Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater

Chapter 5: Human

Lady Patricia was crushing flowers to make coloured paint when Soul entered the common room. There weren't many princesses there. A few girls loitered around the base of the painting, which curved down from the center of the ceiling and now seemed to almost reach the floor. The illustration seemed to have intensified in colour, though whether that was due to the magic of the hall or brighter candlelight, he did not know. He wagered that it was a bit of both. Perhaps, the idea came to him as an afterthought, Lady Patricia had taken it upon herself to repaint the entire wall.

"It revitalizes itself, silly," she said, her voice startling him out of his thoughts.

"What?"

She rolled her light eyes at him. "I didn't repaint it. Do you know how long that would take?"

"I suppose you're right about that."

"Of course I'm right. You don't live here for five decades and not know how the magic of the place works."

Soul blinked. As sad as her story had turned out, Lady Patricia was forth coming with the information despite appearing to be a bit more mad than her fellow maidens. Between her and her sister, Soul had found out that their mother had made some kind of deal with the sorceress. When she couldn't pay back the debt she owed on time, her first born daughter, Elizabeth, was stolen away to spend the rest of her days in an abandoned tower until the debt was paid. Their father, outraged that the mother had bargained with their child, left her. When Patricia was born, their mother had once again dug a sizable hole for herself. She made another deal with the sorceress like she had before, and ended up losing Patricia in it. The only way to free them both was for the debt to be paid in full, and Soul had the sinking feeling that nobody had enough to make up for what their mother had squandered.

"You've been here for a long time."

"Definitely." She pursed her lips and showed him the contents in her mortar. "Do you think this is red enough?"

"Yes, I do." The poor flora had become nothing but pulverized mush, dark as blood. The hand holding the pestle was tinged with the an odd splash as it dotted the heel of her palm and stained the rim of Patricia's sleeve. "What are you going to paint?"

"The real question is why am I going to paint?"

"So why are you going to paint?"

"Because I want to." He smirked at the answer. "Isn't that why you came to save Jackie?"

"Not quite, princess."

She gave him a blank look. "That's too bad."

"It can be." They sat in silence for a bit before Soul hazarded a new question. "How much do you know about Princess Maka?"

"You mean, Maka?"

"Right, yes."

"Like I said before, I know she really likes books."

"I learned that as well," Soul confirmed, although his introduction to her overwhelming love of literature was via a large tome aimed at his head after he had teased her about her cooking.

"Are you going to save her instead?"

"What do you mean?"

"Save her instead of Jackie! I mean, you sure seem to like her more than Jacqueline."

"Ah, that's not-" Soul floundered with the right words. "I can't do something like that to Princess Jacqueline. She is relying on me to return her to her father. To betray her and take Maka instead…"

She beamed at him. "I was just teasing. It's not like you may take her instead. You must take Jackie home. You are her knight. Your duty is to her father."

"Right, of course." Soul let out the breath he had not known he was holding. He had contemplated Patricia's suggestion, had briefly entertained the idea of taking Maka instead and fleeing until learning that he physically could not travel to her towering prison from the labyrinth. Bringing Maka back to her kingdom was a new mission, a new goal for him. But to neglect the one that came before her, to ignore Jacqueline's need for rescue was something that he could not do. He was nothing if not loyal and he would not betray the princess of his country for some strange woman with a fiery temper and a smile that warmed his soul.

"But that doesn't mean you can't come back for her."

"That's true," Soul said slowly.

"So are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Are you going to come back for her?"

"I…" He rubbed the back of his neck, flushing. He wanted to say of course, but feared it would be too forward of him. "I want to."

The princess giggled. "I knew it."

"But you can't tell her. Not yet, anyway."

"I understand," she sang, although it sounded like she understood far more than she let on. "Come paint with me?"

"Paint?"

"Don't tell me you've never painted before!"

"I mean, I have…" He took the brush from her and held it delicately between his fingers. "It's just been a really long time."

