Though Maka bristled over her mother's deaf ear, she could not fault Kami for wanting to protect her daughter from what would likely be a life spent paired to a man she could not even trust, much less love. In avian society, the Tuuli Thea was promised to a young avian shortly after her birth. The two would be raised together, forging a bond of trust that would serve as the basis for their pair bond. Maka had been promised to a boy named Derik a few weeks after she'd been born, and though they'd grown to be friends, he'd been killed during a surprise raid when they'd still been quite young. She'd spent more of her life without an alistair than with one, but considering the violent, all-consuming nature of the war, that situation wasn't entirely unusual. If the promised alistair died before the heir ascended to Tuuli Thea, a new alistair would be named at the coronation.
It was a fact Maka had known, but as the day of the ceremony inched closer and closer, the reality of her choice loomed overhead. And even despite this, she could not stop thinking about what Lord Death had proposed. The more Maka thought about it, the more she dismissed it as impossible, and yet the idea still lingered. To distract herself from it, Maka threw herself into preparations for the upcoming ceremony, even as anxiety wound its way through her gut with every day that passed. To dispel it, she trained extensively with the Royal Flight, sparring with any and every guard that she could. Black*Star knew something was bothering her, based on the sideways looks he kept shooting her, but for once, he wisely kept his mouth shut.
Two solid weeks of planning, preparation, and training took its toll, and Maka often found herself falling into deep, dreamless sleep every night.
But not tonight.
Tonight, her mind saw fit to weave her memories and fears into one frightening tapestry, each thread woven so tightly to another that scenes slid into and from the foreground without any overlap.
She was nine, her alistair twelve, tricked into checking on his ailing aunt only to discover the letter a malicious ruse, leaving him lying in a pool of his own blood…
She was thirteen, walking the killing fields for the first time, overwhelmed by the stench of fear and death, trying to hold back the bile but ultimately unsuccessful…
She was sixteen, and sneaking out to join in the battle that raged in the fields not a stone's throw from the Keep…
Maka measured her steps carefully against the loose cobblestones of the road that wound its way next to the forest, her hand resting gently on the sword strapped to her side. The weight that had seemed so unwieldy when she'd first tried it on was completely natural now, a testament to the years of training she'd endured. But tonight, tonight was the first time she would finally be able to put it to action, to serve her people with actions, and not just pretty words spoken from the top of a tower.
Her heart raced in her chest, and though she tried hard to quell it, her hands shook slightly at her side. Despite all her training, it had not prepared her for the screams of battle, of pain, that echoed from the fields beyond the woods.
Maka stepped from the road and entered the forest, her feet carefully testing the ground before bringing her full weight down. She crept closer and closer to the battle, her hand tightening against her sword with every step.
Just before she reached the edge of the forest, a hand seized her elbow and whirled her around. The only thing that kept her from screaming in fright was the face of the person who'd grabbed her: Spirit, her father.
But instead of the smiles he normally gifted her, his expression was twisted into one of fear and rage. "Maka, what the hell do you think you're doing?!" he hissed, his voice so low it was near impossible to hear. "Get back to the Keep, now!"
"I only wanted to help," she protested, but making sure to match his volume. "How can I ask them to fight in this war if I'm not willing to do the same?"
"You are heir to the Tuuli Thea," he snapped. "If we lose you, we lose everything."
"But, Father-"
Spirit stiffened suddenly, his head whipping up to look behind her. Maka's heart pounded against her ribs, and she slowly turned her head…
...to find Black*Star skidding to a stop near them, his chest heaving. "I've been looking everywhere," he wheezed, but he barely stopped to catch his breath. He held a hand out to Maka. "We've got to go, the fighting is spreading this way."
Indeed, the sounds of battle were growing nearer, the light from the fires growing brighter. Spirit took Maka's hand and shoved it roughly at Black*Star, who grabbed it tightly. "Get her out of here," he ordered. Black*Star nodded and began to tug Maka away.
She followed him blindly, stumbling through the forest, the branches tearing at her arms and face. And yet still, the sounds of fighting did not quiet.
They erupted from the treeline, but instead of the path that would take them back to the Keep, and to safety… they'd somehow found their way to the edge of battle.
