Soul:Eater is the property of Atsushi Okubo.

Chapter 3 – The Melody

The Village- Amsterdam, The Netherlands

Summer, 1417

"I think we began on quite the wrong foot. If you would allow me, I am Lady Maka Albarn but I would much rather you call me Maka. I should think that in our current circumstances, this shouldn't be considered an impropriety."

Soul couldn't help but smile in amusement at the woman in front of him. She could be so arch yet earnest, friendly yet forward. She was a bundle of contradictions, and after the end of last night's dream he was pleasantly surprised. "Please call me Soul, in return. Do not worry, your scandalous behavior will forever remain only with me." For one mad instant, he entertained the desire to bring her hand to his lips but he fought it down. That was something his brother would do, never himself – in this instance, he could only manage a wry smile and hope she caught the humor in the quip. "As is anything else we ever discuss. I rely on your discretion as well, although the very nature of this...situation almost ensures it."

Maka nodded firmly as the world around them twisted and roiled into recognizable shapes. They were not at the docks like last night, and the weather was much warmer. High summer, perhaps? To her right a swirling mass of color straightened itself into a decrepit-looking hut, and she knew: village. They were in a (the) village. "Shall we look for them, then? While we walk perhaps I can explain what I hinted at last night...and then perhaps you can help me decide if it might be useful or not."

"Lead on, my lady." Paradoxically he extended his hand to her, not stepping forward again until her slim fingers wrapped around his. Maka drew in a silent breath before beginning. She had never told anyone about her odd ability, but there was something so steady and trustworthy in this man – and it wasn't simply a fancy, heruncanny faculty told her so as well.

So she began, taking care to keep it as succinct and simple as possible: since she was a young girl, she had been unusually privy to people's emotions, and on rarer occasions, their thoughts as well. It was much like what she had experienced yesterday, with Ellsbeth. Not only could she pick up surface emotions like rage, or love, or joy, but also what had caused them. Depending on the strength of the individual, or perhaps her connection to them, their experiences could overpower hers, or merely color them.

It had obvious uses. There were times when she could read someone's character simply by assessing the feel of their intentions, and had protected herself and others that way. Other times she knew when to leave someone alone, or to offer assistance. Could there be a way to harness this ability here...?

Soul listened quietly to her explanation, only looking away from her when the landscape shifted in his line of sight. As she ended, he pressed her hand in reassurance before he spoke. "To me, what you describe sounds like an empath. I've heard Stein describe them once or twice. And it sounds like you've handled this quite clinically, and already have sussed out uses and dangers of it...you're an amazingly capable woman, aren't you?"

There was only simple truth in his voice, tinged with admiration, and Maka felt her heart beat faster. Oh this man...she was very much in danger with him. What would she do when he was no longer in her life?

"That's why you trusted Stein so quickly, wasn't it? Can you use this to know when someone is lying?"

Maka nodded, trying to still her overexcited heart. "Yes. Although Stein was very difficult to read – almost as a difficult as my father, truthfully – there was nothing negative clouding his intention. He seems twisted, yet sincere."

There was something wistful in her tone that caught his attention. Now that she had herself brought up the subject of her father, perhaps it was not too forward for him to satisfy his own curiosity. "Forgive me if this is improper or off the task at hand, but is your talent any part of the reason you wish to give your father the Ring of Fidelity?" There was a long moment that held until Maka let out a long sigh. She looked up at him, the very picture of indecision. He was just about to retract his statement before she cut him off.

"I'm sorry, it is not easy to explain. Yes, in part. But as I mentioned my father is very difficult to read...it is almost as if there is a barrier around him at all times. There were a few unguarded moments I was able to glean something from, however. The majority of those times I could sense he was desperately unhappy, and it was in some way connected to the women he seduced."

Clearly this was very difficult for her. Soul pressed her hand in support, and suspected that Maka loved her father very much, rather than long-suffering exasperation she chose to display. If so, then her desperate desire to obtain the ring made far more sense.

"I have spoken to him, however. I didn't tell him about what I had discovered, as that would mean telling him about my...skills as an empath, I believe you called it? Still, I brought it up to him the way I brought it up to my godfather and yourself, and when I alluded to a certain amount of pain, he assumed it was my own, not his."

"And then he agreed to your scheme."

"Yes. He seemed quite subdued...which is strange for him, but he agreed."

