Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater
Maka fidgeted in her seat, pulling at the collar of her dress. The woman had no need for the extremely tight corset she was wearing, nor the black pins that held her hair up and tight in a bun. The room felt very warm even though it was nearly uninhabited. As soon as the ball had started, she had done all she could to escape to the solace of the library. She knew that Tsubaki would not be pleased by her disappearance but she had desperately needed a breather. The ball room was hot and absolutely filled with men and women starving for one another's attention. And she was not keen on looking like a piece of meat. She adjusted the collar again, cursing the item with all her might. Her father had picked it out, wanting to hide as much of his daughter as possible it seemed. Her mother had chosen her own clothes and her father had approved of her accentuated bodice and emerald earrings. Her mother's beauty easily eclipsed her own, and both of her parents were busy being most sociable and showing each other off.
There was a light knock on the door and Maka watched as Tsubaki slipped in, smiling at the sight of her friend. "Where have you been?" she asked, coming over with a frown on her fair face. "You missed a wonderful performance. The Evans family had their eldest son play at the ball. It was beautiful, Maka, you would have loved it." Maka gave a weak smile. Indeed, she might have enjoyed it. But where Wes Evans had skill, his youngest brother had passion, and that had always caught her attention.
"I was merely overwhelmed by the amount of people, that's all," she said, adjusting the collar again. She was seriously contemplating cutting the damnable thing right off the dress just to spare herself the agony of having to wear it for another 3 hours.
"Maka, I know you don't do well in crowds but give it a chance. You could find a husband at this event."
"Tsu-"
"I am serious! All the gentlemen and ladies here have been invited here by Lord Death himself for this. He did so that his son might find a respectable wife and that the women that remain may find respectable husbands. It's a room of rich and honourable men all looking for brides. Why not make the most of it?"
Maka sighed, moving to stand at her friend's side. "Maybe I do not want to find a husband. Maybe I just want to find a husband. Maybe I just want to properly love someone before I marry them. If any man here wished to marry me, they could easily ask my father's permission and I would be forced into it for honour's sake. Perhaps I do not want that sort of thing."
"But Maka, don't you want a stable marriage?"
Maka shook her head. "Not if it means sacrificing my happiness."
"Give it a try, Maka. You might still find a man that makes you happy." She extended a lithe hand, an affectionate smile on her lips. "Just try it. Please?"
Maka sighed, knowing that she couldn't exactly disagree with such an innocent request. The two women left the safety of the library and began walking towards the ballroom by means of the grand hallway, adorned with pictures and great tapestries that had no doubt been passed down through the family. Maka didn't bother to admire them, as she had done that upon first entering Lord Death's home and instead focussed on how to avoid the men at this gathering. Her parents surely wanted her to get married, and she knew they would see a man for his wealth rather than his heart. However, when Maka really thought about it, his father was reluctant to allow her near the male gender at all. His relationship with her mother brought about many doubts about having a husband. When she and Tsubaki finally stepped into the ballroom, they were met immediately by several men, all appearing to be craving Tsubaki's reverent attention. She did her best to hold her own, but Maka knew that she was unwelcome to them, a mere hindrance in their attempt to court the black haired beauty. Maka contemplated heading back to the solace of the drawing room once more, however Tsubaki held on to her arm tightly and Maka saw that the woman was in now way pleased with the attention she was getting.
"Pardon me," said Maka brusquely, pulling Tsubaki through her throngs of followers and weaving rather quickly through the crowds. There were plenty of pockets for their escape, and Maka utilized her slightly less than average height to maneuver around the lords and ladies that filled the ballroom.
"Perhaps it was rude to simply leave them behind back there," Tsubaki started to say once they were on the opposite side of the room.
"It was rude of them to hound you like wild animals," she said annoyed. Maka looked around carefully, unsure of whether or not they were completely in the clear. "A gentleman does not bother the woman of his interest with senseless questions and the invasion of personal space."
