Author's Note: Please read this...

Many people asked for the completed FF, and here at the bits left of it. I have taken this story and turned it into an Original Work located on Wattpad. I ask that you head over if you've enjoyed this and check out what I have in the works. The novel is finished, but not fully posted as I am still editing!

~Thanks

Dissolved Girl

Ulquiorra idly sat upon his throne, the cushions molding to his lithe and imposing form as if welcoming him. He was bored, but remained dignified as he sat and gazed outward. His expression schooled in apathy, his gaze lingered upon a subject declaring reasons for this personal summons. The Bean Sidhe, a banshee, was complaining about changelings, claiming her child had been switched with a Brownie—"she couldn't birth something this hideous."

He looked at her kneeling form clutching the bundle away from her; his thoughts rested upon the human woman between worlds and living by the Milky River as he saw his subject's grey eyes.

"My Majesty!" She groveled as she pulled the blanket from the hidden child's face. "Please do something!"

Trivial—the word echoed in his mind.

"What would you have me do?" Ulquiorra calmly questioned back. "I am King of the Unseelie Court, not of paternal affairs. I rule the darkness and all who dwell within the shadows; is this child a threat to the court?"

"No, but—"

He ceased her ramblings, "Will it ever be a threat?"

"No…"

Sweat beaded upon her ivory skin as her amethyst pupils dilated highlighting her grey eyes. Fear clenched her heart as her Majesty sat upon the throne without as much as a twitch. His eyes darted to the child then looked beyond her. A sharp gasp escaped her as a shadow cast over her, blocking the candlelight above. Slowly, she turned to gaze over her shoulder with a single eye. The tall figured leaned forward with a mocking smile showcasing his upper teeth as his single eye menacingly gleamed. She focused upon the eye patch to help ease her fears.

"The solution is simple." Ulquiorra stated as the Sidhe's hands trembled with each word. "If you don't want it; rid yourself of it." Her eyes went wide as the man behind her snickered…stupid bitch…words hissed behind her.

"You want me to kill it!" She shrieked.

His tone was tainted with the slightest bit of annoyance as he restated, "No. You want it gone and I want you gone—you have wasted this court's time."

He thought of his concern—the human and the Huntsman. They were a matter he couldn't allow to roam free. The Huntsman was dirty blood, but no matter how tainted, giving Fae blood to a human wasn't allowed. The last experimentation with their blood led the humans to discovering they were weak to iron.

What is he gaining from her?

Chilled eyes turned to the rambling woman as he realized Nnoitra held the blade of his doubled crescent axe to her throat. The woman's child held in his hand by its foot was screaming. There was no mistaking that it wasn't the woman's creature. Even though it shrieks like her.

"Make the right choice," he warned her as Nnoitra dropped a blade beside the woman.

The silence was deafening as Nnoitra chuckled behind her. He loosened his hold on the woman a bit and watched as her hand wildly, blindly grabbed for the blade. A sneer escaped his lips as he dropped the child into her lap.

How boring, Nnoitra thought as he watched the blade rejoice in blood.

She scrambled backward into his legs and the blade fell; iridescent droplets stained her hands and the court's floor. Tears filled her eyes as she looked to the King and saw his expression hadn't changed. If anything, his pupils narrowed.

"Infanticide is punishable by death." Ulquiorra stated as he watched the tears cease. The stunned look upon her face was ruined by her trembling pleas of misunderstanding.

"Stupid bitch," Nnoitra loudly laughed as his weapon took her head from the neck. It was a clean cut that sent blood slicing toward the foot of the throne. He grinned as her mouth continued to open and close as it fell to the floor. Her body slumped and all went silent as he lifted his beady gaze to the King of Midnight. The King stated he wanted her gone—not the child. A snicker escaped from his teeth as stared at the bodies and then to the King.

His expression was hard to read, but even Nnoitra could see the King was distracted. His mind was occupied in places far from here. He arched a brow over his visible eye and wondered if he dare ask questions. A pause, he didn't dare. After all, he did value his life and wouldn't want to die—he glanced at the bodies—so pathetically.

"Nnoitra, the warriors are prepared for the Midsummer Court." Ulquiorra calmly stated as his gaze focused on his current reality.

"Of course," Nnoitra assured. It would be foolish to fail and answer with doubt. Doubt meant death. He grinned, the only death would be those that wasted the court's time.

Ulquiorra rose to his feet and moved three steps down onto the white tile floor. His eyes took in the corpses and watched as the iridescent blood glimmered in the candlelight. If she weren't already dead, he would have her taken out and slaughtered in the field for wasting his servant's time. It was inconsiderate to leave a body lying around.

"Take care of this," Ulquiorra ordered as he swiftly moved out of the throne room.

