A/N: Well, here's my first fanfiction.

Sistine: Finally! Took you long enough.

Mellub: I know.

Sistine: So are you worry?

Mellub: About what?

Sistine: About the world going to actually read something that you wrote.

Mellub: Oh... that. *feeling nervous* I'm not worry.

Sistine: Are you sure? I know that not everyone who read a story review it and there must be hundred of thousand if not more people who might read your story.

Mellub: *stood still for a few second in stun silence before fainting*

Sistine: Ops. *scratching back of head* My bad. Oh, well, enjoy the read people. *electricity course through her hand* While I get our great writer here back on his feet.

Chapter One

The grinning moon was chuckling at the silence world below waiting for it to play out its dramas. From it position the moon look down upon a city that was overshadowed by a castle. Standing on a balcony was a peculiar creature so thin that a beggar would worry for the soul's life. His blank gaze would make a moron think him retarded, but emotions and thoughts were bury somewhere deep within him.

"Why does everyone hate me?" asked the wry prince. It was a pointless question for he has already questioned himself a thousand times over the years. The black blood prince was a monster... no, a demon. That have terrorized his country since the day his father, King Jekyll, die under questionable circumstance. Just saying his name would cause the greatest of men to lose his breakfast.

Not that many people would recognize him. Lady Medusa would keep him within the solidarity of the citadel until he was sent off to devour more souls. The only people who saw his face frequently would be a few brave or desperate maids and the garrison of troops. Though the sight of the prince would have made anyone look once and than a second time.

If someone saw him from afar and he wasn't dress in a dark blue silk shirt with long, cuffed sleeves and black trouser. Most would mistake the messy pink hair boy as a girl. With all his curves, firm ass, and high pitch voice he sometime wonder if Lady Medusa did something to him before or after birth. By force of habit his hand reaches for the light weight, black pointed crown that rest on top of his head. Stain black with the drying blood of the souls who had beg for mercy. There was no remorse or any feeling to the thought just a statement.

A knock on room door draw him back to reality. Turning his head he watch as a timid maid poke her head in. "My lord," she said keeping her voice from trembling, "Lady Medusa is here. She wants you to come to the throne room immediately." Giving the maid a nod he toyed with the idea to play with her hair.

It look smoother and cleaner than the last one. "T-tell her I'll be there in a moment." The maid gives a bow of acknowledgment and closes the door behind her. Sighing, he entered his room to search for something of important. Though he didn't know what he was looking for. After his father death he had a feeling that there was something he left behind. Whatever it was Father had hide it well. Only things in the room were a small bed, a plain wardrobe, and a table with a mirror fastens on.

"Luxury would cause a person to grow lazy and weak," Lady Medusa would have said. Few second of fruitless searching later the prince found himself staring into the mirror. One of the two companions he had in life stare back at him seeming to plead for help. "What could she want me to do now?" He asked the image.

The image shrugged. "Probably to send you out for more souls." Taking off it crown the image examine it rotating it around. "There still seem to be some gold shining through the black," it said pointing at a few spots here and there. The prince stared at the image trying to understand what it said. Sighing, the image put the crown back wondering how far gone the prince was. "Better not keep her waiting," it said sounding a bit bitter.

The prince understands that and gave a nod to the image. At the door, before he opened it, the image asked, "Would you like to answer some questions when you come back?"

He stood there for a moment or two as if he just asked is he coming back. "Pass." Walking through the hallways with the walls bare and seeming endless. The prince listen to the echo of his feet steps bounce off the damp, cool walls. When he was younger he feared that there was always someone around the corner ready to jump him. It was a silly notion, but not an impossible one. So the prince trained his ears to listen. Right now, he was the only person walking about by the sound of things.

It was times like those this he can forget about life. With his ear alert to danger the rest of him was sliding off into his own little fantasy. He wasn't going to his horrid mother at the moment. He was heading to his enclave that no one knew about. Hidden within the deep of the castle was a garden full of flowers shade every color of the rainbow. The room had no roof allowing the sun to warm the room. He would tend to the flowers making sure every last one of them was healthy and blooming. After that he would lie down in a small clearing on a raise mount and lay there. To think and think until his drowsiness force him to move about. If only if he could ran away to his …

A familiar tingling in his back ripped him out of his thoughts. Not now, he mentally groaned. Gritting his teeth the pain he felt as his other companion force his way out of his back. Black blood poured out swirling about until it forms a carbon black, muscular thing. "Ragnarok," whine the prince as he was sure there a stain on his shirt.

