The Demon Clan were the monsters of this world. They looked evil, they sounded and acted evil. Anyone and anything created by a demon was born tainted. Born so twisted, look at them. Their figures and grotesque features disgusting and terrifying to everyone. If they were born so damned, so evil, then why, when the demons looked at each other... all they saw were people?

Prompt idea three: the way you said "I love you", as a scream

Chapter three

The Demon King did not just hear screams of fear and pain. It wasn't always hoarse cries, mentally breaking screams promising for his demise, or fervent curses from the mouths of babes or woman or hysterical pleading men before they died. The demon King knew that fighting the same enemies again and again wasn't an option, fight someone too often and he would teach them all his art of war. Better to kill them. War does not determine who is right- only who is left.

He remembered, fondly, with a heavy feeling of satisfaction the creative curses a Giant woman had come up just hours prior. She bled out slowly on his nice, just polished marble floor. And Giants had a significant volume of blood. She left a mess, trying to slide towards him on her belly, her legs gone as they gushed like rivers. That didn't stop the spittle and screams, with just the hint of hysterical edge of disbelief she could die, that the king never understood. He had spotted his staff going green in the corner as vomit and other things went flying; this Giant had been part of a peace offering, by some-tribe-or-whatever- he didn't keep up with that Clan. A mother, a nurturer, a seamless gift that the Clan had recommended as the finest nurse maid anyone could find in Britannia; to watch whatever and how many other children the Demon Clan wanted. With soft skin, delicate pinned up curls, and demure expressions, a layer of curves and weight that showed a sheltered life, no scars to be seen with pink hued dusted cheeks, and a soft voice. A soft, unthreatening woman without callouses on her hands, wearing the finest thread in her gowns. A useless, weak, unthreatening, does as told, soft, princess who looked after the children with a soft and demure voice. An olive branch.

She lasted an hour. Lucifer thought back, tilting his head to rest onto his hand. His elbow propped up on his throne as he day dreamed. Her sobs had been like a grating infant when their mother wouldn't pick them up. He had made sure the fire had slowly crept up her flesh; the fat and extra weight that had once been a symbol of her clan ranking now an excellent conductor for the flames to leech onto. She died in one of his no name, unimportant rooms that he'd forget about in a couple days. Which left ample time to finish up his work in relative relaxation. And- a grin curved up his face- when her clan had come with four others to continue negotiations, pretending nothing was amiss, like they didn't know what they had just done. That his kind were simple animals, too dumb to know; well, his maids were still grumbling about getting the first mess out of the creases in the tile when he added more workload for them to do.

The Demon King wasn't kind, but it didn't mean he didn't understand psychology.

Meliodas had come back with the wrong type of hollow eyes today. His shoulders hunched, his darkness beautifully flaring across his young face. His son with a ripped part of fabric in hand, but his insides….

The kindergarten had went out this morning. As the training exercises; the older squads pulling straws for who would take responsibility for twenty some odd toddlers and teach them basic skills- Like, don't eat each other. No you can't eat the ground. No you can't eat yourself to become more of you. No you can't make your darkness more dark by standing really still and looking constipated. Essential information.

They had left earlier, gone for most of the afternoon and to the west end. Now that the boy could walk and talk he could learn. The ground had gone far enough into the borders of the kingdom while still outside of guard walls. They had been practicing, pulling forth their darkness. Pulling or tugging, someone always tried to bargain with it. It was a mix in his son's class. This generation was majority Blue, and Lucifer could remember his son always running around the castle with three or more Blue children that still were unable to fly. The children were all small wisps of what they could become as adults, with potential. It was their first mission. All the dangers fake. There, they could have naturally fed off the situation and expand in the controlled environment, until those children could pull forth their power. A simple thing.

The King had hung all five of the kindergarten watchers when they returned that afternoon.

It was unfortunate. They were great assets to the Clan. Strong, scarred and powerful showcasing their worth. The crowd that watched as three men- one, always one, screamed. Useless words. Wasted hollars that had the same hysterically begging as the Giant- and he died the same, hanging and swinging back and forth between the other four. But not before Lucifer had made the order for them eat each other hearts. Their own comrades and team mates, their very friends held them down and forced open their jaws, shoving the meat down the screaming men and one woman's throats; so they would lose their minds before their lives.

They died in front of one the largest crowds in centuries. His people were spread out in war effort, but for this they all appeared. The thousands, the entire capital watched, surrounded them on the ground and the sky crowded until the numbers were so large they blocked out the sun and casted a black shadow over the entire top of the capital. It was an eerie silence that came with tens of thousands of silent watchers. Not even the wind swayed, the world void of sound in solidarity.

The kindergarten had left with twenty seven children. They returned with eight; the Blue demons now a minority. It was a betrayal from the Giant Clan, as all along they had planned to exterminate the children, only needing some way to get close enough to do it. And in a guise of a gentle, kind woman, they knew when they would have no one to protect them. The demon king ordered the head of the princess- charred and half melted from fire- and her demon lover that had betrayed them, sent to her clan in a box made out of the dead guard's flesh.

There were many types of screams. He'd heard many today. Needless ones, useless ones, defeated and broken one, elated and terrified; The Demon King knew many types of screams.

The muffled one into his shoulder now, was the most detestable.

Lucifer is like a statue, the room silent. Thousands of eyes stared at him. Nothing moved. Nothing dared to breathe in, afraid it would be loud enough to bring unwanted attention. Lucifer looked outward, his face carved into stone. Demons didn't need faces, it was unnatural after all. Tiny fingers, warped in black clawed at him from where his son laid in his lap. His head pressed into his mass as Meliodas sobs, after sob after sob after sob after sob-

The demon king knew a lot of screams. And, as he held his son, who had experienced his first betrayal in this life; the Giant Princess who had used sweet word and gently tones, soft hand that his boy had leaned into, whispers of loves and shelter to get close enough to kill children- because to them there were just beasts, monster who needed to die, the plan of espionage successful as they buried their young tonight; he listened to his son's screams with a passive glance.

And the following morning was filled with screams. The Demon king ordering his Ten Commandments to kill every woman, man, and child of the traitorous Giant clan of the North.