Maka woke to the softest brush of light against her eyelids. Hazy green meeting the soft blue creeping in through the window behind her. The sun teased the horizon, unsure if it was truly ready to crest across the world and start another day behind him. Maka contemplated returning to sleep, but a shiver cascaded down her spine leaving her slightly breathless in the bed of the Hell Child where she slept. Something was wrong, the feeling writhing around in her guts.

It wasn't an unfamiliar sensation. She had often been good at sensing when something or someone was in need. It was a skill she had never thought to name, the way her magic rubbed against the air around her, tasting it like a snake searches air around it for prey. She had a theory most Dwellers suffered empathy the way she did, but it also could just be part of the curse of her specific bloodline. She caught herself stroking the brand pressed against the skin over her breast, and she stopped. A shiver forced itself down her spine again, and she left the cage of heat the blankets had sheathed her in to search out the suffering that woke her.

It didn't surprise her that the suffering drawing her had been the Hell Child's. He was the only one of them who had any right to be in this much pain, she could feel it brushing against her. She took a few careful steps towards the kitchen, wondering if she should get Celeste before she ventured any closer. Once she was able to see Soul, she saw the shine of sweat against his skin, and a pathetically vulnerable hiss escaped between his teeth, and Maka frowned.

She had no idea if she should even wake him, she wasn't qualified in the slightest to ease any of the pain he was in. However, the look on his face kept her standing there in limbo, unsure of which decision before her was stupider.

Soul jumped in his sleep, then immediately curled onto his side growling in pain. Unaware of her own feet, she found herself standing next to him, her hand reaching for his wrist. His hand grasped her fingers, crushing them in his grasp. Maka squeaked, surprised by how strong he was. She maneuvered her fingers so they were fitted between his to relieve the pressure, and his grip finally loosened. The hitch in his breathing told her he was awake, and she was trapped in his snare yet again. Soul's eyes were confused as he gazed around the room, and he finally settled on her. They stared at each other for a moment, and Soul released her hand. Maka blinked, forcing herself to speak. "You were screaming." If her words were supposed to have any effect on the Hell Child at all, she hadn't expected him to snort at her, turning his head away.

"Woke you then?"

"Well, no. I just. Sure, yes. You woke me." Maka gave him a small smile, drumming her fingers on the table. It was awkward, and Soul pushed himself into a sitting position. Maka squeaked, trying to push him back down. He waved her off, bringing his hand to the bandaging across his ribs. Red bloomed against the fabric, and he pressed his palm against it. "You are bleeding-"

"It's okay, really." Soul groaned, and looked to the window, judging the time of day from the color of the sky. Maka didn't know what to say, there were a thousand things she wanted to say in that moment, but all she managed to spit out was a fragment of a sentence.

"You have a sister."

Soul snorted at her, and nodded. "Aye. Witty one, much like yourself. She's…in trouble."

"So like any good big brother, you're rushing to save your sister?" Maka asked, pulling herself up onto the table. Soul moved so she would fit, pushing against his wound with his palm. She shoot him another look, but he waved her off. "Or is she the one forcing you on this trip?"

"No. I mean, no. Arachne ordered me to accompany her son on this trip and...she forced me to do it because she's holding Wes hostage. I don't know where she's being kept, and I don't know if she's okay, and I don't know...what she's done. I know what she's accused of, but it's a crime that doesn't fit the criminal. And she's older. By four minutes."

"What is she accused of?"

"She's the one who's 'fucking someone important', as you said." Despite himself, a small smile tugged on Soul's lips, and Maka smirked.

"Oh? Don't tell me it's Kid, because I don't think i'd believe you."

"No...no it's not Kid...it's um. It's actually...The King." Soul sighed, rubbing his temple. Maka blinked, the weight of that sentence settling on her shoulders. There was no someone more important. The mistress of the King would never be taken prisoner usually, the King would never stand for it.

