince hesitantly as he sat on the bed, and Lance didn't even hesitate to answer this time: "Of course I will! I'll be back tomorrow, OK? And....oh, happy birthday, Tristan!"
The small face of the child with the silver hair flashed, in another sweet smile and Lancelot left with an equally warm and sincere smile, his heart now very light and his cheeks did not stop warming.
That was their first meeting, but certainly not their last.
It all happened the next day, a few hours after Lancelot had sneaked back into the room of the Prince of Liones, after he had had breakfast with his uncles and his father, all at the table in the castle.
Distractedly, he mentally wondered why Tristan wasn't also here to eat with his parents, together like any family, but maybe it was just because he had overslept, yesterday he looked very tired after putting him to bed.
Immediately after eating, he had decided to give the sleeping child a few hours, but after eleven o'clock he could no longer contain himself, and so here he was again in Tristan's room, sitting on the edge of his bed with his legs dangling, chatting animatedly.
"Are you half fairy?" asked Tristan with surprise evident in his tone of voice, tilting his head gently to the right as Lance nodded and nibbled on a fresh apple as a snack.
"My mother is a fairy, my father is human...you know my father, don't you?"
"Oh, sure! Uncle Ban! He's so cool...he always gives me something when he visits me..."
Lancelot grunted, slightly annoyed, because he had no idea that his father visited Tristan so often... he could have brought him too! Next time he would ask him.
"He's not cool...he's strong sure, he's the hero and the cardinal sin of the fox...but he's not cool at all! He's always getting drunk, he never does his job at Benwick and leaving it all to me and mother...really, it's unbearable!" he blurted, blushing with every word, making the little boy on the other side of the bed giggle.
"You seem to find it cool instead...after all."
"Oh, shut up!"
Tristan laughed again as he kept his gaze on his hands, which were still busy moving expertly among the balls of yarn, now significantly smaller than the day before, which made Lance slightly curious.
"What are you doing?"
"Oh, umh...a puppet..." replied the prince with flushed cheeks, still intent on moving his wands, even as he looked at Lancelot.
"You are really good...who taught you that?"
"My nanny! She is very good at these things...she also taught me embroidery, weaving and even how to play chess!"
The Prince of Benwick did not understand why Tristan seemed interested in cultivating all those strange hobbies, not that he judged him for it....
"Can you also handle a sword? Or ride a horse?"
Tristan's face furrowed, his delicate hands stopped his work midway and Lance felt he had asked an uncomfortable question, he almost wanted to apologise but the other interrupted him by replying, with a small smile: "No, although I'd like to...but that's OK, I really like knitting too!"
Lance would have liked to protest, because Tristan looked anything but happy as he said those things with the usual fake smile that the blond had recognised as such since their first meeting, although he couldn't say exactly how or why.
"But...here if you want to try and learn, I'm pretty good...if you want!"
Tristan froze, looking back at him and asking; "Do you want to teach me how to fight...?"
"If you want!" blurted out the half-fairy, blushing hotly as he saw how Tristan's eyes seemed to light up at those words, his gaze looking so surprised and grateful as he stared at him that Lance really wondered what kind of a shitty father his uncle was for not fulfilling his son's obvious desire to learn how to fight.
"Why didn't Uncle Meliodas ever teach you? I do it gladly, but he'd be better than me..." he expounded his thoughts aloud, seeing how Tristan's eyes began to darken again, how his lips tightened and his hands tensed; everything in his body seemed to scream that he was about to cry, and Lancelot mentally called himself stupid again.
"You don't have to answer if you don't want to-" he began to say, being interrupted however by the child who shook his head, Tristan was about to answer, his mouth had opened to speak but...he couldn't get a word out, instead he began to cough, first softly, then louder and louder.
"Hey! Are you OK?" asked the Prince of Benwick a little worriedly, approaching slightly, thinking that perhaps his little friend had choked on saliva or had a cold.
But the coughing continued, Tristan held his hands in front of his mouth as he coughed more and more, until he turned red in the face, until his eyelashes began to wet with tears, until his hand turned as red as Lance's shocked eyes.
"What-what...?! Tristan?!" asked the blond, softly, almost whispering, enabled and frozen in place as the blankets became more and more tinged with fresh blood.
Then, not sure how or why, but suddenly, he heard the door open with a bang, heard hurried footsteps behind him and Lance was too frozen in place to really understand what was going on, but Uncle Meliodas' voice shouting Tristan's name was clear enough to bring him to his senses.
"Uncle-we-he...we were just talking..." stammered the little boy almost trembling on the spot, glancing at the King of Liones who immediately stood beside his son, sparing only a quick glance at Lancelot, who was too busy taking the suffering child in his arms and stroking his back while the latter continued to cough blood on the ruler's expensive jacket.