"A really long time? I know about stuff like that," she said happily, pushing the bowls of paint closer to him and handing him a scroll of paper. "Here."

Soul turned the parchment in his hands. "Where did you even get these?"

"Well, we grow the flowers."

"And the paper?"

Patricia shrugged. "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I mean that I don't know. Maka just brings it sometimes. I think she found a way to either make it from the trees or take the ink out of the paper we already have."

"That sounds ingenious."

"Yeah. Either way, if we didn't have magic, this place would be pretty boring."

The princess went back to her painting and Soul gazed around at the art of the wall. The stories depicted maidens of every kind being rescued or breaking their own curses. One showed that of a woman whose eye had been cursed by the sorceress out of jealousy for her. The maiden went to a physician then, a medicine man with gray hair, and broke her curse. Despite her eye being injured permanently, the maiden managed to break even the medicine man's curse and the pair lived, as the tales go, 'happily ever after'. "These look inspiring," he said. He had a growing appreciation for fairy tales and other stories. He no longer knew how many of them were real and how many of them were just variations of another truth that his people had struggled to understand. Maka was making him doubt the stories he had been told as a child. And he wasn't altogether sure that that was a bad thing.

"Have you decided what you're going to paint?" asked Lady Patricia, her blue eyes glowing in the torchlight.

"No, not yet."

"Well, you can paint anything you want. There's lots of colours to choose from. A lot of red," she conceded with a grin, "but there are others too. Pick what you like." She gestured over to the multiple bowls that littered the table, filling in the space. He could see paint chips drying on the rim of each bowl and their colours hinted to a crackling blue or a peeling yellow by the wooden edge. Soul's paintbrush tapped against the edge of the yellow paint bowl, which was already starting to darken and brown like light through a dusty curtain.

Soul hadn't painted since he was a young child. He was not a squire or the son of a rich merchant. Instead, he was a boy that played with his big brother in their room with colours. Even though Wesley had been better at the art, Soul had enjoyed it all the same. He had an acute appreciation for the colours and shapes and dimensions that made up a fine piece of art. Even the random scrawls of a child could be appealing with the right eye for it.

"Have you decided what you're going to paint?"

"Not quite yet."

"Have anything in mind?"

"Um…" He entertained the idea of trying to paint Maka; from her fair hair to the rich green of her dress. It was certainly an idea. But if she found it, how would she react? Would it be appropriate to draw a friend, a woman that he may or may not be romantically interested in? "Sort of."

"Off you go then!" cheered Patricia. "I'm sure Maka will love it."

He tried not to think too much on the comment and started to paint. It had been ages since he felt free to do whatever he wanted. Staying with the women of the labyrinth had given him an opportunity that he would never have gotten otherwise. And Maka… Maka. Just her name gave him more life than he thought possible. Sure, all they had now was loose friendship, but he was growing on her. He knew that she wasn't as angry as she pretended to be all the time. And he was not as abrasive with her as he used to be when she tried to pry into his past. He was growing more practiced with her, and with every new question she answered for him, Soul's mounting affection for her grew.

Maka was full of fire, he thought to himself as he painted. She was all fire and spirit, and it was something that he adored. There were many different types of women, but Maka was one of a kind to him. She had as much finery as she had feistiness; an utterly perfect combination, in his opinion.

Soul knew what he wanted to paint but couldn't change it once he had started. The knight had committed to it, and he would follow it out till the end. He worked on each stroke in slow, calculated movements. The other maidens were forgotten in Soul's new quest.

"You're painting."

He glanced up to see Maka walking towards him. Patricia giggled out a greeting and set back to the parchment.

Soul pinked. "We are."

"Patty paints constantly; she a budding artist. I didn't know you were as well."

"I'm not, but she requested that I tried and I figured that it couldn't hurt."

"It looks really...nice."

"You flatter me."