"...Then why is she-"

"Arachne has accused her of poisoning the King. The last I heard about it, he was alive but unwell. Yet Wes still sits in prison." Soul was quiet for a few moments, popping his knuckles. "If Wes didn't poison him, if he didn't die, then she should be free."

"Is...is the King trying to get rid of her?"

"No." His voice was barely a whisper over the plants in the window sill, his eyes far away as he stared at his hands. "No, as much as I hate the way this happened, and that he dragged her in danger, I have come to believe he cares for my sister. But he's dying in his bed and she's at the mercy of that damned Spider Queen and he's probably as powerless as I am to save her."

Maka was quiet for a few minutes, trying to decide what to say to him. Words never left her, she always had something resting on her tongue, but at that moment she had nothing to offer the Hell Child. She had grown up alone, just her and her father. She didn't know what it meant to have a sibling, let alone one with the other half of her soul in them. Her hand slid from where it rested on the rough wood of the table and back into Soul's palm. He didn't look at her, but he laced his fingers with hers, just for a moment, just long enough to give her hand a squeeze.

When her eyes opened next, it was to the clattering of metal and the holler of keep the damn noise down!

An impact against the wall outside her room made her jump, and she decided sleep could suffer for the sake of curiosity. Through the wood, she can hear Blake yelling about cheap shots and honor. Maka groaned, pulling herself out of the bed. She hadn't really noticed before, but the Star Clan survivor was loud, even muted through the walls of a cottage. Maka pulled the dress Celeste had left her over her head. She was grateful for the borrowed clothes, as hers had been soaked with blood. She knotted the white shirt she slept in at her hips, and she made her way out of the house, rushing past Celeste and Alexander who were arguing over the body on the kitchen table.

The sun hung near the center of the sky, sending her shadow hiding under her feet. She walked around the cottage, towards where her room would've been, and she could see her travel party. Blake sat against the wall of the cottage, laughing at the Prince, who was standing so he could see Maka. In front of him is another person, speaking to the two men. Maka didn't recognize him at first, confusion leaving her hanging back so he didn't see her. Kid blinked in her direction before he spoke, and the figure turned around. It wasn't until Maka saw the red of his eyes that she realized it was Soul standing there, talking with the other two.

She stomped her way towards the Hell Child, her eyes on his as she got closer. She couldn't believe it, she had seen him broken and bleeding not eight hours ago. She couldn't actually believe he was standing already, and it was absolutely foolish of him to try and push himself so far so quickly! She brought her fist back, and socked him right in the rib. Soul howled, sending swears that would make a virgin blush in her name and flicking her nose in retaliation.

Maka didn't care, she hadn't see him flinch, he hadn't even hissed in pain, and she herself had pulled an arrowhead from those ribs only a day ago. Her eyes were hard when she looked at him again, demanding answers for how he'd found a way to completely heal himself, but he offered her nothing, just another muttering of curses about his ribs.

Blake, to his credit, didn't seem to dwell on Soul's miraculous recovery, instead he'd just grinned even wider when Maka had descended to beat on their companion. "Well! Now that our Sleepin' Dweller has risen, we can get started."

"Started? On what?" She questioned, and Blake stood, pointed to the clearing around them. There had been a circle of stones set up, and a pile of shiny tempered metal next to it. Maka blinked a second, before turning back to them. "Oi, we havin' a tournament?" Her disbelief must've been palpable, because the Prince nodded at her, annoyance on his face.

"Yes, apparently that's a productive use of our time."

Blake scoffed, throwing his thumb towards the Forest. "I'm not going in there with any of you until I can trust you can all defend yourselves enough that we won't killed immediately. I didn't have a say in this journey, but I'm sure as hell not being eaten by the Fae because the Prince can't parry a blow-"

"Fae don't eat-"

"Thank you Dweller, I'll be sure to apologize to them when we get there." Blake smirked at her. "But as I was saying, I don't know how any of you fight, and if we're supposed to fight near each other? Well I'd like to know what you all can do."

The other three looked at each other, a little dubiously, and Blake shrugged. "Or we could just go in blind and hope the Elves don't eat us."