Nnoitra followed the King with his single eye and waited until he fully left the throne room. When the footsteps were silenced and the air was still he spat at the floor, the liquid hit the head of the woman.

He sneered, "I can't stand that prick." His eye hardened as he glared at the body. He kicked the head and watched as it spun through the air—streaking blood until it smacked the throne's leg. "Inconsiderate bitch should've killed that brat at home." Now he had to find a lackey to pick up both bodies—wait a waste of time.

Orihime calmly sat upon the bay of the black sands. Her eyes watching creamy rapids lap at the bridge that connected this realm and Heaven. She often wondered what would happen if she should try to cross into that realm—brother. Death was not a thought she entertained for the fact she couldn't leave Sora while he still lived. Even if he wasn't living, she wasn't weak enough to end her life. Despite being hated, she desired to help others. Her fingers twitched, the urge to weave weighed heavy. A sharp whistle caused her to tense as she looked around. The sands were dark and the evening undisturbed. Calmly, she directed her gaze across the bridge and lifted a hand.

Can he see me?

She squinted, looking for that distant speck of familiar friend. A sigh escaped her lips; maybe when the rapids ceased in the coming nights she might see her old friend. A soft crunch, a shifting of grains told her someone was upon the sand. Their approach was silent, but she glanced over and her eyes widened.

It's him, Orihime thought. A few nights passed and the King of the Unseelie Court stood before her. She faked her ignorance with Grimmjow, refusing to worry him into something brash. Her brother couldn't be moved impulsively with his condition.

"What can I do for you; your Majesty?" Orihime questioned calmly.

"You know of me," Ulquiorra mused more to himself.

Orihime smiled and replied, "I know of legends—of Goblin Kings, Youkai Lands, and Reapers." She kept her tone docile and tried to hold back the familiarity she used with Grimmjow. Judging by his expression, he wasn't one for expressions. If the King was a threat, she would make more of a fuss and urge Grimmjow to relocate them.

"You must know you can't escape me," Ulquiorra simply stated as he watched her thoughtful expression become shocked. "It is instinct to want to run, but futile if you try."

He stood between her and the house—brother—but she held in her worry as she once more questioned, "What can I do for you?" Formality lost in her slighted anger at this creature.

"As I told the Huntsman, to give you Fae blood no matter how tainted is deplorable and punishable by death," Ulquiorra pointed out. He didn't need small talk, because there was no point in offering comfort to a lesser being.

She was silent as she sat upon the black sands. Her hands idly dug into the grains as she sighed and glanced away. It was the first time he took notice that she wasn't dressed like a normal human. Her outfit was befitting that of royalty. In fact, his eyes narrowed upon twin silver clips with black stones within her dark hair.

"I know the Unseelie Court doesn't deal with human affairs…but I would request one thing." Orihime softly said as she met his gaze. Curiosity drove him to listen to her words. "My purpose for Fae blood will end soon enough, but allow me one more week with Grimmjow."

Ulquiorra' eyes narrowed as he asked, "Why is he so important to you?"

Orihime simply smiled and replied, "I can't control matters of the heart."

"One week and your life shall be mine," he stated as he turned his back to her. The conversation ended as abruptly as it began. The concept of the heart—foolish.

Orihime silently watched as he walked away from her. His body dissolved into shadows that were lost to the ebony sands. She clenched her hands and knew her time would be bitter. At least, she would help Grimmjow end his curse and get a few more moments with her brother—she had been greedy enough. Grimmjow's blood only prolonged Sora's pain.

Grimmjow's eyes narrowed as he watched her fingers work. Her finger-pads were raw as she continued to loom. Without breaking her pace, she handed him the golden strings and ignored the process as he sent them to Hell. Finally, she turned and looked at him.

"How many more?"

Grimmjow snorted and growled, "Bastard keeps demanding more—more." He spat outside her broken door and muttered, "Prick."

"What will it take to free you?" Orihime sighed as she shut her eyes.

"Hell if I know."

He grinned at his own pun.

She wasn't peppy.

Granted, her brother was dying, but that usually didn't keep her spirits down. The girl found a way to smile and bounce about. Yet, her fingers lingered on his palm as she drew out the souls from his hunt. It took a moment, but eight gold threads later had her sighing as she smiled at him. That made a hundred souls this week.

Grimmjow ignored the threads as he narrowed his pupils at her. Orihime's lashes fluttered against her cheeks as she focused. He snorted; it seemed she came back from whatever dream she was lost in. He huffed as he held out his hand and she released the souls.

"There!" Orihime happily spoke, "All done."

The sound of hissing filled the air causing her eyebrows to furrow. Grimmjow's lips curled until his teeth were revealed; the hissing ceased and the floor shook. Orihime moved past him and glanced out her door as the explosion went off. The darkness was splashed with reds and oranges as the black sands kicked upward. Her eyes widened as the cloud of dust rushed toward her. She pulled inside as Grimmjow's laughter filled the room.

