Devoid

I cared

Very few could come near him while he was asleep. He could unconsciously sense those who were unwelcome in his sleeping quarters and would often give them a strict and harsh lesson on what encroaching on his space means. Salem was both proud and ashamed to say he was one of the few allowed near Meliodas as he slept. He'd actually become that close to someone who was so cut off and cold to the entire world–and he'd used his power to betray that trust.

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Meliodas knew as soon as he got to the ruins that neither Salem or Zeldris were there. The Ruins of Gormoran were the remains of an ancient town that had been created before the rein of the Demon King. Supposedly, the people living here had had a thriving community. Then, the Demon King–or simply Tyrannus the Warlord as he was known back then–had begun his absorption of the many villages and the roaming, lawless tribes of the Demon Realm.

One of those lawless tribes fought back viciously against Tyrannus's conquest. And, as a consequence, he annihilated most of them. The ones that survived, retreated to this village. The people of Gormoran gave them sanctuary–and that kindness became their downfall. When the future King of the Demon Realm found them, he killed them all. Every last man, woman, and child, slaughtered. And Gormoran became a symbol of the Warlord's ferocity and willingness to do whatever it took to make the Demon Realm his.

It would become a rallying point for all rebels. But not for the one he was looking for. He took one last look at the ruins of the village, the twisted, blackened landscape, and took off, a memory coming to his mind unbidden. The first time he'd ever met Salem.

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It was a routine inspection of the prison–one of Meliodas' many duties as the First Prince and as a soldier rapidly rising through the ranks of the army. It wasn't one of his favorite duties, he'd much rather be training or fighting than this. It was tedious and boring and all the guards were witless cowards. Every single one of them nearly pissed themselves if Meliodas so much as looked at them. It was so annoying.

The guard that was accompanying him was practically vibrating his armor. It was getting on his last nerve. As they turned a corner and Meliodas studied the cell across from him, someone ran smack into him. He stayed on his feet, but the other person fell back. The guard squeaked. Meliodas took a deep, tense breath and let out an irritated sigh. The man–no, boy–that had ran into him jumped up. "My apologies!" He stated cheerfully. "Wasn't looking where I was going!" He must be new, Meliodas thought. All the guards knew who he was and feared him, but this boy didn't seem scared in the slightest. But that wouldn't last for long. He didn't say anything back, just waited.

The guard hissed at the boy. "Do you have any idea who this is?!" The boy turned and blinked at him. "Uhhhh....no?" "You. Idiot. This is the Crown Prince, Meliodas!" The boy stopped and Meliodas stifled an exhausted sigh. Here comes the groveling. "Oh. Oops. Sorry." This time, it was Meliodas' turn to blink in confusion. ...What? The guard was dumbfounded. "Excuse me? 'Oops'?! That's all you've got to say?!" The guard's voice was starting to rise higher, sounding shrill. The boy nodded.

"YOU WORTHLESS IDIOT!" The guard screamed, raising his hand. It flew down towards the boy's face. Before it could touch him however, it was stopped. "My lord...?" The guard asked, terrified. Meliodas closed his grip around the guard's arm, clenching tighter and tighter, denting the armor. "That's enough," he said distractedly. "Don't presume to think I need someone to fight for my honor. Especially not one as pathetic as you." With that, he tossed the taller man over his shoulder and stepped forward. The boy looked him in the eyes–not in defiance, but respect, such not tainted by the terror he was so used to seeing.