3,000 Years

His Strength

A/N: The second part

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His strength. That was something that always made her admire him: his strength. It was unwavering, unparalleled. Always building up and up beneath the surface, only to be released in a great show of skill and prowess that many could only dream to have. His power was always controlled, calculated. It was never used in a feral and wild nature. It was a trait that had never changed within him, never been chipped away at or meddled with like some of his other aspects. His strength had always been his, physical and mental, and so she had always admired that.

Elizabeth had always seen it within Meliodas.

Meliodas' strength was something that Elizabeth could never match, no matter how hard she tried to nor how long she trained for, she would never reach it. It was beyond her level. But that was what made it all the more inspiring. It was what had drawn her to him in the first place, the fickle-minded goddess intrigued by the sheer power that seemed to emanate from his empty and emotionless form. She wanted to know why someone who had nothing to care for could hold a power that could protect all they acknowledged.

So Elizabeth had dug deeper into it. She had learned that the strength Meliodas carried was nothing to do with what had influenced him. It had nothing to do with his childhood; had naught to do with the Demon King being his father; and most certainly had nothing to do with him having been trained before he could even walk properly. When all of those things had been taken away, peeled back like the many layers of an onion, Elizabeth found that Meliodas was strong just because he was.

That strength she admired, the ability to move on when all things seemed to be against you, was so prominent throughout the many lifetimes because it was part of him. It was part of who Meliodas was just as much as Elizabeth's empathy was a part of her.

That's why she could never match it.

"Teach me to be strong," She would whisper the words over and over when she lay beside him, each lifetime seeming to share that one phrase.

Teach me to be strong.

Teach me to be strong.

Teach me -

"Why do you want to be strong?" He had heard her once, his voice coming out in a sleepy yet attentive tone.

That question had made her pause. It made Elizabeth freeze right in her tracks as her thoughts came to a sudden, crashing halt. That question had never passed her mind before, the little detail always being outshone by her pure awe and adoration of this one person she's known for countless lifetimes. The lifetimes that had spanned over the course of thousands of years, each and every goodbye they'd uttered only leading to more and more despair as time ticked on.

Meliodas was always going on and on, forever bearing the brunt of the curse, while she was always reborn without the burden to carry. Without the memories to mull over. She was always oblivious to the truth that had stained their fates many, many centuries ago, while Meliodas was left to suffer. To go through agony.

Then, one day, the answer came to her. It came in a gentle hush as Elizabeth closed her eyes and stared into the darkened eyes of his form. The one she had seen subtly change over the many, many cycles of their story. At first it had been unnoticeable, but now she saw it clear as day. She saw the damage that had been done just as much as the swirling mark that decorated his brow.

Elizabeth had always wanted a strength like his. A strength that could protect all she loved and valued.

That was because even though Meliodas was always saving her, Elizabeth wanted to save him too.