3,000 Years

Once Upon A Time

Once upon a time, long, long ago, there lived a big and scary dragon. He was cruel and callous, everyone within the realm fearing his fiery breath and unchecked wrath.

.....

Prince Meliodas stormed through the castle halls, his pinched expression and large scowl betraying his bitter mood. Blonde brows were knitted, his dark eyes narrowed into a murderous glare. 

He had just received some news that had made his bleak existence all the more horrible, the usually unfeeling and cold demon now falling into a dangerous and murky wrath. A wrath that had forever been unchecked since the death of his mother, his father being the type of man to encourage these fiery tempers instead of douse them with the water of scolding. 

So they only grew with age.

Darkness radiated from Meliodas' form, its tendrils spreading and raring to cause terror and chaos as the spiraling mark above his brow only seemed to grow. Staff scurried out of the way, many of them discarding whatever they were carrying to avoid the blonde's warpath. They all feared crossing him like this. No-one could go against it. No-one could even try. Therefore they all vacated the area, watching from the shadows as the leading Commandment charged towards the throne room - the only place he could go after receiving such awful news he wanted to contest against. To do that, Meliodas had to go right to the very person who was one of the few to ever strike him down.

No-one could ever rival his father, the Demon King. As much as Meliodas himself was certain of his power, he knew he was still rather far away from being greater than his old man. But even so, that didn't mean fury couldn't cloud his judgement, this news being something the prince could not just let slide. It was far too much to ask of him. No it wasn't just that, it went against everything he was taught to do from as long as he could remember.

So Meliodas had to do something about it. Even if he wasn't fully ready yet, he would try.

Unlike previous times, the enraged prince was prepared, lessons from his tutor swirling around like a dangerous kindling to his already blazing wrath. In his hand was a sword, specially designed and built to suit his unique and innate abilities. It was rather large and heavy, which the prince found odd since he thought speed was his best asset. Yet even so, the broadsword didn't really hinder him. 

Despite being extremely heavy and large, Meliodas found it to be rather light to carry and so he didn't lose much speed. Plus it was a rare gift from the Demon King, the crafty devil most likely getting it with the intent of looping Meliodas into the stupid war with the goddesses. 

Of course, at first, the blonde prince was ecstatic with the gift, instantly taking it out for a swing and coming back with the best hunt he'd done in a while. For a time it was the light of his life. It was why Meliodas agreed to the war. But now war and violence had become boring and tasteless to the heir.

All war was to him was what breathing was. Nothing really sparked a visceral reaction anymore - not even the desperate pleas of the enemy as he forced them to their knees and struck them down. 

All Meliodas was, was an empty shell. Grief, sadness, guilt, even happiness and anguish were lacking; he felt nothing. Meliodas couldn't count the number of times he'd tried to get a reaction from it all. How he'd try to see if anything would make him tick in any other way than pure, blind fury.

Hacking, killing, doing things that would even the most wicked of fiends would stray from had been attempted. However nothing ever worked permanently.

At a time hunting had worked. It brought off all the tension and frustration, liberated him and gave the blonde a sense of control. He would relish in the chaos and disorder he caused, taking pride in the bountiful goods he would bring back. But soon the ruthless killing for sport became dull and obsolete, the young prince moving to something else.