"Elves don't-"

Blake held up his hand to silence Maka, and he grabbed a sword from the pile and tossed it to her. It was a shorter blade, solid, but not to heavy. She pulled it from its sheath, and held it in front of her, testing it's balance. "It's a nice blade."

"I'd agree, and still, all the Blacksmith in town wanted was a few coins and a potion from the Witch. Apparently your mother is a local legend, eh Hell Child?"

"Don't let her hear you say that." Soul muttered, and Maka elbowed him. Blake stepped into the circle of stones, bringing his own sword.

"Well Sis, what do you say?" Blake held his arms out to his sides. "You wanna battle me? See how good you are with that steel?" Maka bristled at the challenge, foolish as their challenger was, this wasn't a joke. She was good with a blade, great even, the years spent working as a Smith's apprentice and playing swords with his growing sons had taught her the foundations, and the Smith's own worry for her on her own had honed her skills. To fight Blake though? With his desperate smiles and hundreds of scars?

She walked across from him in the circle of stones, dropping heavy into her stance. "When I beat you, try to remember my name then yeah? No more Dweller."

"Dweller, you land a blow on my face and I'll call you Queen." Blake grinned, taking his own stance. Outside the circle, Kid and Soul made themselves comfortable, Kid against the wall and Soul sitting against a tree. Kid lifted his arm, and Maka's muscles woke underneath her skin, roaring to move. The flood of anticipation for his first miniscule movement was familiar, but it had been so long since she had been in a situation like this.

Kid dropped his arm and Blake surged forward. He was unbelievably fast, right off the bat. Maka dropped lower to block the blow from the right he was throwing his entire body into. At the last second, he twirled to attack her from the left, and Maka sidestepped. Blake followed through, his blade whistling as it cut through the empty space she left behind. By the time he had found her again, Maka was on the attack. Her own slash down on him was parried, but when they broke the hold, she went back on him immediately, the flat of her sword hitting his shoulder.

She was able to repeat this same trick twice more before Blake had her figured out. When she went to side-step again, he blocked her, trying to keep her stuck where she was. Instead, Maka dropped to her knees, and rolled away from him, a smile on her face when he turned to face her again. "You're slippery."

"I'm alive." She grinned. He attacked her again, this time moving to throw move after move after her, trying to keep her focused on his blade, not her feet. She didn't fall for his tricks, making sure for every connection her sword made with Blake's, her feet made a complimenting movement. Blake was smiling while he fought her, she couldn't tell if it was from pride or from his own plan, but it made her move her own strategy up, knowing she would only get once chance for her blow to land. When Blake realized she had found a way behind him, he threw his caution to the wind and turned to face her head on, leaving all of his chest completely exposed to her. Not that it mattered, Blake knew what her target was. They both let out a roar, swords passing each other as they attempted their final attack. Maka felt her blade connect, and she watched as Blake's sword continued its arc towards her head. She released the steel from her hand and dived away, staring at the sword that would've buried itself in her head, hovering above the ground.

Maka looked up at Blake, a line of blood trickling from behind his ear, and he smiled at her. "It wasn't my face, but you know? Close enough. Not bad Maka." He pulled his sword over his shoulder, and laughed, wiping away the blood. Maka blinked but then she laughed too, the ache in her muscles already becoming prominent as her blood began to relax in her veins.

"I'll want a rematch."

"I'll be sure to give it to you." He promised, looking at the other two men. "Now, who's next?"

When Soul had been handed a sword, he'd looked at the tempered steel distastefully before he accepted it. It looked foreign in his hands, but the grip on the hilt was tight, if nothing else it was clear that he had at least held a sword before. Before he even entered the stone circle, Blake was already looking smug. Soul's face didn't give anything away, if nothing else, he seemed absolutely apathetic to what was happening around him.

"You want me to tie an arm behind my back, Hell Child?"