Tsubaki gave a soft smile. "They did not mean to be a bother, Maka."
"No, they simply meant to intrude upon your time and space until you accepted their meaningless proposals," Maka said instead and Tsubaki gasped at her friend's blunt words.
"I can think of no more meaningful proposals. If you carry on with this attitude, you may not get one of those meaningless proposals either. And that is the reason for our presence here."
Maka nodded grimly, surveying the people around her once again. There was a grand dance at the center of the ballroom where both men and women danced in dignified movement. Maka spotted Kid, son of the host, at the center of the dancers, swaying along side a tall, blonde woman with a round face and a lovely pink dress. They were dancing rather slowly, mouths moving in a way that suggested conversation, and judging from the disheartened looks that accosted his other admirers, the pair had been dancing for a long time. Maka didn't recognize any of the other men and women save the young bachelor, Ox Ford, who was trying to engage his pink haired partner in conversation. The woman did not seem to be taking the bait, her expression being one of polite disinterest. At one point, Maka could have sworn that his companion flushed at a comment he had made but the woman was too far from the couple to know for certain.
Maka felt someone tap her should and when she turned she came face to face with her black haired friend. However, at her friend's side was a gentleman with the oddest coloured hair and playful eyes. He was in a typical black suit, and Maka would have called him another confused suitor if not for the fact that her friend's arm was looped companionably with his and that the relaxing look on her face betrayed how familiar she was with the man.
"Tsubaki?" While the man was not unfamiliar to Maka, it was unfamiliar to see him with her closest friend.
"Maka, I want you to meet Black Star. He's the real reason I wanted to come tonight." Maka knew who he was; his face was familiar to her from the walks she would take with her mother as a child. She knew him as a rash and excitable adolescent, therefore to see him in formal attire was a great surprise to her.
"I know who Black Star is," she related honestly, and while Tsubaki's face showed surprise, Black Star's countenance showed only pride.
"That is a good thing then," he said. "I need not relate my deeds and works to you." He then smiled with more kindness at her and added, "It's good to see you again."
"Likewise." The trio spent a few moments reliving memories from their childhood before Tsubaki explained how she had met Black Star and how it had been his confidence that she had found most attractive. She went on to say that his energy was the perfect to her compassionate and patient soul, and that it was a balance she enjoyed. Black Star surprised Maka by allowing Tsubaki to do the majority of the speaking. It was no doubt taxing for him to hold back his opinions, but Maka gave him credit for his silence. Her old friend was certainly trying to be quiet for Tsubaki if the occasional shifting of his feet or the fidgeting was any indication, and Maka silently praised him for that. Soon after, Black Star very politely asked Tsubaki to dance which she excitedly accepted. They waited for the song to end before slipping into the dancers, leaving Maka behind them to contemplate on their relationship.
They complimented one another, yin and yang, a perfect balance. Tsubaki looked happy with him, and he was subdued enough in her presence that it showed how her care had its control on him. The pair, once they began dancing, seemed to slip in to a wordless conversation, their body language and soft gazes displaying a deep, inner emotion that Maka found herself envious of. Once she felt that she had admired them long enough, Maka made her retreat back towards the library. She slipped out of the ball room with ease and made careful steps though the halls of the manor. The clicking of her heels was beginning to annoy her, but she knew that once she was in the library, the thickly woven carpet would serve as an appropriate muffler for the noise.
She opened the door to the library slowly, careful not to make too loud a sound. She stepped in and relished in the scent of ink and parchment that soon overcame her. Maka walked through the aisles, mentally planning which novel she would embark on that night, but froze when she heard a sound she had never before heard in any library.