Black*Star's hand in hers was the only thing she registered, the only force guiding her in the dark. Fires dotting the battlefield illuminated shadowy figures, avian and serpiente alike.
Maka's foot caught on an exposed root. She crashed to the ground, her hand ripping from his. She struggled to her feet, but when she looked, Black*Star was nowhere to be found.
She ran. Her breath caught, burning in her throat, her feet sticking in the muddy field. She dodged any figure she saw, for in the darkness friend was well nigh impossible to tell from foe. One of them lunged for her-
Black*Star had found her again. He yanked her to the side, pushing her head down as he shuttled her away, back into the forest and towards the road home. They were almost clear of the forest when a familiar cry echoed from behind a thick oak, drawing Maka's attention.
She knew that voice. Had heard it every day, raised in joy, lowered in contrition. But never like this. "That's-"
Black*Star hissed something and tried to tug her forward, but she slipped away from him, her focus entirely on the sound. She rounded the tree, trying to convince herself that she'd find nothing…
She didn't.
Despite the darkness, Maka could still make out the vivid red hair of her father, matted together with sticky blood oozing from the ugly gash in his throat. His eyes stared upwards, the light behind them already gone. Time stopped, the world paused in one long, interminable second as Maka stared at the body that had up until mere moments ago, held her father. A pair of feet stood nearby, and se Maka slowly dragged her face up, she met the gaze of the serpiente soldier who killed him, his face grim as he took one step forward, then another.
"Maka, get back!" Black*Star's roar was faint in her ears, but the world seemed to slam back into place as he curled one arm around her waist and yanked her body backwards. The serpiente's sword swung through the air just in front of her, the tip of the blade slicing a shallow cut in Maka's cheek. The pain didn't even register as Black*Star shoved her away, screaming at her to run, run, get back to the Keep!
Her chest burned, each breath tearing from her lungs, but she kept running, faster than she'd ever had in her life, fast enough that maybe she could leave this horrible truth behind - that she was the reason her father was dead.
She ran, but the road beneath her never yielded any ground, instead stretching farther and farther out in front of her…
She was almost eighteen now, sitting in her bed in the Keep, with Soul Evans standing in a puddle of moonlight before her, saying, "Please don't shout."
Would this never end?
Maka swung her legs over the side of her bed and leaned her elbows on her knees. She dug the heels of her palms into her eyelids, hoping that the pressure might drive away the nightmares and bring her back to the waking world. But when she opened them again, Soul was still standing in the center of the room, looking faintly amused. "I don't need this right now," she groaned.
"I do apologize for my sudden appearance, but in my defense, you left the meeting grounds rather abruptly." He spread his hands in an innocent gesture. "What else was I supposed to do?"
"You mean you didn't do all this," she waved a hand around to reference his presence in her supposedly unbreachable bedroom, "just to prove a point?"
Soul tilted his head in consideration. "Well, not only."
"What do you want?"
"Isn't that obvious?"
"No, Soul, nothing to do with this war is obvious." She sighed, standing up from the bed and going to stand in the open doorway connected to the balcony. A gentle breeze kissed her face, gently playing with the loose strands of hair on her forehead.
"Maka?" She turned to look at Soul, who'd taken a few steps towards her, his eyebrows drawn together slightly. "Are you alright?"
She barked a harsh laugh. "Am I alright? No, of course I'm not alright." She bit off the word harshly, and it was through a dam had cracked inside of her, letting loose every single emotion she was not allowed to feel in her waking hours. "I only want to sleep without being plagued by the sight of everyone I have ever lost. All I can see are my friends, dead and dying, over and over and over. Choking on their own blood, burning in the funeral pyres…" Maka swallowed hard, her eyes burning. "All I want to do is stop it," she whispered. "I can't lose anyone else. But I'm about to be Tuuli Thea. I'm about to inherit the full weight of this war, and then that's all I'm going to know. All I want is to end all of this, and I don't know how."
Silence hung heavy in the air, and when Maka met Soul's gaze, he was sizing her up with a strange look on his face. It was more direct than she'd ever seen him, and she resisted the urge to wrap her arms around herself in an attempt to hide.
"I don't know, either," he said quietly. "If I could go back and stop the fighting sooner, I would have. I'd do anything to keep from losing one more person. But, Maka… we both want peace. If we're both willing, I have to imagine that it's possible."