"I don't see much more room for a new scar, but I'll be sure to gift you one." Soul's stance wasn't familiar, and he stood with his sword by his side. Kid raised his arm again, Blake taking a deeper stance. Soul continued to stand still, eyes on his opponent. The Prince dropped his arm, and Blake flew forward. His sword glinted in the sun for a moment before he brought his blade against the Hell Child's chest. A loud clang echoed through the clearing, and Soul shoved against Blake's sword with his own, having brought it up to defend himself at some point. Maka narrowed her eyes, and she heard Kid make a noise in the back of his throat.

She hadn't seen the Hell Child move.

Blake tilted his head as well, but Soul just dropped his arm to his side again. "Well, Star Clan? Is that all you have for me?" Blake's sword was on the move again, several attacks this time, faster than the pace he'd attacked Maka. However, every time Blake went to land an attack, Soul blocked him, again and again, the swords smashed against each other. It went on like that a few more minutes before Blake pulled away again, trying to regroup. "I have you figured out."

"Do you?"

"Aye." Blake went to attack Soul again, this time, Soul's facade broke, and Maka was able to seem him actually move. His sword met with Blake's again and again, but Blake was moving even faster this time, and Soul's stance finally changed, he had moved from the offensive to the defensive. Maka watched Soul's feet, but next to her, Kid was watching his face.

"I see now."

"What?"

"He's not tricking us at all. He's just…watching." Kid told her, and Maka looked at Soul. His eyes flashed a deeper red, then he brought his sword up to block a blow he had no right to parry. Maka scoffed, her hands digging in the soft ground beneath her palms. "He can see what Star Clan is planning the second he moves."

"Damn Hell Child can just see what Blake's going to do."

"Doesn't matter now." Kid explained, pointing to Blake this time. There was a satisfied look on the former slave's face, as Soul blocked his next blow. On the offensive still, Blake feigned a slash to the right, which Soul went to block, then Blake pulled his free hand back, punching Soul across the face. The Hell Child moved back a few steps, spitting out some blood. When he turned back to Blake, the blade was at his throat, and the Star Clan Survivor was laughing. "Yield, you thrice-damned sneak. I pray I never have to go up against your underhanded fighting style ever again."

Soul considered his options, but in the end he dropped his sword. "I yield, this metal is too cumbersome for me. You want a fight again, you face arrows."

"Making it too easy for me." Blake laughed, but offered Soul his arm. Soul grabbed Blake at the forearm, and Blake did the same. The two men nodded at each other before Soul left the circle, placing his sword in the pile. Maka watched as Soul came back over to them, sitting next to her with a sigh.

"Can't survive if you're only the master of one weapon." Maka mumbled, and he scoffed, looking over at her.

"And what is the second weapon you wield, Little Light?"

"My sharp wit, clearly." Maka muttered and the Hell Child snorted, turning his attention back to the circle.

"Aye, I'm sure you've seem more men impaled on that than you have a sword."

She would be lying if she said she hadn't been interested in seeing the Prince fight.

He would've been trained with the best masters of the blade, even if he hadn't possessed natural talent, the royal family would've forced it from him by now. Maka hadn't ever seen anyone classically trained before, and she was curious to see how that would hold up against the raw power Blake housed within him.

The Prince's stance was perfect, and practiced. He was so rooted in it, one would've thought he had been born in such a stance. Across from him, Maka could finally see the technical flaws inside Blake's stance. They had such a difference in...everything, she was unsure who would end up taking the victory at the end of this. Next to her, Soul sat up straighter, eyes on the two men. Well, she wasn't the only one who was curious then.

Blake and Kid stared at each other, eyes unmoving as they waited for something. A soft breeze passed over the stone circle. A muted laugh echoed from the Forest, and the two men began attacking each other simultaneously, a flash of steel glinting in the midday sun signified their spar began. It appeared the same way as her and Soul's fights had begun. Slowly, testing, seeing what the other had to offer. After a few moments, it escalated. Something was spoken against the blades, and the fight changed. The spar melted away, and what was left was a battle.