It was a moan, the kind that was guttural and without control; a sound that burned one's stomach and made their skin heat up like fresh coals. Maka took small, nervous steps to see where the noise had come from. It could not be a creature – not some foreign beast that lived only in her stories – so it had to be human. With that thought, it was difficult to stop a distinctly inappropriate picture from blooming into her mind. Her flushed with embarrassment with the thought, however as she peeked over the edge of the next aisle of books, she was not entirely unsurprised by the image before her. The sight was more than a little inappropriate, and quite similar to the one she had depicted in her mind. She tore her eyes away from the couple, the pair too caught up in their displays of affection to notice her there, and began to back away. She nearly tripped on her dress and before she knew it, she was stumbling backward into a broad chest, a large hand clamping down to mute her cry of surprise.
"I don't suggest you move," said the voice behind her, belonging without a doubt to a man. "I don't think they wanted an audience." She felt the man begin to pull her backwards and she would have cried out in fury if she hadn't gotten a whiff of the man. It was a scent she had smelled before; one that was unquestionably familiar. She relaxed into his arms, allowing him to guide her out of the library and into the hall. It was there that he released her, and it was then that she turned to stare and remark on the changes to the man before her.
He was darker, her skin a tone lighter than his. His white hair was as untamed as she remembered it, the locks all but in his eyes which, now that she was looking at them, were just as garnet coloured as she recalled. He was taller than before as well, his shoulders gaining in size and his hands in strength. She wasn't surprised at that though. A piano player like himself was bound to have increased the strength in his hand muscles.
Three months would do that to a person.
She greeted him rather shyly, and he replied in like kind, sticking his hands into his suit pocket after gesturing to the hall and inquiring whether she would like to take a walk back to the ballroom. She agreed hesitantly, her desire to not returned being overpowered by her wish to speak with her old friend. They began to walk side by side, and when she looked at him, she saw a smile on his face.
"How are you, Soul?" Her question was full of anxiousness, a sound she hadn't intended it to take on. Three months was an awfully long time, and Maka would not have been surprised if his new height and strength had brought with it a new companion.
"Well enough," he admitted. "You do not look much changed."
Maka looked down at herself self-consciously. It was true that she had not grown much in stature – her heels served as the only height adjustment this night – and her body still had the same curves it had upon his leaving. Her hair had grown slightly longer, but not so much as to have noticed it, and she had never been well endowed to begin with….
"You do, though."
"Perhaps." He gave himself a once over before gazing back at her. "I do not suppose you missed me much?"
Maka carefully related that she had, in fact, missed him, however not so much as he likely thought. It was a falsehood that she felt confident in saying since the man's question could have easily been one of teasing. He did smile at her comment, which solidified for her that the latter was true. "I can not imagine that you missed me," Maka replied, her lips upturned.
"Of course I did. I missed you all the time." He looked her straight in the eyes as he said this, and she knew that there was no formality in it. He was simply being honest, a quality that Maka greatly admired in a world where honesty often meant outcast.
"I did not know you were getting back today. I could have met you before you came in."
"I did not know we were returning this day either. Perhaps we were just lucky to have it timed at a ball." Soul smirked, something that his parents did not necessarily like but something that made him look even more playful and handsome than before. "I mean to say that for us to return on a ball for marriage? It must be a sign."
"Sign?" Maka frowned. What was the man going on about now? Almost everyone in the ballroom had marriage as their prime intention, true, so what sign could that possibly…? Instead of saying something, Soul leaned in closer to her, red eyes probing her green one with intensity. Her face reddened at his proximity, the action alone screaming of a violation of privacy. Of course, when Soul did this, the violation wasn't his intention since Maka knew full well that the man before her would do no such thing. As mysterious and 'ungentlemanly' as he came off, Soul still respected women, and that meant he respected her.
"I was thinking that we could go dancing," he said abruptly, pulling away rather slowly.
"I thought you hated dancing." Maka raised an eyebrow challengingly. When they had been at ball together in the past, he had always very grudgingly danced with women. Usually they were of his parents' design, therefore when Maka was introduced to him by some third party she offered to simply sit off to the side and converse with him. Women never really talked with men in the first place; they giggled and flirted perhaps, but never talked. Maybe that was what had captured Soul's attentions for her in the first place and allowed her to be deemed 'friend'. She was different and that made her companion material.
