Author's note: Written for Melizabeth Week on tumblr.

Day One: Light/Darkness

One Fall

He was a creature of darkness. His whole life had been determined by shadows, the dark depths of his home world, the cruel hand of his father, the seeds of death and destruction he had sown. Meliodas had learned to hold a sword and take another creature's life from the moment he had been able to walk. And for the longest time he had refused to do as little as think about complaining. Changing his ways was an idea so farfetched it could make him laugh; his path was already carved out. Fight on behalf of the Demon King, kill on behalf of the Demon King, wage war on behalf of the Demon King.

A perfect servant of his father.

Meliodas only ascended from the darkness of his home world to bring destruction to those pitiful beings housing in the land of Britannia. He slayed dragons and humans and Goddesses alike, and led the elite of his father, the Ten Commandments, to kill many more. The blood on his hands could never be washed away, it stained his fingers when he dressed in the morning, when he trained with Zeldris in the afternoon, when he placed his head on his pillow for the night.

He was a creature of darkness.

And for a while he had been content with this life.

She was a being of light. Word spread to even the deepest shadows and the most steadfast Demons of the daughter of the Supreme Deity, who was said to be able to purge dragon and Vampire and Demon alike, until they would sing pretty songs of peace and forgiveness. But if she did fight an opponent with full force, she showed her true strength, and beware the poor creature that crossed her path. Bloodstained Ellie – that was how she was known in the Demon Realm.

When Zeldris had first mentioned her and the fear coursing through the ranks of the military, Meliodas had laughed a humorless laugh. What did a single Goddess have to show against the oppressive power of the Demon King? Those who had been lulled by her words had surely never tasted the wrath of the Demon King. Meliodas had. More than once. He remembered what it felt like to become a weak-willed puppet on the strings of his father, he remembered the taste of blood in his mouth when he had been pushed into the dirt after dropping his sword in his first lesson of armed combat.

Betraying the Demon King was the last thing Meliodas would dare. Or so he had thought.

She was a being of light. Since they fought on opposite sides of the great war human historians would later dub the Holy War, it had been only a matter of time until Meliodas crossed path with the woman who filled the hearts of his followers with dread or the illusion of peace – both equally poisonous.

The battle was fought, the skirmish won, and the small human town smoldered under the fires of hell. With nothing but numbness, Meliodas stared at the iron monument depicting a Goddess at the town center, the single reason for why the humans had been sentenced to death. The head of the statue, once proud and a symbol of worship, lay severed in the dust. If only the humans had chosen another icon to guard their town. Their undoing might have been delayed a few weeks. A year if the Demon King had been generous. But when had he ever been?

Meliodas had ordered Galand and Melascula to return to the Demon Realm and report the successful completion of their mission. And for himself, there was only one task to fulfill before he could crawl back into the darkness with more blood on his hands.

I do not tolerate survivors.

Those had been the last words Meliodas had been given by his father when he had been standing at the door of the throne room, ready to take his leave and hopeful to be spared this set of orders. An acerbic taste had climbed his throat then and filled his mouth now as he walked through the burning ruins in search for human survivors. It was a dirty business, but Meliodas always chose to carry out this task himself. He was quick when he snuffed out the life energies of those labelled his enemy. Some of the other Commandments were not.

A whimpering carried to his ears through the crackling of fire, and Meliodas cursed under his breath. The broadsword weighed heavier the closer he came to the source of the sound.

They were so easy to find. Shell-shocked or crying, the four humans cowered in the dirt beneath the remains of a roof, their pale faces devoid of hope as they gazed up to him. But before Meliodas could raise his sword, he was knocked into the dust by blinding light.

He jumped to his feet with a backflip and shook off the pesky agony of the Goddess magic. Compared to the hits of his father, this attack had been a gentle breeze. With a growl, Meliodas met the eyes of his next adversary.

Without having crossed paths with her, he knew in an instant who he was faced with, and the grip around the hilt of his sword tightened. Her eyes shone with determination and the symbol of the Goddess Clan amidst a pool of gold, and the last remains of a magic spell still danced around her fingertips. There was only one Goddess apart from the Archangels who could catch him off guard as she had.

But he wasn't given a chance to inspect her further as the next orb of light swooshed past his ear, missing it by an inch. Meliodas dropped his defensive pose, angry with himself for allowing his adversary to strike twice unpunished, and charged at Bloodstained Ellie. Better now before she would be able to twist his head with those hopes and lies he had buried when he had been old enough to hold a sword. Darkness spread from his fingertips to envelop his sword, but instead of flesh, Meliodas struck light.

The accursed Goddess deflected his attack with a magic barrier and shifted out of the way to strike with her other hand. Meliodas squinted to avoid the brightness and manifested his wings. He kicked from the ground to gain the upper hand, but she was already above him, white-feathered wings beating against the smoke screens.