Blades became invisible, sparks becoming the only way Maka was able to tell where the swords were. Blake's raw power was horrifying, he fought with the quiet desperation of someone who knew losing meant death, and Blake hadn't tasted failure, not in a very long time. Kid however, Kid obviously hadn't lost in a long time either, regardless of what failure meant.

Soul stiffened next to her, and Maka looked over at him. His eyes were bouncing across the clearing, trying to keep up with the fight. His blank expression was cracking, and he was starting to look worried. She nudged him, and he gave her a glance, before looking back to the fight. "I don't think this is a practice anymore." His voice wasn't loud, but his low rumble gave a sense of reality to the battle, and Maka clenched her fists.

The sparks gained speed, dust blanketing the two swordsmen as the steel kept clanging against each other. There was the sound of connecting fists, and a groan. Soul jumped to his feet, knuckles white at his side as the dust began to settle. In the center of the ring, where they had began, Blake lay on his back. Kid was standing over him, sword pressed against the pulse in Blake's neck.

Soul stopped breathing, and Maka realized how tense she was. The air around her seemed to settle on her skin, thick and heavy. The echo of laughter flitted from the trees of the Forest, and it was silent once more. Blake and the Prince stared at each other, the rest of the world irrelevant as the two warriors decided the next step that would be taken. Soul took a step towards the two men, and the spell was broken. Blake shoved Kid's sword away from his throat, and he hopped to his feet. He shoved past the Prince, and left the clearing, walking away from them.

Maka sprang to her feet after him, turning once to look at Kid. Golden eyes met hers, and they were drenched in an emotion she couldn't name, a hybrid of sorrow and relief. Maka gave him a few more seconds before she took off after Blake, calling him back.

He ignored her, his steps only increased in speed, trying to get as far away from the small cottage as possible. When he reached the edge of the small village, he stopped. He stood there, and stared South, back towards where they had been. His hands were trembling, but he refused to speak. Maka stood next to him, not daring to break his silence. She had missed something back there, something that she wouldn't be able to coax from the Star Clan survivor, no matter what she said.

She stood in silence with the man, his eyes desperately searching for something he knew he wouldn't find on this plain. When he finally dropped to his knees, head in his hands, Maka put her hand on his shoulder, and she squeezed.

"I have fought since my life was spared into servitude, I have fought for food, and for life, and for water. I have fought so I could stand across from the man who stole my family from me and know that I could punish him...and I'm not strong enough to even take on his damned second son." His voice cracked, and he swallowed the wave of emotion she could hear pounding in his soul. Maka knelt down so that she could sit next to him. They sat in silence a few more moments before Blake dropped his head onto her shoulder, his body shaking. Maka wrapped an arm around him, her own sorrow for the boy leaving her desperate to do one kindness for Blake.

She could offer him nothing else.

When Arachne entered the Throne Room, she took note of a body slumped over in the Throne of the King. The figure stood to his full height, and turned to look at her. Her husband was getting on in years, as was she, but he still wore the muscle of his youth. He was still pale, the pallor of his poisoning had yet to fade. He regarded her, or she assumed he was, his mask was fixed firmly over his face, dark black holes staring at her from where his eyes should be.

"My King, I'm glad you're feeling better."

"What have you done in my absence." His tone was bitter, echoing between his teeth and the smooth white bone of the mask over his face. The skull insignia had once been intoxicating to her, a symbol of the power she would make hers. Now it mocked her, hiding her from the face of the man that she had once agreed to love forever. "And where-"

"Do not ask about her. Not to my face."

"I don't know what this plan was supposed to be. I don't know who tried to kill me, and I don't know how I managed to be poisoned when I have a thousand people who try my food before it makes it to my mouth. I may not know what is happening in my own damned castle, but I can fucking tell you that I won't make this mistake again." His voice was sharp, but she noticed he didn't move from where he stood, didn't rush towards her, didn't try to intimidate her.

He was still so so weak from the drug he had been slipped. "Darling husband, your fever must still rage. Let me help you into bed."