Ragnarok look down at his meister with a blank expression. Without warning he put the prince into a headlock and gives him a noogie. "Damn it Crona I'm starving. Found one of those maids and get me food."

Crona made a weak effort to pry the arm warp around his neck. "Quit it Ragnarok," he shouted.

"No, not until I get something to eat."

"But Lady Medusa wants us in the throne room."

The demon paused for a moment. "Fine," he said as he continued to grind his knuckles into Crona's skull, "but as soon we are done with that bitch. We're going to the kitchens."

Crona muttered out, "Okay." He resumed his march to the throne room and endure his partner noogie for another minute. Ragnarok then decide that Crona's head would make a great drum. He ignored it preferring this to the noogie.

At two solid wood doors he came to a stop. There was nothing special or interesting about the doors expect for the horn gargoyles that bite into brass rings. Grabbing one of the rings he gave three loud knock. "Come in," said an unfriendly voice. The two doors slowly part until they stop at a right angle.

Stepping in he barely notice the four guards standing in wait as they close the door. Each man chest was clad in a sleeveless iron shell. A light gray cloth ran down their arms and neck while light brown trousers roll over the top of boots. All of them had poleaxe in hand and swords resting in their sheath. None of them felt any comfort at the moment with him and his mother here. The fact that Ragnarok was flipping them the bird wasn't helping.

Nothing was spare to show the power and wealth of the master of the castle. The room itself was large and grand making it feel as if you were an ant walking into a giant lair. The walls were cover by paintings and morals competing to draw more attention to itself than its neighbor. Hangings from the ceiling were banners, the coat of arms of his family and his nation. A field of black support a yellow-brown cobra posed to strike. The other banner field a white background with four strips-red, purple, green, and gold- meeting in the center of the flag.

Under his feet a fine carpet color that of charcoal and have two white arrows on each side lead up to the throne. The throne was carved out of marble that would force eyes to focus on it. Engrave into the sides and below the arm were scenes of the Battle of Cean. Where the first king of the realm become ruler of what use to be northern France. In truth, the throne was all that needed to bring awe to any man. Sadly, there was a blemish sitting on it.

A woman in a black hooded robe had her legs cross and was lending on the palm of her hand. Bored at the moment she watch with mild amusement as Ragnarok stretch Crona face.

Stopping right in front of the throne Crona give a bow saying, "Greeting Lady Medusa." Ragnarok give a half bow repeating what Crona said before going back to play with his meister face.

"Hello Crona," she said in monotone. "You are looking well." Crona resist the urge to rise his eyebrow. That luxury was beaten out of him long ago. "Have any reports on Lord Owen progress arrived?"

Crona give a nod. "Last w-we heard L-lord Owen and B-Bellum had found and engaged with the rebels forces. As we s-speak h-he is hunting them down."

"Good," she said with a thin smile. That's one problem out of the way. The next is going to be far more interesting. Getting up from her seat glance around the room before founding what she wanted. Pointing at a small picture hiding between two large frames she said, "Take a good look at that."

It was a picture of two men sitting around a small table. An average size, well build man was lending over the table as the taller of the two sign a treaty. The average size hair was graying and his face wrinkle, but his eyes alive with life. The man looked smug for some reason though the dented armor was probably a hint to why. The other man look weathered and beaten with a fierce snarl that went well with his age face.

"What is this picture about?" asked Medusa.

Crona rack his mind trying his best to remember. Medusa had made him study history- mostly warfare and witchcraft- so many times that something about the picture was familiar. "Isn't that king who-the-fuck-care forcing the other guy to sign the treaty that made this rat hole a country."

Crona mentally groaned. Say what you will of the demon. He was a surprising good at paying attention and his memory was nothing to laugh at. Doesn't mean Medusa would over look the fact he failed to answer the question.

Medusa wasn't impressed at all. He can't even remember the simplest of things, she thought in spite. "That is correct. What you should also know," she directed at Crona, "that they were cousins." Crona cringe at the promise of the punishment to come.

"So?" asked Ragnarok.