"No, it does. Right here reminds me of an angel." She leaned over his shoulder, chest dangerously close to his cheek as she pointed to the green wings floating about in the sky. "I like it."

"You can have it," he found himself saying, his mind suddenly going blank at their proximity.

"Really?" She met his eyes and he flushed, turning away from her scrutiny.

"Yeah. It's not going to do a knight much good."

"Thank you."

Something smooth and soft pressed against his cheek. Had she-

He did not move an inch as she left his side and waited until he could see her drifting to Patricia's side before straightening. Her cheeks were dusted pink as well.

"You two are adorable," crooned Patty with her eyes still set firmly on the page.

"Oh hush," said Maka, "it was for thanks."

"Right. For thanks," Soul echoed, his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

He figured that the kiss was a type of permission. His meetings with Maka grew more and more frequent after that, their acquaintance shifting to friendship and morphing into something bigger than words could describe. Every now and then, her hand would brush his, their thighs touched beneath the dining table, or the occasional bumping of shoulders occurred in the narrow hallways. Soul had even managed to convince Maka to hold his hand or arm when going down the stairs. She had nearly tripped once, but one time, in his presence, was all it had taken.

"Soul," she had said, "you can't walk me down every stairway."

"I can if I must."

He didn't think it would lead him to eagerly walking around the labyrinth halls when she was busy and hoping to catch her at the corners so he could walk her places and talk to her. Admittedly, she did most of the talking, but almost anything with her was pleasant. Laundry was pleasant. Such a thing had never occurred in him before; to simply enjoy being with her was unlike anything else. It was liberating.

"Soul, don't drool," she was saying now, scolding him for a habit that he had always had a hard time breaking.

"But it looks so good."

She blushed at the compliment. "It's not that good."

"As someone who is used to living on small, ration packs during a battle, it looks absolutely delicious."

"That doesn't make me feel better."

Soul shrugged and sat down before the plate Maka had prepared for him. When he had offered to meet her at night to make up for her lack of presence during the day, this wasn't what he meant. He had not expected her to bring him a midnight snack in the slightest.

"So what exactly is the occasion?" Soul asked, moving the assortment of fruit on his plate. As much as he appreciated it, he missed the helpings of meat he used to get. It felt like a lifetime since he had eaten chicken or pork or beef of any kind. Still, the gesture coupled with the quantity meant more to a hungry man than most things.

"There is no occasion. It's a gift, if you'd like to think of it like that."

"Nah." Soul popped a handful of berries into his mouth. "You want something from me, Lady Maka. What could it be?" She bit her lip and looked decidedly away from him. "You're a horrible liar." He wiped his hands on his trousers and reached over to turn Maka's head towards him. His fingers were gentle on her skin, and once he had her attention, he drew his hand back with hidden regret. "What is it that you want from me?"

"I wanted to ask you some things," she said finally. Her green eyes grew bright and eager. "I would understand if you would rather not talk about them, but you've been very forthcoming with other types of information. I thought that perhaps tonight, we could change that."

"So that's why you're bribing me with food?"

"Well, my mother did say once that the best way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

"And you're trying to get to my heart?"

She flushed rapidly. "I'm trying to get to your brain, which is about the same place. Your memories and past are locked up in there. Don't be strange about this."

Soul turned a berry between his fingers. "What exactly do you want to know?"

"What are you willing to answer?" Maka shot back.

"It depends."

"On?"

"On how much food I've got to keep me going." He popped a berry into his mouth.

"Fine just," Maka tapped his hand, "eat slower, would you?"

"We'll see," he teased. "So, your first question?"

"Where to begin?" she murmured to herself, looking around the room for some inspiration. "Oh! I've got it! Your parents-"

"Next question." He'd cut her off so abruptly that she almost seemed to flinch back. "I didn't mean to startle you," he said sorely, "but my parents are just a topic I can't really deal with right now. I'll answer anything else. I'd just rather it not be about my lineage."