"Maybe I changed my mind." She rolled her eyes unbelieving. "Do you want to dance or not?" He stood, sticking out his hand and waiting for her to take it. She contemplated the gloveless hand before her and took it gratefully after she allowed the man to watch her study him a moment. She had to admit to herself that she rather enjoyed seeing the suave man reduced to nothing but a nervous gentleman at the sign of her hesitance; it was thoroughly entertaining. He let out a sign of relief the second that her skin touched his and she had to admit that she enjoyed it as well. They had not made much physical contact, as they had never danced together and had not found many reasons to touch one another in any way when they walked the dusty paths of her father's estate some days. It was strangely refreshing to make contact after so much time without it, and knowing the new warmth that had settled within her when their hands were intertwined was not something she planned on giving up anytime soon. They continued to walk and Maka was surprised to find them so close to the ballroom halls already. Soul glanced back down the hall as if to find something before opening an oaken coated door wide.
"Why are you troubling with it looking? No one is here to neither listen nor see us enter."
"Not even the pair in the library?" he asked, and chuckled as a blush crept its way on to her face. With his words came the vision of the man and woman from the library, and Maka slapped her hand cover her eyes as if that could take the image of sweat and loose clothing from her memory. "You are too innocent for your own good," he remarked, leading her out and down the long carpet back to the ballroom.
"They should not have been in the library doing…that. It was a public space."
"They must have thought it would be deserted and that they would be achieving some private time," Soul replied. "No person would retreat to the library in the middle of a lavish ball like this. Well, no one save you." She growled at him but he laughed it off, keeping a firm hold of her bare hand in a manner that appeared to Maka to be a tad possessive. They were standing rather close to one another as well, her hand in the crook of his arm covered by his own calloused palms. They were incredibly close, closer than most lords and ladies dared stand together. Even in dance, there was always a discrete distance kept. No doubt she would get an earful from Liz once the girl caught sight of her—.
"Mr. Evans," she hissed, doing her best to sound both stern and silent. "My father."
"What about him?" The man did not shift his eyes to look at her. He merely kept her palm safely tucked under his as they wove through the lords and ladies within the ballroom.
"If he sees you holding me so informally, I fear that he will not be pleased with you in the slightest," she warned, despite feeling uncommonly pleased to be doing something so close and uncharacteristic of a lady with a man she admired.
"I do not need him to be pleased with me," he said instead stopping just behind the doors to pull an oaken coated one wide open for her to step through. "I need only you to be pleased with me."
With Soul by her side, Maka found that the ballroom's grandness seemed to increase incredibly, its chandelier now a barrage of crystals and its lights as bright as the sun. To Maka's delight and Soul's surprise, his brother had returned to the musical area to wring out a beautifully slow waltz. Soul asked Maka's permission which she readily gave and the pair posed themselves for the dance ahead.
Maka already felt the eyes beginning to set their sights on their poised form and she shivered internally at the prospect of clumsily tripping during the dance and shaming both herself and her dance partner. No doubt s sensing her anxiety and seeing it in the stiffness of her form, he said, "Do not bother yourself with the dancing, Ms. Albarn, I will lead." And with that, the waltz began, structured and organized in simple beat patterns just like Maka hated.
Dancing had never been her forte, and having an excruciating lack of partners to dance with did not help that aspect in her change.
"You need to relax a little more," Soul murmured down by her ear, and his words did the exact opposite to her. He chuckled quietly at her response and rolled his eyes at her unhappiness. "Dancing takes practice."
"Yes, Mr. Evans, I know." Maka had to be careful not to call him by his true name in public. It was not polite or ladylike at all. "I do not practice with much of anyone save my father and-"
"From now on you can practice with me, then," he said, amused with her expressions for the time being. "You lack of male company does not necessarily surprise me though," Soul teased, turning her slowly.
