The image of Medusa oozes of blood before disappearing completely, at the same time Maka's wings fade. Her balance unsteadies as she falls to the ground and Soul in an instant props her up and holds 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, "Mmm absolutely lovely, do not worry another Grigori is coming towards us to help, tell her I am poisoned when she arrivesss…"

Maka is out like a light almost immediately in his arms. The information of poison rushing fear into Soul's already adrenalin fed mind does nothing to calm him. He squeezes her close and carefully while Stein paces up to her and states,

"Some form of magic paralysis must have hit her, 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 unpassed, and then a gray hooded figure rounds the corner and pauses examining the main street. 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 pushes the crossbow down at the ground as the mysterious hands gain a yellow glow around them.

"Healer, calm down."

The hood figure reaches Maka and Soul and kneels to their level, hands hovering over Maka. Soul is on alert as the hood stays up revealing nothing, although thankful for the help. He breaks the silence, "If you are the Grigori she mentioned before passing out, she said to inform you of poison." The hooded figure nods, and the soft glow around her hands changes color momentarily, before returning to a soothing yellow. Soul glances up at his friends, who all are bewildered and slightly battered. Even Blackstar was quiet, despite his other form still active; noted by the stars in his eyes.

Stein looked normal, calm, and probably even a bit bored just five minutes ago. However, present Stein is staring down at everyone kneeled with an indescribable face. Perhaps one of shock, or disillusionment. Whatever the expression was, Soul quickly realized the expression was directed at neither him or Maka, but the hooded figure. Soul forgot how well the old Doc could see through facades.

"Doc, who is this?" Soul questions which startles the crazed man from his staring.

"My wife."

The posture of the hooded figure bolts upright from leaning over Maka. The hooded one turns around to look at the doctor, meanwhile pulling down their hood to reveal a woman of bright blonde hair and an eye-patch. "Franken…Stein? Is that really you?"

Soul smiles as they're both frozen, and acknowledging that Stein seemed to be at a loss of words, Soul elects to inform the woman that yes he is Franken Stein. Soul also mentions that even as warm of a reunion this may be, the bubble was fading and his fancy was passed out in his arms. He did not explicitly use the phrase 'his fancy' but he did almost say it by mistake. The healer shifts attention back to Maka.

"Ah yes Prince Solomon, did little Maka use just guardian or did she serve as a," Stein's wife pulls her hands up and makes finger quotations, "Reaper?" Soul says both, and the older woman raises her eyebrows surprised.

"Hmm, 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. I'm Marie by the way."

Marie stands up; her face goes from worried to stoic to furious and then she slams the ground with her fist. A ripple of force pulsates through the ground; feeling like an earthquake. The gang could feel surrounding structures becoming weak, trees whining and some falling. Stein places a hand on her shoulder and the ruckus halts, her yellow healing 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 questioning a million things all at once, and everyone who has a slight clue, waves him off. Tsubaki persuades him not to worry about this mess of matter as explanations will come tomorrow.

Soul lays her down on their mattress at home.

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 her articles of clothing were soiled and torn, so he just cuts those off, looking away out of respect as necessary. He must strip her to almost full nudity and even still some slime or enemy blood remained on her skin. 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 lays there for a while; listening for anything that might be of harm before he eventually gave way to exhaustion.

His crossbow right next to the bed just in case.

The next morning when he awoke she was still sleeping, or at least he hoped. He held onto her for a good bit, more for his own need for comfort than hers. He stayed with her the 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. Thus, he decided to train and work out; to pound out anger from his failure to deescalate the situation which led to her using the Grigori state.

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, after all she 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 was likely profound due to black blood and circumstances.

"You do not always run across someone your age anymore that often sweetie." The Force Grigori mentioned hintingly.

Maka groans defeated at that statement and admitted she fancied the fuck out of 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 unlike '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 his circumstances did not involve 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 say to 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 physical 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. All in all, the fond attention was very comforting. He would grumble things at random times but 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 brightly when he saw her conscious. "Maka!" he exclaims quietly and pulls her into a tight hug, "I was getting worried." He mumbled into her ear and at once a light blush rose to her face. She slowly moves her arms around him and holds him as well and 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."

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 and ethereal 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 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 in his arms, closer. 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. Maka continues, this time her voice slightly course:

"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 chose 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. 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 confess their further connections as such an act would also reveal her old life status.

His fingers ghost gently over the bare skin of her back before the hand shifts to carefully pull her closer to him as 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 fueling the growing distain on the King's expression. Obviously, the prince could not give less of a shit.

"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 life 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 depict 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 not only 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 a kiss to the top of her hand as her father erupts in rejection. However, his opinion this time is met with a 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 said expression 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 fat 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 dirty quietly whispering,

"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 that he remembered. Soul smiles at the ceiling, enamored with this once mysterious warrior. He had yet to learn all of her, but acknowledging that their connections ran deeper than previously understood made the relationship feel so much more intimate.

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 repeatedly 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 luxurious 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 his bed, partially lounging on him, and flushing red 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 females 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 did twice. Once back then, and once right now. Maybe even a couple weeks ago would have been fine too, with what he is about to say.

"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, now it's called dating."

Her teasing 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 close contact 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. Maka's casual tone was an alarming anomaly to the dirty topic of relationships.

His stomach is about to drop when he hears her let out a breath of air almost in relief, and Soul was not certain 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 pride wounded when she lets out a quiet 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 statement, she leans over slightly to kiss his cheek; grinning when a small giddy 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, deep affectionate feeling like nothing before.

Maka feels likewise, except her cheeks hurt from how long she's been smiling. Quite frankly she could care less about the ache, especially as the handsome shirtless man cradling her like puppy admits that his quality of life rose sharply after he found her, simply because her wit and brilliance and charming laughs soothed him during the day. She knows this expression is genuine too, because his voice is quiet and husky; 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 likes 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. Her otherworldly beauty was merely a bonus, something 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 demurely off his red reclining chair after a long day of work with Stein, she was eloquent and cute, 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, and finds herself craving 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 in the same moment that she's nearly naked; in rags that barely covered her personal parts, covered in dried blood that was not hers or human.

The shock of this reminder must have been painted on her face, because Soul gains a worried expression and stops his slow advance. 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. He earns a pat on the head, before she stretches, and heads off to bathe.

As Maka makes her way to fill a small tub with bucket water, she is introspective to the connection she just strengthened with Soul. He could become either her weakest or strongest point, as she sobers with the revelation that there is still another upper-ring witch roaming freely. Likely seething with distaste for her now that she's killed two of their kind. Plotting revenge was an absolute must for Arachne, it was only a matter of when. As Maka steps into the freshly collected river water, she hopes that the next attack does not interfere with her new-found relationship.

Regardless, Maka convinces herself that Soul will be her strongest line of defense when the next witch debacle occurs.

Hopefully.

*shovels the dust off this fic as Guess Who's Back by Eminem plays softly in the background* ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Hopefully my mind will not fart for another 2 years to produce another ye olde chapter, until then, farewell my friends. The sex will only occur after they defeat Arachne, that is the only thing I can promise. Roast me in the reviews for being a Naughty Updater. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)