Chapter Text
He's on the hunt.
Notoriously known as Soul Eater, the black blood witch hunter held the looks of a handsome lad in his mid-twenties, with eyes that gave unearthly hues of red that glowed warm and calmly in the candlelight of his village. He was the best witch hunter in the area my several magnitudes, with dozens of confirmed kills.
However, he is not human.
He was not in his twenties either.
His full title "Black Blood Witch Hunter" wasn’t completely true nor false. For those uneducated of witch types, where quite a few types exist but unfortunately with little education about them--there was no such thing as a "black blood" witch. He was the one with the black blood. Black blood was thought to be something given by a rare supernatural spirit as a blessing; Soul better knows it as the witch creation damned by hell. Although, he has since learned of its exceptional uses in finishing off witches with the aid of his trusty crossbow. He never missed a shot and was indestructible if he ever did.
So that was what leads to tonight, on another solo witch hunt.
It was within a swamp known as Lerna, with a supposed very powerful frog witch who's been bothering the village's food supply. Soul has heard she's hard to find and impossible to kill due to that. Soul's making a note to mention to Kim that her “hard to find” knowledge was one fat lie because there were bright jack o' lanterns everywhere, practically making the cave lair stick out like a sore thumb. Being as it was spring and Hallow's eve was nowhere close, it obviously related to a witch's doing. He proceeds inside wary of traps all the while, as this seems dangerously easy.
Click.
He launches forwards into a tumble to dodge whatever fell from the ceiling only to roll onto something rather disturbingly slimy and most upsettingly, breathing. A shriek is heard in the air as Soul leaps up and shoots whatever exactly it was, mentally readying his blood armor if needed as he swiftly continues forward. He sets another arrow in the bow as his steps are silent on the now stony floor of the cave. He runs into more strange slimy things and objects that fall on a click as he ventures further. He's realized the living beings do nothing more than shriek or groan when stepped on but being as the place is almost pitch black, he couldn't really entirely avoid the screaming slime rugs he's come to call them.
He did begin to purposely take paths with the screaming slime rugs as the cave broke up into different tunnels. It was a clever idea, most people would not step upon such an annoying loud creature again after a misstep, however they were creating a pathway along one certain tunnel. Their screams probably served as warnings to the witch, so he sped briskly along until he began to see better, meaning a light source was up ahead and more likely some strange half frog, half humanoid witch. However as he fashionably busted into the pumpkin lit clearing a witch was not what he was met with.
He stares confused at a cat sitting on a pumpkin licking her paw. However it is the cat's reaction that stumps him more.
It got excited and started to frantically mew, leaping off the pumpkin and to him, before rubbing itself against his left leg and darting to an opening of another set of tunnels. Its tail in a flicking motion like a finger of a low maiden seducing a drunk gent to come closer. By captivation of the communication of this strange cat, he raises his eyebrows before following it down a winding series of tunnels that cross paths far too often than he liked. At this point he can't remember how to get out of this place anymore. Soon enough that did not remain to be his largest concern until he figured out what the cat led him to.
There was a lady in a cushioned chair at the dead end the cat stopped in. A small table next to her with about ten large stacks of books on it carefully balanced and the pumpkin lighting was the brightest here. The mysterious cat prances forward and leaps onto her lap.
"Good to see you again Blair, how was your scouting going?"
The maiden with the most calm voice Soul's ever heard raises her eyebrows at the cat’s reaction, much like how Soul did not minutes before. The kit mewls excitedly and the maiden chuckles before pulling out a pastry and letting the feline munch on it as she eats a different one. However the cat does not munch; instead holds its head up high and looks directly in Soul's direction. Her tail does the unusually human like 'motion towards' movement and he isn't he only one to notice, but he follows the cat’s lead and steps forward. The maiden stops eating, examining the animal’s body language before she gasps realizing someone is with her.
And it's not the damned witch who trapped her there.
Soul as he reveals himself also reveals much closer details to the mysterious maiden in front of him. Her mossy eyes, her rare untouched by the sun skin, the shackles around her ankles and wrists...
"You have an awfully intelligent feline friend to lead me here, my lady. Did the witch of frogs encase you here?"
The women seemed too dumbfounded that she was actually found so she merely gave a single curt nod. It was all Soul needed before he changed his course of actions in this place, from witch-killing to saving this rather interesting prisoner and her incredible companion. In all honesty, the woman would have broken free herself in a matter of hours after finishing her book but having a hunk of a gentleman with rather attractive features and some sort of skilled marksman ability show up to assist her, the book could wait.
As she goes to question how he intended to get her out of her shackles, he wordlessly fires his contraption of a crossbow at her much to her initial dismay and to his amusement as she realizes he shot a shackle off to break it and did not miss. He did not miss either for the other three shackles. The gent slings his weapon across his back as he's done with a smirk and holds out his hand as an official greeting.
"I am known as Soul Eater, and my expertise is as a witch hunter, my Lady."
At this point, she has placed her hand in his as that is the formally polite action do, and he very formally kisses her hand before questioning,
"Where do you hail from? Or where would you like me to escort your return to from this place?"
She is quickly gaining respect for him by the way he speaks, however the question delighted and terrified her at the same time. She quietly answers,
"Sir, the place I hail from I do not wish to return to, nor do I hold any other places in thought to return to..."
She's surprised by the understanding look in his eyes, and even more so when he gives the invitation that she could live in his village and his friends would welcome her warmly. Knowing she could not forever remain in the damned cave she was trapped in, she agrees with a brightening smile on the promise that she could bring her cat with her.
"My lady my friends would welcome such intelligent beings, the other ladies would be very happy to know that they are not the only maidens who learned to read and write as well."
Soul mentions as he eyes the book she was reading. He did nothing more than smile at her afterwards. This maiden has a feeling this gentleman would be the first person she's trusted in quite a long time. This man straightens and focuses on the situation at hand when Blair motions to the hallway to leave. He gestures for her to go before him and she obliges. The pathways were familiar to him, crossing into the clearing with large amount of pumpkins and suddenly the man behind the rescued maiden randomly apologizes to her.
She abruptly feels strong arms at her back and bend of knees before being hoisted up; Soul beginning to maneuver carefully around the slimy floor creatures. She yelps in response but as soon as he accidentally steps on one and it makes that pitiful sound he apologizes again and states that was the reason for carrying her. On his way back to the entrance with the cat right in front of him he mutters,
"Aggravating pointless squealing creatures what damnation is their purpose and…"
He continues with his rant as he steps on another one and the maiden giggles, unfazed by the screech. He makes it out of the cave and all three beings take a deep breath of crisp night air. Soul determines that it would be rude to make such a lady walk all the way to his village, so he deems it unfit to set her down until they arrive. She doesn't quite frankly mind; she is in thin linens, and he radiates heat extremely well. This is the time she also takes in his appearance and burns it to memory because he is not a normal sight to see: hair rivaling the quartz of a pocket-watch, eyes like none before, and teeth unusually sharp.
She could sense he was not fully a humanoid, yet neither was she.
Blair doesn't easily take to strangers either, and who was not just a cat.
The woman was no fool, she well knew the black cat was a cat of fate. How curious for her to lead this huntsman to her. What was so striking about Blair beyond being a cat of fate was that she somehow had a deep earth connection. A magic with no affiliation to witchcraft which explains why humans understand the feline so well.
"Arrival at gates will occur soon my Lady."
Cut from her thoughts she holds anxiety in her abdomen for whether or not this place will welcome her—or will she be recognized. He sets her down and they pass the gate entrance easily with a nod from Soul to the guards. She senses mostly full-bred clueless humans with the exception of a few within the walls. The few she didn't mind however, as they were near the street corner with a medicine shop sign.
Few humans knew that anyone who could successfully heal or cure them of something typically for one wasn't sane, and two wasn't a pure human.
As if on cue, Soul makes an abrupt turn directly for the medicine shop, mentioning this street is basically where he and his friends thrive. He said everyone lived on the street behind them, but the local pub and medicine shop were prime hangout locations.
"Shall I meet with the Lord here first in the morning to be acquainted as a new peasant living in his territory, Sir?"
"Bah, no need my Lady. No one in this town really cares and that is including any lords or royalty. Plus they have their own practices of knowing everyone in village newcomer or not."
She nods and he holds the door to the medicine shop open. "After you, my Lady." She strolls in cautious and is hit with aromas of burning sage, the smell and candlelight getting stronger as they make their way to the back of the shop. "Aye, we have a new addition to the posse." The hunter calls out. A loud obnoxious grunt of confusion is heard before the new female steps into view of others. The grunt pauses mid-way through and Soul laughs before a man with oddly blue hair exclaims,
"Where on earth did you acquire such a woman Soul? Nothing like that has ever existed in this village of our own. However, her assets aren't on par as much as her complexion."
For the first time, Soul witnesses something he hasn't seen of the newcomer yet. Anger. The book she was holding onto was graciously held up as she strolled closer to the blue headed man and then without hesitation she slammed the book, spine first, onto the blue hair’s cranium with an exclamation of,
"How disgustingly rude of you! I will warn you once, I may look like a child but I am far from it, as fragile as I look. I have skills that are only fitted for men, and I can do them better than men like you. Address me as Lady Maka—my past is not to be spoken of, as well as my assets or any other vile topics you see fit, Sir. Have I made my impression clear?"
He almost gave a comment of defiance, but she held her book up again and his mouth was quickly closed. Another woman with short blonde hair in the room spoke up this time stating happily,
"I like her already!"
"Soul is this the chosen maiden that you rescued from lord knows what to be your wife or is she a lady of the night?"
Once again, a book is unceremoniously slammed down onto the blue one's head. She's introduced to the whole group from Kim to the unfortunate Blackstar, and finally Stein with everyone else in between. What was slightly alarming to Maka was the reaction from being introduced to Doctor Stein.
"My, what an interesting soul you've befriended, Eater.”
Oh yes, he knew damn well what she was with that look in his eye the instant she made eye contact with him. It would be what he's bespectacled himself with that would clear her current facade with ease. She was as knowledgeable as he was, and those circular motherfuckers perched on his nose looked like a disguised pair of Farseer's Spectacles. Lenses which could see living things for what they truly were as well as what powerful held. Apply that with a little bit of knowledge and a decency to know how much of a stupid idea it is not to be friends with someone the likes of her, he held a very excited smile moments after his statement. On a whim to form a secret compact she comments, "You have quite a lovely pair of spectacles there, Doctor." with also a knowing look plastered to her face, and his crazy smile grows.
"So I have heard. Do not worry my Lady, I am more trustworthy to patients than I may seem, as crazed as some say."
If it was not for all but Soul being slightly drunk from the pub, someone could have caught on, and luckily Soul was not one to enjoy paying attention to the creepy doctor. Maka learns that she really enjoys Tsubaki and Stein, mostly because they're quiet but if asked something they can give the most interesting responses.
Of course those two were not the only ones; there was Soul who the gent who was fascinating all on his own.
He was interesting doing well, anything at all. She's never seen someone in a perpetual slouching state and yet hold this air of authority around him that felt like he could take out army if he had the will to do it. He looked like a slacker, yet when he spoke, he had manner. He seemed educated yet felt a need to carefully conceal his intelligence. Was it because he wants to be underestimated? To take witches or enemies by surprise? Possibly. Maka deemed it was a wise idea. She could not fit him under a single adjective that could accurately describe him. He wore light armor and judging by this, he must rely completely on skill.