"And what is that supposed to mean, Mr. Evans? Insulting the woman you are dancing with is a far cry from being a gentleman."
"I have already told you how I feel on the subject of being a gentleman," he said, drawing her ever the bit closer to him. "It is not at all an interesting way of living."
"And what if I preferred men who lived like gentlemen? What then?"
"Then you would be no different than the other girls in the room," he said with some degree of seriousness. Maka laughed lightly and threw him a contemplative look, her smile marring the intensity of it.
"Maybe I should speak to Kid about this." Her voice was both thoughtful and coy. "I am sure that he-"
"You are going no where," he ground out, no longer light hearted in tone. His garnet eyes stared into hers and the informality of his touch on her bare hands suddenly became starkly apparent.
She missed the way he opened his mouth to comment on her never speaking to Kid on the subject of marriage when she said, "Mr. Evans, your hands."
"What of them?" His eyes did not leave hers, their colour piercing, and she was almost surprised by the strange things it did to her heart.
"Where are your gloves?" she hissed, pausing as he spun her again and brought her back to him with a flourish.
"Where are yours?" he countered with a grin and while Maka was certain that he was mocking her once more, she was less annoyed than she thought she would . If he had not been in such a teasing mood, then they would not be having their current conversation, least of all on the dance floor
"I was unaware that I would be dancing tonight, least of all with you," she said again, giving her dance partner a pointed look. "You did not inform me of your plan to visit tonight." The words tumbled out now; words that she had not thought to say earlier.
"I did not truly know when I would be returning nor did I warn anyone of my possibility for an early arrival. If anything, I would have preferred to have my appearance be perceived with the utmost amount of surprise," he admitted. "You are surprised, are you not?"
Maka flushed and ducked her head down while Soul laughed quietly, taking time to admire her embarrassment without being caught. "I was, indeed. I obtained no letter to inform me that you would be joining us, Mr. Evans, and I am more than surprised that your brother told me naught of your coming when I inquired after you the day before last."
"I did not reveal my return date to him, either." Soul looked rather cheerier when she mentioned asking Wes about Soul's return day. "I did not desire a grand audience as there usually seems to be."
Maka giggled lightly at his grimace and smiled. "Indeed," she whispered jovially, the musical accompaniment dying down in volume along with her voice. "Many women will be greatly disheartened to know they missed a chance to dance about the ballroom with you."
"They have missed no chances," said Soul without much care. "I would not have danced with them regardless of their presence."
"That is rather pompous of you, would you not agree?"
"There is nothing pompous about it. You are the only woman here worth dancing with, Ms. Albarn," he declared and her cheeks grew stained with red. "I have not had, nor ever will have, any intention of dancing with another."
"Mr. Eva-"
"I am Soul to you, Ms. Albarn," he said finally, sounding put out by her repeated formality. "Despite our trials, tribulations, and the social codes that bind us here, my given name may be used when you address me, even when company is present."
"That would be so heinously rude of me to refer to you in such a manner when we are in a public setting." Maka felt flustered and overjoyed by Soul's entire admittance as well as his permission, which was a great honour to have. Not many women she knew had the ability to call the man before her by his true name with an audience present.
"I want you to," he assured her. "It would make me more at ease with you," he added for extra measure and Maka could not help but nod her acceptance.
"You must call me by my given name as well then," she said after a moment, taking an uncertain glance at her footwork before returning her eyes to his.
"Would I not seem overly familiar with you?" he posed cautiously, throwing a side-long look out in to the crowds, no doubt searching for the face of her father.
"Are we not," she said carefully, "overly familiar?"
He seemed more surprised than she was about her admission; his eyes were wide, colour growing on both their faces. Maka stared at the tile decorated floors and their feet as they glided on the floor.
"I did not mean-" she started after a long silence, afraid that she had in fact betrayed her true feelings when he cut through rather smoothly with, "It is truly alright. I understand."