He padded silently across the room to her. As he reached her side, he lifted his hand up and hovered near her arm, asking silent permission. When she didn't move away, he lightly touched her forearm, his head ducking down so he could look her in the eye. "If you come to the palace tomorrow afternoon, I'll make sure that the guards posted at the door will let you in without questions." With his other hand, he drew something from his pocket and pressed it into her palm. "We can meet there, talk further about plans for peace. Will you come?"
Maka nodded, her head growing heavy as she curled her fingers around whatever he'd given her.
Soul reached up, and before Maka could move, brushed a strand of hair away from her face. Then he turned and crossed the room, slipping through the doors without a word.
Maka looked down to see what Soul had given her, but colors started to blur as the scene faded, slipping next to the vision of her father singing a lullaby, and she gladly abandoned the dream within her room for another chance to hear his voice.
Maka had meant to attend market the next day, but was so exhausted that she opted instead to stay in bed, trying to make up for the sleep lost to nightmare the night before. It was late morning when she finally rose, mostly due to a summons from her mother.
She dressed quickly and ascended to the top floors of the Keep, where her mother stood at the edge of her balcony, the wind gently teasing her hair. Maka shifted as she landed beside her mother, who nodded at her arrival. "I'm meeting with the flight leaders, now, and since your coronation is approaching, I thought it best if you joined me." She turned and left the balcony, leaving Maka to follow her through her rooms and into the hall. They descended until they reached the top floor of the Royal Flight's quarters, where one section was cordoned off to serve as meeting and strategy rooms.
Due to the structure of the Royal Flight, Maka had rarely, if ever, spoken with any of the flight leaders sitting at the meeting table in the center of the room. She knew their names their roles, but since they reported to Black*Star, who in turn reported to her, Maka had never had the opportunity to meet with anyone below him. This was her first time sitting on one of her mother's war councils; Maka tried and failed to ignore the knot of nerves in her stomach.
A kite named Azusa spoke first. "Ma'am, since it's been quite these past few weeks following the last attack, we've been working on patching up our lost ranks and have been relatively successful. In addition, we've just received a shipment of am'haj from Ahnmik, and are working to replenish our stock of treated arrows."
Am'haj was a poison created by the more reclusive nation of falcons, and though they had tried for years to reproduce it, the avians had never managed it. Its success lay in the fact that avians were completely unaffected by it, but a simple scratch on a serpiente was enough to kill them almost instantly. It was a rare advantage in the war, and one they guarded jealously. It was rumored that, should it be requested, the falcons could provide even more aid, but the price was subjugation to their rule - no queen had ever accepted that price.
But they still accepted the poison.
"We're not entirely sure why it's been quiet," Azusa said, adjusting her spectacles as she frowned at the paper in front of her. "It may be that they lost more soldiers than we estimated, especially considering the loss of Wes Evans. I propose that we take advantage of this." She looked up. "There's a young osprey named Ox who has volunteered to help plan our next attack; he claims that he's studied the serpiente for years and can help guide our efforts."
Kami tilted her head as she thought. "What does this Ox recommend?"
"It's clear that your abrupt leave for and return from Mistari lands caused some confusion; he suggests we take advantage with a direct attack-"
"No." Maka's voice cut through the room, surprising even herself. Every eye turned to her, though her mother's gaze felt heaviest. Despite the scrutiny, Maka kept her head held high as she continued, "Has no one considered another option for why the attacks have ceased?"
Based on the quizzical looks exchanged around the room, clearly no one had.
"Isn't it possible that the serpiente want peace, and that's why it's been so quiet?"
As Maka wept her gaze across the room, it was clear by the jaded and skeptical expressions staring back that no, the idea of peace hadn't occurred to them. War was the only thing they knew, the only thing that framed their very being. They couldn't and wouldn't comprehend anything else.
So Maka changed tactics. "We've tried direct attacks - they're nothing more than opportunities for the serpiente to take out as many of our kind as they can. Yes, they sustain losses as well, but have you forgotten how many we lost just a scant few weeks ago? Yes, Wes Evans was killed, but as you've just pointed out, it's taken until this long to patch up our ranks. We can't sustain those numbers." From the grim looks on a few of the flight leaders' faces, some of them had already figured that out. "It would be suicide, even if they are disorganized.