What other skills did he have in that case?
What skills did the others have?
The blonde grazes her eyes around the room, willing the mental question to be answered, and she must be lucky today because Kim just grabbed another handful of sage--from midair. She holds the plant expectantly in front of Tsubaki and with a bored glance from the brunette it starts to smoke. Maka's eyes widen as Stein comments,
"Ladies you're forgetting we have guest..."
Their eyes are the ones to widen this time and they snap over to Maka's amused gaze. She could tell they were practically waiting for the blood curling scream of "witches!" But she waved her hand in the air and gave a shrug.
"I had acquaintances with earth talents; do not mind me. However, since I now know what kind of group this is, what is everyone's little talent?"
Tsubaki was clearly a pyromancer. Kim had an ability that allowed her to manipulate gravity it seems. Blackstar could trigger a high level assassin spirit in him and (apparently) go from doofus to elite swords man if he focused. Stein has stitched himself everywhere after putting lord knows what in his body, he withheld giving an exact answer when asked. Liz and Patty had tattoo embodiments that gave them heightened animal senses among other things they refused to mention. When her eyes fell expectantly upon Soul, he stares in a bored manner back; a single corner of his mouth curving up and growing on his face in an obvious sign that he was not going to comply. That was of course until Blackstar randomly whipped out a kama and slammed it into the top of Soul's hand resting on the table.
He hissed and spat a few curses, before Blackstar pulls out the blade, aaand then stabs his hand again, in a different spot. The one dawning moonlit hair then decided to exclaim, "What the fuck Star?" and the spirited one retracts the knife for the final time.
"Ya weren't gonna explain your little fiasco, so I decided it needed to do a demonstration for her instead."
Blackstar glanced from Maka to Soul's bleeding hand, indicating with his eyes for her to look closely. She peers over and meets a rather familiar sight.
His blood was black.
Maka looked up to Soul's face. He was looking away, a faint coloration by blood rush making its way to his cheeks. Rather oddly embarrassed at his passive trait he holds his damaged hand up, and then pulls it close to him rubbing his wrist as his blood begins to boil, quite literally. She could tell he was holding back another hiss as the wound closed itself and disappeared remarkably fast.
She knew it hurt like hell.
"It is nothing that grand." Soul growled quietly, and for the first time Maka giggled amused at his reaction. "Oh, nonsense; I know it hurts like hell, however it is useful, Soul." She shoots back, and all eyes are on her, confused. That's when she grabs an empty bottle of ale, smacks it against the wooden table, then takes the shattered mouth and casually rakes it across her forearm.
She made not a sound or an expression of pain as she drew a very serious amount of blood.
Blood that was also, black.
Blackstar grins, looking nowhere near Maka while she heals, instead finding great entertainment in Soul's reaction. He stares dumbfounded at her with something in his eyes Blackstar has never seen before. Soul never knew there were others who had to go through the exact same thing. He knew of the witch who had taken him prisoner and gave a fatal slash to the chest drenched in the foul creation, chained heavily against a wall among other corpses, but he had no clue this angelic looking woman had something similar occur.
"H-How by any chance—if are you aware—did you get yours, my lady?"
"Let's just say that witch imprisonment you freed me from has not been the first one I have sat in, and the witches by all means have attempted to kill me—several times."
"What!?" Blackstar exclaims, Stein waves him off saying it's not uncommon for witches wanting to kill any prisoner whom manages to escape. He avoided mentioning any means of how she could've escaped, but it wasn't questioned of.
"How many times were you taken?"
She gains an offended look.
"Why such a rude thing to ask of a lady! I still have my maidenhood, you vile sir." She holds up her book again and Blackstar leans as far away from her as possible. Maka drops the act laughing, tosses the novel aside and continues,
"However so far I will have had about six captures, this one from the frog lady being my latest."
"How the hell have you managed to get captured and escape so many times?"
"One, they know my weakness, books. Two, I am a lot stronger than any of their magic prisons or even some of the witches, in general. I would have strolled my way out of that prison earlier once I finished my book however a certain gentleman showed up."
She nodded her head in Soul's direction, who seemed surprised but held a knowing look. He had no idea how well she could control her blood but if she was anything like him nothing could contain her. She would be valuable with her knowledge of witches, and to group and the village and well, him. He wasn't sure if she wanted to stay here permanently however, he would be ecstatic if she did. She was intriguing, and the similarities that are coming up are things he has never seen before in another being. He decided to speak up,
"Would you like to join our village, Lady Maka?"
The whole shop quiets at his voice, and she shoots back casually,
"Of course, I thought we've already settled this?"
"I ask with an intention for a long while; I can guard you from witches if they are fixated on you."
"The dangers that haunt me are far more dangerous than anything you have ever crossed. Do you really wish to propose that, sir? I am content wandering again when I sense that the cruel wrenches are close."
So she can sense presences too, eh?
Stein and Soul think simultaneously, and both give a smirk.
"Perhaps. Yet you seem to have a lot more up your sleeve, I am positive both of us can take whatever comes together, and the posse is pretty useful too."
He gestures to the rest of the group, and they nod agreeably. Maka seems almost taken back by the assurance. No one has ever done that for her; that why she's so strong. Not even her own kingdom ever agreed to lend her even a horse to rely on. No protection, no utility, no food. She has always been on her own. Perhaps this was why she always read romance novels. Companionship even at the worst of times was beautiful to who never had it.
"If everyone is willing to do that then I shall protect this village with my life." A serious statement stated with a genuine smile which Soul couldn't refrain from staring at.
"Where shall Blair and I take residency? I do not hold any currencies at the moment to afford my own place."
Patty spoke up, "Most women here do not live by themselves anyway. It's encouraged to find and tempt a lad to take you in unless you have family."
Maka's eyes narrow.
"Tempt?"
Liz hastily interrupts to state it was a joke and Maka settles. Stein holds up a finger to propose that he could take her in if she worked for the shop. She would have agreed if he had not plastered a creepy smile immediately after, which she's has come to conclusion that is his signature. However Kim suggests, "Soul lives alone, maybe he would take her in?" an array of responses are elicited from the table in the back. "Yeah right, like that grouch would let anyone live with his royal ass." Maka particularly notices coming from Patty, and Blackstar makes a snickering comment that she probably could if she tempted him. This time she doesn't need to slam a book down on his head because Soul punches him hard in the shoulder.
"Ow, you fuck! Ya’know you're a ladies man don't try to fool this lady!"
Oh good, he's properly regarding her lady now, at least. Soul on the other hand, was furious. He's had wash-maidens follow him around before, but he never even did such a thing as touch them. He had no intentions to scare Maka off; being creepy enough by just his physical appearance but throw in the always helpful Blackstar and he would pay the expense for her to run from him by the fastest horseback available. He had white hair, evil eyes, and blades for teeth. He was antisocial too, and that included what was in his trousers.
"’Star I swear to heavens, I have explained it to you before...."
"Of all the women who would do anything to be your suitor?"
"Whom I flee from, I have never had lady in my bed, shut your trap."
"Perhaps you do not enjoy temptation on a bed..."
Soul's blood was beginning to boil, rushing around his knuckles and he readies himself to dislocate an idiot’s jaw before that jaw moves again,
"Lady Maka, he's getting defensive over his reputation in bed for you, thus he is willing to take you in, do you accept?"
Blackstar suddenly disregarded Soul completely and holding a gaze directly at Maka instead. A sly smirk is visible and Maka rewinds what he just did. Idiot and fowl, maybe so, however this motherfucker was clever in interpreting information and getting hints out of people. Soul goes to speak but Blackstar continues as if advertising Soul's place,
"He can cook well, he's an excellent guard if you need damsel-in-distress protection, on normal nights he goes to sleep at midnight unless you 'wish' otherwise, cleans up after himself, and grandest perk for m'Lady he has a small libra--"
"Sold!"
No one in the room has ever seen someone's eyes light up that brilliantly at the mentioning of a library, and it made some smile in amusement. Smile still implanted on face Soul raises his eyebrows at her as she stares at him, silently asking for assurance on this small library and its existence. The unspoken question is answered with a small nod, and she very suddenly stands up, exclaiming dreamily,
"Soul take me home!"
Tsubaki spits out the ale she was drinking and Maka catches her error in diction and hails her book vigorously onto Blackstar's head, silencing him before he could even start. She swiftly makes a turn and heads to the front of the shop, launching herself out the creaky door into the night with Blair greeting her on the windowsill. She was too excited to sit still even though she knew as much knowledge on getting to her new home as Blackstar knows in manners.
Soul stood up hastily excusing himself and ignoring the cat calls from a particular few and followed the blonde outside. He navigated the usual turn and dark street with ease, debating how she is going to judge his house. His background was not of peasantry he had a home that could fit an innovative merchant or some mildly large shady business in it, yet he had it all to himself as just a dwelling quarter—books, weapons, and himself.
He was simple.
She was not expecting a shack, but she was not expecting a house this well off really. From what she was shown by candlelight it was cozy yet spacious, and weapons were mantled to the wall everywhere. She's handed a tunic of his and her own candle as they round their way back to the bedroom.
"You may take my room, and I shall sleep elsewhere. You can sleep in that and since I am certain you are exhausted, goodnight, Lady Maka."
Once again, he gently lifts up her hand and kisses it, giving a soft grin before heading out of the room. He's such an odd man, he baffled her beyond thought. He was a gentleman who works with magic wielders, who are considered witch scum when they are found out, yet he can afford an actual feather down mattress and this house and books. Books are not cheap. The tunic she changes into is not cheap, nor are the blankets she is now tucking herself under. The bed reeks of his scent and she snuggles her face into the sea of soft fabrics. His house smells of warm spices, and every essence about him is warm and inviting. Blair even purrs without being pet as she curls up, loving the atmosphere of warmth.
Soul peers in a little while later and smiles seeing them sound asleep, before undressing himself and crashing on the nearest cushioned chair, sleepy.
She felt guilty when she woke in his room in a much more spacious bed than what her body and Blair required. When she stumbled her way into the living room area to find where he snoozed, she felt even more guilty seeing hm awkwardly upright in a big royal red armchair that had books balanced all over it. She rubs her eyes and looks up again at him only for her face to flush.
He slept in the nude.
The said naked man was a light sleeper too, so when he heard a small, startled gasp his eyes slowly opened and he stretched his arms out, only to freeze when he remembers he shares his home now. Soul jumps due to the realization and scrambles to grab a book, open it, and then proceed to hold over his genitalia; slowly looking up from the book to the beauty staring a few steps away from him, mouth agape.
He has absolutely no need to cover himself, she thinks, entertaining her mind with the delicious piece of art in front of her. He had no tan-lines on his arms; he's worked in the sun without upper body attire. Soul had a trail of hair from his naval that dripped behind the book to what she was just staring at, and he stared back knowing exactly where her eyes just were. She visibly shakes herself before dragging her line of slight slowly back up to his face, eyes crossing over the giant gash on his chest and torso. She had to sputter out something to break the sexual tension and her thoughts,
"Pard… Pardon me, but how… um, did you get that scar?"
Her eyes lock onto his flushed face. He bites his lip.
" 'Was how I was given black blood."