Soul swallowed down an affirmation before it could leave his throat. Agreeing with her would be madness, for then he would have to explain exactly how he knew her father. Intelligent as she was, that conversation could eventually lead to an unwelcome discourse on genetics, and how Maka's abilities were not as unexpected as she clearly thought they were. What would she do if she learned her father was not at all what she knew? Clearly he must keep his secrets, and be very careful.

"You are difficult to read, as well...but not-"

Like a bolt of thunder, direction and awareness found them. The urge to observe the dream was stronger than yesterday, and as much as Soul wanted to know what Maka thought of him (could she sense his dangerous attraction for her? Could she read his own set of darker talents?) it would have to wait. The path was laid out before their feet, and in no time at all they found themselves walking through the open door of a hut seemingly no different than the others. Inside they found Tovenaar listening to a woman whose family resemblance was undeniable – had they not instinctively known this was Tovenaar's younger sister, they could have guessed from the flaming hair and bright blue eyes. When she spoke it was disconcerting – the sounds themselves were not translated, but the meaning inside of their heads, so that they understood a stream of otherwise unintelligible syllables.

"She was waiting for you, Rein. Perhaps you were right about teaching her how to read and write...she's alreadylearned our tongue, and it's only been a few months! I'll take the babe out to the back to get some air as I do the laundry. Will you be staying for dinner?"

"Perhaps, Anna. I would like to see Erik and the boys, although I won't strain your supply. I know your children need to eat."

Apparently Anna had heard all this before, as she simply waved her hand at him dismissively before hoisting her baby up to her bosom, and making her way towards the back of the kitchen. As she walked past the table Ellsbeth raised her head, and Soul could see how her grey eyes were just as piercing as Tovenaar's. Here was an intelligent woman, and at once he could see why Maka's connection to this woman was so sudden and strong. Even he could see the similarities between them...

"Good morning, Ellsbeth. Are you ready for our lesson?"

"Yes, Herr Tovenaar. I have read through the story you wrote for me, and I must say I did not expect you to be so whim...whim-si-cal."

Tovenaar's smile was even more enchanting up close. "For you, I wrote a whimsical story. But today I have brought you something serious. Would you like to see?"

Ellsbeth nodded eagerly, and patted the roughshod wooden chair next to her. She turned her eyes to the parchment in front of her, so she did not see the gentle expression in Tovenaar's eyes when he gazed at her. Maka did, however, and a rush of his emotions – desire, fear, admiration, and the urge to protect – flooded her system. Here was a man who felt so much, whose entire life was lived on the knife edge of loneliness and despair, and yet he was so patient. With it came that strange understanding. He was an alchemist. Most would fear him a demon or worse! His sister and her family were one matter, but for this woman to sit across from him and look at him as she might any other man...there was joy enough in that, surely. Ellsbeth was a beautiful woman, and if not for her insatiable curiosity and keen intelligence, he would have nothing to offer her-

"Herr Tovenaar,what is this word? Malefi- mal-ef-i-ca-rum? Is it...a bad thing? Mal, from the latin. Bad spirit?" Ellsbeth looked up at him questioningly, her finger pointing to the word in question, and then to the descriptive picture next to it. Maka felt the connection evaporate as Tovenaar's attention was drawn to the word.

"Yes, very good. It is pronounced maleficarum. It loosely means witches, although it can be used for men or other people of supernatural talents. What other questions do you have?"

"Do you use these things in your work? Do you work with... maleficarum? Why are you showing me this?"

"No. I do not. This is a warning so that certain lines are not crossed...I do not experiment with the darker arts...there is too much that I love in this world to darken it with death." He looked down at her and from the twisting of his fingers even Soul could see he was nervous. "And...I show this to you to see if you have any interest in helping me. It need not be anything magical, or dangerous. But someone with your ability and intelligence would be immeasurably important to me-"

"Help you, as your assistant? You would want me to read and write for you? Every day?" Ellsbeth's gaze tore into the parchment on the table, as if looking at the man next to her was too much. "I am a woman. The people here will not like you more if you choose this..."

Tovenaar touched her arm to draw her attention. From the slight hesitation in his movement, if appeared as if he wanted to take her hand, or turn her face towards his. "Ellsbeth, that does not matter to me. I do not care that you are a woman – you are incredibly intelligent, and you learn more quickly than any man I have ever met. I am being impossibly selfish, I know. I see how capable you are, and I want you to help me with my studies. And perhaps I am very wrong, but I think you desire to learn as well. What studies could you conduct, with me assisting you? I swear to you that I am no dark sorcerer, and I trust in your integrity to know there is no fear of you turning to that route."