Medusa glared at the weapon for a second and was glad as the weapon shrink back. "Think of the current state of the king of France." Before Ragnarok said anything Medusa added, "Let Crona answers this one."

Being put on the spot Crona grab his arm in a death grip. "Um... W...well..." Medusa rolled her eyes at the display, but waited for Crona to organize his thoughts. "H-he's growing old. T-there's n-no children to t-take his place. He's insane."

Giving him a faintest of smiles Medusa gives a nod. At least he isn't entirely ignorant. "Good. Now explain to me why he would hand you over the throne."

This time Crona's eyebrow raise a centimeter before he was able to discipline it. "W-why would he? O-our countries has been a-at each other throat for years."

"That is why you're going to take advantage of his insanity and convince the fool to hand over France."

Crona's eyes went as wide as saucers and suddenly his feet become very intriguing. I-I d-d-don't think I c-can h-handle that."

Crossing her arm across her chest one of her hand rubbed her forehead in frustration. "Trust me Crona when I say this. If given a choice I would gladly go in your place. However, my standing as a witch wouldn't allow me to do nothing more than scare a few men. There no need to worry though. I'll be near so I can put my words into your mouth." The prince was still uncertain but knew there was no way to get out of this. He gives a nod. Satisfy, Medusa turn her back to her child feeling somewhat smug. It was nice to have just an obedient puppet.

"Go to the dining hall and get something to eat. Then turn in for the night. You'll be gone by dawn."

Crona said while bowing, "Yes Lady Medusa." He waited until she dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

Once they left the room Ragnarok let a loud gasp and said, "Finally. Any longer and I would have died of boredom." Grabbing Crona hair he tugs at it yelling, "To the dining hall!"

"I'm not horse," he stated.

"Of course you are," said Ragnarok with mocking glee. "Forward my pussy steed."

He glared at the weapon with all he can muster though all it did was make him look like he was pouting. Going at a slow pace, despite Ragnarok encouraging tugs, he thought over his assignment. This would be the first time he has to talk to royal blood or anyone else for that matter. Not including Lord Owen who was a lord in all but name. The youthful mercenary was something Medusa found dump along a road one day and for whatever reason appointed him the marshal general of the land. That was about three years ago.

Whatever Lord Owen was able to do he did it well. Proving more than once he was a capable leader he had lead the army faithfully and willing. The help he got from his partner Bellum did sway the outcome of battles at time, but his unorthodox tactics have kept him a step ahead of the rebels. Ten years of rebellion that plague the land was finally being put down. Soon enough Lord Owen was going have to match wits with someone more cunning in the near future. And Lady Medusa will use him until he had no more to offer.

"Seem like Lady Medusa is using us for something more than killing," he said wanting to get the demon option.

"I don't give a fuck," the demon said honestly. "Rather go eat a few souls. Dealing with nut job like that loony would be suicide."

"Than it's a good thing we're as mad as he," Crona said his lips pulled back into a sadist grin. "Isn't it."

Shrugging the weapon replied, "You'll probably screw this up, but worst came to worst. I'll have that king's soul for breakfast." From that point on Crona's body work without his mind. He was lost within his world where there a beach with no sea and the sun is lifeless. There he can be left alone.

In the middle of the Sahara Desert, stood in defiance at the ocean of sand around it. Was a city that ignored the hostile lands it called home. On the outskirt of it mighty walls were farms. On those farms the peasants were awakening from their sleep before dawn. They were preparing to work out in the fields while it was cool enough to work.

To the gates several guards standing at ease chatter away. On the walls themselves it was sparely garrison for it be a waste of men to guard something that was already in good hands. Further in Gothic buildings line the streets hugging tightly together to fit in the space it had. The streets were deserted of life, but sign of life came from the building as flicker of candy lights eat away at the darkness. Going pass the house standing on a stone platform high in the sky was the DWMA.

Back to the buildings in one of them was an apartment of a certain team that was at ease in their beds. That was until a purple kitten with a pumpkin collar and a witch hats enter a room.

The room was small but roomy. A bed lay in the middle of the room with a simple, but elegance wardrobe flanking it right and a bookshelf with book neatly in place to it left. At the feet of the bed was a table buried under papers and a stall with one leg slightly shorter than the other three. In the corner of the room was a mirror large enough to study everything above the waist.

