Thank you all for the warm reception of the new story! I'm excited to keep sharing with you.

Soul read through the notebook twice, almost daring a third time before stuffing it under the bed in frustration. It was just her name, only her name, and only on the very first page, never to be mentioned again. Which means she's from that time. Right when it happened, or within the few years before it or else it'd be in here. He had started writing the moment he and Black Star realized his mind was slipping away from him but the things from that time were still a black hole, one even Black Star refused to fill. Other than she's important.

He stared at the wall and examined the grain fruitlessly before reaching his hand down again. It didn't make sense, what he was doing, since the memories he made now did seem to stick but his fingers were moving with his heart instead of his head as they often did. Soul moved to a free page and with charcoal in hand started his task, creating her shape in shade on the page. He was out of practice, seeing his own small imperfections as if they were glaring but as the time ticked away her visage was obvious. With stained fingers he reached for the pen and ink, putting the finishing touches of more scrambled writing in the margins, details that needed to be burned into his memory.

The bottom of the page filled with the desperate appeal, I know her.

Marie had given her time, watching silently as Maka stared intently out the window. Her fingers were strained desperately into the fabric of her dress, making Marie less worried about the wrinkles than the thoughts that must be racing through her young charge's head. "Maka…"

"It doesn't mean we're out," Maka started, her voice tight. "I know we were betting that nostalgia would help catapult me to the top of the choices but there's still a chance without it. He did stand up for me."

"That's not what I'm worried about," Marie replied softly. "It must be frightening now to think that you could marry a stranger instead of your friend."

A trembling breath threatened at Maka's lips but she forced it out instead as a scoff. "I was always marrying a stranger."

"Maka…" Marie started from her seat, reaching for her.

Maka fought the closeness, backing another step towards the window. "I'm not stupid, Marie. He was always a prince, and I was always just a girl. A few years together, running around like foolish children don't make that any different. I'd be an idiot if I ever let myself feel like it was anything other than a diversion for him, just a vacation from the palace and his responsibilities until he was called back. We were never friends." The tears burning in her eyes were betraying her and Maka tried to will it away as she brought her eyes back to the window. "It's better that he doesn't remember me."

"It's just us, Maka," Marie murmured, finally closing Maka in enough that there was nowhere for her to hide. As Marie's soft hands found Maka's, the first tears slipped down her cheeks. "The next few days you'll have to be the bravest you've ever been, so right now, save it. Let this be the only moment of weakness."

Maka choked out a sob, her eyes still frantically looking out the window as she tried to stop the wave from hitting her. "Seeing him like that hurt, Marie."

"Oh, darling," Marie sighed, letting one hand leave hers to smooth over Maka's cheek.

A warbled sighed left her lips, "Why did I wish he'd look at me and smile like he used to? Instead, he only looked confused, panicked, and I was sure I'd made a mistake. I guess… it's better to know that's because he doesn't remember me, but maybe that hurts more. It all happened because of me and… I ruined him and now I'm trying to marry him."

"So that the kingdom isn't ruined in return," Marie urged. "And maybe there's something you can do to heal him along the way."

Maka shook her head swiftly, "You heard Black Star, he's changed. He's not the same."

Marie's encouraging fingers were running back down Maka's arm to clutch both of her hands again, shaking them. "Until he had to stand up for you, and then he came back to himself. You said it yourself, he sounded the same in that moment."

"Isn't that just wishful thinking?" Maka murmured helplessly.

"Let's be hopeful about both him and the kingdom."

Maka let another long breath of air tremble across her lips as she turned her eyes back to the window, letting a few more tears fall without hesitation. This would be her last moment of weakness, and she wanted to feel it, to let it take her. What I missed is gone, and no matter what Marie says I'm sure it's not coming back.

The stewards were supposed to be tracking the girls during the feast, but Soul found his eyes doing their work, tracking each of their little idiosyncrasies with a mind that was supposed to be fuzzy. He was forcing his attention to split equally, to not focus on Maka even though to tear his eyes away from her when they did land was practically impossible. Like all of the other girls, she'd changed for the evening into another simple gown but it was such a deep alluring plum color that seemed to stir something in the back of his mind, another one of those feelings that weren't exactly memories.

This was secretly one of the tests, an on-the-spot measure of etiquette that most of them seemed to be passing. One or two that were drinking past the amount his mother would frown at since a lady was supposed to remain joyous but her wits intact and a few had napkins or forks misplaced. He couldn't determine what bearing that had on whether or not a woman would make a good wife but he watched it nonetheless. The conversation was more of his interest anyway, the vapid, useless chatter that would probably fill his ear and his day if he did marry one of them.