She still had not turned to face him, but Soul could see the wide-eyed wonder and excitement in her eyes, and Maka could feel the explosion of feeling inside of her. She wanted this so badly, wanted to help this man, wanted everything he wanted. Yet it was too much happiness, too much joy, and it would all crash down like her life had before... "But the villagers, Herr Tovenaar. Will they not... per-se-cute you? They will hurt you, hurt Anna and the boys...I cannot be the cause of this again-"

Now Tovenaar really did turn Ellsbeth towards him, but he released her immediately. "You cannot live in fear of what others will do, Ellsbeth. But the people here are peaceful, even if their welcome was not what it should have been. Besides, you have friends here, do you not? My family, andLinna's, and her extended family as well. How could they not love you when it was their babe you saved?" He waited until she looked him in the eye, and the warmth and confidence on his face was enough to sway the stoutest heart. "We are your friends, Ellsbeth. We will protect you, and ourselves from those who would do us harm. Do you trust me?"

Wordlessly she nodded, and couldn't help but reflect the happiness diffusing over Tovenaar's face. "Then I accept, Herr Tovenaar, with my eternal...gra-ti-tude."

Tovenaar schooled his joyful expression into a neutral one. "There is only one condition to you accepting this position."

"Yes? What is it?"

"You must call me Rein. Otherwise I shall feel frightfully old."

Ellsbeth laughed. It was the first time she had done so since long before she came here, and both Soul and Maka could feel the importance of this moment. Just as there had been a climactic moment at the docks, this was the culmination of this dream – not their budding partnership, but their mutual happiness.

"I suppose I can try...Rein."

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It was an odd feeling, waiting for this dream to end. Ellsbeth and Tovenaar had long faded away, but the dreamscape was still in existence, and Soul and Maka were currently wandering around in it until one or both of them awoke. They talked of this and that, and both were rather surprised at the depth of knowledge the other possessed – Maka was far more informed on matters of politics and the Napoleonic Wars than Soul would have guessed, and Soul - due largely to his apprenticeship with Stein – had not only read Visions of the Daughters of Albion by William Blake, he knew the true (if unsettling) myth from which the "fictional" tale was gleaned. Yet his passion seemed to be music, as he unconsciously grew quite animated when the topic was introduced.

After his initial rapture over the works of Haydn, Scarlotti, Mozart, and Bach abated, Maka was forced to admit that while she understood and appreciated the importance of music on a theoretical level, she herself was so unmusical that it was difficult for her to easily appreciate the niceties of each composer. Yet she made a point of supporting Lord Wesley Evans in his chamber music concerts, and had even attended one yesterday afternoon. Had Soul ever gone?

Soul's response was hesitant, and almost bitter. He had heard Lord Evans play in the past, but it was a long time ago. While he remembered the maestro's particular skill, he also remembered how much a favorite Lord Evans was with the ladies, and it detracted from the performance.

Maka shifted uncomfortably. "Not all ladies fall prey to Lord Evan's charms, Soul. I believe he was disappointed last year in his wooing of a lady."

Soul snorted. "I can barely believe it, my-Maka. I have heard rumors enough to know of his prowess. Perhaps the lady refused him because of the strained relationship with his father..."

Maka almost stamped her foot at Soul's obstinance. Why would Soul harbor such resentment against her friend? Lord Wesley was a good man, and the reasons for his frigid relations with his parents only proved it so! "Lord Wesley is currently out of favor with his father because he protects his younger brother's character at every turn! I'm sure you know any number of rumors about the unfortunate Solomon Evans. While his parents refer to him as terminally ill and or even mad, Lord Wesley does everything he can not only to promote his brother's memory, but also his capabilities." Maka looked distressed for a moment, as if she pitied the mysterious Solomon Evans very much, indeed. Yet then she remembered there was another attack to defend herself against, and she continued in a heated vein. "And I can assure you, not every woman is in love with Lord Wesley Evans! The woman he proposed to last year was myself, and I denied him, so-"

"He proposed to you?" Soul's voice was dark and dangerous, and for one wild moment Maka felt the roiling emotions within him shoot to the surface. Just as quickly as they came he clamped them down, however, and Maka felt a sudden surge of elation. Was Soul...was Soul jealous?

If so, then she must proceed carefully. "Yes, but it was not a serious matter on his part. He's very lonely, and in truth, I believe he would much rather have his brother back again. The only reason we became close is because I did not care to perpetuate the rumors about Lord Solomon, and so he began to confide in me. Apparently, his younger brother is recuperating abroad, which is why no one ever sees him...yet it is also why the rumors are so numerous and stupid. Still, pity and friendship are not enough for marriage, and while I regard him as the best of men...I could not agree to his proposal."