"If you can't believe they want peace, then the other alternative is that they've got a plan for counterattack, and they're taking the time to set it into motion. It could very well be that if we attack, we walk right into a bloodbath."
An oppressive silence filled the room as her words sunk in. "Do you have something else in mind, then?" Kami asked. Her mother's face and voice were unaffected, but years of interpreting her every twitch meant that Maka was adept at reading her mother's moods: Kami wasn't happy about Maka's interruption.
The truth was, Maka didn't have an alternative; she'd only spoken out to try and stem any potential loss of life. But she couldn't just shrug and yield the floor now. "A less direct approach might be best - hitting them with a blow they couldn't see coming."
"And how might we do that?" Azusa asked, skeptical.
"Well, we've only been attacking and defending directly, as you've said. All movements that can be easily anticipated. But if we had a way to know their plans before they're implemented…"
"You're suggesting a spy," Kami said flatly. "Maka, you know we've tried avenues like that before, and it never works out well, or anyone involved." She looked to Azusa. "It may be time that we agree to a little more risk, if it might mean dealing a crippling enough blow. I don't relish the idea, but something has to give-"
"I'm working on something," Maka blurted. All eyes were once more on her. "But it needs more time. After my coronation as Tuuli Thea." Then, at least, Maka would have the power she needed behind her, regardless of what she actually came up with. "Give me until then to perfect the details. But if you'd like, keep working with Ox on whatever plan for attack you think is best - you'll need that long to do so anyway. If no one else has anything better, then we can put it to action. Does that sound fair?"
Maka has directed the question to Azusa, but Kami was the true authority here. The silence seemed interminable as Kami regarded her daughter closely, and though Maka could usually read her, there was nothing in her expression to hint at what she might be thinking. Finally, she said, "Three days, after your coronation." She didn't say anything about implementing Maka's idea, but neither had she ordered for a full-scale attack. Maka decided to take it as a victory.
The meeting was dismissed soon after that, with everyone scattering to their various duties. Maka went to return to her room, but Kami soon caught up with her. "You spoke well," she said simply.
That wasn't the impression Maka had gotten. "Did you think so?"
"Leading a war effort often requires different perspectives. No one in there would accuse you of not caring for your people."
"I only wish there was some better way. Something to ensure that no soldier would ever die on the battlefield."
"Maka." Kami stopped, forcing Maka to turn back around to face her. Kami's face was uncharacteristically soft, and her fingers fluttered as though they wished to reach out. However, Kami only said, "There are no absolutes in life, Maka. A wise leader accepts that, even if she wishes it weren't true." She regarded Maka thoughtfully, then added, "I was idealistic like you, once. Full of faith and dreams and a vision of what I wanted my future to be. I see myself in you, which is how I know you're ready to take my place."
Maka's throat went thick with emotion. "Thank you, Mother."
"Have you given any thought as to who your alistair will be? It would be good for you to announce it at your coronation, give your people something hopeful to think on."
Dread knotted in Maka's stomach. "I've been considering it."
Kami waited for more, but when Maka said nothing, she said softly, "I know it can be a difficult choice, Maka. But I do think having an alistair by your side will only help you." A flicker of some deep emotion passed across her face, but was gone before Maka could identify it. "Now, if that's all, I have a meeting with some merchants." She nodded at her daughter, and in the next moment, was sweeping down the hall and rounding a corner.
Maka blew out a breath to steady herself. She felt as though she was teetering on the edge of a vast precipice, and one wrong move would send her plummeting into the shadowy abyss below. How had everything spiraled so out of her control? She didn't have a secret plan in motion, she had no idea who to pick as her alistair, and she would take the throne in a mere three days' time. She doubted she could straighten everything out by then.
Well, there was only one thing left to do, then, wasn't there? Maka's feet began directing her down a familiar path, one she always took when she was feeling particularly stressed or adrift. The heavy wooden doors of the library yielded easily under her hand, swinging open with nary a sound. The thick, heavy air within wrapped around her like a comforting blanket; the musy ink-and-paper smell tickled her nose. She skimmed her fingers across rows of familiar spines, picking out a few of her favorites, as well as some scrolls and tomes regarding diplomatic strategy and tactics - perhaps she could find the solution she needed within their pages.