"I understand," she said softly, "we've all got our secrets."

"That we do." Soul leaned back into the chairs.

"Your knighthood," she began, inching closer to him, "do you enjoy that you get to fight for your king?"

"As I've mentioned before, I don't enjoy killing," said Soul, "but King Dupre gave me purpose when I had none, and I will always be grateful to him."

"But you no longer want to be in his service."

"I have new goals now," he said, their gazes locked. "It's what drives me forward now and I won't stop until I've accomplished it."

"New goals. Like what?"

"Like living by the sea," he said, "and not killing people to make a living. I'm sick and tired of it."

They sat in silence while she mulled over this answer. When she felt ready to continue, she asked him about what he used to do in his free time. "I had a friend I spent a great deal of time with," he admitted. "They were fantastic and brave and bold and I enjoyed their company very much."

"I thought you said that you didn't have a woman waiting for your return?" said Maka, sounding as sour as one of the spare grapes he had eaten just a moment ago. She shied away from him, her back straight and stiff. Could she be…? No, certainly not.

"When did I say that?" he asked.

"Oh, well, I just assumed that when we talked before," she blushed, "about someone waiting on your return, I thought-"

"Well, he was a great man with big plans and a bigger personality." Soul laughed at the memory of him and at Maka's even more pronounced flush. "He had outrageous coloured hair that he swore was given to him by his father, and since the pair of us stood out among the others, we bonded quickly."

"That's sweet," she got out finally.

"He was a pain in my ass," said Soul fondly, "but I've missed talking to him. That man could never stop talking, even on the battlefield. He always seemed to have something to say. It broke the tension."

"You'll see him again," Maka said with a smile. "I'm sure he's waiting for you."

"Maybe, but only if he thinks I haven't already died." Soul ate some more of the berries. "When do you find time to pick these out?"

"They were ripe a couple days ago so I collected them."

"You've been planning this for a couple of days?"

"Not at all! These are leftovers from last night that I figured you might like since you mentioned that you enjoyed berries like this."

"You remembered that? I think I made that comment at least three weeks ago."

"Yes, well, I was in earshot and for some reason it stuck with me," her cheeks resumed their pink hue and Maka played with her hair, which flowed loosely over her shoulders and straight into her hands. She seemed to braid her hair when she was nervous, her fingers weaving the ashy strands together in a steady pattern.

"Thank you."

Her cheeks darkened again and Soul lifted up a piece of fruit to her mouth. She hesitated, but ultimately Maka leaned forward to take it into her mouth, her lips brushing Soul's fingers in the exchange.

"What else did you want to ask me? You're making me feel like you had a whole list of questions that you planned to ask me as though my past is worth digging into."

"Of course it is." Maka swallowed the sweetness and continued to work at her hair. "You're a product of your past. It's made you what you are."

Soul pressed his fist against the flat of his palm and relished in the sound of each crack. "And what exactly would that be?"

Maka hesitated. She contemplated the thought before giving him her decided answer: "A good person."

"Well," he said slowly, his whole body pulling back with shock, "I was certainly not expecting that."

"Do you not think that you are a good person? That you are not deserving of that description?"

"There are better men than me that deserve that title."

She blinked slowly at him thoughtfully before pulling a small smile out. Her green eyes echoed the sentiment. "You are being humble."

"I am."

"But you are a good person. At least to me." He just stared at her, too in awe of her seemingly blind faith in him to eat.

"You think I'm a good person because you don't know other good people, but you will. When you get out of here, you'll learn that."

"Meeting other people isn't going to change the fact that I think you're good, you know that? You're the best you there is."

He snorted at the sentimentality. "Did you read that in one of your books?"

"Even if I did, it doesn't make it less true." She took his hand. "You are good; to me, to the girls or to the world, it does not matter. You are still a good man. That will not change."

Oh, how he would have loved to believe her; to believe that he was worth something, that he was good. "Good men don't leave their families at the first opportunity presented to them by the king, no matter how appealing the offer."