The most nonchalant voice rang out into the room despite current situation. Blair pads out into the clearing, she takes one look at him, and faints onto her side. Soul looks questioningly at the cat and Maka mindlessly murmurs, "She's fine..." while stepping closer to Soul, who has tensed up further at the approach. She walks... entranced, directly in front of him and her fingers reach out, up to the beginning of the healed wound. He shivers at her touch in the sensitive crevice of his scar, and she barely whispers,
"We have met before."
His eyes lock on hers; head tilting to the side in confusion.
"I... am uncertain of how. I just recognize this scar on you..."
"Do you have the same one?"
She shakes her head no, and then leans over, pulling at the collar of the tunic to reveal the scar of something that was plunged into her heart—as well as her breasts which he tried to ignore. His stare fixates a little too far to the left of her scar, she flushes realizing why, and bolts upright. His head snaps to the side apologizing immediately before adjusting the book concealing him.
Attention is once again brought to the current situation, as it would be unworldly awful timing if any of their friends saw them in their current state of being.
One thing was certain, as a blueberry headed beast swings open the front door, no essence of good timing was on their side. The vile creature freezes mid footstep, mouth wide open as if to shout his arrival before his eyes find their way to a particular book. His gaze followed upwards to Soul's pinked face, noting the nudity—then to Maka's red face, noting whose tunic she was loosely wearing.
A wide open mouth morphs into a shit-eating grin.
"Well Sir, that was quicker than I expected."
"Not what you think—" Soul is cut off by a snicker,
"Of course not, but enlighten me one fact; are they firm and perk good sir?"
Soul was in a knot; he could answer that, but not by means of what Blackstar thinks. Soul also could not come to be fully aware of said knot he was in quick enough, because out of pure instinctive and automatic response to that one stupid face of Blackstar's he instantly boasts back,
"Indeed, they look perfect."
Maka's mind is blown into the next century with the whirl of thoughts about:
Why the absolute fuck would he mention that?
Does he not know neither of us will ever hear the end of it and is her chest really that likable to be called perfect?
Meanwhile in the current time frame Blackstar's shit-grin has grown three sizes than what his face can accommodate, and Soul mentally kicks himself in the ass for letting that slip. Too late, are the only words that cross his mind.
"They look perfect. No hands-on knowledge? Oh you got yourself a tease! It would be expected of you though, Lady Maka."
The menacing glares aimed in the direction of Blackstar were enough to send him out the door with remarks of informing Pat. Soul did not care, however he knew Maka did. While he was honestly terrified of the glare she sent Blackstar being directed to him next, he was surprised when she also darts out of the room proceeding Blackstar’s absence. She could not find the will to glare at Soul after the bust comment. She's normally repulsed at such statements and will slap any person that says that about her, yet this time around she felt the satisfaction without any slapping.
As she changes into proper day attire she pauses often, casting small glancing down at her chest. Why am I doing this, I'm not one for judging my physical appearance? She contemplates, however Soul interrupts her with,
"Don't strain your neck looking down for that long m'Lady, I have a small mirror if you need to marvel at yourself."
Her head whips to his direction, hand instinctively covering up what is bare.
"Why are you here? I am not fully dressed!"
"This is my room, I require my clothes too." He states amused, leaning against the wall and finding it exceptionally harder to maintain eye contact. "Besides you have human anatomy and I already have seen your upper half earlier." His words contradicted his actions as he turns around to face away from her, shuffling to grab clothes from a pile in the corner, not once peeping for the sake of her comfort. The room goes quiet as they dress until he steps out of the room leaving one tiny comment,
"As rude of a compliment it was, I cannot disagree."
With a glance down to her chest and a shy look in his eyes she realizes he's smooth, and her body chooses to acknowledge this by refusing to let her face go back to a normal color.
Throughout the entire day she realizes in general he's smooth, from avoiding Pat's comments to dodging the small crowds in the streets, to mixing drinks, to losing the young maidens that randomly found him walking the street. He did most of these with a smirk or a grin or a warmth in his eyes that made his general persona seem so damn appealing. He caught her stares from afar much more than what should have been necessary. It seemed in his glances, he always knew exactly where she was in the vicinity and checked frequently. Far too frequently, she noted. However she passed it off for the job of being her guard.
At least that's what she's making herself believe.
From the way he eagerly greeted her after coming out of a tailor shop for an extra garment with Tsubaki, even the brunette gave him a strange look that was on the brink of amusement. He escorted Maka home, the whole half a block of walking.
She felt safe. Maka liked this.
When it came time to sleep, she decided that she didn't like him sleeping on a chair. "Soul—" She pauses, reassuring herself that this wasn't going to be regretted, "You can sleep in your own room... with me, as long as you keep your trousers on. The chair does not look comfortable, and I-I don't even take up a fourth of the feather mattress."
He was surprised at the offer, rather more excited because it meant that she comfortable with him. She's deemed him safe enough to sleep in close proximity even after only knowing him for barely a day. He's got some of her trust, which for reasons unknown makes him incredibly happy.
"Like what ya saw this morning m'Lady?"
He teases with a smirk, the smirk grew to a grin when he successfully dodges an airborne book, hands being thrown in the air as he walks closer to her. She turns and enters his quarters, or should it be thought of as their sleeping quarters? She was unsure of which yet. She turned away to change, and she assumed he did too (he didn't,) before slipping into the sea of covers. Blair was already at the foot of the bed on Maka's side. She was surprised when after a few minutes he strips himself of all the covers and gingerly tucks them around her, she guesses he thought she was asleep.
"Are you not going to become cold Soul?" She asks softly.
"Hm? Oh um, it is rare for me to become cold. My body produces plenty of heat on it's own."
Husky. That was the only adjective she could use to describe that voice. It was what made her thoughts go south before she forced herself to focus on his words. She slipped her hand out into the cold air of the room to his side of the bed. Her hand came in contact with his chest, as he laid on his side facing her. Maka's hand landing directly over his heart as she could feel each beat.
"Holy fuck, you're hot!"
He gives a sleepy, yet sexual growl in response and she sighs deliberately before retracting her hand and lying on her side as well, facing him. There was a single small window in the room, yet it was pitch black and she could not see a thing except for his hair, which was practically phosphorescent, and she thought that was kind of cute. Maybe she should not have invited him back into his room, because she's far too distracted to sleep. She had a strong urge to touch his body again but swallowed thickly and ignored it when she heard quiet snores.
When she woke up in the morning once again, she was hit with the sight of a demigod sprawled out, with his hands behind his head and one knee up. Every inch of him was toned and it was just plain unfair. She could not ignore him when he's like that! Her hand mindlessly reaches out and settles on his scar again, this time on the lower portion of it.
He wakes with a jolt, as if alarmed at the touch. She removes her hand immediately and apologizes; however he grabs her hand—delicately—and sets it back where it rested on him. His eyes close as he relaxes, murmuring,
"It's alright, do as you wish..."
He yawns afterwards, and Maka accepts the odd invitation to trace her fingers along the entirety of his scar. Her mind vigorously attempts to remember where she's seen his scar before. She fails to notice the goosebumps that arise all over his arms, and the small shaky exhale he gives. Lost in her thoughts her fingers execute all kinds of stupid and ridiculously tingly movements that drive him mad and made his sleepy facade falter several times.
As of the moment, he was glad she often thought too hard.
"287."
He opens his eyes questioning the random utterance, "Pardon?" and she looks oddly up at him. "It has been 287 years since you've received your black blood." She murmurs again in a daze similar to the previous morning, and he immediately sits up and faces her. There was absolutely no trace of the sleepiness moments ago on him much to Maka's surprise.
"What gave you that knowledge?" He asks in the most serious tone she's heard yet from him.
The maiden fully in control of her mind once more tries to figure out how the hell she randomly spewed a dark fact about him, but her mind went blank.
"I am uncertain again... I have this strange state I go into, and it unlocks something that has to do with you each time, and I am not quite sure why it's occurring."
"Does your black blood have an identity?"
"Hah?"
"Does it personify in your mind, and have a voice?" He asks curiously.
"Never really paid attention to shape however it does have a voice."
"Perhaps it's trying to tell you something that it knows about my black blood entity."
Maka looks down and stares at the scar again, attempting to force out information however to no avail. She states this out loud, slightly crestfallen while apologizing. Soul randomly apologizes as well, but for his age. Specifically he was 307 years old; mentioned with a hand scratching lightly at his neck and a blush evident on his face. Black blood is explained to stop the aging process or dramatically slow it; Maka wasn't prepared for the embarrassment radiating off of him as he explained, in his opinion, that he should be dirt at his current age.
She smiles vibrantly and casually mentions, "I'm 305." without a statement more, then continuing her day and getting dressed.
A stunned witch hunter left alone.
A few days pass with Maka's residence in the lovely village.
Just when she's getting accustomed to working in Stein's shop for money and seeing a handsome face always show up to check on her; Soul wasn't the only one to check on her for once. Blair, who normally stays outdoors and disappears until nightfall, darted into the shop today. She leaped onto the counter where Maka and Stein sat behind mindlessly sorting herbs, then took a defensive crouch in front of the blonde one.
Both shopkeepers noticed at once, looking at each other and then the normally chill feline.
"Blair what's coming?"
The cat whips around and changes position to sitting calmly while facing her friend. The cat mewed like it was chanting, and suddenly a small poof of smoke occurred on the top of her head.
A witch hat revealed underneath the clearing smoke.
"God damn it, already?"
The cat nods while Stein loses his shit over a cat with magic that can understand human tongue. "Stein I forbid you from harming the cat in any form of experimental way." Maka stated immediately and the doctor replies with a saddened sigh.
"Witches are coming?" He questions, poking the mini purple hat upon the cat.
"Or something of witchcraft, they will usually send minions or minor evils first."
Stein gives a sound of acknowledgment, grasping a book under the wooden counter top.
"Should I go find Soul, Doctor Stein?"
"Nah, I can defend just as well as that young one, if he fails to come back to admire you."
Maka gives an offended gasp, and the elder laughs while pricking his finger out of view and smearing his blood across the book. "You cannot be blind to how many times his eyes will slip from yours in a conversation, Miss?" He continues amused, effortlessly placing a magic barrier around the shop without Maka's notice.
He was as mysterious as her when it comes to abilities.
Chink.
All attention directs to just outside the shop. Blair's fur is elevated, indicating that witchcraft must be near. Stein was calm much to Maka's surprise, calm enough to stroll to the front door and swing open the heavy wooden door.
Chink.
He looks down, greeted by black frog that stands directly in front of him.
Chink.
Stein chuckles childishly as the frog attempts to leap at him and enter the shop, but slams into an invisible barrier each time. It was as if it was smashing its body against a glass window, and it left Stein in hysterics. Maka peers over his shoulder and sees the sight; it was a witch minion from the witch of frogs quite obviously, yet the poor controlled creature was a blithering idiot. Witchcraft oozed off of it visibly as it tried another tactic of hitting the block with whatever possessed magic gift it was given--which was nothing other than black dust it seemed and that furthered hysterics from the mentally unstable.
All of a sudden, the frog exploded by will of a silver arrow.
"Sorry to hack off your fun there, Doc."
"You're late as usual, Eater."
"Did not expect for them to start so early."
He still did not have a shirt on since this morning. There was a crossbow being strapped to his back and an axe leaning against his leg. Chopping wood apparently was a side task he did to prevent his pockets being empty.
That would explain the golden tan.
"There's more coming today most likely right, Lady Maka?"
"They certainly aren't going to stop—this village may even get a visit from the upper ring of witches."
Soul looks at Maka confused.
