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In the past, no one but Elizabeth, and maybe Gowther (because he was no respecter of persons when it came to his excavations into minds), knew that he felt fear, and what could ever scare the unshakable Sin of Wrath.

But not even Elizabeth knew of his fear as he watched her swell with child. Demons, monsters, blood-thirsty Holy Knights, immortal gods, those he could fight. Those he could protect her against. But complications of pregnancy, or even just the normal annoying symptoms that made her sick and uncomfortable—against those, he was powerless. And since she was the only remaining goddess on this plain, there were no other gods to heal her, and the druids only let themselves be found when they felt like it. And though Merlin knew a good deal, even she couldn't use healing magic.

The knight Elizabeth went into labor, he ended up having to leave her side or end up killing everything within a hundred miles of them. The floorboards had done nothing to cover her screams, and he couldn't help but feel agonized at the fact that it was his fault. He was the great evil putting her through this, not some curse or monster.

Since Elaine had come to assist with the birth, and Ban and Elaine were a package deal, the Fox Sin happened to be there, not to mention stupid enough to follow the unhinged demon out the pub and across the grass.

"Relax, man, baby birthing is as natural as it gets. And she's a tough girl, she'll be fine."

Meliodas kept walking. If he stopped, he didn't know what would happen. Even though he had stopped being able to hear her after closing the door, her cries of pain still echoed in his ears. His fault.

The night sky had been especially clear that night. Not shooting stars made vast crosses. No black clouds spread across the horizon. Just spills of violet velvet and glittering pinpricks. The grassy hillside Mama Hawk had dug into had that musky, earthy smell that only night time could give, as though the land were trying in vain to attract the sky to lie upon it.

"Hey, Cap'n."

Meliodas felt a loud crunch of a beetle underfoot. Elizabeth's screams had started to double on one another.

If she died this time, there would be no resurrection. That would be it.

Suddenly, a heavy blow knocked him across the head. The force flung him down the rest of the hill and face first into the dirt below.

He whipped back to his feet, snarling.

Standing where he had once been on the hillside was Ban, arms crossed, expression droll.

"Ban, no."

"You needed it."

Then Ban was in front of him, fists nearly invisible, fang flashing, tongue lolling out.

Meliodas met every fist, the frantic violence in him fit to burst.

But it didn't take too long for him to figure out what his best friend was on about. As their fists became thunderous sonic booms and great heaps of dirt and grass flew into the air, the great anxiety within him found an outlet.

In his defense, Ban had initiated it.

When Merlin drifted out to give him the little smile that assured him all was well, Ban's immortality still had yet to catch up with the beaten smear of flesh ground into what had once been a nice, grassy hillside. The sky had already begun to pink with dawn, and Meliodas could smell something wonderful around the corner and up the stairs.

She definitely didn't look as resplendent as she had on their wedding day. Somehow she had gotten her eyes bruised and the pallor of her skin brought it out all the more. She still had that slightly swollen look that had come a few days prior. When she smiled at him it was, well, not her best or most energetic. But there was a sleepy contentment to her that reassured him.

And then she gave him a tiny, red, wriggling little person with wide open, dark eyes.

"His eyes are open already?" he asked.

Merlin, who he had forgotten about, cackled from the doorway. "He's a human, not a newborn puppy. Of course he can open his eyes."

If that was the case, what else could he do? Meliodas couldn't help but think as he carefully peeled back the blanket and observed all the other little baby traits that would mark this particular little person as his.

But when he came back to the big dark eyes watching him with unexpected awareness beneath a tuft of pale, colorless hair…he couldn't find it.

"I think you've made some mistake, Elizabeth," he said, unpeeling the boy entirely from his wrappings to get down to his toes. "Besides the tiny penis, you've just made a clone of yourself. Trust me, I know. I got to carry you around as a baby for quite some time."

Elizabeth's smile wilted away. For a terrifying second, he wondered just what horrible mistake he had made.

As though to verify this, the tiny, red, wrinkly boy in his hands scrunched up his face and let out a mewling cry that took all the effort of his tiny body, even puckering up the little yellow nub of his umbilical cord till it laid flat on his navel.

Meliodas jerked into action, quickly swaddling the boy as he remembered baby Elizabeth liking and popped on his heels to bounce him.

"There there, little fellow, I'm sorry for being a jerk like that. Daddy's sorry, really."

Perhaps it was hearing himself say the word 'Daddy' that made him see it: a little, rounded nose, almost like the beginning of a pig snout. Elizabeth's was actually quite narrow and sharp. Not this nubby little thing unfurling from the wrinkles crying.

'Daddy' turned out to be the magic word for the situation as well, as Elizabeth visibly relaxed and fell back once more into her weary smile.

"I can guarantee you five thousand percent that he's yours," she said.

But he was too caught up in picking out the other things. The ears. The way the boy's hairless eyebrows framed his dark eyes. The knobby quirk to the thumb on the hand that eventually twined around Meliodas's finger.

It was a good thing he had beaten Ban unconscious, because Meliodas hugged the bundle of baby to his chest and positively bawled.