Maka was quiet. This was the first bit of information she had been able to pull from him about his parents. The first real clue to her as to who he was before he entered knighthood and devoted his life to his king. He had spit it out like a curse and felt the backlash of it in the tightening of his chest.

"And you did?'

"I might have." He reached for the mug of ale she'd left out for him earlier. "It's a decision that some people regret and some people don't. I can't imagine that it would make someone a good person."

"People that do that…" she began, "they must have reasons for those sort of things."

"Selfish reasons," he affirmed, taking a swig from the ale jug.

"Personal reasons," Maka corrected him, "and that's natural. I do not believe in perfect humans; they are not possible. Sometimes...sometimes families just aren't good families. Maybe they're not suited for their child."

"That doesn't sound right."

"Well, it can be true." Maka pressed the tips of her fingers against his knuckles. She traced the indents and pale scars before flipping it over and feeling around his palm. "You are good."

"I am human," Soul offered instead as he wondered what exactly Maka gained while still sympathizing with him.

"I don't like that you doubt me. One should never feel as low as you evidently do. To think, you would rather escape your own parents… It must have been difficult to deal with them. I do not what to think them horrible but they were bad enough to drive you away. That alone is despicable."

"Maka-"

"No, Soul. I will not ask more of you; I promise. These memories are painful enough to live through. To live through it again in telling me these things is difficult enough.

"They're just stories, Maka," Soul said weakly. He'd swallowed his sadness for years without the least bit of worry of it ever resurfacing, and some mournful words from Maka was all it took to remind him of his loneliness.

Soul stood abruptly, feeling the sting in his eyes beginning and took a breath. "I should go."

"Go?" Maka rose to meet him rapidly and her hip bumped the table in her sharpened stance.

"Maka-"

"It's nothing, I'm fine."

Reflexively, he put his hand along her hip and rubbed at the spot. "This is to prevent any severe bruising." He continued it in rhythmic movements until she placed her hand over his. "What-" Her cheeks seemed to burn scarlet amidst the dancing shadows by candlelight and he realized what exactly he was doing. "I'm sorry, Princess, I-"

"I thank you for your concern." She pulled his hand away and twisted their fingers together. She welcomed him closer, just not closer to her hips. "I was just startled. Are you well enough? I'm sorry if it-"

"No, no, I'm tired, is all. I will be back to my old ways tomorrow after a well deserved rest." Soul tried to shake off his embarrassment and replace it with reassurances. Lie as he might, that much was true; he would be back to his old self. Maka was turning out to be a greater friend than he thought possible. He found a comfort in Maka that he had never known before. It was an inexplicable kind of shifting in his stomach and a lightness in his muscles that he had not felt in a long time.

"We'll head back to the infirmary for you then." She slipped her hand into his and squeezed it. "Shall we?" They walked out into the torch lit tunnels. Despite the familiar darkness of the tunnels, Maka's proximity kept him warm and sated as they wove through the halls.

"Soul," she said after a while, "may I say something?"

He eyed her with a smirk set on his face. "When have you ever asked permission to say something to me? You are a princess."

"I just wanted to thank you for coming to save Jacqueline."

"I, um," Soul coughed awkwardly to the side, "you're welcome."

"Jacqueline is one of the newer maidens ensnared by our curse but she never lost hope. I've always tried to do right by them and keep their spirits up and convince them that they could still have a life here. But very few have escaped on their own. Kim, Tsubaki, Jacqueline and myself... we are all that's left of our curse and I don't think there's a chance for us. Yet you can here and found Jacqueline's portal and came to rescue her.."

Maka's eyes were once more fixed away from him but she stayed close with her head resting against the knight's shoulder. "It was my duty."

"I can tell," agreed Maka. "You have a great deal of duty and honour. I admire that about you."

"Do you? I find myself more full of cowardice by the day."