She shut her mouth promptly, nodding at his words as the embarrassment grew within her. The song ended soon after and although she planned to thank him and leave, she felt him tighten his hold, thank her with a kiss on her right hand and request a second waltz. She could hardly turn him down, with a fluttering heart in her chest and a feverish heat running rampant through her body, so she complied, thanking him for another opportunity.
"I do not suppose," he began cautiously, "that you have entirely enjoyed yourself in my absence?"
"Enjoy myself in what way? Are you suggesting that a woman may not pleasure herself in the smallest ways of life without the company of a man?"
"Of course not," he said quickly. He remedied it instead with, "I merely wondered if you wished for my presence when I was…indisposed."
"Did you for mine?"
"Perhaps. And you?"
"Perhaps," she replied coyly, gathering her courage to look up at him. She did not expect his eyes to be drinking in her features, nor for his complexion to soften so incredibly at the sight of her flushed face.
He was peculiar in that way. Unlike most of the gentleman in the room, he was relaxed but intense at the same time. He was nothing like the stuffy men in suits and that was something that she had always admired.
"Is there something wrong?" she asked nervously.
He did not answer, as if by studying her features he was getting all the answers he required. Maka was preoccupied with how warm her hand felt in his, the way his stare seemed to boil her stomach and send her heart in to a frenzy. No man she had ever known had been able to garner those reactions from her at once, and, in that moment, she could not find any ability to dispel the feeling. It was warm and unsettling all at once, the uncertainty of its coming and staying with her a reoccurring thought with her mind. He sensed her internal conflict and turned her but slowly before asking her if she felt unwell. She replied that she felt naught of the kind and promptly reminded him that he was the one who wished to dance.
"You did agree, you know. You cannot expect me to simply let you leave this room without a proper dance."
"We have had two proper dances. I'm no stranger to them now, thanks to you, although our intentions differ greatly in comparison to those around us."
"Not that greatly," mumbled Soul under his breath, and it was Maka's turn to be surprised. She began to enquire after him but the new song had ended. He expressed his gratitude for their dance once more.
"I-" She paused when he kissed her bare hand and flushed when he faced her once more, a concentrated look on his face. "Soul?" she implored slowly, watching emotions swirl behind his eyes. He was contemplating something – something important – but she was not altogether sure what it was. "Is there something bothering you?"
"I need to ask you something," he supplied instead, pulling her out of the group of elegant dancers and towards the doors that led out from the ballroom.
"We certainly have not spent much time dancing, you know? You could not have asked me while we danced?" she asked lightly, but he had no biting retort for her.
He merely said, "I did not want to do this in public."
"Do what, Soul?" When he did not say anything, she looked at their intertwined hands nervously. The air in the hall was much less humid than the air in the ballroom and Maka took a deep breath of it once they had exited the grand room. He moved through the corridors of Death's estate with ease and would have no doubt taken her to a more secluded area when they were stopped, suddenly, by Wes, the man standing before them with a dark haired lady on his arm.
"Mr. Evans!" said Maka, sounding as cheery as she could. Her curiosity for Soul's question would have to wait. "I thought you were still with the orchestra! It is a pleasure to see you again."
Wes smiled, kissing her hand by way of greeting and then turned his attentions to his brother. "Soul, I did not know that you were coming back tonight. If I had been alerted, Mother and Father—"
"I was not keen on having them know I was in the city, if I am being fair, brother." The hand holding Maka's tightened perceptively and she frowned; her companion seemed more annoyed than she at being stopped by his brother. Maka was unsure whether or not she should intervene but she came to the conclusion that Soul could not make entirely rational decisions in the presence of his brother.
"It is entirely fair. Perhaps you could be clearer on the intentions of your early return?" Wes' eyes flicked to Maka's at this, but she did not notice, her eyes on Soul's expressions.
"You need not know my intentions."