The occupant of the room was in bed cover by her sheets. The cat jumped onto the bed and located where the head should be. "Maka," whispered the kitten, "Time to get up." The girl shift slightly, but didn't move from under the covers. "Come on now," she said a bit louder. "It's your turn to cook and sweep the house." An arm snake out from under the cover and swatted at the kitten. The kitten barely had time to register what happen before she was face first into the wooden floor.

Straightening her hat the kitten said out loud, "Fine. Have it your way." Pointing her paw at Maka she whispered, "Pump-pumpkin, pump-pumpkin." Maka and her sheets levitated off the bed and slowly flowed over the floor. She hovered there for a moment before falling. With a loud thump Maka let out a scream of shock. She trashed about trying to attack the kitten, but only manage to loosen the sheets gripped on her.

The kitten smiled at the scene. "I'll go start the fire."

"Get back here Blair," shouted Maka as she sat up. Her bedroom door shut and she could hear Blair singing her pumpkin sing from the other side. Deciding to deal with the cat later she got up and went over to the wardrobe. After several minutes of searching and dressing she stood before the mirror.

Maka was a slender girl with a small bust. Emerald green eyes shine with life, but her eyelids were still heavy from sleep. She wore a green dress splatter with red at the end of her skirt. Her ash blonde hair was tie into two ponytails with two black ribbons tied in place. Once she was happy with her appearance she went into the kitchen.

Blair has already got a good size fire going with the wood fuel oven and was cooking her own breakfast of tuna. While the kitten preoccupied the stove Maka put on an apron and grab a broom and start sweeping. Thirty- five minutes later with most of the house, excluding Soul room, taken care of. She waited for Blair to finish up by reading a book at the dining table.

"Stove is all your," said Blair in her playful tone. Maka look up from here book as found Blair eating away at a plate full of fish.

"Get off the table," she said for the millionth time as she set down her book.

The kitten let out a frustrated sigh. "Fine." Disappearing into a violet smoke replacing the kitten was a young woman. She was dress in a violet dress that showed a good chunk of cleavage of her massive bosoms and her skirt showed bare legs below her knees. Sitting in the chair Blair continue on eating caring not for the fork or knifes around her.

At the oven Maka supply it with some more wood. "Anything new on your part?" asked Maka as she started on the meat.

"Not really. Seduce a few men here take a nap over there. The usually." Maka couldn't help but agree with that statement. Not the seduce man part of course. Of late- either the fact that governments of this time were becoming more powerful or DWMA was doing a great job- kishin eggs have been on the decline. Which wasn't at all a bad thing, but founding missions those days were becoming difficult. How was she going to turn Soul into a powerful death scythe if there no kishin eggs to take?

As the night gradually turned into day and Blair long finish her meal. Maka asked, "Can you go wake up Soul. Breakfast will be ready soon

A mischievous grin crept onto the cat face. "Of course I can. Just give me a few second." Puffing back into her cat form she quietly creep into Soul room. Silent follow long enough to make one wonder what taking her, but the Blair voice roar out. "Wakey, wakey scythe boy. It time to play"

Soul voice soon yelled, "Damn it Blair! Get out of my room!" The sound of struggle last until Blair in cat form came sailing out the room. A slamming door made it clear that no one else was allowed in.

Maka was setting the table when Blair strolled up with a smirk. "He up," she said before curling up right by the oven. Several minutes of waiting produce an albino pocking his head from his room.

"Is she gone?" he asked.

"She's asleep," she said pointing at the oven.

"Good," he said coming out. "Doesn't that cat know when to quit." Soul was dress in long black sleeve jacket with a white shirt under it. Brown trouser hold up by a belt with a skull lock, his trouser legs cover the top of his shoes.

Maka shrug saying, "Maybe one day, but I wouldn't bet on it. Right now that doesn't matter. Sit down and eat. Classes start in forty minutes."

Taking his seat opposite of Maka he waved the girl worries away. "Forty minutes. There's plenty time to spare."

Thirty- six minutes later Maka was dragging a limp Soul by the collar. "Plenty time to spare," she muttered angrily to herself." "Sure take your sweet time."Out in the streets she maneuvered through the thickening crowd as people begin their day. In another city a girl with a limp boy would cause some concern, but the sight was so common none give a passing glance. Keeping a good pace they were at the school steps with no trouble at all.