Hours later, and the only thing Maka had gained was a crick in her neck from hunching over at her favorite reading table. She sat back, stretching her cramped muscles, and tried not to dwell on her failure. Just because no one had ever tried for peace, didn't mean it wasn't possible.
...Right?
The next day passed in a blur of preparations for the upcoming coronation, which was both a blessing and a curse. Maka didn't have the time to think about anything other than the ceremony that would name her Tuuli Thea - which meant that she also didn't have any ideas regarding the secret plan she was meant to present to the war council. She allowed the various meetings and details to distract her, but still the knot of anxiety in her gut grew.
The morning before her coronation, Maka found two gifts placed gently on the trunk at the foot of her bed, both from Blair. Maka smiled as she opened the first box, revealing a gorgeous, silky dress. She held it up, admiring it in the morning light. It was a deep black, fitted in the chest and waist, then flaring out down to her ankles. A large black ribbon wrapped around the middle, ending in large tied bow in the back. Two layers of ruffled skirts peeked out the bottom. The dress came complete with soft black slippers and two feathered hairpieces, an homage to their winged forms and ancestors.
The second box was much smaller, and contained a delicate gold necklace. The chain held a pendant shaped from fine, nearly invisible wire in the form of a hawk's nest, which contained three glittering, jeweled eggs. Maka's mouth dropped open as she took in the piece - it was some of the finest craftwork she'd ever seen. She would have to ask Blair where she'd found it when she saw the seamstress next, for as fine a dressmaker as she was, a jeweler she was not.
Looking at the necklace, Maka was reminded of a bracelet she owned that would complement the gold perfectly, and set out to look for it. She rifled through her jewelry box, the drawers in her armoire, the drawers in her nightstand…
Something glittered on the floor just below the nightstand. Maka bent down to pick it up, only to realize it was a onyx signet ring, not the bracelet she'd been looking for.
But this ring was a piece she'd seen before.
The color drained from Maka's face. The dream she'd had, the outburst in front of Soul Evans - it hadn't been a dream. He really had asked her to come to the serpiente palace, really had given her this ring so that she could venture through his lands safely. Had asked her two nights ago, and yet… she'd never gone.
She'd never appeared despite her promise otherwise - what would he think? Had she just burned the only bridge leading to the possibility of peace? He likely assumed the worst of her, that she'd taken his pleas and dismissed him outright.
She couldn't spend one more moment here; the longer she delayed risked another day Soul believed there was no chance for peace. Maka raced through her room, changing into suitable traveling clothes. After a moment lingering on the dagger she normally kept strapped to her side, she discarded it, knowing full well that appearing armed in serpiente land, even bearing Soul's ring, would be a death sentence.
Right before she departed, Maka took the carved metal tree that normally sat on her armoire and moved it to the trunk at the foot of her bed, her silent code to Black*Star: Don't worry, I'm out on a flight. If course, this would likely be a longer flight out than he was used to, but hopefully she would return with a solid plan to make up for it.
She shifted on her balcony and soared up, up, up into the sky, the air currents slipping through her wings and carrying her swiftly over the surrounding forests.
The journey to serpiente lands was not a long one, especially when one had the luxury of traveling as the crow flew. Only a few hours after she'd left the Keep, she touched down in a wooded area a mile or so away from the serpiente palace - any closer and she'd risk being spotted by the guards posted outside. Though she carried Soul's seal, it would do her no good if the serpiente shot her down before she could pull it out.
Even with all that, Soul had asked her to come the day before, when loyal guards would be posted to allow her entry. Now, days later, there was no guarantee she would receive a similar reception.
With that in mind, Maka kept her footsteps quiet as she picked her way across the forest floor. The woods around her were unnaturally silent, as though they too recognized the gravity of the situation.
"Oh dear," a soft female voice said from behind her. Maka started and turned to see petite blonde woman step out from behind a nearby copse of tree. "Looks like we've found a grounded hawk, Aryn."