Wes laughed, the lady at his side giggling as well. "Perhaps. When I saw you I knew that I must immediately welcome you home. But I see that your goal for this night is not to be welcomed home."
"No," Soul grudgingly admitted, "and you are not exactly aiding me."
"Well, it is not as if I fully comprehend what your motives are, little brother," Maka saw Wes wink, "but it is not that difficult to guess."
It was then that she spoke up, bidding Wes farewell and startling both boys with her lack of silence. She continued speaking, mentioning to Soul that perhaps the library was in need of checking. It was not as if she had forgotten about the young couple getting extremely well acquainted with one another between the shelves. She merely needed a space which she could tell Wes she was going without there being too many questions. It had seemed like a brilliant plan as it had worked, freeing Soul and herself from Wes' inquisitive company and bringing the pair of them into empty halls near the library. Privacy was what they had needed, according to Soul, so he could say what was on his mind, presumably without any embarrassment.
Instead, she brought him into a drawing room and shut the door silently. "So what exactly if you want to talk about?" She asked it hesitantly, for Soul's mind was a mystery to her. She had her suspicions, or dare she call them hopes, but she dared not fully trust in those feelings for fear of being terribly wrong and disappointed.
"I wanted to talk to you about the ball; this one in particular." She was facing him now, her hands still in his, and there was something nervous about him; his stiffness and composure so unlike what she normally associated with him in private.
"This ball?"
"Yes." He paused before saying, "I saw Hiro eyeing you in there, Maka. I believe that he is still much in love with you."
Maka wrinkled her nose in apprehension and discomfort, mouth sloping down in to a clear frown while Soul's did the opposite. "That was the serious topic? You must not be in your right mind, Soul."
"Hiro is not important enough to you to be a serious topic? He is a viable suitor, you know? Not the bravest, but he has a small fortune and could support you. He is and option."
"No, actually, he is not," said Maka, not baiting into his clear teasing. "He is… kind at times, and very generous, but I am not going to reduce my self and my feelings to make him feel strong like I know he wishes. Besides, my favour lies with another, and it would be futile to even attempt to find another partner with which to replace him."
Soul did not look surprised by her declaration. To be honest, he appeared the most uninterested in her words. But his eyes spoke volumes alone, widening slightly when she mentioned another man and his hands tightened again. It was something he did unconsciously, and it was a give away for hidden anxiety in her normally cold friend.
"And who is this mysterious gentleman that you speak of? Not a fictitious one from your literature, I should hope." He teased her but there was no humour in his voice, and it was something that she caught on to quite easily.
"No, he is quite real, I can assure you. I have never encountered such a wonderfully real human being in all my life. Papa may never approve but I do not care a wit for his acceptance." She smiled up at him shyly, her courage shrinking as she continued, "But he is far too good for me." Soul let out a breath, shoulders slumping in sadness or relaxation she could not tell. "I doubt his attentions could even encompass the likes of me."
"That is not likely. The man that holds your affections would have no other option but to attend to you. He would be honoured to." She felt her face warm and her green eyes flicked away from his face, hopes blooming in her chest without reason or control in place to stop them.
"And you?" she asked softly. "Have you found a lady in whom your affections lie?"
"I have," he said, "and I am most blessed to say that she is very close to me always."
"She is always with you?" Maka mentally ran through a list of women that she had seen around her snow haired friend but she could not fathom which one of them could have spent much time with him. After all, she had spent long moments with him and no other girl had been present when it was the two of them.
"Indeed. In my mind and in my heart she takes refuge, and no other woman could hope to eclipse her. Yet she does not comprehend her value to me. She does not, no matter what I try to do for her."
"I find that difficult to believe," she said, eyes rising to meet his once more. "You who are most straight forward, could not convey to a woman your intentions?" She laughed a little at the thought.
"I am glad you find it humorous. I too would find the fact amusing if only she did not occupy every moment of my mind in which I can linger on her oblivious thoughts."