Near the top of the steps Maka heard an all too familiar, "Yahoo!" To confirm her thoughts she found a blue headed assassin boasting and his gentle weapon partner waiting patiently.

Black*Star was in his usually getup, black loose trouser with his white belt and his short sleeve black shirt (minus the cone). Tsubaki was wearing a light gray shirt with a golden star imprinted on her right breast. A skirt hugs at her upper thigh as long pale stocking cover her legs.

At first it seems Black*Star was heading toward school ranting at how great he was. Instead he and Tsubaki were pacing back and forth discussing about... something that Maka couldn't understand. "Hey guys, aren't you suppose to be in class?"

Black*Star stopped in place and spin around on his heel. He shouted with a cheesy smile on his face, "MAKA... Soul?" Becoming puzzle he asked "Is Soul alright."

"Yeah, Soul alright," groaned out Soul as he regain conscience.

Glad that Soul finally come to Maka drop him. He hit his head as he drop, but other than a painful bump he was fine. Setting up in sitting position Soul said while rubbing his head, "That was so uncool."

Ignoring him Maka turned to Tsubaki asking, "I know that Black*Star would skip school, but you Tsubaki?"

The girl offered a friendly grin saying, "It nothing at all like that. Turn out that you got the today off."

"We do?" said Soul and Maka in symphony.

"Yap," said Black*Star. "There this huge meeting being holds in Madrid, Spain. Most of the faculties are going to be there so you guys got the day off."

First question came to Maka mind was what she going to do for the day. All the major choirs were done for the day and she read every book she has so far. She probably could hang out with... wait a minute. "What do you mean by us having the day off?"

"We got a mission," said Tsubaki.

Soul and Maka groaned mentally. The worst team-in term of collecting souls- in the DWMA was able to get a mission and they can't. This was getting plain out irritating. "Well, we better get going," said Black*Star. "I can't surpass God if standing here all day." Without making sure his partner was behind him he dash down the stairs at break neck speeds.

The weapon gives a shake of her head. "He forgot to tell you that Lord Death want both of you in the Death Room." With the message pass on Tsubaki calmly follow her meister trail.

What could Lord Death want? thought Maka as they enter the silent school.

Later in the Death Room the two found Lord Death and his son, Kid, sitting around a small skull table drinking tea. Lord Death looked like his usually self in his black jagged robe and cartoonish skull mask. Kid was wearing a black suit with the rest of his accessory.

Spotting the scythe meister and her weapon the old entity waved one of his foam hands saying in his cheerful manner, "Hiya. I was starting to wonder if you two would show up."

"Sorry about that," Maka said as they near him.

"No need to worry." His expressionless mask looked between the two. "Why don't ya sit down and have some tea."

"No thank you, "said Maka. Soul said the same thing.

"Alright, but at least take a seat." Doing so Maka and Soul did their best to get comfortable.

"Hey Kid," said Soul, "where Liz and Patty?"

"Back at the house," Kid said sounding somewhat bored. "Father wanted me here to chat a bit about your mission."

Maka straighten up a bit. "Mission?"

"It no big deal really," said Death after a sip of his tea.

"I would hardly call the assassination of a prince small business," said Kid.

"Assassination?" said Soul with a raise eyebrow. "Isn't that Black*Star thing?"

Death rubbed the back of his head with his foam hand. "Well, yes, but..." Everyone got the message. Taking another long sip for his tea Lord Death waited for one of the three to speak.

"Who are we going after?" Maka speak up.

"In all means your target is going to be a strange one. His name is Crona and nicknamed the black blood prince. He is the future ruler of Brittany and is turning into a kishin. Unfortunately, expect for a vague description, that all we got on him. Most of the time he is hold up in his castle in Cean seemingly scared to interact with anyone." Letting the information sink in Lord Death kicked himself for not able to give the meister anything else. Whoever runs the strings at the castle knows how to keep spies under check.

"However, our spy network managed to find out that the prince will soon be making a trip to Paris. We don't know why, but that doesn't really matter. Taken in account he can take any route you're going to need to use your soul perception to locate him. Once located, well... you know the rest." Draining the rest of the cup into his mouth Lord Death give a satisfy sigh. "This may go unsaid but be careful. Whatever this Crona is dangerous or not he is still an heir to a powerful kingdom. Make sure you're not catcher."