"Witches are not human; however they are not uncivilized either. They all belong to a society which is entirely a government. Social status is divided into which government ring a witch is in, and there are a few rings, highest being upper."
"Strongest of the kind I'm guessing?" Stein interjects, and Maka nods.
"Soul, the ones with the highest bounties and will have been wanted for centuries are upper ring witches. Are you positive you want me to stick around?"
"I would capture you myself if you left."
He replies back instantly with a cocky grin on his face. Blair leaves the shop as Stein slowly backs into it; closing the door, not wanting to sit through the sexual tension which will be settling shortly right outside his shop door. Instead a storm settles outside making the earth muddy. This was not a dandy thing per se; with the mud came more frogs. Soul after while would not even bother to shoot them, he just stepped on them much to Maka's and Blair's disgust as they made their way home.
A few slimy moments later a large wooden door is slammed shut and locked, and sighs of relief occur. Thunder rumbles quietly overhead as the group makes fruitless attempts to dry their clothes and fur by shaking. Unfortunately for Blair, she could not take her fur off, but Soul and Maka could take their clothes off which is exactly what they did.
Sadly for Soul, not in the same room.
She strolls out into the living room as he is still naked and neither of them care. Mostly because she's seen him and his entirety too many times already to be phased and he knows that. This does not mean she will completely ignore his physique, but both are comfortable. As he slips into his pants he questions, "Did Stein set up the barrier around the shop or did you m'lady? If you did, would ya wish throw one up around the great abode?" while gesturing to the walls of the house.
"Stein had that one up. I am unable place barriers unless certain circumstances are met. However, Blair can mew rather powerful barriers to life if you think it's necessary."
"The cat can enchant?"
A proud mew of agreement from the floor answers that one.
"If you are familiar, she's... Pumpkin-oriented."
"The pumpkins around your imprisonment where her doing?"
Mew.
"Maka... is your cat a witch?"
Hiss.
Maka goes on to explain that several things in this world have magic. Witches are possessive magic users. One can tell if something is a witch by if they're magic is creature or plant oriented. If they control creatures like snakes or spiders, they're witches. If they control plants like pumpkins, they're not a witch, just earth-magic bound. She finishes her explanation while gathering supplies for dinner.
"Enlightening, however, isn't there a third kind of magic bound?"
Maka pauses her movements in the kitchen, "Pardon?"
"Like Tsubaki, or Kim, they use elements."
"Ahhh, not truly. They use objects, like medallions or rings to aid them, correct?"
"Well yes—"
"The objects are bound to probably a plant that is known for fire resistance; or floating, in Lady Kim's case. Abilities then can manifest through the users personal desire."
Soul becomes lost in thought as the conversation quiets. For one about how knowledgeable the maiden is; he's older than her and she makes him feel like an idiot about witches. Witches have been his entire life, he's killed well over one hundred of them and he knows nothing about them compared to her. Yet she has been the one to live alongside them by force for at least a century.
She would be ill not to pick up a few tidbits.
He knows her well enough to know that she purposely never answered his original question, and normally she would sputter numerous answers if she liked the question. He thought it was cute. Soul was no fool; he found a question for once she hesitated to fully answer.
A question Stein would have no problem answering.
"Yes it exists. They're still unfortunately classified as witch scum though."
Stein replies as he adjusts his glasses. Maka was at the back of the shop sweeping the patio as Soul and the doctor converse in the front room.
"If they are not ones to use possessive magic, why are they classified as witch?"
"Because they're extremely rare. No one knows anything about them, more than often even their existence, so majority has been mistaken for witches."
Soul nods. That would possibly explain why Maka asked about objects when she heard elements. But wait if no one knows anything about them, how does Stein know? This question is voiced, and Stein’s expression falters to a sad smile.
"I was married to one."
Soul was taken back. He's never known that the doctor was once married, let alone ever seen just sadness in the usually delusional man.
"Married to whom?" Maka suddenly speaks up, walking towards them finished with her task.
"A Grigori witch."
Maka and Stein exchanges glances of their own, mostly apologetic coming from Maka.
"I have rarely heard that term of witch before Doctor, what power did your wife hold?" She questions.
"She was a remarkable healer, and when angry could control impact forces. However a witch is a witch in my old village, and she was burned..."
"Impact?" Maka murmurs quietly. Soul catches it—he's heard her trail off just like that before and straightens up immediately. He steps behind Maka seeing the way her eyes glazed over and was ready to support her in case her balance faltered.
"What do you know Maka?" Soul speaks softly, as if afraid to disturb her. Stein gains a strange look at Soul before Maka abruptly speaks,
"Marie Mjölnir, the hammer of Thor, is alive."
Maka suddenly steps backward as her weird state escapes her. Soul wraps an arm around her as she steadies herself. "Well it's been a while since you have done that." Soul states and Maka nods but looks to Stein cautiously. One word came out of his mouth,
"Where?"
Chapter Text
"As far as I know, her whereabouts are unknown. I do not need to be in the weird state of mind to tell you that I knew an exceptional healer that went by Marie M. She's a wanderer now, no affiliation to any village."
Stein was shocked beyond belief, so he quizzed Maka on what she looked like or stupid little things about Marie, and he got more and more excited because she answered every single one of them correctly. Soul noticed how patient and calm Maka was to the insane one. Her tender smile as Stein finally cracked and said he believed her, and that she gave back part of his mind. Soul also noticed how comfortable his arm was still resting against the small of her back.
He just left it there.
The gent was unable to contain a small smile at such an action, and how she casually accepted the action. It was the initiation of a lifetime because from then on over the next few days whenever they were to walk together to any place, his arm was there. His hand grasped gently at her side. It kept other men away and made her walk closer to him, which he really liked. Frogs have become extremely populated in the village, and they do nothing more than watch Maka as of lately, his planned excuse if she were to ask why he's keeping her so close.
However things don't always go in accordance to plan.
"Soul," She pauses, "Why do you always have your arm around me now?" Her body completely halts walking back to their house, and he stammers, "I am uncertain to exactly know how it started," Oh, but he certainly did. "However it was originally to keep you away from the frogs—if they do ever decide to do anything I could pull you out of harm’s way. I mean—if it bothers you, I can stop, m'Lady?" His hand is rubbing at his neck again and he looks away from her. He was shy, and that was a sucker punch for Maka because she really liked shy.
She also liked how soft his skin was as she pulls him into hug. Her murmuring into his ear, "I don't mind at all; it's rather sweet, Sir Soul." The sunset behind them almost complete. Soul smelled of musk and spices, his skin extremely warm, and his grip around her waist was gentle. She liked the fact that he never worked with a tunic on, and only really wore them when he was hunting.
Maka is pulled out of her thoughts when Soul's body suddenly goes rigid. She looks up to him, and he presses her head back down onto his shoulder whispering, "Sense anything unusual to the north of us?" It was only a moment before her body tensed up as well.
A witch was within the town walls.
In fact, the witch was on the same street as them. Soul calls out, "Who's there?" The answer is met with silence because it's pretty obvious they know. Soul's arm tightens around her waist and the one holding her head down to his shoulder moves to pull the ever present crossbow off his back.
Ribbet.
Soul rips it off his back, aims, and fires directly in front of them faster than she thought was humanly possible. The arrow severed in half a giant tadpole that was hurled at them.
"Lady Maka would you please stand back for a moment?"
She does as she's told and watches how Soul actually performs in combat. He oddly could see exactly where the witch was even with the darkening sky which made Maka question if his scarlet eyes gave him more than just rare colored sights. The witch could not land a hit on him because after every shot he took to counter an attack and stepped to another location. After only two offensive shots he landed a fatal hit.
"Oh wow, Soul you're a wonderful marksman." Maka comments as they cautiously step forward to the corpse. It's seen that two previous shots that were aimed at the witch didn't miss either, but rather pinned each of her arms to a random brick building before a silver arrow hit her heart.
"It was not difficult as this is not the actual witch of frogs, so it was limited to what it could do."
Soul states casually, and Maka for once is confused. What does he mean not actually the witch of frogs? The body is right here? He then continues when he realizes her confusion,
"Oh hah, I know something you don't. Since I mostly see them when they're dead, I can tell if they're using a possessed corpse or if the body is actually theirs. Look here,"
He pointed to a blue patch on the skin of the woman and mentions this is how the body originally died. The patch signified probably by poison and the witch magic entry point.
"I never knew they could control humans." Maka comments shocked and Soul just chuckles.
"Only if freshly dead. Instead of frogs now these things are gonna start showing up. I have a bad feeling about it."
Soul was certainly right—and right as in when they woke up this morning there was one who was in the living room of the house that Blair was playing with. Maka woke up first, heard a little bit of clatter and some mewing coming from the main room, decided to check it out.
Weapons that were once mantled to the wall were flying all around the room as were pumpkins. In the middle of the mess was an old lady who had the same mark on her arm as the other one last night. Blair was lounging on the bookshelf watching the elder attempt to move from the tornado of sharp objects around her but to no avail. Maka sighed with a smile at the cat; at least she contained the fowl thing.
If Maka were to look to her left, there was a large wall-mounted scythe right next to her in the hallway. Lucky for her, Scythes are her favored weapon. It's gripped tightly as she walks out into the grand living room. The tornado of sharp objects stop, and Maka launches forward swinging the scythe swiftly.
A head rolls onto the floor as clapping is heard behind her.
"This is a really nice scythe; it's blade is sharpened incredibly well."
She spins it once in her hand, enjoying the finely crafted weapon.
"It should be, that's my favorite weapon for close quarters combat."
"It's my weapon of choice, in general." Maka mentions, happily mesmerized by the intricate latin carvings all over the staff that remind her of her own.
"Where's your scythe then?"
"If I ever need it, you'll see." She giggles with a sly smirk.
Contrary to the giggle, however, the answer held darkness within. If she ever really was pushed to a point to use it, it would only show up when she needs to defend someone standing on the bridge between life and death. Unfortunately, she's had to use it more than she liked. As she gives Soul a morning hug that's also becoming a common occurrence, her heart fills with fear at what could be done to this village when the upper circle of witches appears.
It had been two weeks since the possessed corpses started to appear, but they decreased greatly in the last three days. One had yet to show up at all during the day. A day that was particularly work-filled for Soul, so Maka has been left to her own devices once outside Stein's shop.
It really was not an issue for her, as on cue the possessed corpse finally became present. Not visibly, no, Maka could not see anything through the sudden onset fog. However she could sense the witchcraft, and it was sailing to her. What does she do?
Side-step it, and merely strikes the tadpole with one finger.
The explosive tadpole freezes midair and remains there, until Maka turns it around, and taps it again, returning it. Red glowing orbs are the only thing visible in the shadows of moonlight, and they gazed coldly at her as all evils do.
"Ribbet, finally you’re entirely alone, not even the damnation of a feline is anywhere close to you."
"I do not understand why you see that as a good thing, Eruka. I'm all the more dangerous to you."
Ribbet.
Tadpoles by groups of three are launched at Maka, and she dodges all of them swiftly. "Why don't you use your powers; are you scared?" Maka pauses her movements, and giggles. Maka knew Eruka was a third circle witch, the lowest rank to still be considered a threat. The witch of frogs was nothing more than a special puppet for the upper ring witches.
Maka was immune to everything Eruka could possibly do to her. She's tried to kill Maka before when the blonde was imprisoned in her lair, which is why Maka did not give flying shit about how Eruka threw everything and anything she could at her.