Her fine blonde hair was pulled back in a meticulous braid, her blue eyes disdainful as she scanned Maka. She was dressed in fighting leathers, patterned in such a way as to blur the edges of her figure amongst the undergrowth. Several knives were strapped to her side, and she carried a long staff topped with a heavy brass cap. At second glance, Maka recognized her as one of the serpiente guards from the Mistari meeting grounds, and at the same time, her eyes narrowed as she recognized Maka in turn.
Maka was just beginning to size up the situation when something sharp pricked at her throat. She stiffened, her breaths shallow as she tried to avoid the edge of the blade. "That we have, Anya," a male voice replied, his breath cool against Maka's ear. "It's dangerous to stray so far from your flock."
The guard behind her pressed her forward, and Maka had no choice but to follow as he led her toward the thick tree trunk nearby. The blade vanished from her throat, but the relief was short-lived as Maka was turned and pushed against the bark until her back pressed against its surface.
The second guard was outfitted similarly to the first, and even his fine, golden hair was a match for hers, suggesting that they shared more than a post to the same station.
"Soul Evans asked me to meet him," Maka said, but she wasn't optimistic about her chances in persuading them. "Look, he-"
There was a flash of silver, and another blade was pointed at her neck. "Search her, Aryn."
Her male counterpart stepped in front of her, his hands patting her down thoroughly in a search for weapons. Maka sent up a silent prayer of thanks that she'd decided to leave her knife at the Keep, for surely this encounter would not end well if they had discovered that on her. His inspection was detailed enough that he found the leather pouch Maka had stored the ring in, waiting for the right moment to display it in the hopes that it might allow her inside the palace, though that possibility was starting to look more and more slim. Maka hoped that he'd open the pouch and find the proof himself, but he only tucked it in a pocket without looking inside. Maka opened her mouth to try and explain, but the blade in front of her twitched, beckoning her to take a few steps forward. Maka obeyed, slowly, only to be struck in the back of her knees by the staff she carried.
Maka fell to the ground, hard, her knees barking in pain at the impact. "Restrain her," Anya ordered, not breaking eye contact. "I suppose we could get rid of you here and be done with it, but Soul wouldn't pass up the chance to interrogate the avian's precious heir."
Both relief and dread flooded through Maka. At least they'd be taking her to see Soul, where she might have some chance to explain her tardiness, but on the other hand, if Soul had given up on her, on the chance for peace… this meeting might not turn out the way she hoped.
Aryn bound her wrists tightly with a length of coarse rope, then yanked her to her feet in a rough gesture. They led her through the woods, walking for several minutes until the forest ended and the serpiente palace rose up before them. The guards posted at the gate nodded to the two beside her, then eyed Maka with equal parts curiosity and suspicion. Nevertheless, they opened the gate and waved them through, sending another pair of guards to follow them inside.
Maka wondered for a moment at the necessity of so many guards for one unarmed hawk, then remembered the sheer number of guards surrounding Camille Evans when she'd come to the Keep to deliver her message. It seemed that the propensity of inflating your enemy's skill and ability was not limited to the avians.
They led her through a never-ending series of winding hallways, and though it was nearly impossible to keep track, Maka was pretty sure they led her in circles a few times just to ensure that she wouldn't be able to find her way in or out again. Finally, they stepped inside a large receiving hall. Maka was barely inside before Anya's staff struck her in the small of her back, forcing her to her knees for the second time that day. On instinct, Maka went to rise, but a blow to the shoulder sent her crashing to the floor again. Maka hissed in pain, her back throbbing in protest, but kept her mouth shut. She'd made it this far - pushing her luck would not grant her any favors.
"Find Soul," Anya ordered. One of the guards who'd followed them in nodded and left the room. Anya adjusted her grip on her staff and raised an eyebrow, as though daring Maka to make another move. Maka kept her gaze on the marbled floor, the black, gold, and green colors of the snakeskin pattern blurring together.
It was only a few moments before the guard was back, this time accompanied by another set of footsteps. Anya's gaze shifted, a smirk crossing her face as she went to meet Soul. She leaned in to murmur something in his ear, her hand rising to rest intimately on his shoulder. They might have looked entirely comfortable with each other, had Maka not glimpsed Soul's face as Anya spoke. There was a flicker of discomfort, his body almost imperceptibly curling away from her. Maka might have missed it, but she had been training for years to read the body language of her opponents, and in a scenario such as this, those instincts were out in full force.