"Don't worry, take it easy Lance, I know...it's OK." the captain of the seven deadly sins tried to reassure him, although his face showed anything but serenity as he hugged and rocked the small, suffering form of his beloved son.
Lancelot wasn't stupid, spitting blood wasn't normal, Tristan wouldn't stop and his uncle almost looked as if he was about to have a panic attack as he rocked and squeezed, hummed a comforting tune and looked around hesitantly as he gazed at him.
Then, a large and familiar hand rested on the small shoulder of the Prince of Benwick, and a gentle but firm push turned him towards the exit, and Lance could do nothing but let himself be carried out, his body soft and his face still turned towards the embracing father and son, until the door closed completely, blocking his view.
"Lance, are you OK?" his father asked, crouching down on his own level and laying a hand on his warm, wet cheek, Lancelot wasn't even realising he is crying.
"Is Tristan very sick?" he asked with tears blurring his vision as Ban looked at him with sad eyes as he replied with a calm; "...yes, Tristan is not well."
Lancelot trembled harder then, until he felt his father's reassuring grip around him, the warmth radiating around his body making him feel safer and giving him the courage he needed to let out a violent sob against his father's chest.
"I...took him out, last night...carried him on my shoulder...to show him the fireworks...because it was his birthday...but-is that why he's sick...?"
The King of Benwick did not reply, continuing to stroke his son's back as his son sobbed and stammered against him, but then Lance heard a sigh and the grip around him become lighter, until Ban pulled away slightly to get a good look at his face.
"Lance...you did what you thought was right and that's fine...but, you have to be careful to act the way you want. I don't know how you know Tristan but...he can't do what he wants like you, you know?"
Lance's eyes widened, his lower lip trembling harder than before.
"So...in the end it's my fault?!" he stammered and Ban immediately shook his head, holding him carefully to himself again as he replied; "No, absolutely not...he, he was already sick these days. This is just an attack because he got worse, but it's not your fault...not at all."
Lancelot could not believe him, but his father was there to comfort him and that was enough to make him stop crying after a couple of minutes and whispered reassurances against his ear as he carried him to the guest room, until Lance fell asleep in his bed exhausted from crying and guilt.
* * *
"I'm very sorry..." whispered Lancelot, that evening at dinner, in front of Meliodas and Elizabeth, both sitting at the table ready to start eating as if nothing had happened, Ban was beside him watching the scene without intervening.
"It wasn't your fault, darling..." the goddess's soft, gentle voice reached his ears, making him tremble with anger, because no one wanted to tell him the truth; which was that it was his fault, of course, it was definitely his fault.
"Tristan suffers from...a disease, very, very rare...he was born with it. You couldn't have known, Lancelot." his uncle Meliodas also said, probably sensing his own thoughts, his father put a hand on his back to reassure him, and only at that point, the little prince dared to ask;
"What...um...what...is wrong with him?"
There was silence, then Ban sighed beside him and Lance lifted his head just in time to watch the King of Benwick glance at his friends, then nodded and faced his son again.
Ban had used simple words, you could see he was trying to make it as clear as possible for his son to understand what was happening to his friend...or rather, what had already happened unfortunately.
It was a condition that could not be avoided, it was a defect Tristan had from birth: a defective magic core.
The Prince of Liones had his mother's goddess magic and his father's demon magic within him, two great powers, as ancient and powerful as the people they came from. Lancelot knew this, he too was a hybrid between two races and as he had fairy magic within him, he also carried the power of his father as a human being...and actually, he was pretty cool in his opinion, even if the fairies treated him differently because he looked more like a human than a fairy.
However, even though he was still learning to use transformation magic, his magic core was only one, and it was a well-balanced mixture of the two races, at least that was what Uncle Gowther had told him when he visited him years ago...
But for Tristan, things were apparently different.
Dark magic and light magic are too different... too opposed and destined to clash again and again, even within the body of a nephilim, of the first nephilim in history that was Tristran.
The mixed magic core of the two powers was messed up, it wasn't normal, it wasn't right... in other words, the two powers inherited from his parents were rejecting each other, poisoning the child's body from within.
Lance remained silent as he listened to this explanation, his father's words sent a shiver down his spine and his red eyes could not help but notice the saddened faces of the King and the queen of Liones as they too listened to things they surely knew well.
"...in other words, sometimes he has these fits...his body is always weak, but some days are worse than others. It was not your fault."
Lancelot said nothing, did not even look up when his father began to stroke his blond head slowly with his large, calloused hand, did not protest and remained motionless in his chair, thinking and thinking... until a single question became clear in his young mind:
"Is there no way to help him?" he voiced his thoughts as his father continued to stroke his head and sighed ready to answer, but instead it was Elizabeth's voice that intervened.
"Tristan was born that way, darling. Even with my power...I can't cure something that isn't injured. I can only alleviate the symptoms but..."