Soul got the joy of the first-hand introduction to these conversations as he was asked, or realistically ordered, to pass from table to table and produce something close to greeting. Each table was the same, the girl standing and offering her hand, him taking it and while he was expected to plant a soft kiss at the knuckles, Soul couldn't bring himself to do so. Instead, it was just an awkward hold before he dropped it. He was lucky that after introductions it was often a flood of lines to prove the girl's worth, whether it came from her mouth or her companions. None of them were humble enough to curb their bragging and Soul's ears were filled with random accomplishments that he could never hope to remember. Thankfully Black Star is as bad as a milk-maid when it comes to gossip. I'll get it all again tomorrow with at least his amusing take as a filter.

There wasn't an ounce of nervousness until his eyes met Maka's again, watching her stand dutifully and extend a gloved hand. His reach took an eternity and when his hand met the leather he oddly felt a grin come to his lips. "You refuse to remove your gloves?"

Maka didn't blink or flinch, "I don't see why I should have to."

He felt something in his fingertips, a burning that made his lips stretch into a full-blown smirk, his cheeks aching from disuse. "What if your prince ordered it?"

"I would ask my prince why," she shot back immediately.

Soul could feel the eyes of the room since he'd now held her hand for far past the expected time and while it should be a conversation had in low whispers, Maka hadn't tempered her voice. None of it actually derailed him and he used their connected hand to pull her a stumbling step closer. "I don't usually get asked why. I get what I order."

This was the only time she paused, her eyes examining every inch of his face before just barely letting the whisper leave her lips. "Then you have changed."

Maka took the opportunity to snatch her fingers from him as his grip loosened with the words screaming in his head, She does know me! I know her, I know her! "I apologize," he murmured.

"It's no offense, just like the gloves are not meant as an offense to you, my prince." The smallness of her voice was forgotten, thrown away to adopt that firm air.

"It's nice to see you again, my prince," Marie butted in as she pulled at the back of Maka's dress, dropping her back to her seat.

"Ah, yes, it's been some time, Lady Marie." The shame of the lie turned over his gut. And how much time I don't know, since I don't know that we do know each other. Just like her, you're all ghosts to me. "I hope all has been well," he added lamely. Damn it, I hate talking like this, the formality, the pomp. I sound like an idiot.

"Fine, thank you. We were visited by your captain earlier today," Marie let that drift off with a smile that left Soul strangling for his next line.

"I'm surprised you made him captain," Maka let slip unchecked, a grumble starting in her voice.

"Why?" Soul shot back without a second thought. "He's the best fighter I have."

"He's an idiot," Maka laughed.

Soul's eyebrows knotted as he sent out an accusatory finger. "He's a loyal friend."

Maka raised her eyebrows right back and her hand wavered as if she was about to swat his but thought better of it. "But you don't deny his childishness."

"I don't know. After your stubbornness just now are you one to talk?" The words had just flowed from his lips without a second thought, all social niceties disappeared as his smirk sparked back to life.

The second after left him dumbfounded especially as she smiled right back at him and shot back without hesitation, "Those are hardly comparable, So-" Maka's lips suddenly snapped shut, for the first time fear coming to her eyes.

My name, she was going to call me just by my name. So she knows me well enough to feel liberties to use my name? "So?" Soul set her up, watching as a slow breath of relief came from Maka's lips.

"So the question still stands: why promote him?" The playfulness was gone, a sentence just grasping at making sense, but she seemed thankful for the chance as her eyes softened for a moment.

Soul fought the feeling to grab her hand again, suddenly realizing that it was the proximity alone that was doing something to him, urging another one of those phantom feelings. Those words that passed between them had been charged, different to the point where he didn't have the drive or ability to avoid them. There was a deep need there, one that threatened to overpower the constant dull ache in his chest. I know her. I know her, beat with his heart again. "Because I never forget my friends."

Maka had resisted the idea at first but Marie had pressed it especially as the sun had abandoned them and the pacing was all she could manage instead of sleeping. She wasn't sure how a bath was going to turn the tide but the promise of pampering held at least a modicum of enticement. Servant girls were filling the tub, one rushing after the other in what seemed like an endless line that produced steamy, hot water. As the tub finally filled almost to the brim one of the girls came back empty-handed, her head bowed, "My lady, what fragrance do you require?"

"Fragrance?" Maka narrowed her eyes. This kind of bathing was a luxury and the thought that more came with it than just tantalizingly warm water was leaving her spellbound.