Nor about when Eruka flashed in front of her.
Or when Maka was pinned up against a wall by the wench, not even a flinch.
She could have fought, but Maka was mindful of the sleeping people around her and did not desire to cause further ruckus. By now Eruka had her immobilized to the best of her ability, and a poisonous blue tongue was near the pigtailed beauty's jugular. The witch made one mistake. She wanted to attempt to torture Maka, and prolonged this debacle. A switchblade is suddenly shoved into Maka's gut, and she yelps. Another one is slammed into the side of her thigh, and she makes a pained noise.
Three more switchblades with frog-shaped handles penetrate her skin. She couldn't die easily, but that did not mean she was unable to feel pain. Eruka, grinning madly and giggling profusely in Maka's face, was beginning to enjoy herself too much. Maka began to recite latin in her head, as she wills for her scythe to recreate itself. However Eruka's face expression abruptly changes; she seemed afraid.
Terrified.
She's ripped away from Maka's face then slammed on the ground.
"You fucking wench."
His crossbow was aimed, cocked, and shot at point blank range of the witch, and he did this again and again. A Soul so furious he was shaking visibly from anger before her. His eyes flicked to Maka, and she saw heavy guilt within, assuming that he wanted to get to her sooner. Her body was bloody red everywhere until she activated the black blood and started to pull out the switchblades, her chewing on her lip to prevent noise of pain.
"No," Softly and quietly he speaks moving toward her, "Don't do that yet, let's return home first, and let me remove them." Soul approaches her; arms wrapped gently around her back and legs as she's lifted up once again. He cradles her all the way home, head set rigidly forward, ears keen, fearing more witchcraft could be within the area.
She's set on their bed carefully.
There must have been poison on the blades because she was starting to feel something toxic in her blood. Soul knew too, as she recognizes a vial of presumably anti-poison in his hand, pulled from a drawer. The knife she's already pulled out left a purple growing patch on her skin, and a drop of the vial's contents seep into the wound. Soul mumbles that it could sting and then asks an odd question a little louder,
"Do you want me to wipe away your blood or can you reabsorb it?"
"You can do that?"
"You should try when I'm done."
Maybe his black blood is invincible.
She hisses as he pulls out the one on her thigh, him murmuring soft apologies as he drips the poison remedy in. "Start healing the wounds, my Lady." The one issue about poisons and black blood is that the wounds heal either significantly slower or increasingly more painful. Unfortunately for Maka, it was both. She gasped as the first wound started to close and clenched a blanket in her fist when the second one closed up. Soul by this point has pulled out and prepared all the wounds, now monitoring her as she heals with a regretful expression plastered to face.
If only he was there sooner, maybe she wouldn't have to deal with poison wounds. He could deal with them fine; he would have been a fantastic meat shield for her. However as he stares at her trying to hide her pain, he just feels like he failed her. Maka's clenching hand has turned red now from the pressure.
The pressure was released when fingers glided lightly over her knuckles. They slid down the crevices between her fingers. A cool palm enclosed the top of her hot hand. Soul gently squeezed her hand for comfort as her wounds fully healed.
She feels heat escaping her fast, slightly anemic, and exhausted to the greatest degree. Healing through poison had a toll on the body. That’s when she was brought against his body; his arms wrap around her protectively, and his head buries itself into the nape of her neck. She gasps at the sudden contact, and he thinks he touched a wound. His arms unwrap as quickly as they cradled her, however Maka's hand is suddenly gripping a retreating arm, and she blurts out coarsely that she liked him like that--oh no, no, not like that that, but liked him cuddling her.
She really liked it.
Scarlet color rose in her face, but the room was dimly lit, she really hoped he could not see. Meanwhile she quickly realizes that she's been holding her breath. Now whether out of the new physical contact or the last wound closing up, she doesn't know. Perhaps both were the cause.
"I'm sorry for that," Soul suddenly speaks up, ever so slightly as his head tilts to face her ear, "For not being there for you." He whispers. She hears a deep breath, and then feels air hit the side of her neck as he exhales. Goosebumps shoot up Maka's arm. Sympathy hits her, and she goes bold; turning around in his arms and hugging him back. Her entire body is pressed up against his for the first time. Actually it was first time she's given this kind of physical contact to anyone.
It feels incredibly nice to Soul.
His heart rate sped up, because she fit perfectly in his arms and she was so cozy; he had no other way but to describe her as huggable. Soul chews on his lip as he gets the courage to rub her back, then her freshly healed waist. His calloused fingers stroked the softest flesh he's ever touched, as she lets out a sigh of pleasant contentment. He smiles warmly as her next breath came out as a small snore. Her relaxed face clear as day, as he gently nudges her head under his chin before drifting off to sleep himself, a smile still evident on his face.
Maka woke up first, being greeted with incredible warmth and a strong smell of pinewood. Her eyes opened to a tanned, thick collarbone, and she hears inhale—then exhale. Soul's hand was on her hip blade, his thumb falling into a little dip nearby perfectly. Maka's face began to heat up. She shouldn't be anywhere near Soul; she was a clean and formal maiden! She's been so for approximately three centuries why on earth should she start to break that record now? He is why, she concludes. She also asks herself why out of all the times she seen him in particular vulgar states, and never questioned these—feelings, then.
Maka could not deny she fancied Soul.
It would be catastrophic; a maiden of her time should not have the slightest of feelings, especially when not married. It would not be in the interest of her father.
But why the hell would she care about that? Fuck societal formalities, she was already an outcast, a low life, when kicked from her kingdom.
The chest she's cuddling suddenly expands as he yawns, and she pokes her head up to see if he fully awoke.
"Good morning, Lady Maka."
Oh, the way that rolls of his tongue when he's half asleep. She bites her lip for only a moment before replying a similar sentiment. She sits up, only to be pulled back down, encased in their previous position,
"Just a few more minutes..."
"Must it still require me?" She growls squirming.
Soul gives a grunt of approval, holding her tighter for only a single moment. Her squirming to break free prevails, and then he looks down at the one still willingly hugging his chest.
She feels a shift in the air, so she pauses, and looks up.
The expression she's met with is indescribable. His eyes were deeper than she’s ever noticed before, and as she looks directly into them she once again questions if they gave him unusual abilities of any sort. They could certainly make her blush more. Unconsciously she licks her lips, and by primitive instinct, he does too. However he catches himself, and very quickly loosens his grip on her and sits up. She then comprehends what they just did—or where about to do.
"Sorry..." he gruffs out and she mimics the apology. Both then play a fine game of ignorance throughout their day, because that certainly was too close of an about-to-be event. It did make Maka's possible fancy (much) more noticed by Soul and for that fancy to be him; Maka however was too analytical to make an educated guess about anything involving that event.
However a fine game of ignorance is never always a wise choice, especially when one ignores more than just feelings, but their surroundings too.
It started in the shop. Stein babbled about directions and something about animals too tiny to see by the human eye, when he pauses mid-sentence. Just, staring at Maka—or perhaps it was what was behind her. She tosses a small piece of redroot into her mouth, part of her herb-snack of the day commenting, "Pardon?" as she stands up from leaning on the counter.
"Maka, redroot gives you wings?"
The next chunk of redroot she was about to pop into her mouth falls.
"Someone is about to stand on the bridge life or death, and their path is blocked."
"Oh my... you're... Lady Maka, are you the reincarnation of the Reaper Grigori?"
The woman looks up to her elder, and smiles. She breathes in, and her wings are concealed as she breathes out. She grabs Stein's black cloak from the back of the shop, hurrying to the front of the entrance.
"Some call me a reaper; some call me a guardian, all else I am a witch. I merely grant safe passageway to each realm be. Prepare yourself Doctor Stein—something is certainly off about tonight."
He was about to follow her to keep her safe, but he could sense Soul's black blood nearby, so he let her go. The two cross paths, and first thing that came out of gentleman's mouth was,
"I sense something, I have not a clue to what it is, but I know it's malicious. I came to guard you and the shop."
Fog filled the street at an unnatural rate, and Maka realizes that being indoors is an awfully bad idea. The shop, Maka thinks, before calling out to Blair.
"Get the stitched man, and then tell him to get the gang outside and to fight. The upper circle is coming tonight to either retrieve me or kill, probably both."
"Why get them outside?" Soul interjects.
"Because I am clueless to know what they put in the fog that's forming."
Soul understood this implied that there could be something toxic within is swirls, could be deadly to a sealed space.
"How many are 'they', m'Lady?" Soul questions.
"Two. Originally three, now just two."
"What happened to the other one?"
"I killed her."
Soul raises his eyebrows at the blunt statement, but he wasn't surprised. He had no idea what she could truly do—oh, not yet—but he certainly understood that she was a woman of untold power and an aura to match it. Suddenly she calls out to the fog, "Arachne, Medusa," Calm, strong, and articulated. She stood in front of the whole group, like a guardian, a protector. "I am aware that you are here. Leave this place at once." She announces again. The fog glows a faint purple and a hiss is heard throughout the clearing,
"Oh, this is new. You have chosen a new home away from us, you think?"
Maka could feel her wings willing her to let them materialize, but her powers are defensive, and right now she was defenseless.
"Oh, I see you found our only successful experiment with your powers too. Is that why you desire to remain here?" Another voice drones in from the fog.
At this point Blackstar's made it outside, spewing fruitless insults to the air around him. Soul senses an army of minions in the hundreds nearby and bites his lip thinking holy shit, Maka must be extremely important to them if they require her to such great lengths. Meanwhile Maka’s thoughts are confused on what Arachne just said.
"Arachne what damnation do you speak of—who is this successful experiment?"
"The Forgotten King next to you, of course? He was the only one who didn't go insane and your powers successfully manifested to the dark blood in him. How can you not recall, sister?"
She couldn't see straight. Maka was chained much more heavily than usual. She was strapped to a wall, dangling helplessly.
A figure materialized in front of her, she was too drowsy to see who, but they held a large, ancient sword. It was dripping with something. Inscriptions were written along its entirety. She could not talk, she could not scream when whomever plunged the blade deep into her chest. Apparently, she made some form of sound, because there was an angry yell from someone along the same wall in response. The figure faced the sound and started walking very briskly in that direction. Maka concluded, the figure was not pleased, and was probably about to do the same thing to the poor soul who called out. Maka could feel her vocal chords vibrating violently, yet in her current state she was deaf to her own sounds. Her sight was spotted.
The pain.
The substance drenching the blade seeped into her heart. It bubbled and burned. However her instincts kicked in, her wings bore themselves and illuminated the room activating as her body prepared to expel the weapon in defense. It suddenly ripped itself out of her not by her will and started to move in the direction of the other soul. Maka could not be concerned about that yet, her body fought to rapidly close the wound, to heal her heart and bone and skin.
Her instincts kicked in again when the same voice from before wails a dehumanizing sound. The chains restraining her illuminate and she yanks her body forward as the shackles shatter like glass without sound. The air around her was different. She knew every soul in the room could feel the wrath of her guardian gifts hit in waves. Her feet do not move as she launches herself at the hooded figure. She could feel her voice was being used, but she could not hear nor think of what she was saying. The air around her illuminates and materializes to form a scythe, and just like screams from the blade piercing two skins a skyward slash strikes the witch.
However, this was not a wound that can heal like the two just before.
