CHAPTER 2

A/N – Hello everyone! I've got to say – thanks so much for all the reviews, favorites and follows! I feel truly spoiled ;) Surprisingly so, the muse struck me and here's an early update!

Two weeks had passed from the dreadful news and Maka still had no plan, no solution. If anything, the Brothers were even more watchful of her, even if the Older One had said nothing more on the subject. After all, the words one uttered in this place were to be kept to a minimum. The Sisters, in which the blonde had never found any kindness to begin with, now paid her no attention whatsoever, even avoided her it seemed. Maybe they were jealous that she was going to be the youngest wife, but if that was the case, Maka thought they needed not worry, because that wasn't going to happen.

The winter days were shorter and colder, yet the old beggar mysteriously endured. The young servant had no idea where the woman spent her nights, for she doubted the Brothers and Sisters would have ever allowed her anywhere inside, but still every morning she was there, wrapped in a worn black cloak which looked as if it had seen many seasons, her curved back propped against the railing as she sat crouched. And she always seemed to be waiting for something, or someone.

Every day Maka would bring her the few leftovers she smuggled out of the kitchen early in the morning and the beggar would take them without a word, sometimes without as much as a glance. I will not end up like her! I will die before I do… The blonde stared down at the strands of dirty white hair framing the woman's temples and her bony hands with thinly stretched, dry skin in repulsion as she reached for the two loafs of bread.

"Why are you here? What are you waiting for?" Maka asked, almost without thinking, surprised at the coarseness of her own voice. But the beggar simply hid the bread in her large sleeve and said nothing. "You could leave, you know," the girl went on, her tone softening a bit, "I'm sure they would let you leave!"

Still receiving no answer, the young servant turned her back on the woman and began to walk away, towards the large wooden doors - it was useless to pay her any more attention.

"You wouldn't understand why I want to stay," the beggar suddenly spoke behind her, "But I can see why you would want to leave," the hag croaked, "They always take young, pretty girls like you and to make them into those creatures called Sisters, so loathsome and ugly, ugly, ugly!"

Maka sped up towards the Temple entrance, wanting to hear no more and regretting she'd struck up a conversation in the first place. Now the beggar was surely going to have one of her fits and the Older One would blame and possibly punish her for it this time.

"You asked why I'm here? Hah! Someone has to spit the truth into their ugly faces and I am the only one who can! Ugly, ugly, ugly!"

The blonde slipped inside, desperate to escape the woman's words. She had hoped to go unnoticed and just go about her usual tasks, but one of the Brothers was waiting for her. His eyes bore a strange gleam under the dark hood, but he said nothing, just held out a bucket and silently let her know that she had to mop the floor in addition to the rest of her work. Once more, Maka couldn't help but notice that he was looking at her in a strange way, rather hostile. Inwardly she shuddered, most likely he'd heard the old woman yell outside and he was going to tell the Older One about it. Damn it! The Brother remained there all day, seemingly without any business of his own, watching her every step. Maka suspected it, but when he drew closer and tried to purposely kick her pail, she knew for sure.

"Brother, what are you-?" She shouldn't have spoken, of course, this just made things a lot worse as it was, but she couldn't help it.

"You know, when you come of age they'll give you to me," he drawled, much to her surprise, catching her arm, a gruesome grin widening his large mouth with crooked teeth. The blonde shuddered and struggled to free her arm from the bruising grip. "You cannot escape me, Maka Albarn, and I will-"

His words were cut short all the sudden as he looked up from where he'd kneeled in front of her crouched frame. Maka turned too, her arm now released by the surprised Brother and her eyes widened. The boy from the other day was standing right behind her. He was now wearing a full Death God attire, but the white bone mask was tilted upwards, revealing his face. The shinigami's large eyes, with irises in the color of liquid gold, were striking on his snow pale face framed by raven black hair. Their gaze was cold and indifferent, but there was something equally frightening and fascinating about it. Maka knew she should have bowed her head too, as no one was supposed to look at them, but found that she couldn't tear her eyes from the boy's.

"This is asymmetrical," he said dryly, eyeing them both and holding up a cup which had one of the two handles broken. "It's disgusting!" The pale, slender fingers flexed lightly, letting the cup drop onto the stone floor with a startling clatter. The golden orbs bore into Maka's for the briefest moment before he turned his back on them and walked away without another word.

Maka was positively frightened. She didn't know what was scarier – the Brother with his threatening words and his horrid touch, or the Death God, so beautiful and so terrible in the same time. She wanted nothing more than to drop on her small cot, fall asleep and just forget about everything. But now that the dinner was over, she had found that the Brother was there, standing motionlessly in front of her door, like a sinister shadow. Waiting for her. The blonde had stopped dead in her tracks upon the sight, palms pressing her own chest as she'd fought back a gasp. But it was too late, the Brother had spotted her already, his unseen eyes trained on her frozen frame.

She had to do something, right now. Taking a deep breath to calm her pounding heart, Maka turned on her heels and ran down the corridor, away from her room. There was no escape beyond the large terrace courtyard, but maybe the Brother would be reluctant to follow her outside in the cold, now at night. The blonde pulled desperately at the door, swinging it open and darted outside.

It had begun to snow, a thin white layer already covering the stone slabs, and the wind had become even more biting. Pulling her garment tightly around herself in a futile attempt to shield herself from the nasty weather, Maka stopped and looked back through the open door. The Brother was coming, his face still shadowed, but his step steady and determined. The young servant's eyes were transfixed in utter horror on his boots as he walked, each step bringing him closer and closer.