"I didn't know you felt that way," mumbled Maka. "You're a great deal braver than you give yourself credit for."

"To you, perhaps. And I do thank you for your faith in me. It's...different than what I'm used to."

"It shouldn't be if you were given the support you deserved."

Soul shook his head. "You're braver than I am. I don't think I've ever seen a woman with more fire in them than you."

"Plenty of women have passion and fire," scolded Maka lightly. "Just because you cannot see it does not mean it is not there."

"My apologies. I did not mean-"

"I know."

"But-"

"Soul." They stopped walking. Her fingers danced up his arm and brushed at the fair, white hair above his brow. It was as if she was daring him to touch her. He tried to keep his own hands in check, clenching them into fists and pressing them against the sides of his body. "You respect me and the others here. That means enough to us, and that means more than you know to me. You treat me as an equal or better; I am never less than you when you speak to me. You have honour and loyalty. I can only admire you more for those things." Her fingers trailed down the curve of his face, brushing against stubble that poked her delicate skin. She took a step forward and she was so near that his arms reflexively came up. In an instant, Soul could feel heat radiating off of her and teasing his bare palms, which hovered inches from her waist. Maka laughed at his hesitance, and when he tried to apologize for almost steadying her himself, she pushed herself against the length of him and held him close.

There were only so many 'hugs' Soul had received in his life, but he had not remembered how safe they could feel until he was in Maka's arms. At this invitation, he allowed his own arms to curl around the maiden's body. Soul's cheek pressed loose strands of blonde hair to her head and he could feel her breath dance over his covered chest. He had not felt so light in a long time. As he clutched her warmth closer, he found himself drunk on their proximity. Maybe it was because he was tired, or because the torchlight cast shadows up and down the tunnel walls like monsters, but the need to protect this woman with his life flared in his heart. He was, undoubtedly, in love with her, he realized. Weeks of friendship and flirtation had led to his growing feelings. Soul had been nursing his infatuation with her with every teasing comment and playful smile. The time they had spent together burned brightest in his memory. How he had not seen his interest and curiousity become affection was beyond him. But now that he had acknowledged it, he couldn't forget it.

Even if the curse wiped his memory, a part of him was certain that he would figure out some loophole, some way to remember the beautiful feeling he was feeling towards Princess Maka.

"Thank you," she said softly, and her voice broke the illusion. Soul pulled away from her slowly, mournfully almost, and reached for her fingers. He brought them up to his mouth and she let his lips touch the back of her hand with a shy smile. At the end of the day, Maka was a princess. Even if he was to save her and whisk her away, he would have to return her to her kingdom and to whatever princely future she was no doubt destined for. It would break his heart to see her married to another, but it would be worse for her to be trapped here with the knowledge that he could have returned for her and chose not to.

It did not help that she was a kind person, so sweet and generous and good, that probably did not love him at all. Towards him, she likely felt nothing but kindness, and Soul consoled himself with the knowledge that perhaps it would not always be that way. He would be her friend and companion always, for as long as he lived. Their weeks together had assured their friendship. But if he was to win her heart, he would have to be worthy of it; princely and righteous and as good as she believed him to be. For the first time in a long time, Soul wanted to be better for Maka.

And as he wished her goodnight and went to bed, he felt determined that he would do whatever it took to make her happy, to keep her safe and, finally, to deserve her at all.

And I'm back with the next chapter! How did you guys enjoy it? I've been kind of suffering in real life and fic has really been an escape for me. I appreciate all the readers out there that are keeping me going with favourites and reviews! I'm working on the rest of the story and I'll try to get it out when I can.

For more writing stuff from me, I recently created a side-blog on tumblr called realtrashwriting for any writing work I want to put out. Everything I post there will eventually get placed on FFN but I just haven't gotten around to it yet. Feel free to check it out!

And as always, if you have any questions, comments or concerns, feel free to drop them in the review box below or PM me. Thanks for the time and I'll see you in the next chapter!