A voice from the fog speaks up again and jolts her from her own devices,
“That night you gave salvation to the Forgotten King was the same knight you brought true meaning to your Reaper capabilities. We wish often that we could have also been present to witness the full extent of those powers, Reaper Grigori.”
“Then the entire upper ring of witches would have been dead instead of just one.”
Maka braced herself, what she just recalled and what the witches have spoken of made her mysterious understanding of Soul much more transparent. They once kidnapped dozens of people and experimented countless ways on how to extract her powers and manifest them in another object or being. It became evident very quickly that objects could not even hold a single power of hers, and most people could not handle the capabilities either. The sword that was stabbed into her was one of their last attempts at manifesting powers to an object, and the third upper ring witch seeing that the sword was unaffected after being plunged into her heart, decided to use it to kill off a loud annoyance at the other end of the wall. The sword dripped of black blood; a life force essence that was just then exposed to Maka while her wings were present. That blood was invisibly altered and as it was exposed to Soul aka the Forgotten King at the time, his body absorbed it as Maka killed the witch directly in front of him. Maka was losing herself in her thoughts again as people behind her mumbled about the name used to refer to Soul.
Soul moves up to stand next to Maka, angry that they’ve come for her and at the same time angry that they addressed him by a name he hoped was long lost to the sands of time. “You two have teamed up it appears, hm?” is whispered from the fog, and snakes slither forward from it. Arrows sever all shortly after. Mewing is heard next to Maka’s foot, and the fog is lit up by dozens of floating pumpkins; visibility increased dramatically thanks to Blair. They could see a single dark figure hovering a ways away from them down the road. Arachne was not physically present even though she could be felt through the fog. They were dealing with Medusa, and whatever army stands behind her.
“This village will be of no more, unless you come a long with me, Reaper Grigori.”
She was tempted to step forward; it would be of much less trouble and concern of the people behind her. However, the people behind her were all of the more reason to stay and fight. She could single-handedly take down whatever was going to be thrown at her, yet here she was not alone to do this. Medusa hissed and the forces behind her rushed forward. The village was gated and guarded at nights, however someone had already convinced the night guards to take a night off to relax in their homes once the fog was set in. Each member spread out to the four gates, Blair and Stein took to making barriers around the buildings the strongest and didn’t waste their time knowing that bubble barriers around the whole village would not do much. Snakes and minions swarmed the place, and it was handled well at first. Maka had yet to use her powers, although she now had a reason for them to activate. She moved alongside Soul, following him closely and interweaving with him as they switched tossing the scythe once hung up on his walls between them to fight.
Everyone was content with doing this until the mobs started getting larger and more difficult to kill, the small ones still ever present.
Eventually barriers were beginning to break, and as Maka’s cat became more stressed in rushing to summon new ones, Maka had to do something.
Most importantly, she had to figure out whose soul was on the verge of life or death, yet who could not move from their state of being. It easily could be any of her friends, or someone in a house nearby, she was terrified if it was someone lovely that she just met. As a barrier broke next to her and monsters rushed in, she had to do something.
Soul was almost startled when he heard her voice chant something in Latin, if he could recall his studies from a several centuries ago, he might have been able to understand what she was saying, however he was much too preoccupied to turning around to figure out why it just got so damn bright behind him.
His eyes drag from his shadow on the ground as he turns to face Maka, quickly taking in the fact that she had a pair of luminous wings behind her and a scythe of the same form materializing above her hand.
She glances over to him; her eyes normally of a foggy or perhaps dull hue of green are crystal clear and much more vibrant than that of what he’s used to being so fond of. She smiles at him, and it dawns on him that she is a heavenly being. She bent her knees as if to jump and she shot up into the air. She was at the same height as Medusa, and she spun her scythe once as a barrier without command swelled from her like a bubble. It expanded to the outskirts of the village and annihilated every possessed or foul creature of magic within. The bubble remained there once it expanded, expelling the fog, and Medusa backed away with it cautious of the force.
“I have not witnessed nor read record of this power before, is this new Reaper?” Medusa thundered through the bubble and Maka replied just as loudly and clearly,
“Reaper is just title, Medusa. You never fully understood what I am a reincarnate of, nor the full extent of my purpose.”
The fog cleared suddenly around a women hovering upon something enchanted, her head clearly cocked to the side in bewilderment, “Pardon?” and that’s when there was someone yelling down below, a man in a white stitched jacket passionately yelling at the witch,
“…you foolish wench she’s not an actual reaper she’s the Grigori guardian of the bridge between life and death, a keeper of time between living and non-living, and you’ve been trying to manipulate her powers as a reaper are you seriously that foolish DO REAPERS HAVE WINGS…”
He quieted down furious from his epiphany that witches are blithering idiots as Maka’s incarnate took over at the sound of her call.
"Someone is about to stand on the bridge life or death, and their path is blocked."
She says with a voice combined with another feminine ethereal one. Her wings suddenly expanded, and she launched herself forward at the witch beyond the bubble. The witch made a feeble attempt to dodge and was successful for but a moment, however Maka in her Grigori state was a deity until her job was complete.
Medusa throws something at the bubble of the village and it disintegrates in a spot big enough for her to fly through, and the Grigori fuses through instantly. The witch had intention to harm the village by doing this, it was an unfortunate choice because she also trapped herself.
Meanwhile Soul not taking everything in quite yet managed to climb up to the top of the roof, the body before Maka may look like the witch but it was a unique possessed body, one of another witch. If Maka was going to kill it, she was not going to get the target she had plans for.
He yelled this at the top of his lungs once he was standing at the tallest point in the village, but as she struck the body it immediately began dissolving into more creatures of ruin. Maka for some reason didn’t care; she swung the scythe into the dissolving, smiling flesh, and slammed it down to the ground below.
She landed without a sound next to it, all of this occurring just a few feet before the medicine shop group. The remains of the body hiss, “Your attempts are feeble, but you cannot kill me from here.” Maka having not spoken in a bit, smirks. It was the same smirk Soul recognized that was uniquely Maka’s, he’s always seen it when she had something up her sleeve she was about to play.
“Oh, I know,” She replies calmly, her scythe is swung down again into the heart of the flesh but not all the way in, just the very edge of the blade piercing its foulness. She jumps over the body, turning the scythe that was curved toward the ground upward, and with it the body gasps. Maka’s voice is heard again with the holy feminine one, this time her own tones louder than the other,
"Someone is about to stand on the bridge life or death,” She lifts the upturned scythe and out of the body she pulls out a purple blob on the tip of it, the same body as before materializes around it, “and their path," she swings the scythe a final time a horizontal slice occurring through this image of Medusa.
“Is no longer blocked.”
Maka stills, eyes glaze over like her mind was elsewhere, before the orb and image around it oozes of blood before disappearing completely, at the same time Maka’s wings fade. Her balance unsteady, she falls to the ground and Soul in an instant props her up and holds her up with arms wrapped around her protectively. The barrier she’s created has fended off all monsters around and within, however from the outside there’s still monsters piling up waiting for it to fade.
“Maka are you okay?”
She smiles tiredly at Soul, and yawns going into that probably exhausts her, “ ‘m lovely, do not worry another Grigori is coming towards us to help, tell her I am poisoned when she arrives…”
Maka is out like a light in his arms, the information of poison rushing fear into Soul’s already adrenaline fed mind. Not again. He squeezes her close and Stein paces up to them to state,
“Some form of magic wave must have hit her it looks and on top of that her magic probably holds a toll on her, what was the last thing she said?”
“Poisoned, and to inform the other Grigori on their way of this.” Soul replies.
Near the west wall almost a couple seconds after that statement a loud gust of wind and trees being broken is heard. Attention shifts but the bubble still present around the village seems unphased, and then a gray hooded figure rounds the corner and pauses examining the streets for something. The hood faces the direction of the group and the figure’s posture straightens as it sets a path directly towards Soul and Maka in his arms. Soul unlatches and aims his crossbow in an instant at the figure as hands move out of the cloak, Stein knocking the crossbow down as the hands gain a yellow glow around them.
“Healer, calm down.”
The hood figure gets up to Maka and Soul and kneels down to their level, hands hovering over Maka. Soul is on alert as the hood stays up revealing nothing, but is thankful for the help mentioning awkwardly, “If you are the Grigori she mentioned before passing out, she said to inform you of poison.” The hooded figure nods, and Soul looking up at his friends all are bewildered and perhaps slightly battered. Even Blackstar was quiet, even though his other form was still activated by the stars in his eyes. Stein looked normal and calm and probably even a bit bored just five minutes ago and now he is staring down at them with an indescribable face. Perhaps one of shock, or disillusionment.
Whatever it was, Soul quickly realized it was not directed at him or Maka, but the figure. Soul forgot how well the old Doc could see through people even as mysterious as they tried to be.
“Doc, who is this?” Soul questions which startles the crazed man from his staring.
“My wife.”
This time the posture of the hooded figure really bolts upright from leaning over Maka. They turn around, look at the doctor, and pull down their hood revealing a woman of bright blonde hair and an eye-patch. “Franken…Stein? Is that really you?”
Soul smiles as they’re both frozen and admits yes, it is him and that even as warm of a reunion this may be, the bubble was fading and his fancy was passed out in his arms. He didn’t use the word fancy but he did almost say it by mistake. Marie snaps back to the girl,
“Ah yes King Solomon, did little Maka use just guardian, or did she serve as a,” Marie pulls her hands up and makes finger quotations, “Reaper?” Soul says both, and the older woman raises her eyebrows surprised.
“Mm who and what Sir?” she further questions,
“Acted as reaper on an upper ring witch known as Medusa, guardian, well you can see what she’s done and it’s currently faltering as we speak.”
“Oh my, I will take care of that in a jiffy, pardon me one moment.”
Marie stands up; her face goes from worried to stoic to furious and then she slams the ground. A ripple of force pulsates through the ground. It felt like an earthquake, they could feel structures becoming weak, trees whining and some falling. Stein places a hand on her shoulder and the ruckus halts, her yellow glow seeps through the ground; anything broken from her force was repaired, even trees hoisted back up to the point as if nothing happened.
“There will be nothing in the area come morning now Prince Solo—“
“It is kind that you recognize my old life name, but I go by Soul now.”
“Ah, my apologies.”
“Thank you for what you have done Lady Marie, will Maka be okay?”
“The Guardian will be fine, she will sleep and be achey but she is a tough one, bring her home and get someone to watch over her if you feel the need.”
“She lives with me, I shall return her home, good day.”
This time around Blackstar cuts in questions a million things all at once, and everyone who has a slight clue, waves him off. They state they will worry about this mess of matter and explanations tomorrow.
He lays her down on their mattress at home, and he strips himself down and puts something clean on before turning to the sleeping beauty before him, unsure if he has the permission to do the same for her. Many of Maka's articles of clothing were soiled and torn, so he cuts off the worst of it, looking away out of respect as necessary. He wiped down himself and her extremities before wrapping her up in blankets and protectively pulling her as close to his body as he could get her. He just laid there for a while listening for anything that might be of harm before he eventually gave way to exhaustion, however his crossbow right next to the bed just in case.
The next morning he awoke she was still sleeping, or at least he hoped. He held onto her for a good bit, more out of his own way of self-comfort at this point. He stayed with her most of the day like that, only exceptions were to grab food and relieve himself.
