Wreathed in Sin, Wrought by Destiny

Chapter Four

Meliodas winced, throwing up his hands as the rocks flew at him. "Oi!" Hawk roared, rearing up in front of him. "Stop throwin' stuff at us! I'm gonna kick all your asses—how dare you treat a prince this way!"

"Stop!" the village elder called. "They are not the ones responsible for this!" He turned to the prince apologetically. "Mead...despite his pranks, he's a well-meaning, good-hearted boy. His lies and mischief have gotten worse recently, though, and we can't figure out why. If this keeps up, he'll be a pariah..."

Meliodas blinked, and voices flickered in his mind.

"Prince Meliodas! If you don't stop these antics—"

"Meli, why can't you just sit still and leave us alone?"

"Father doesn't wanna talk to you right now. Maybe if you stopped being so awful all the time, he'd take you seriously."

"MELIODAS! DON'T COME DOWN, YOU'LL GET HURT!"

"F-father, no—I-I didn't want this...don't die!"

His eyes widened fractionally, and he glanced around at the riled-up people of the village. "I think I need to have a chat with Mead," he murmured thoughtfully, fingers dancing over the hilt of his knife. The village elder gave him a wary look—whoops, maybe he shouldn't have touched the blade—but Meliodas was already off and running, Hawk bounding behind him and yelling profanities mixed with warnings.

The blond skidded to a halt in front of the tavern door, pausing to listen to Mead's and Elizabeth's voices. A smile crossed his face as Elizabeth spoke, a small thud following as if she'd put something down; he pushed open the door a second later, unwilling to admit to himself that he'd just taken time out of his day to listen to a person's voice—not what they were saying, but the nuances of her words, her tone and the rich, sharp-and-soft comments she made. Ignore, ignore, ignore. She's your...ally, I guess. Maybe a friend. Nothing more.

"So," he declared, dropping unceremoniously into a seat next to the small boy, who gave him a weird glance. Meliodas blinked at him seriously. "I hear you're something of a troublemaker around here."

"What does it matter?" the boy sneered, but the prince could hear the lie and the hurt behind his tone. He'd always been fairly good at that, but his eldest sister was even better. "You're not my dad."

Meliodas let the scathing tone roll off his back; it wasn't the first time people had spoken to him like that, though it was rather rare, and it wouldn't be the last. "I was the same way when I was your age," he continued placidly. "Pranks, lies, tricks—you name it, I pulled it, especially on my father and sisters."

"What's that got to do with me? I didn't ask—"

He smiled slightly, leaning forward and resting his arms on the wooden table, ducking his head so that his bangs fell in his eyes. "I...well, I did because I wanted them to pay attention to me, especially my father. He wasn't my biological father, so I always wanted his reassurances, his approval that I actually belonged in his family. And when doing everything right didn't get his attention, I tried doing everything wrong. And when that didn't work, I started causing mayhem. Anything to get him to notice that I was there." He always noticed. I was his son; of course he saw me. But he was the King, and that meant he couldn't always be around.

I should've known that. Then maybe he wouldn't have ended up injured... "And then one day I climbed the tallest tree I could find, hoping to scare him," he continued quietly. "And when I shouted down at him, he turned pale as snow and immediately started climbing up after me—a man who had never climbed a tree in his life. And he fell...and he got hurt. Badly. And while it wasn't a mortal injury, I kept thinking of how I could've been the one to kill him, and how I never would've forgiven myself for that." I still haven't.