"Because you do not love him?"

"Exactly. And because he does not truly love me, either."

Soul exhaled slowly, fighting down his detestable jealousy. It certainly was not Maka's fault that she had caught his older brother's eye, nor was his brother's skill, good looks, and charm an affront to Wes's character. Soul had long felt inferior to his older brother, but he had always known, deep down, that Wesley was a good man and had loved him in return. That he was defying their father's iron will warmed his heart, even as the thought of Wesley's lips and hands anywhere near Maka's person made him want to commit acts of violence. Still. She had refused him. Surely that was what mattered?

Besides, it was a nice feeling to know that Maka cared – even a little – for Solomon Evans. The fact that she had thought and knew of him long before he knew she existed was...dare he say, a tiny bit gratifying? "I should think this Solomon Evans would be very gratified to know that two people love him so well as to deny themselves marriage for his sake. He certainly seems to occupy a warm corner of your thoughts, and you've never even met him." Soul almost winced at his mistake – how was he to know she had never met him? Well, he knew because he had never met her, but he supposed he could claim that he merely assumed that Solomon had always been in Germany, or wherever they send their recuperating invalids. Lord, what trouble living a double life could be!

Maka did not notice Soul's nervousness as she was too busy fighting off her own moment of insecurity. Should she tell him? Well, she had already told him much worse, what harm could this do? "I will not say that I am in love with Lord Solomon. It is as you say, I have never met him. But there is something, and it was a matter that helped make up my mind when Wesley proposed. You see it is not only people that I can read. Very rarely I can read things as well. Perhaps a letter, or a ring, or an old tree. In this case, it was a melody."

Now this was a surprise. "I thought you were no connoisseur of music, my lady?"

"Indeed I am not. I am speaking of the piece Wesley performs as an encore to all his performances – a lullaby written by his younger brother when he was quite young. Not everyone likes it, however. Even I can tell it is quite dark, and emotional, and complex...many find it quite unfitting. But every time I listen to it, I can feel it – the meaning of it. I don't understand it, and I've gone to many performances just to see if I can get one step closer...but I know it is there, and with no other music can I reach even that level of understanding. Perhaps because of that...I like it. I find it hard to dislike Solomon Evans if he can write music such as that."

Elation winged its way up through his body, and he feared that if the dream did not end quite soon, he would make a fool of himself by kissing her...or worse. That she liked his music was unnecessary fuel for his already raging ardor. It was only a lullaby, and he had certainly composed far more complex pieces for the pianoforte, but the essence was there and it was a window into his dark, twisted, unnatural soul. And she liked it. "And this piece...it prompted you not to marry Wesley?"

Maka nodded firmly. "Yes. It's a very romantic notion, but I knew that I could not marry a man when another's shadow lay more intriguingly across my life. Perhaps if another man had offered; one unconnected to the melody...but that was not the case." She sighed dramatically, and smiled playfully up at Soul. "I suppose I shall have to fall in love on my own, now. Perhaps then the melody will mean much less to me."

Soul was then caught between the desire to take her in his arms right there, announcing his true identity, and the caution he had built into every step of his new life. Attaining his desire would be nigh impossible, especially if -or when – she learned of what he truly was... Caught in this tangle, he said the only other thing he could think of. "If you wanted to make your father miserable, my lady, that would do it – his greatest fear is that you'll fall in love with some ruffian and leave him forever."

Maka stopped walking and peered closely at his face. "How do you know that? Do you know my father?"

The dismay was immediate and involuntary, and sealed his fate. Still, he had to try. "All of London knows of your father. I know no more than they." Oh spirits but she could tell that he was-

"You're lying. You know him. How do you know him? Through Stein? But then why would you lie...?"

"Maka..." He ran his fingers through the shock of his hair and wondered just how on earth he could save himself. How had it come to this, when only moments before things had been going so well? "Yes. I'm sorry that I tried to hide it, but yes, I havemet your father. Generally it is through Stein, when I run errands for him." The look she was giving him was as hard as diamond, and Soul found himself cracking. "I have assisted Lord Albarn on a few occasions, but that is all I can say. Those instances were his affairs, and not mine own." After a moment of reflection, he caught her eyes and continued: "And it has nothing – nothing - to do with his flirtations, Maka. That I can promise you. I do not agree with or support his behavior in that regard."