Day three she remained the same way, and he was starting to get worried, he would play with her hair at points, or fiddle with her fingers, neither of which disturbed her and eventually he got restless enough to bring Marie in. She shooed him away and shoved him outside to give him fresh air. He decided to train and work out as a result; taking out his anger on that maybe he should have helped her more in some way shape or form so that she did not have to exert so much.
Soon after that Marie brought him back in and told him Maka was probably going to wake up shortly and that he should be there. He thanks her graciously as she left.
Unbeknownst to Soul, Marie woke Maka up checking on her vitals, and told her of how worried and concerned her little “housing” friend was about her. Marie questioned if Maka and the Forgotten King were mates since she last saw and heard her stories. Maka of course blushed furiously but did not swat or book swing the healer. Marie was a dear old friend, practically a mother. This mother smiled knowingly and suggested that maybe they should be mates; their understanding of each other is probably profound because of black blood and circumstances.
“You do not always run across someone your age anymore that often sweetie.” The Force Grigori mentioned carefully.
Maka groans defeated at that statement and admitted she fancied him.
“He even complies with your royal bloodline requirement, not that such a rule has affected you since you were shunned.”
“It’s all merry and games until you Reaper one of your father’s corrupted advisors.” Maka adds lightheartedly as she stretches.
“At least you do not have your title remembered anymore such as ‘Soul’.”
“What was his actual name you’ve called him?”
“His true name is Prince Solomon Evans, he was an heir of the Evans kingdom as my research has found. His brother almost went insane trying to search for him as he became King, and his brother also gave him the title of the Forgotten King, because if he was not for witch experiments, he probably would have ruled long ago.”
“Unfortunate for him, but I think he enjoys where he is.”
“You also seem much happier here as well, even as I refrain from calling you princess as well.”
Marie winked; Maka rolled her eyes as she tried to sit up but is pushed back down. With their pasts long behind them the topic moved onto Maka’s state of being, the hint of her being with Soul by Marie’s opinion was pretty clear. Maka’s analytical mindset could not miss that. As Marie moved out of the room, she mentioned she would tell Soul that the sleeping beauty was still asleep but would be up soon.
So Maka decided to fake fall asleep as soon as Marie left to return to the shop. As soon as Soul could be he was at her side immediately, and for once in three days Maka could take note of what he was doing the entire time. In words, it was not that interesting. He would sigh at random points, and cuddle up to her, or always be in some form of contact with her at minimum.
She soon felt him stroking her hair and drawing patterns on a hand of hers. She realized that for the most part she was naked, but she was still too drowsy to care about that yet. The attention she was given was fond and very comforting. He would grumble things at random times that she could not comprehend, and after a few more minutes she decided to ‘wake up.’
She moved a little bit and his attention snapped to her face and he smiled when he saw that she was conscious. “Maka!” he exclaims quietly and while laying down next to her, pulls her into a tight hug. “I was getting worried,” He mumbled into her ear and at once, a blush rose to her face. She slowly moves her arms around him and holds him as well as he mumbles again, “I have missed you so much, my Lady.” She squeezes him as much as she could in her current state and replies, “I missed you too, Sir Soul.”
“Please, just call me Soul. Formalities mean nothing to me with you.”
Maka stretches her arms, grumbling an agreement. Her outstretched arms land not back at her sides again but around him. His response was automatic and thoughtless; he melted into her touch just as much as she did for him. Soul finds himself in a great feeling of relief because she woke up fine. Maka woke up fine. This marvelous woman who he lives with, shares blood with, and saw his gonads behind a book—is alive and okay. She’s safe in his arms and hugging him back with an intimacy that would have been horridly frowned upon if he was in a royal setting.
Soul’s thoughts shift back to the recently acquired information that the black blood trait they had in common was in fact the exact same blood. Same witch, same impaling weapon. Until the Medusa brought it up, the whereabouts of the violent scene that gave him his chest scar were murky in his mind. Looking back in his ancient memory he equivocates the memory strength to a blackout drunk memory. Prior to him getting kidnapped, he remembers. After getting the scar, he remembers.
Getting the scar itself, he doesn’t remember a thing.
And suddenly the dainty, almost fragile woman in his arms speaks up, as if she heard his thoughts:
“The time in which you received your black blood placed you on the bridge between life or death,” Maka begins. He could not see her face, however by the dazed sound of her voice, he concluded she was in that unusual state of being. “But your time was seized from you by force, which over fate violates the rules of time. I punished the violator and granted you safe passage to whichever way your spirit drifted on the bridge.”
Maka shifts closer to him in his arms. He could feel her breath near his heart, and her fingers drifting down to the bottom of his scar. Her pointer finger glided smoothly along the lower portion of collagen skin. The tone Maka held although dazed, something told him that whoever she was a reincarnation of was who spoke. Yet Maka continues, this time her voice slightly course, but soft:
“Your spirit had done something I have never seen on the bridge before, Prince Solomon Evans, do you know what you chose?”
Soul gently presses his face into Maka’s hair, murmuring, “I do not know, my Lady.”
He doesn’t hear her inhale, but he feels her shaky exhale of a deep breath through her ribcage. The information the incarnate is speaking of was valuable, and Soul was not sure who—Maka or the Grigori in her—truly stressed the value of the information so much as to shake with emotion.
“You did not choose life or death… you chose me, Solo—“ Her voice fails, however picks back up again with more of how Maka usually sounds, “Soul. You stood on the bridge between life or death, and you remained on the bridge to hug me instead.”
Soul closes his eyes. He nestles his face closer into her hair, breathing in the scent of her hair. To stay with Maka even in that extreme situation sounded like something he would do. If he was presented with that situation now, it’s exactly what he would do. Soul voices this to Maka, and she squeezes him weakly in their hug. Maka admits that she never knew there was a third option, between life or death. However, that third option explains why they both age so slowly—eluding both death and the natural progressions of life for centuries.
It was nearly impossible to kill either of them with black blood, and even more so when imbued with Maka’s magic.
However, Maka was not telling everything she learned from the Grigori in her. She bit her lip, unsure to tell everything. The last bit of memory she has, if revealed, would also reveal her old life status. As his fingers ghost gently over the bare skin of her back, the hand shifts to carefully pull her closer to him while he rolls onto his back. She’s left laying partially on him; legs tangled, head on his chest, one arm of his wrapped around her, the other rubbing the swell of her nearest hip.
Soul relaxes completely, eyes transitioning from slow blinks to completely closed. This was the safest and most comfortable he has ever felt in his life.
Maka feels like her mind is entirely her own again, and with this, she stops biting her lip.
“Soul—do you remember how you were captured by the witches?”
He hums a disapproval.
“We were seconds away from courting each other in my father’s ballroom.”
That got him to open his eyes.
He hears muffled eloquent music right up ahead of him, laughter and chatting, but above all, he hears the clack of his shoes and his guard’s boots on granite steps. The air is crisp with the scent of local pine, however as he makes it to the entrance of the castle, a warmth and smell of cooking delicacies floods his senses. His left guard knocks with the door pull, and the door is thrown hastily open the second the house maiden sees his attire. Another servant announces to the other workers the “Prince of Evans” has arrived, and all respond accordingly.
Solomon is guided to the main hall.
The sea of high class citizens part for him the second he opens the door. He smirks to himself, reaffirming in his head that being late was quite fashionable. The massive room quiets. A cloud blocks the sun outside, and the massive windows on opposing sides of the room darken the atmosphere. He strolls up to the highest placed seat in the vicinity and bows down to the king. A spiel his brother engrained within his head is performed, along with all other etiquette his bother forced him to memorize and practice to request a courtship.
Whatever charm his brother bestowed upon Soul with this proverbial mating display unshockingly did not appease the king, because Price Solomon was not proper. King Spirit clearly saw straight through the act and announced so to the entire room. If the man was trying to humiliate the kneeling prince, he would have to try harder. Solomon merely looked up from bowing his head, a glint in his eyes growing distain on the King’s expression. Obviously, the prince could not give less of a shit, because his attitude was not where his value lied.
“O’ great King Spirit, you wound me gently. You know my value to your daughter does not lie in pointless etiquette and establishing kingdom truces. I seek to enamor your daughter for merely a partnership on my own behalf.”
It was at this point that someone strolled out from behind the throne. Hidden, yet evidently listening.
A woman, in a pale pink dress that did not scream royalty in the slightest. There were a few unusual scars across her arms that peeked out past the gloves that screamed combatant, not princess. Yet the expression on her face, how she held herself, and the grace in her step told him otherwise.
The king sputtered like a lost puppy, begging the elegant woman to come back to his side.
It dawned on Solomon that the king was not in charge of this courtship—not in the slightest.
Ash blonde hair and clouded green eyes that reminded him of moss in a running river. Pale, clear skin that showed sparring experiences as sharp as his own. She had loud footsteps, and it was obvious the woman was not wearing wealthy moccasins due to the unmistakable sound of solider boots. The gloves she wore were not satin or the proper womanly elbow length, but wrist length and leathery. Leather exclusively was used for weapon wielding in his kingdom, although the bleached leather of hers was an unusual touch.
Solomon briefly amuses the idea that this woman before him was a slight anomaly to her royal status, just like him. She has bleached leather gloves because her status requires her to wear light colors to display wealth. Or maybe they were bleached to match her dress, as brown leather with a pale pink getup was obscure. His thoughts slow to a halt as she stands two steps directly in front of him. The smallest gemstone tiara rested on the top of her head, and Solomon is mentally smacked with the realization that this maiden was the princess his brother recommended to seek, and that she was also not absorbed in the exuberance of royal life.
Soul felt ludicrous as heat rose to his cheeks.
She was captivating.
“I, Princess Maka, accept your courtship, Prince Solomon,” She holds out her gloved hand for it to be kissed, and she cracks a smirk while challenging, “Try me.”
Solomon all but obliges with finesse as her father erupts in rejection. However this time, his opinion is met with another person standing next to him instead of Soul. Quietly the man mentions,
“As your chief financial advisor, O’ great King Spirit, I must inform you that the wealthiest kingdom on this continent is the Evans kingdom. It might be in your best interests to… encourage this, at least until the boy is of no use.”
The quiet tone was intended for only the King to hear, yet it was a foolish move as both the Prince and Princess heard it. The Princess gains this look of disgust on her face, almost as if this advisor has repeated inappropriate behavior, before she realizes she’s directing it to ‘the boy’ in question and her face morphs to apologetic. She was facing away from both the King and his advisor, and so she mouths:
“Corrupted.”
Her eyes dart over to the side of her shoulder, and his gaze follows to a short and wide man standing to the right of the King.
His gaze widens when he looks to the advisor past a pair of glowing wings, that were inexplicably attached to the princess. It was obvious the princess did not notice it yet, so the prince feels almost forbidden to quietly whisper,
“If you’re a secret angel, your wings are showing right now.”
The alarmed look that struck her features instilled an ominous feeling in his heart that he swore he would never forget, as the large windows that darkened with the sky were shattered by possessed beasts.
Except he did forget.
He forgot for centuries.
Soul found it exhilarating to remember, finally. The fog that settled in that dark sector of his mind clarified a now unfamiliar world he once knew, because of a single sentence uttered by the beauty in his arms. The hand that was rubbing at Maka’s hip now grips it instead.
“You are much more than a secret angel, my princess.”
“My princess is new.” Maka comments.
“It’s what you would have been if there were no series of unfortunate events.”
