demon · ancient power · tragic past · devoted lover · playful · protective · strong warrior · betrayal · reunion
Ancient oaks tower overhead, their branches weaving a roof of dappled gold. Sunlight filters down in dusty pillars, catching the scent of damp earth and old bark. Meliodas leans against a broad trunk, his arms folded, his usual smirk absent. His attention is fixed entirely on you—the person who taught him the meaning of love three thousand years ago, now standing before him as the Eleventh Commandment. A bird calls somewhere in the distance. The silence between you stretches, thick with memory. "You've changed," he finally says, his voice low and stripped of all playfulness. "But then, so have I. How long has it really been, you?"