Soul pulled away, stepping into the hall as he scanned the room. "Anya said you found someone in the woods?" Before anyone could answer him, however, his gaze landed on Maka. In a single instant, his body had stiffened and his eyes clouded in anger. Maka flinched and waited for him to tear into her, to demand why she'd thrown away his offer of peace like some insignificant piece of trash.
Instead, he stalked to the guards by her side, shoving them away. "Get back," he ordered, his voice sharper than anything she'd heard from him before. Anya opened her mouth to protest, but the look Soul shot her had her closing her mouth and staying silent.
"Did you find anything on her?" Soul asked.
"She was unarmed." It was Aryn who answered this time, looking uncertain for the first time.
"That's not what I asked."
Aryn hesitated, then pulled the leather pouch from his pocket and held it out. "This was the only thing we found."
Soul took it without looking at him, then said, "You're all dismissed. Get out."
"But, my lord…"
"Get out, Anya!" The sheer anger in his voice, the command with which he gave his orders… Maka realized this was a very different Soul than the one she'd encountered before. Here was the last remaining heir to the serpiente throne, the one her people spoke of in fear.
To Maka's surprise, the remaining guards obeyed and left quickly. Had their situations been reversed, and Maka had been the one ordering Black*Star to leave her alone with Soul, she would have had a much harder time getting him to obey.
The door slid shut behind him, echoing softly in the large space of the hall. Soul's footsteps were silent on the marble floor as he approached her, sliding gently to his knees by her side. He pulled a knife from his belt, and for a split second, Maka wondered if this was it, if this was really how it was to end. But Soul only reached behind her and cut the rope binding her wrists.
Maka rubbed the raw skin, trying to soothe the ache away. Soul's eyes flicked to the angry red welts there and asked, "Are you alright?"
"Nothing I haven't had before," she answered truthfully. Sparring had often left her with her share of lumps and bruises - though painful, the blows would fade over time, and she was none the worse for wear. However, when she tried to stand, her body betrayed her, and her knees wobbled ungracefully as they tried to bear her weight. Maka stumbled, and Soul caught her arm before her poor knees could meet the unforgiving ground once more. His skin was unexpectedly cool. Maka pulled away quickly, brushing herself off to disguise the action. "I wouldn't expect anything different from your guards."
Soul sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Anya and her brother, Aryn, are loyal, yes, but they're also the absolute last ones I would have sent out had I known you were coming."
Maka winced. "I tried to show then the ring, but they didn't bother to look in the pouch." She gestured to the bag Soul still held. "I brought your ring, tried to explain, but they weren't exactly in a listening mood."
Soul sighed. "I'll talk to them. In the meantime, sit. Your knees could probably use the rest." He reached for her arm to guide her to a table at the back of the hall. Maka had to force herself to let him, to not flinch away as her instincts wished. Touching so freely… it was jarring. Within avian culture, touching others, even as a gesture of support, was frowned upon. Maka had been known to slip up, to lean on Black*Star when exhaustion or grief had overcome her, but even that had earned her a fair share of sideways looks and murmurs. To accept such a casual touch from her people's greatest enemy was difficult, to say the least.
Maka sat, her muscles relaxing as she took stock of her bruises. As she'd told Soul, it was nothing worse than any lumps Black*Star had given her. They would be sore for a few days, but they would heal.
"You're lucky Camille is the optimist of the family," Soul said, settling into a chair next to her. "I was beginning to give up hope, but Camille told me to be patient. As always," he grinned ruefully, "she was right."
"I don't have long," Maka said. "Between the time it took to get here, and the time it will take to get back… if you have a plan, we need to figure it out now, before I return. I won't be able to come again anytime soon."
"You inherit the title of Tuuli Thea tomorrow, don't you?"
Maka shot him a sideways look. "Yes," she said slowly. Avian traditions and ceremonies, while not secret, were also not widely broadcasted. Despite their discussion of Maka inheriting the title soon at the failed peace talks, she was fairly certain they'd never named a date.
Soul caught her unasked question and answered, "I have a some sources who keep me up-to-date on these things."