"Yes Lord Death,"said both Maka and Soul as they stand up.

"Before we go, I want to ask how we are going to identify the prince's soul," asked Maka.

"It seems that this guy weapon partner is always at his side," said Kid. "It would be safe to assume that he the only meister in the area."

"We will not fail you Lord Death," Maka said bowing.

Soul bow with a huge grin"This is probably going to be boring." As the two leave Soul added, "Hell, who I'm kidding? Let get this guy soul!"

Kid watched his friend backs waiting until they were out of hearing range before voicing his concern. "Shouldn't we tell them about the demon sword?"

Lord Death shrugs saying, "It's only a rumor. There haven't been one around for centuries and frighten, superstitious men are known for exaggerate their tales." His eyes smiled as he said, "Beside, I would think that your last "mission" taught you a valuable lesson."

Utter disgust covered Kid face. "Please, don't remind me."

To say Crona morning was lousy was an understatement. Heck, to say his morning was downright miserable would be an understatement. It all started sometime in the dark when Ragnarok wake Crona up complaining he was hunger. He tried telling the demon that it was late, but Ragnarok didn't care. Force to walk to the kitchen in a night gown and no slipper his partner raged once he deem there was nothing worth eating. Turning his angry on the poor boy he has to tolerate the pain for nearly an hour.

With all his angry gone Ragnarok went back to bed as if nothing happen. Crona tried to get back to his room, but exhaustion over took him and he slept on the cold, hard stone floor. He was awakened again by a guard who give him a sharp jab with the blunt point of his poleaxe. Cold, stiff, and hungry he was hoping for a quick meal, but the guard told him once he dress he was expected in the courtyard.

By the time he was dress the sun was reaching its highest point. He was sure he was going to be punished for sleeping in late, but it seems his mother already set it up. With a groan he enters the worn, but sturdy couch. The inside of it was well padded, but Crona knew from past experience that he was going to receive a good bruising.

Leaving the keep Crona pulled down the two curtains to hide his face. That and to keep from seeing what was happening to his home around him. Originally built in a time of constant warfare the castle at it peek hold a population about thirty thousand people not including the ten thousands of soldiers garrison here. This isn't the case however. Time is a cruel mistress at her worst. The castle three walls were the only thing maintained any more. The paved streets were cracking apart from plants and ice. Many of the long abandoned buildings were collapsing. It was, however worst beyond the first wall. At least a thousand people were left, but the remaining population left fourteen years ago. Most of them were now living in the thriving city about a mile away from the castle. Only one who occupied the castle now were the prince and the a couple thousand guards.

The noon sun baking everything below and Crona felt as if he was being boiled alive. To add to the problem they just left from the paved roads and already causing him to leap an inch off his seat. Only good thing out of all of this is that Ragnarok hate couches and stayed within Crona. "This suck!" the demon exclaimed somehow from Crona's back. "Why is it we can't just fly?"

"It isn't dark out and we can't arrive to Louvre Palace without an escort." The demon just grumbled about assholes and then remains quiet. With a sigh Crona sat there feeling every bump and hole as they headed south.

Sistine: Let see here. If I place a charge here that would contract the muscles in his leg. If I place a charge here I'll mess up his memory. So that means I put my finger here... *place her finger on the side of Mellub's head. In respond his arm shot up cloaking Sistine in the jaw. Rubbing her jaw* Damn it. Always forget about that. Let try that again.

Mellub: *shoot up straight* WHO,WHAT,WHEN,WHERE, AND WHY?

Sistine: Hey, those are some good questions? We should probably feel the people in a bit.

Mellub: Wait, what?

Sistine: *rolls eyes* I'll do it. You guys probably figure out the who. The what is not that important, but the when, where, and why are? The story is set in the year of 1500. This is taking place in the old world, but you probably wondering how large Crona's kingdom is. It starts in present day Brittany, all of northen France, and most of present day Belgium and the Netherlands. Why we wrote this story. Not enough Cromak stories and this what popped into his head.

Mellub: Hope people will write reviews. Unlike some people I don't mind being flame. So if you're going to flame me bring some firewood and a flamethrower. I'll bring some marshmellow, chocolate, and gram crackers. S'more anyone. Being serious now what I would really like is some good criticism.

Both: So please review!