In the very moment the man's massive frame reached the threshold, the door Maka had left open was slammed in his face from the outside, blocking his way. The blonde blinked in shock – the Death God was now standing in front of the closed door, the clear moonlight reflecting sinisterly in his golden eyes.

Why was he here? Was this some sort of nightmare where all the monsters were coming after her? She unconsciously wanted to scream, but nothing more than a coarse whimper left her frozen lips. And now the shinigami was drawing closer too, if she didn't move he would grab her any moment now. At last, Maka forced her cold numbed feet to move and she ran, icy snowflakes blinding her, towards the Temple doors, hoping to find shelter by locking herself inside.

She ran against the wind, breathlessly, her worn boots slipping and making every step treacherous. The girl hadn't advanced much when suddenly her left leg twisted and gave in, making her collapse onto the ground, her body colliding painfully with the stone floor. Ahhhh, no! God, please, no! Tears sprang from her eyes at the sharp pain shooting through her ankle, yet she propped herself onto her already badly scraped palms and crawled away from the dark shadow drawing closer and closer.

It was too late, the Death God's black frame was already blocking the way towards the Temple and Maka had no choice but to pull away until her back hit the terrace railing. With one last effort, ignoring the pain of her injured foot, the blonde hauled herself up, grabbing the edge and attempted to climb it. The shinigami's arms caught her just as she was trying to straddle it, pulling her back and away from the abyss below. Tears trickling freely down her cheeks now, she trashed and kicked wildly, even trying to scream, but his hand quickly covered her mouth.

"Maka, stop! Please, stop it!" the Death God pleaded, his voice much softer now and having lost the impersonal coldness from earlier. It was almost… pleasant, soothing even. And how did he know her name? "I'll let you go if you promise not to scream or try anything stupid again. Please…"

She nodded, easing her grip onto his arm as he removed his hand, gently putting her down. A sharp pain shot through the blonde's ankle as her foot touched the ground once more and Maka nearly fell, letting out a faint cry.

"Let's get you inside, you must be cold," the Death God offered, scooping her in his arms with unexpected care. Involuntarily, Maka clutched at his black clad shoulder, not knowing, not understanding why he was being so gentle all the sudden. The girl's weary mind barely registered his movements as he seemed to glide soundlessly, like a shadow. Lightly pushing the door open with his foot, the shinigami carried her inside the Temple, under the only two torches still burning above the basin of Black Water.

"You don't remember anything, do you?" the boy asked with a hint of sadness in his voice, laying her down on the floor and removing his cloak to wrap it around her shivering form. "You don't remember me…"

Maka sniffed, pulling the strangely soft cloth around her body tighter. No, I certainly don't remember him… But had she ever known him in the first place? How could she have known a Death God, when they were such eerie beings, meant only for the eyes and ears of the dying ones? The blonde observed cautiously as the boy ran his pale, slender fingers through his now damp, peculiarly colored strands of hair.

"No, I…" she began hesitantly, "Actually I only remember my name, my age and… that's about it. But I know, I am sure that I did not spend my whole life in this place!"

"Of course you didn't," the young shinigami agreed, with somewhat of a wry smile. Well, at least she assumed he was young, because his looks could have very well been deceiving. She'd been told that the Death Gods were immortal, so maybe they didn't age either? "In fact, it couldn't have been more than a few months," he went on. "I remember that-"

"It was spring! Or summer, right?" Maka interrupted, unable to refrain herself. "Because there were white flowers in the trees and-" She nearly felt like slapping herself when the boy gave her a strange look, his golden eyes blinking, startled. "Anyway, why… um… why did you bring me here?"

"Actually, only now I happened to discover that you were here as well. I didn't think… But since I've found you, I might as well try to restore your memory as well." He moved closer and the blonde involuntarily pulled back, away from his outstretched hand she knew to be cold as ice.

"Maka, please, I won't hurt you," the shinigami pleaded. "And we don't have much time for this"

"You know my name but I don't know yours!" she defended immediately, still shrugging away from his touch. Wait, did Death Gods even have names? No matter… "And we don't have time for what?" But he moved forward, faster than Maka could avoid this time and pressed his hand onto her forehead. Something like a dull ache spread in her skull… and then her eyelids dropped heavily as she slipped into a deep slumber.

The Kishin's hideous body had a thousand arms, flailing around at the speed of lightning, sweeping everything in their way. Its scaled, bark-like skin was immune to their blows, not that they'd managed to deal it too many to begin with, but all three meisters continued to attack it relentlessly. The creature had mocked them at first with taunting words, but now it was tiring of the game, it would see it done soon, Maka realised. Fine with her, she wanted to put an end to it as well, so she gathered all her strength for a powerful blow and…

She didn't even know what had happened, but suddenly one of the arms caught her, wrapping itself crushingly around her body, immobilizing her arms as another arm tore Soul out of her hand. The pain was horrible as she struggled to breathe and Maka could almost hear her bones crack. The blonde was convinced she was going to die like this, constricted, there was no escape.

But then the young meister was suddenly released as the arm threw her away, upwards into some hole mysteriously opened in the ominous clouds, and she flew helplessly through something like a corridor of thick smoke… and then there was nothing but darkness.

Maka woke up with a start, realising she had slept for some time, for her body was still lying on the ground, her head awkwardly cushioned in the young shinigami's lap. His golden eyes glanced down at her full of concern as she gasped. Suddenly self-conscious, now that she remembered everything, the meister sat up abruptly and rapidly pulled away from him.

"Kid?"

To be continued