That silenced Maka absolutely and she squeezed his fingers apologetically. "I am sorry. I did not know it plagued you so."
"How could you know?" he said, burgundy eyes boring into hers. "You and she are one and the same. You both do not see my intentions when I act nor my meaning when I speak." He smiled when he said this, warm and comforting, and his shoulders slumped into their normal position.
"I am sorry," she said again, her chest beginning to hold a weight of sadness and regret. He cared for this woman so much and all she did was make him remember his love negatively. "Are your feelings so unrequited that you have no chance?"
He was surprised by this question and frowned, dark orbs clouding with confusion. "No, not at all. In fact, I have reason to hope that my feelings are not as unrequited as I believed them to be."
"That is wonderful!" Her tone was one of cheer while her soul continued on in sadness. "Have you confessed this happy coincidence to her? I am certain she would be thrilled to have reciprocated feelings."
"I do wish to tell her. In truth, I already have, but I feel that perhaps she is so unseeing that she cannot understand my words even when they are clearly laid out to her."
"I do not understand."
Soul leaned forth once more, their foreheads close and his locks tickling her hair line. "You understand naught?" he asked lowly, his thumb rubbing the back of her hand. She could not speak for a moment, losing her words as he brought their hands up between them and rested his lips on her knuckles. It was a gentleman's action, used to convey respect and thanks. But Soul was not the gentleman his parents had raised him to be. He had the skills and understood their use but while the kiss was for respect, she felt something else trying to be conveyed.
Affection.
"Soul," she breathed, as the man brought their hands close to his chest. "What are you trying to say?"
"I am not as affectionate in word as you wish for me to be," he said instead, "however I will do whatever is in my power to remedy that, if that is what you wish." Maka was beginning to grasp his words and scarlet coated the pale skin of her cheekbones. The impossibility she had dealt with only in light fantasies and dreams of her own were taking shape in front of her. "I admire you greatly," he said, words coaxing and soft like a tamer of animals. "You are the one that holds my heart."
"But you said you told the woman of your feelings," she protested weakly.
"I have told you how I have felt about you. The occasions are not apparent to you now, but they certainly exist. I have told you how I appreciated your company above all others and I have let slip in moments of strong emotion, how I have longed for time spent with just you; a lifetime preferably. Moments I have clearly stated this was just earlier. You and she were 'one and the same', Maka. It was no figure of speech." He carried on in this way, baffling Maka with his memory and all these glimpses of his love for her began to swarm up and drown her mind of all doubt.
Most hesitantly, Maka tilted her head up towards his and pressed her lips to the side of his cheek, hoping to silence his flow of compliments. He had once more stunned him into dumbness due to her bold action. She pulled away slowly to smile up at him. "Actions always did suit you better." He nodded, watching in wonder as she readjusted their hands so that they were knot-like in their tightness. "And your true inquiry? What question must you ask of me?"
With this, the man before her dropped down onto his knee and pulled out a small box. He asked for her hand in the calmest voice he could conjure, and she laughed, nodding rapidly as he slipped the ring on to her finger thereby claiming her as his own.
"And now you are bound to me for all eternity." He stood, beaming at her with so much care and happiness that she returned it with equal joy, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him tightly. "I love you."
"I love you as well," she said laughingly, tears leaking out the corners of her eyes from sheer bliss and excitement. "Ah—" she pulled back and fixed him with a curious look. "You asked permission from my father before your proposal, did you not?"
"I thought you said that you did not care a wit for his approval?"
"I do not but I—"
"Calm yourself, Maka, I did. He agreed that I should marry you as long as I swore to maintain your happiness and I intend to. I promise."
"I doubt many promises, but not this one. I know you shall make me happy. You already do."
He leaned forth and kissed her delicately, and she smiled into it, thinking about how many kisses she would be able to share with him now that she was to be married with the man. Millions, she thought giddily, and she kissed him again, thrilled that he was finally home with her.
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