"I knew that bastard would come back!"

He moved out the door as her eyes widened. Had a week passed already? She rushed toward the curtain that hid her brother and then shook her hands as she headed back toward the door. If Ulquiorra had indeed come to claim her life then she would go quietly. Her time with her brother was at an end and she was sure he'd kill her brother as well. Orihime turned back toward her brother, quickly crossed the distance to push aside the curtain—his skin pale and beaded with sweat. The curse was going to take him. It was a matter of moments.

He is the curse…

Orihime's eyes hardened despite the tears. She didn't want to believe her father's words—we aren't a curse. It wasn't her fault father had fallen for the wrong woman. Reaching down, she soothingly hummed as she ran her thumb over his cheek. Fluorescent white light illuminated the cracks of their home and she gasped as she lifted her gaze. The light became brighter, a gust of wind extinguished the candle flames and she was left with the light and shadows. Orihime reached down and flipped open her box and tucked her brother's thread into her bosom. The clips handed down from their mother were tucked within her hair.

Shadows passed over the light and the wood groaned before she exhaled and the wall imploded. Debris exploded as flash of black and white ignited in her gaze and crashed into her loom.

"Grimmjow!" Orihime cried out as the light faded.

Maniacal laughter caused her skin to crawl as she watched the lithe figure lurk into their home. His booted foot crushed the crumbling remains of the wall. The shadow his weapon cast caused her to hesitate, but she moved toward the fallen Huntsman. Her eyes widened and hands flew to her mouth as she saw the damage; flesh and muscle hung from his body like scraps of meat. She winced at the sight of iridescent blood coating her floor and loom; it sparkled like crushed diamonds. There had to be action, she had to react. Orihime touched his skin and met blood, it slicked her hand and she screamed as something gripped her hair and harshly pulled her backwards.

"No use mourning the dead!"

Pain flared in her scalp as she squeezed her eyes shut; her world spun and then everything halted as she crashed into the opposite wall. Wood protested and she smacked into the floor with a groan. Her hands twitched, nails dug into the wood as she struggled against the pain her entire body was feeling.

Killinan…her brother—she was needed and couldn't be helpless.

Her eyes opened and the room spun—that creature—his smile stretched as he blurred in her vision. Reaching out blindly she grasped a fallen spool of thread, the entire thing smeared with Grimmjow's blood. Orihime pulled the string watching as his blood absorbed. The sound of debris crunching under foot told her their attacker was approaching. She quickly ripped a string off as she pushed herself up and held the thread in both hands. Eyes narrowed, she gazed past the thread and at her grinning attacker.

"Unravel!"

The string ignited and disappeared; dust fell to the ground.

Nnoitra snorted, "That was useless."

"Tsk, tsk, think again dumbass."

A tooth flew and blood sprayed from his mouth as Nnoitra was sent flying. Grimmjow cracked his knuckles and spat on her floor causing her to scowl, her hut may be ruined, but it wasn't to be treated like trash. His eyes focused on her before he nodded and lunged at the rising man. The crescent weapon swung outward and Grimmjow snarled as he ducked and continued forward.

"Same trick, but I'm not a dog!" He snarled as he snapped his fingers. The growl echoed over the chaos. The wall Nnoitra was against caved in as Grimmjow slammed into his form. Orihime could only watch as his familiar appeared and slammed into Grimmjow; the melding was instantaneous—his form monstrous as his thick skeletal gloves targeted Nnoitra.

Orihime struggled to her feet and silently held in her groan. Attention was one thing she didn't want, her eyes focused on the battle and then shifted to her ill brother—passed out from the curse.

What do I do?

"You prolong their pain." Sharply she inhaled as she lifted her gaze as he—the King of Midnight stood silently in the shadows. "I have come to claim your life—not deal with such pettiness."

"Why did you attack him then?" Orihime questioned.

"Why did he set traps?" Ulquiorra questioned back causing her eyes to narrow. She couldn't answer, he shouldn't have, but he did.

"I—I don't know," Orihime admitted; confusion in her tone.

She winced and looked back outside as Grimmjow's claws clashed against the metallic blade. The sparks and screeching caused her heart to stall in fear. She worried for his life as the crescent blade sliced his leg.

"His insolence will get him killed," Ulquiorra stated as he watched the battle.

"Why prolong this fight? Simply take my life and leave him be." Orihime pleaded as their gazes met. Her black eyes remained calm as she asked, "…or is he really worth your time?"

He silently regarded her as she stood there gazing at him. His eyes trained on the clips tangled in her hair. He softly exhaled through his nose and took a step toward her—six feet gone in a single step and he glowered down at her. His slender fingers reached out and she held her breathe as she kept her gaze on him.