"My lady, we have rose, lavender, orange blossom, jasmine…"

Maka's mind raced at the idea, the absurdity of this kind of pampering making her want to strike down the idea but between Marie's whispers in the back of her mind and the fact that at least she could excuse one scent as curse cleansing she gave in. "Jasmine, please."

"Right away, my lady."

Three times in a row, my lady, my lady, my lady, Maka sighed as she looked back at the bathwater. And it could be my Queen, my Queen, my Queen, if he… Even though it was the hope, Maka banished the thought, just as she tried to push any other related to him away. The girl came back and with her brought one last bucket, this one mostly filled with the small, white flowers before she upended it into the water. The waft of that sweet floral scent immediately saturated the room, making Maka dizzy with the perfume. She was disrobed, another strange custom that she had to whisper to herself to get used to.

The soak was utter perfection, her skin tingling from head to toe as the warmth sunk to her bones. She couldn't begrudge Marie for a second, not as she soaked down to her hair, her face the only thing not obscured by water. After a few deep breaths, her muscles started to untangle, leaving only her mind still wound tight from the day. She surfaced, letting her hair drip as it cascaded across her shoulders as his face flooded back to her. It was that smile. He wore it tonight when he spoke to me but it didn't seem like he knew it was there, that he was using it. The old Soul used to- She tried to shut the lid on that idea but a miserable sigh left her lips as she struggled vainly. It used to be obvious all over his entire face like you could cover his lips and still know it was hiding behind there, but tonight it was just his mouth. His eyes, maybe his heart-

It was the door that brought that thought to a halt and as she turned her head over the rim, hoping for a servant or Marie, her blood started to boil. "How dare you!"

Black Star hushed her, finger to his lips before taking it away to whisper, "I get it, Maka, but-"

"You pervert!" Maka was floundering, thankful that the pedals gave away nothing beneath the water but still feeling the blush staining her cheeks.

"I'm here to help you, idiot, so shut up," Black Star hissed quietly before disappearing below the lip of the tub as he crouched. "Look, see? I can't see a damn thing. As if I wanted to."

"Still, what makes you think it's appropriate to sneak into a woman's bath?" Maka moved enough that her chin rested on the edge since there was no yelling at someone without eye contact. "And how the hell do you expect to help me?"

Black Star rolled his eyes before huffing, "You want to win this contest, don't you?"

"I… of course, why else would I be here?" Because you wanted to see him, you wanted to know if… That lid quickly shut as Maka bit her tongue.

"Then after you're done here, you go down the west staircase. Walk until there's another staircase on your right, that one's a spiral, and then you can follow the music from there."

"The music?" Maka was slowly feeling the impropriety drain away as she tried to store away his directions in her mind.

"This time of night he's playing. He'll play until, well, probably all night with all this shit going on."

"Playing?" She could see the question hit him with annoyance.

"The organ. He's so weird," Black Star laughed.

"Did he always play?" The question came easily since as she searched back through each of their memories together it was never over music.

"His whole life," Black Star's grin curled deviously. "You don't tell the girl you like that, not exactly a cool talent."

Maka sighed with a shake of her head, "He never liked-"

"Shut up," Black Star waved a hand in her face. "Look, just do what I say. Go down after you're done here. You don't have to do much other than say hello to him unless you want to." His eyebrows waggled, amused again by the color change on her cheeks. Black Star started back on his feet, his back purposefully to her and he slunk back to the door.

"Why are you helping me?"

Black Star rested his hand on the door, a sigh breaking his lips. "Look, after we came back here, left you guys, I thought he was going to die. Not just because of what happened but because he… even if he couldn't remember it was like his heart did. Being torn away from all of the things he had and his brother dying? And even though he's supposed to be better thanks to all these potions and shit I know he's not. He told me the nightmares are worse but I think there's more than that and he's hiding it. That's what scares him about this, not having a wife, but letting someone get that close to him because I'm afraid he feels the same way I do - like he's still dying, just slowly."

He turned his glance to the far wall, getting her just in his periphery so he could take in the pain on her face. Didn't think anybody could look as pitiful as me but there it is. Looks like I predicted right: she's still his even if she doesn't seem to know it. "Out of all those girls, I think you're the only one who can be trusted with this, with him. I think you're the only one he'll let in again."

"But he doesn't remember me," Maka murmured.

"I think his heart does," Black Star shrugged as he turned back to the door. "It's up to you to try to see if you can get his mind on the same page."