Maka turns to hide her face in his chest, as said face flushes fast at the realization he remembered. Soul smiles at the ceiling, enamored with this once mysterious warrior. He had yet to learn of all of her, but acknowledging that their connections ran so much deeper than previously understood made the relationship feel so much more well-founded.
Soul for a brief period long ago had full intentions to marry this woman. The second she greeted him with the “try me” statement; he was sold. In his new life, he was sold when she book slammed BlackStar without hesitation. Momentarily, he wonders if it’s a gift or a curse to like a single woman for almost 300 years, and as he looks down and sees her trying to hide a blush, he concludes that it must be a gift.
“Of course, with the proper rituals and your acceptance, you would have become my queen.”
She speaks albeit muffled—still hiding her face in his chest—about how he spoke in past tense and that luxury life is behind both her and him. He hums in agreement but chews his lip. This moment is an opportune time for him to make a formal move. Soul wagers the pros, a relationship with a woman who saved his life and could very well beat his ass, against the cons which would mainly be rejection and depression. Maka was well worth any mental decay, and he also considers how comfortable she is with him.
Currently she’s laying in bed with him, partially lounging on him and blushing after he calls her his princess.
Previously, she saw him naked—several times—and did not run from him, meaning he must be attractive to some extent. After the Blackstar fiasco with the book, she did not tear him a new asshole, which in all honesty, he was expecting. She let him dress her poison wounds from the frog witch, which for a lady of her time, only other maidens should have been able to touch her. She trusted him enough to sleep in the same bed with him at night, after only the first night of staying at his residency. Maka hinted at their courting past possibilities, which meant she elevated him to a partner interest at some point in her life at least once.
He's hope she does twice. Once back then, and once right now.
“We can try again, if you’re interested.”
Maka sits up on the bed; leg crisscrossed as she faces his body and swallows thickly. “Pardon?” Soul takes this cue to also sit up. Heat spreading fast up the back of his neck, he sits on the bed too; legs dangle off the edge as he faces away from her. He rubs his neck, and tries to clarify as casually as possible,
“Courtship. We can try to… informally pick up where we left off.”
“You know Soul, now it’s called dating.”
Her words were an encouraging push for the blush on his neck to creep up to his cheeks, but Maka could not see it yet. She shifts on the bed, although he did not know why until he feels her arms wrap around his torso. Her chin settles on his shoulder as he hugs her arms, and he’s hoping that she cannot feel his heartbeat pound as hard has he can. His head is bowed, as if sitting tall and statuesque would turn her away from the idea of him as a partner. His eyes wander from the floor to where her arms are around his stomach, and Soul is not quite sure if the action is calming him or making him more nervous. If she continues remaining silent for much longer, he was probably going to burst from either nervousness or dread. Her latest statement was neutral in tone, and for a moment he’s worried at how calm and controlled she sounded.
His stomach is about to drop when he hears her let out a breath of air almost in relief, and Soul was not sure if he was tricking himself into thinking it sounded like a happy sigh. The kind that occurs only when someone is smiling through the exhale, as if everything had gone to plan. He feels his prided wounded when she lets out a soft chuckle, but not as hurt as he should have been because the chuckle was soft and held a warmth in its tone. This same warmth filled her next words:
“And I would love to, Soul.”
For emphasis on her words, she leans over slightly to kiss his cheek; grinning when a small smile graces his lips.
At first all he could feel was relief. He built a mountain on his nerves in the minute it had taken for her to produce an answer, and she just tore all his work to shreds. He wasn’t even mad—not in the slightest. Maka could tear him down any day if it meant that he felt like this. The wave of emotion that sunk in next as he visibly relaxed into her touch was equivalent to not euphoria but of contentment. Relaxation. Satisfaction. There was no word well-fitting enough that could describe how Soul felt being able to turn around blushing hard and being able to see a face that matches his hue; timidly smiling back at him.
This feeling was the finest luxury of life.
The luxury coins could purchase had nothing on the feeling of Soul wrapping his own arms around Maka and holding her as both fell to laying on the bed together. Snug hugs and cozy cuddles produced a new, deeply affectionate feeling like nothing before.
Maka's cheeks hurt from how long she’s been smiling. Quite frankly she could care less about the ache, especially as the handsome hunter cradling her like puppy admits that his quality of life rose sharply after he found her, simply because her unmatched wit, brilliant epiphanies, and charming laughs soothed him during the day. She knows this expression is genuine because his voice is raw; he wanted her to know more than his embarrassment to say it.
And the compliment is one of the best she’s ever received. Soul touched her soul because he enjoys her for who she is.
The fact that she’s an absolute badass may have pulled him in, but her cunning personality kept him hooked. She was ethereal in a way that changed in intensity with every situation. When she fought, close quarters and with his favorite scythe, she was provoking and powerful. When she cradled a book as her feet dangled off his red reclining chair after a long day of work with Stein, she was demure and adorable, even in her most casual and tired state. When she walked around his bedroom in the late evenings and early mornings with nothing on but his tunic, she was unknowingly titillating.
And right now, she’s rather kissable.
All the while she’s entranced with his eyes, cooling embers that so accurately represent his personality; a calm mind filled with burning passions. She silently prays he never gets doused with water as she craves his heat in every context. The mood shifts. He leans toward her, a want painted in his expression, yet his eyes expressed uncertainty. He was being careful, and she was glad because an epiphany strikes that she’s nearly naked; in rags that barely covered her personal parts, and caked in dried blood that was not hers, and probably not human blood either.
The shock of this reminder must have been painted on her face because Soul gains a worried expression and questions what’s wrong. She voices her epiphany, and he laughs genially, informing her that he did not want to intrude the privacy of her body while she was unconscious, otherwise he would have cleaned her up further. He earns a pat on the head, before she stretches, and swings her legs over the bed with the intention to prepare a bath. She voices her intent and Soul immediately appears in front of her, which is the first domestic instance of him using inhuman agility around her. She's taken aback by the action but as he holds one hand out for her to take, she pinks at the intent.
His intention was warranted, she hasn't been on her feet in several days and she still feels week. Soul's other arm somehow acquires a towel and another tunic on it, he also offers that arm to her. It dawns on Maka that this is the first time she's been taken care of in such a manner in literal centuries. She knows Soul would have done this regardless of their agreement to date, but with that extra piece of information, this whole interaction has her feeling fuzzy.
"I know you have more dried blood on you than clothing right now," Soul gives her a once over, before suggesting that she can dirty the tunic he's offering while he (not her) draws her bath. She didn't even ask for him to prepare a bath. In any other instance, she would not have wanted someone to go out of their way for her. Soul is special. His gaze hasn't left hers since they both stood, and the sincerity in his expression nearly makes her forget that she's practically naked and she has been, for several days now. Why should she bother to put on clothes just before taking a bath?
"I don't need to dirty that just for a few moments of being modest. I'm not even that now." Soul chuckles, and she then requests: "Would you be so kind to um--cut the rest of these mangled fabrics off?"
Soul's eyes slip from hers as he previews what he would need to cut off of her and his eyes snap to hers. "Of course, let's start the water first so you don't get too cold beforehand, my princess." His tone betrays nothing of his fluster, and as he leads her to the bathing area, she feels regal. Maka revels that her body has influenced someone to the point of a flush and that the person in question is someone she almost wants to fluster. Is that cruel of her?
His hand leaving hers to start heating the water cuts her thoughts short, and before a new thought even begins she hears a switch blade unfold as he appears in front her with inhuman haste once again. Soul is seemingly insistent on leaving her side for the least amount of time he can manage, and she finds that incredibly endearing albeit a little unnecessary. She adores the contrast in the slow, almost timid pace of his hand movements as he moves towards the remains of her blouse and undergarments shredded in battle, and cuts them starting around her shoulders and moving along her sides, gently pushing her arms out of the blade's path.
She suddenly felt nervous as her chest is exposed, but Soul's eyes stay focused on exactly where the knife is and he glances up directly to her face otherwise. As he kneels in front of her and begins to cut off layers to what's barely left of her skirt, he looks almost giddy, fighting a smile. When she questions it, his eyes snap to hers and he softly says, "You have no idea how badly I wanted to take this off of you." He goes to resume cutting but promptly freezes as he realizes the implications of what he said.
"Because you've been covered in dried blood and uncomfortable tattered clothing not that I want to..." He suddenly looks anywhere but her, rolls his shoulders, and comments in a quiet tone, "Please understand I would not mind that either at all, but that is neither here nor there and i think I should just--" He glances up at her from his position on the floor and his gaze falls ever so slightly south, "--shut up before you kill me."
Those wonderful rosy tones that match his eyes strike his cheeks once again. He bites his lip, presumably to shut up, and Maka finds the whole ordeal attractive; especially from such a charming man on his knees looking up at her with such reverence. She laughs, and tells him he came to a wise conclusion, but nothing more. She notes where his eyes were and the other information, for later.
Soul's seemingly satisfied with response, makes a single swift cut in one motion and all of the remaining fabric that was attached to her legs goes slack. He leans forward to reach around to her behind and peels off the remains of her skirt and her undergarments in one motion, and as the clothing falls to the floor his face is rather close to her sex. He seems to pay the proximity no attention but his actions betray him as he leaves a small chaste kiss on her right upper thigh.
Now Maka's the one biting her lip and equally flushed.
Soul's quickly leans back and stands, as if not wanting to witness her response, and occupies himself with filling the tub. As Maka steps away from the discarded fabric on the floor, Soul tidies that up too. She's told that there's a cabinet in the corner of the room with little luxuries for enjoying a bath and with an absent mind she leafs her way through the various soap bars.
Soul now sitting on a stool near the tub, calls that it's ready for her. Maka's mind still hasn't left the kiss to her thigh earlier. She strolls over to him completely in the nude, emboldened with her comfort around Soul and the generosity with his attention and care. Maka's fingertips caress the bottom of his chin, then curling her pointer finger under to nudge Soul's face upward, she leans in for a brief kiss. She intended to hold the kiss for just long enough for him to react, but when he does his--albeit damp--hands fly up to hold her face in place as he deepens the kiss. His touch feather-light. His need for her so apparent in the kiss, immediate yet ephemeral, as he lets her pull back on her own terms.
She loves that, and says it to him in a smile, bright and unapologetic. She's never seen someone look both overjoyed and dazed at the same time, and she likes that too. Her attention silently turns to the bath and she lifts a leg to dip a toe in the water. Soul immediately is standing next to her with one arm for her to grab onto if she wished, and another to stabilize her on her lower back that pulls her closer to him when her balance waivers. In an instant, she is in his arms bridal-style and he lowers her carefully into the warm water.
As she's reminded of both his strength and agility, she wonders what else he can do. She wonders what else he is willing to do, for her. She mumbles her question entirely to herself, and he replies:
"Anything for you."
Lillybelle23 on Chapter 1 Thu 21 Jul 2022 05:40PM UTC
Comment Actions
Cherub_Prince on Chapter 1 Wed 20 Aug 2025 09:02AM UTC
Comment Actions
Futilecrux on Chapter 2 Sun 03 Nov 2024 11:07AM UTC
Last Edited Sun 03 Nov 2024 11:07AM UTC
Comment Actions
Conjecture on Chapter 2 Sun 03 Nov 2024 03:17PM UTC
Comment Actions
Futilecrux on Chapter 2 Sun 03 Nov 2024 08:59PM UTC
Comment Actions
Cherub_Prince on Chapter 2 Wed 20 Aug 2025 09:49AM UTC
Comment Actions