Death was staring her in the face and she wouldn't back down. Her heart pounded in her chest and instincts told her to flee. His fingers were chilled as they traced the line of her throat. Would he choke the life from her or maybe he would simply slit her throat and repay blood for blood. His hand fell away and she took the chance to step back. The battle raged on and she winced before she fell to her knees. Her fingers touched strings scattered upon the floor and she looked over at the battle

"Why save him?" Ulquiorra questioned.

Orihime licked her lips gently answering, "My heart tells me it's the right thing to do."

Ulquiorra didn't speak as he slowly faded into the shadows. Her eyes widened at the action and she wildly searched for him—would he suddenly strike.

"Damn!"

The curse snapped her back into reality as the crescent weapon cleaved into his side. A rough jerk and blood sprayed into the air. He was so close to freedom and now he was fighting—why? She hissed through her teeth and her fingers clenched the string. Her heart pounded, urging her to react. Another slash painted his chest and she got to her feet and took off. Stumbling over debris, she caught herself as determination flooded her veins. Grimmjow's narrowed gaze focused on her and she could only gape at the blood painting his body.

Nnoitra lifted his weapon; she had to react.

"Grimmjow!" Orihime called out.

Nnoitra stumbled in his attack as he glanced over his shoulder. Orihime slapped her hand against his wounded chest. The back of his hand snapped against her face; her jaw cracked and teeth clacked as she was smacked into the ground. Rocks bit her skin as she rolled and stumbled; tightly she kept her hand clenched.

The spinning sensation caused her to heave; a dry sound racking and gagging her. Orihime touched her bloodied hand to the thread and she inhaled. I never wanted this gift—this curse; mother. His blood soaked the thread.

"I'm going to shove your guts down your throat!"

Her eyes widened as the blade came at her. Scrambling, she was too slow. Her nails clawed at the dirt and her heels slid as the desperation to move made her fail. The gasp escaped her and shadows fell over her as the blade descended—a hoarse grunt and diamonds graced her face.

"Just going to sit around, Princess?"

"Why?" Orihime gasped as the weapon bit into his crossed arms.

Grimmjow grunted, "Some crap about hearts."

"Face me when I kill you!" Nnoitra demanded as he drove the blade deeper.

Grimmjow gnashed his teeth as his muscles burned with exertion. The pain dulled long ago, but the warmth of his blood coating his arms told him he would die here.

"Keh, I'd rather see shit than your face!" Grimmjow spat.

The blade sawed partway through bone. Grimmjow fell to his knees as he struggled; the blade was a hair away from his face. Orihime reacted as she gripped the thread and held it tight. Her eyes narrowed as cried out, "Loosen thee from thy threads of fate, unravel time , make it undone!"

The thread ignited gold as Nnoitra's eyes went wide. His skin glistened gold and she watched as his flesh dried and twisted. His weapon was smacked away by Grimmjow as he screamed and clawed at his dehydrating face. Orihime blinked back her tears as she shut her eyes and covered her ears as his screams filled the field. Her breathing was erratic as she tried to ignore the sounds and the realization of her actions.

She rasped as a large hand settled upon her shoulder. The thread in her hand was gold and she quickly dropped it as she scrambled backwards. Grimmjow weakly snorted and chuckled as he leaned down and picked up the thread between his claws.

"The meaning of life is shit if you see it as a piece of thread—not much worth," Grimmjow mused. His sharp eyes darted to the woman on the ground staring at him. He bared all his teeth as he assured, "Princess, I'm touched!" His barking laughter surrounded her, "...but you shouldn't waste your heart on killers." That was the closest she would get to a thank you.

He didn't speak as blood trailed down his face, but the thread erupted in flames and he remained silent. Orihime weakly blinked as he kept his back to her. She watched his familiar peel off of him leaving him more humanoid. When he turned around, the number carved into his flesh was gone. He threw back his head and wildly laughed. The pain in his arm arms ignored as he rejoiced.

Freedom.

His celebration caused her heart to settle, but emerald eyes gazed at her from the shadows. Orihime froze as terror consumed her soul. A familiar slender hand reached out and touched her throat. He was going to take her life now.

"Where is this heart princess?"

The world faded of sound.

"What does this heart tell you now?"

Coldness laced her skin.

Is this death?

Slowly, her eyelids peeled open and she knew this was not death. The walls were bathed in white, the floor pristine enough to reflect her visage, and there stood Ulquiorra observing her with no expression. The carnage of the battle was gone and so was everything she knew.

"I thought you wanted me dead," Orihime whispered.

"I can't have your life if you're dead."

Author's Note:

I still have one more chapter to find

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