Soul wasn't sure whether it was the feeling or the scent. Both seemed to instantly overpower him, a buzz in the air that seemed to toy with the one he always felt in his chest. The jasmine that lingered made him sure he wasn't going crazy and as his fingers eased off the keys and he turned his head, the motion of the curtain was the last piece he needed. "You know it's rude to eavesdrop."

There was silence but he could swear he saw the curtain quiver again.

"No one's ever come to hear me play," he offered before pressing a key, letting the note fill the emptiness. "Do you have any requests?"

"What you were just playing."

If the feeling hadn't been enough the voice was, a trembling starting in Soul's stomach as he just barely stopped her name from jumping off his lips. "That's something I wrote. It's not very good."

There was a pause and he waited for movement again from the fabric. Instead, her voice came softer this time, "It sounded beautiful to me."

He was toeing the line and he sucked in a slow breath before letting out, "Come out from behind the curtain and I will."

"It's improper."

"To see you?"

"To be alone together in the same room."

A healthy smirk lit up his face and he felt a memory lapping at him again, calling him desperately to remember it. "So a curtain is enough of a boundary to keep me from taking advantage of you?"

"Or I might take advantage of you," came back with a healthy dose of gall.

His own laugh surprised him as he turned back to the keys. "Well, I'll play something else then. I'm keeping that song for when you get the nerve to show your face." He started at the keys and pedals again, the room floating with an airy melody.

"My prince has already seen my face."

"You'll have to speak up," he called behind him.

Her voice was straining over the music, "My prince has already seen my face."

"Don't call me that," Soul let out gruffly. "You almost called me my name today."

"I don't know what you're talking about," snapped back.

Soul stopped the music and turned on the bench. He found that voice from earlier bubbling from his throat again, the playfully annoyed tone almost alien to him. "Fine, then, curtain lady, since I have no way of knowing who you are, you can call me my name. Soul. No one's going to behead you for it down here."

There wasn't a reply to this and he was afraid he'd driven her off.

"You're one of the girls, aren't you?" he tried.

"Yes, Soul." His name came off her lips with venom but it didn't bother him in the least, instead, it made the chuckling return as he closed the cover on the organ.

Soul turned completely on the bench and leaned back against the covered keys. "How did you find me?"

"I heard music, I followed it."

That sly smile was making his cheeks ache but there was no way to kill it, the amusement seeming to deaden everything else. "Hard to hear music from the guest quarters."

"I was walking. I couldn't sleep."

"We have that in common," Soul sighed. "Is it the palace?"

"It's fine here," came with a deep sigh and another rustle of the fabric. There were gatherings in the material now and he was sure she had it balled in her fists.

"I guess that was a stupid question," Soul murmured. "It's probably the idea that you're probably being forced to try to marry a stranger."

"Most people marry strangers, don't they?"

Soul nodded until he realized his mistake, "That doesn't make it any less fucking terrible."

A sweet barely smothered laugh erupted from behind the curtain. "You talk like a commoner, Soul."

"I prefer them, so talking like them is easier. It's the stuffy bullshit I have to put up with in the halls that's hard."

"You've spent time with commoners?"

"My best friend, the captain of my guard is," Soul shrugged. "I like the kitchens, too. The girls in there actually have the nerve to tease me. Sometimes it's nice to be reminded that you're human."

"You need to be reminded of that?"

"You'd be surprised how often it feels necessary." Soul brought himself to his feet and took a few steps forward before pausing. "I promise I'm not going to move the curtain, so don't… don't leave just yet."

There was still panic in the voice, "Why are you coming closer?"

"Because…" He took careful steps to the curtain, trying to keep them quiet enough that his nearness might be obscured. His hand trembled as he reached for one of the bundles of fabric and closed his hand around it. There was only a second's worth of strain before the fist stopped resisting in his, letting him flex his fingers into the curtain. He imagined the hand on the other side, daydreaming of intertwining fingers and for a second a flash filled his vision: lily-white, fine fingers in his, delicate despite knowing that they had worked, fought, lived harder than he ever had. "Maka."

"That's the last girl," came quickly and frantic.

"I know it's you," he murmured.

"I should go."

"One more minute," the pleading was pathetic but the connection, even with the cloth between them was singing in his mind. "I think I used to feel more human, like there were moments, people who did that. I was somewhere I was happy. Sometimes it feels like it was another life, but I know it was mine. For a second, just now, I think I saw it. Being near you, connecting with you did that, Maka."

The hand tugged away from his and he let it with a forlorn sigh. When the scent was gone he pulled aside the curtain and eyed the darkness until it was time to go back to the organ.