"However, we are looking for a way to help him. Surely, we will find it even if it won't be easy...I thank you for worrying about him, Lancelot."
The little prince of Benwick lifted his little blond head, tears in his eyes, as he stared at the smiling faces of the three adults, behind their forced smiles...Lance did not need to have the power to read the hearts of people like his mother to know that they were hiding the truth so as not to frighten his childlike heart.
"Can I still go and see him...?"
Meliodas looked slightly surprised and so did Elizabeth, she put her hand on her chest as she stared at him tenderly and....gratitude?
"...Of course you can. If you don't mind...I'm sure Tristan would like to spend some more time with you." said the King of Liones, seeming almost moved himself, his green eyes sparkling with happiness as he rose from the table to join him and stoop to his level.
"...I thank you very much, Lancelot."
The boy did not understand why everyone seemed so happy about his request, but it pleased him to know that he could still visit Tristan and the rest, he cared little.
That afternoon, after receiving permission from the other prince's parents, Lance knocked softly on the mahogany door he was so familiar with, hearing a few moments later the other child's soft voice inviting him in, and so he did.
The blond boy's legs trembled at the thought of seeing Tristan again, perhaps out of fear, perhaps out of excitement...he didn't know, yet he couldn't help but smile as he saw the little silver-haired prince clutching a blanket around his shoulders, sitting on the small sofa by the fireplace.
"...Lancelot...?" asked the other child in amazement, putting down the needles to which was attached a still unrecognisable, unfinished red pet. The smile on Lance's face dissipated as he saw the surprise in the other's face, perhaps he was surprised because he didn't think Lancelot had the gall to show up again after making him sick?
"Hi! How are you...? Um...here, you look better! Um..."
Tristan blinked a couple of times, tilting his head to the side and letting his long silvery hair fall over his shoulder wrapped in warmth from the woolen cover dyed blue with yellow flowers, then asked softly and hesitantly; "You...came...for me?"
The Prince of Benwick nodded with a raised eyebrow, not even understanding the somewhat silly question for him. Of course he was there for Tristan, why was everyone acting as if he was strange?
"Yes...? Of course! I'm here for you! Um...can I come in?"
"...of course..."
After that Lance closed the door, approached him, and with a sigh apologised, embarrassed but still immensely guilty, despite all the adults who had told him and explained how it wasn't his fault, he couldn't help himself.
Tristan seemed not to understand the reason for such an apology, but then his eyes widened in realisation, and his face became veiled in sadness mixed with a resignation that the blond could not understand, not until the other prince began to speak again;
"You don't have to apologise. I understand that you don't want to be my friend anymore...you're not the first, though."
Lance opened his mouth slightly, shocked at those words whispered with such certainty, as if it was a matter of course for him, almost taken for granted.
"What are you talking about...? I want to be your friend! Why wouldn't I want to be?!"
"...you don't have to pretend, Lancelot. It's okay...I'm sure you were startled to see my crisis and....is normal. I'm not mad at you, don't worry!"
"Wait a minute! It's true that I got scared, but what does that have to do with being your friend? Don't you want to be my friend anymore?"
Tristan stared at him with his mouth half open, as confused as he was, put aside his irons and turned his torso towards the other prince, raising his blue and green eyes with hesitation and perhaps, hope?
"You...you're not apologising for that? Do you still want to be my friend...?"
"Of course! Why wouldn't I want that?"
"...all the children my parents wanted me to meet, they always ran away as soon as they saw how...my condition is. They get scared, they say it makes them sad to play with me..." the heir of Liones spoke softly, his face showing nothing, despite the sad story he had just told them.
"Well, that's absurd! It's unfair...I'm not sad playing with you! It's good to be with you, don't listen to those idiots!"
Tristan widened his eyes even more, incredulous as he asked carefully and hesitantly, almost fearful for his next words; "Do you like... being with me?"
Lancelot had no doubts at that point, he nodded resolutely, still angry at those stupid cowardly children he hated for even making his friend think such horrible things. It wasn't fair, and now he also understood why Meliodas and Elizabeth seemed so happy to know that he wanted to see their son again.
"I was scared, because I was worried about you! I apologised to you because...that is, I thought you were angry because I got you so worked up and you were sick because of that..."
"No I...! I... it's always like this. It happens a couple of times a month...it's not your fault...it wasn't your fault, Lancelot. It's not....uhm...' interjected Tristan, looking down and blushing a little.
"...I...I'm glad you cared for me but...would you play with me again, please? Despite me being like this?"
Lancelot blushed even more than Tristan at that point, but he did not hesitate to sit on the same sofa as his exhaling friend and look him straight in the eyes, before replying with no doubt in them; "Absolutely! I will be your friend, forever!"
And the Prince of Benwick did indeed keep his promise.