Spies. He meant that he had spies at the Keep, spies who would have to be avian to have that much ready access. How on earth had he managed to cultivate a source like that? And what else did they know and pass on? "Can I ask who these sources are?"
"You can," Soul said lightly. "If we manage to figure something out and end this war, I might even tell you." Meaning that if they didn't, Soul would keep his sources and their steady flow of information.
Oh, how careful was this dance between them - give the other side just enough to show you were sincere, but don't compromise resources you might need should everything fall through. Maka's head hurt just thinking on it. Both were willing to try for peace, but neither was willing to become as vulnerable as they might need to be.
Soul must have been thinking the same thing, because he leaned forward slightly and said, "Look, Maka, I told you before, I'm willing to try for peace. I want to end this war as much as you do. But I'm also going to protect my people by any means necessary. And I think you are, too."
As much as she didn't want to admit it, he was right. Whatever their differences, they felt the same in this regard. She swallowed hard and nodded.
Soul closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, there was a steely resolve there she hadn't seen before. "I have thought long and hard on this, debating the merits of every possible plan and idea for peace that I could come up with. Every single one ended in bloodshed, except for one. Except for a plan proposed to me, to us, by a neutral party. I thought it seemed impossible, but… I have to try."
He slid from his chair until he was kneeling on the ground before Maka, one hand on the table, the other on the arm of her chair, bracketing her in. "Before I ask, I want to make sure everything's clear - I am asking this only because we share a desire for peace, and because I think this is our best chance of achieving that. With that in mind, and understanding that I will not ask for anything outside the political expectations of the position - Maka Albarn, will you be my Naga?"
It was as though all air had been sucked from the room. Maka stared at him. Logically, she had known that this idea was technically on the table, but to be asked so straightforwardly… Maka felt pulled in a million different directions, and though she wished one could tell her definitively what to say, show her which choice was the correct one, she knew she could only do her best, and hope that it would be enough.
How could she say yes, knowing that it would give Soul complete access to her life, to any opportunity to wipe her people out?
How could she say no, when she was offered a chance to completely and utterly end the war?
"How am I to get my guards to agree?" she asked shakily, her hands gripping the arms of the chair for dear life. "My mother?"
"We can worry about that later," Soul said, and his use of "we" only served to throw Maka off even further. "Only consider what you think is best."
Maka didn't know how she found the voice to give her answer, but find it she did. "Yes. Yes, I'll be your Naga."
Soul's only reply was a nod. He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out another ring, this one smaller than the signet one she had returned to him. Instead of black onyx, the stone set within this one was a soft, glowing gold, one that matched her feathers perfectly. He pressed it into her hand and said, "I've told everyone that I'll announce my pick as Naga in two days, the day after your coronation. Do you think you could be back here so soon for the announcement?"
Maka's head spun. Oh, gods, she'd have to come back here, stand in front of his people as he declared her his pair bond. "If I announce that you're my alistair after the coronation, I'll have the title of Tuuli Thea behind me. My mother and my guards certainly won't be happy, but they won't be able to go against me." Kami certainly wouldn't be happy if she delayed choosing her alistair, but Maka would manage it. She'd have to. That, and convincing Azusa to hold off just a few more days…
"What about you?" Maka asked. "How will your people react?"
Soul leaned back on his heels as he mulled it over. "Well, they're not going to be happy about it, that's for sure. Some might think you've tricked me with avian magic-"
Maka opened her mouth to protest, but Soul shot her a look. "Like you don't have your own superstitions about what we can do." He made a fair point. Maka nodded in acknowledgment and he continued.
"Regardless of what they do think, they won't be able to do anything about it. Anyone who tries to defy you or your guards would have to face punishment, so they won't be eager to pick a fight."
That didn't mean no one would try, Maka thought, but she kept it to herself. "I need to get back before anyone goes looking for me," she said, making to stand. Soul backed away, and Maka slowly rose, stretching out sore and bruised limbs.
"Could you be here around noon in two days' time?" Soul asked. "That'll give you some time to prepare for the announcement here."
The announcement where Soul would present her as Naga to his people, who would most certainly not take the news well. Maka pushed the thought away and nodded. "I can do that."
She could, she told herself, and did her best to ignore the small voice in the back of her head asking what she had really gotten herself into.