They pivoted into the sky in a strange, violent dance where one misstep equaled death. Meliodas dealt out blow for blow, but his adversary was always one step ahead of him, evaded his hits and retaliated with an attack twice as forceful. White and black, light and darkness crashed between them, and the longer she held her own – no, she was already prevailing – the more respect Meliodas begrudgingly held for this woman.

No one had even dared to test him like this.

His thoughts were captivated by the curves of her body for only a second, but that was enough. The brightness of Purge hit him square in the chest, burned the outer layers of his skin, stole the link to his magic powers, sent him tumbling to the ground miles below. A fall from this height meant death, no matter the resilience of his Demon body.

Meliodas couldn't reach for the darkness to keep himself suspended in the air.

He kept falling.

The air rushed past him, pressed the life out of his lungs. And like an idiotic child who had seen the embodiment of beauty for the first time, he kept thinking about these perfect curves as he plummeted into his undoing.

The darkness didn't answer his calls. But the light did.

Just as Meliodas thought he should feel the ground break his spine in a matter of seconds, a hand grabbed his and slowed his fall with a jolt that nearly dislocated his shoulder. Stupid and unable to comprehend, Meliodas stared at the soft features, hardened from exertion not spite, of the woman who tried to kill him a moment ago. Her slim fingers around his let something flow through his flesh and bones and muscles Meliodas failed to identify. A strange feeling, but pleasant in a way. Warm.

The way sunlight felt on his skin.

Meliodas hit the ash-covered ground unhurt but too stunned to mind his bruised ego or even scramble to his feet. His adversary, his savior, stood over him with endless grace, her wings flipping in the breeze that caught her long silver strands.

"Why?" Meliodas coughed up.

The question seemed to confuse her. "Didn't you want to live? Or are Demons never taught what gratitude means?"

A verbal fighter on top. Meliodas grinned without real humor. "Who knows how many of your allies you condemned to death by saving me. All these people who will die by my hands in the next fight. And the next. All because you are to weak-willed to get your hands dirty."

She ignored his insult. "You're right. If you die, maybe the war will be over sooner, and more lives will be spared. But the price would be an unnecessary murder, another life added to the list of casualties. I think I can lower the price further than that."

This had to be the naivest thing Meliodas had ever heard. Was this girl unable to realize that nothing in life came for free? That there were always necessary sacrifices? Those who refused to pay the price would only end up dead or in chains – but she was either too childish or too stubborn to understand. He should strike her down here and now. His father would have ordered him to lay his fingers around her slender neck and squeeze until he had proven her idealistic worldview wrong. Then why did his hands relax at his side when he stood up to meet her at eyelevel?

She was still taller, and her two large sets of wings only added to a stature that commanded respect. "Why do you fight, Meliodas?" she asked.

So she did know who he was, knew how many of her kind he had sent into the afterlife. Her question didn't make sense in any case. Fighting was his life, he had been raised with a weapon in his hand, and part of him enjoyed the challenge of a good battle, the thrill of victory. Meliodas had been told to fight, so that was what he did – there was nothing else to it.

"Because fighting is the only thing I know," he said. He hadn't meant to be this honest, a snarky insult would have been more appropriate. Better fit for the leader of the Ten Commandments. "And because someone else will take my place if I don't fight. If I play my role, I at least have some control over how the battle is fought."

The smile she gave him was rich of sickly-sweet compassion – he couldn't get enough of this poison. "Not the response many would expect from the son of the Demon Lord. I'm glad," Bloodstained Ellie said. What exactly made her glad, she left unanswered. "You should know that these villagers stand under my protection. Their survival is what I fight for."

"Don't worry," Meliodas said and picked his sword from the ground. The metal had never felt this cold in his hands, when every other fiber of his body burst with the strange sensation of warmth. "I for my part can't see any villagers around. They must have fled before I got here."

The villagers crawling out of their hiding spot in the relative calm after the fight proved his words wrong, but Bloodstained Ellie didn't take notice of them. She studied Meliodas' face with a fascination he found both endearing and uncomfortable.

"I bet we'll meet again, Bloodstained Ellie," Meliodas said and turned to take his leave while his thoughts still functioned somewhat properly.

"Elizabeth."

"What?"

"My name is Elizabeth," she said, and the gleam he was met with when he looked over his shoulder filled him with more adoration than anything he had seen in this world. The sun peeking through the clouds had no chance to rival that expression.

"Elizabeth it is then. I hope I get to meet you under more pleasant circumstances the next time around."

The muscles around Meliodas' spine tickled as the link to his Demon powers reestablished itself, and he took off into the sky, Elizabeth's face still on his mind.

She was a being of light.

He was a creature of darkness.

All the laws of nature branded them as mortal enemies, the world had drawn a line in the sand and placed them at different sides of the great war. Meliodas was supposed to despise every word coming out of her mouth, every action she took to defy the Demon King, every inch of her smooth skin.

But his father be damned, he was already falling for her.