After a long moment she nodded, yet did not look away from him. "I know, Soul. I believe you." She reached up to brush an unruly lock of hair from his eyes. "You are a very different man than my father. I am exceedingly grateful for this-"

This dream ended very differently than the last one. There was no mist to signal a transition; there was simply that moment that was so full of promise, and then darkness, and then-

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Stein's Shoppe of Curios – London, England

February 20th, 1801.

Soul awoke to an insistent finger poking at his jawline.

"I'd always been impressed with your morning gumption, Soul. But it has become nearly impossible to wake you over the last few days. What does this say about the Lady Albarn's sleeping habits, hmm? Ahh, but I think my delicate flower is awakening!" Stein deftly leaned back to avoid Soul's sloppy punch. Although the aim was wide, the air crackled in its wake and Stein looked curiously at his assistant. There had been dark energy in that swing...and the normally stoic young man was bristling with anger. Stein took a moment to compute several outcomes before grinning wickedly. Of all the calculations he had made upon Maka's entering his shoppe this was what he had hoped for most fervently. What a romantic he had become in his old age!

"My, my, Solomon. This is a development indeed. She is quite lovely – her mother's coloring with her father's delicate bone structure? And, of course, she certainly takes after her mother in intelligence and personality...another fortunate happenstance." Stein took a step back from the bed, where Soul was practically growling with rage. Although Stein certainly liked to stir the pot more than was good for him (after all, it was he who had done so during the Crisis of 1787 – a fiasco that was now illegal to discuss in three separate countries) he also had a healthy respect for Soul's ability as a Soul-Eater. Ahh, and that reminded him -

"You'll have to woo her properly, you know. And we'll have to figure out a way to re-introduce you to society. It's a fortunate thing we didn't simply kill off your identity as Solomon Evans. Have you told her yet? That you are actually an acceptable young man of privilege and wealth?"

Soul shook his head tersely and Stein tis'ked in mock annoyance. "You'll have to do so soon. According to the illustrious Mrs. Blair, your brother has already extended an offer... although she did turn him down." When there was absolutely no response from the man on the bed, Stein frowned. He knew already? How did he find that out without revealing his true identity?

"Well then. For now don't worry about Spirit. He's overprotective, but I will distract him as long as we need. You haven't already told my goddaughter of your affections, have you?"

"No."

Finally, a response. Stein was beginning to think that the young man had been rendered mute.

"She may know soon, however – my identity and my...affections. Even without me telling her, I doubt I can keep either a secret much longer."

Well this was an ominous proclamation. "May I ask why?"

Soul couldn't have looked more uncomfortable if he tried. "She's an empath."

Ahhh. Now things were getting far more interesting. "Are you sure?"

"Positively. She's stabilized and self-sufficient, enough to the point where she can utilize her talents in the dreams. I can feel only the residue of her skills when we are in the dreams, but even then I can tell she is surprisingly powerful. Does Albarn not know?"

Stein tapped his patched together face with his fingers. "He's never said anything. That's not surprising, however. Either he doesn't know...or is terrified that history will repeat itself."

"Repeat history- in what way?"

Stein fixed his most unsettling gaze upon his assistant. It was to Soul's credit that he did not flinch, and met Stein straight on. "Spirit's wife – Maka's mother – was an empath. If she had not been, it is far more likely she would be alive today. You can imagine how well Spirit will take the news."

Soul groaned. Stein had to bite back a delighted smile – the was the most interesting life had been in months. "But cheer up, Soul. Just think of it this way: it won't be as terrible as when you ask for his daughter's hand in marriage. It is likely that nothing ever will." No longer able to hide his mirth Stein undertook a strategic exit from Soul's bedchamber. Clothed, Solomon Evans was a worthy opponent; it was truly unsporting of him to needle Soul in his bedclothes. Until he emerged, however, Stein had some plotting to do...

...and a Ring to find.

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I am not taking any special pains to be historically accurate with the dream sequences in Amsterdam. As such, I loosely intend Ellsbeth to be from a primarily German-speaking place (why she addresses Tovenaar as Herr) and Tovenaar speaks Dutch. As far as Google assures me, Tovenaar is a Dutch word for "Magician, Wizard, Sorcerer..." so there is my nod to a wonderful language that I cannot speak!

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I take a mild liberty with a very...interesting book by William Blake. It was published in 1793, and as far as I know was not based off of a myth, although there certainly are points being made. (I have not read the book, but wikipedia it and I'm sure you'll know all you wish to.)

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Reviews make me write things. Just putting it out there.