The kingdom was still a running operation of things to do. The Demon King didn't just go around going "boo" and stealing souls. Sometimes he had to do paperwork.

Chapter four of the prompt; The way you said, "I love you," with a cup of tea.

Chapter four

Drinking tea was not Lucifer's past time.

It had too many steps. Too many niceties. Far past the point of sophistication and pleasantries, and advantages made in negotiations was outweighed by the Demon King's personal dislike of the drink, and any an edge in political talk was simply, no, it was just flat out pretentious.

Finding the right leaves, cultivating them? Doing all of this for one flimsy little drink? They were leaves. Twigs and flowers. Leaves. An expensive, hand crafted little cup that could be held up with a baby's pinkie; on a platter. Everything had an order, that had to be followed for polite sale, made of rare and refined glass and porcelain and rare minerals. Everyone liked their tea differently.

Giants wanted it straight, no sugar, but seemed to find it pleasant with a splash of milk. Vampires hated any tea that was sweet, the gentle but acidic teas of european origin was despised, with curled upper lips and flashes of fangs. But the darker and stronger brew from over the ocean made their eyes glaze over. Spoiled little leeches. Imps were fine with whichever brews they were handed, as they were the food connoisseurs of The country, their reviews were held with deep respect. Goddesses, though,- when he had to invite them- were ridiculous. Children without supervisors. Always experimenting, always looking to see what something might taste like. They always were changing, never the same from person to person. With tea filled with milk or soy beans or cocoa or other tea leaves or foam or green liquorish or black, or putting peppermint into it or dabbing it with a stick of cinnamon, or served blazing hot or cold or with an ice cube in it or twenty scoops of sugar or no sugar, or just served alone, but never the bloody same. And Fairies-

The Demon King's eyebrow twitched. The goblin presenting his case in front of his Grace froze, his one eye in the center of his head bugging out in horror, as a small hissed squeak bubbled from his mouth. The other goblins there, who were here for negotiations for the… whatever -Lucifer had his cup in one hand as he slouched in his chair, on hand resting against his chin; the contents of his drinks swishing back as forth as he rotated his wrist- and the goblins seemed too worried to move, looking around and unsure what to do, as his throne room was full.

His Ten Commandment of thou shalt not lie was munching loudly on a bag of chips in his chair beside him, not even looking up for the proceedings. Not that he could see, as he was born with six arms and two heads but seemed to forget where to invest eyeballs. So the Demon King gulped down the brew in one go and- he looked over as a maid automatically refilled his cup when his arm went back down- what was the terms of this argument again? It could not be that impo…

The doors to the room slammed open. Which had everyone turning to look across the room to where the double doors hit the wall, the guards choking and standing taller as a foot tall figure stalked into the room. The son of the king, boots stomping loudly and black cape around his shoulder, dragging behind him as he walk-ran as dignified as he would into the room.

Lucifer looked downwards as Meliodas stopped in front of them, their eyes locking.

"Why are you covered in blood?" Lucifer said blandly. And yes, the boy's face was splattered with the substance, his boots matching the red soaking through his shirt. What did he do now?

"Teach me to fly," he huffed. Black eyes narrowing.

"You're four," Lucifer was willing to put aside his curiosity for a second as his son scowled, crossing his arms. "Four year olds stay on the floor."

"No, they don't," Meliodas genuinely seemed to believe that, his chin tilting up and he stood taller, his voice even as he said, "Gowther can fly, so can Michillian and Galgalim."

Lucifer stared. His commandment was still loudly munching on chip after chip, and the goblins before him almost looked constipated as they stood there silently.

"Gowther is a floating doll," he says slowly, "and Galgalim is literally just a floating head."

Meliodas stared at the King, the Demon King stared back. It seemed- Lucifer mused as he put his cup down and motioned for a maid servant to step forward- that toddlers existed to be independent rulers of the universe.

"Make him a cup."

Meliodas hesitated for a second before stepping forward, ignoring the existence of the trembling on eye goblin and his crew, and took the cup with another moment of staring, unable to resist the call of the sweet and soothing smell of flowers. His son wanted many things; he craved to tear blocks apart, to learn and eat, but he had one weakness, tea.

It was perhaps why Lucifer still drank it. His sight turned back to the goblin speaker, the short grumpy, fat little weasel shaking with the strength to hold his tongue.

"I take it this won't be a problem?" Lucifer said absently, as Meliodas took another gingerly sip of from his cup, his eyes going half lidded. The boy now located in the center of the Demon King's lap, staring over the desk to loom down on the group as his father was.

"Of-of course not your majesty!" The embassador all but yelled, dabbing at the sweat under his eyelid.

And the Goblin name Sharkclaw turned to stone.

The King's commandment snickered beside him as the rest of the group paled, even still eating as the rest looked on in horror. Meliodas took another sip, blinking slowly, uninterested as the new statue was finally taken by the maids, dragged out to join the other, as a decorated lawn ornament. The other five goblins finished up the meeting as fast as they could.