"I don't need anything from you, Wife. Leave." His order was clear, and Arachne swallowed her pride, bowing low and leaving her own Throne Room at his request. Once the door was shut behind her, she dropped her hands into fists. Rage threatened to spill from her mouth, spewing curses at her damned husband for the monster he became.

Her steps were swift as she moved to the opposite end of the castle. Oh, her husband's recovery was unexpected. She was sure he would've died, especially when she saw how sick he had been not even a month ago. She should've known how powerful the man was, it was a special power he held, necromancy. Very few necromancers still breathed, and even fewer still practiced.

Her husband had used his own special skills to take a kingdom for his own. He had been a ruler then, powerful and strong, an army of the dead rushing to defend him from his enemies. Then, he took power, and she gave him sons, and he became so weak. He was more interested in castles and balls and parties and his sons than he had become in expanding his kingdom, keeping the order he had once fought so hard to keep.

What kind of King could let his Kingdom fall in such disarray? Hell Children still walked her lands, Dwellers grew closer and closer to matching the number of damn humans. She was sure it wouldn't be long before the Magic Users tried to take this kingdom again.

The Queen frowned to herself, ascending the creaky wooden steps up to her sister's workspace. The Lair of the Royal Apothecary smelled strongly of herbs and stiff grasses. In the corner, her sister worked diligently, mixing up the monthly supply of the special brew noble ladies used to prevent pregnancy. "Sister. You seem displeased."

"My husband heals well." Arachne answered, and Medusa scoffed.

"Your tone is so disappointed." her sister hummed and looked into her farthest corner. Tucked away, the Hell Child she had sequestered into Medusa's care stared at her through one eye. Her other eye was swollen shut, and she tried to lift her hand. Her body was cleaner, Medusa was never one for dirt, and she would've let the Hell Child clean the grime from the cells off herself before she would've been allowed in her sister's towers. She sat slumped in the corner, like her body weighed too much for her. "Like I've told you a thousand times sister, slight paralysis is much more preferable to chains. A few stalks of herb is so much cheaper than an iron worker as well!"

"I told you not to lay a hand on her."

"I didn't." Medusa smiled, looking up from her potions to stare at the Hell Child. "Didn't I love?"

"You will burn in a Hell that you cannot even imagine." The Hell Child's voice was rough as it passed over cracked lips, the demon in her blood laughing as her eyes glazed over silver. "There is a future where I kill you myself."

"She is fascinating." Medusa breathed, her smile growing wicked. "There's so much magic and power in here, but I can't figure out where it's coming from."

"Who touched her."

"Our dear Crown Prince has been entirely wonderful in his devotion to helping his favorite auntie." Medusa assured the Queen. Arachne knelt down in front of the Hell Child, tilting her chin up so she could look into those silver dulled eyes. Her lip was swollen, and her front teeth were stained red. The Hell Child fought to move, but the best she could do was bare her teeth. She had lost weight since her imprisonment, leaving a small swell near her lower stomach. Arachne's grip on her chin tightened, and the demon whore grinned at her.

"Your son has more demon in him than I do. You murdered that child. He's a monster. Your children are demons, and when they die, I will escort them to Hell myself."

"Silence." Arachne snarled, releasing her chin. She turned toward her sister, her frown deepening. "Your capable soldiers have failed. No on in the party is dead, except maybe a few horses."

"Oh? That's interesting. Perhaps you shouldn't have assembled such a fantastic team."

"I don't appreciate your sarcasm sister." Beneath the stairs, the door to the tower creaked open. The sisters were quiet as they listened to the ascending steps. Arachne relaxed when she saw her eldest son's head come into sight. Prince Asura looked at her, face blank has he walked in the room. Her eldest son had seen near 26 summers, and he had his father's tall stature. His eyes were a dark blood color, a development that had occurred later in life. He was a quiet man, if a little strange. Arachne had heard the maids in the castle were wary of him, not that she was completely sure why. "Well, dearest son, I was hoping I would find you here."

"Mother." He frowned, looking down at the Hell Child. "Is this because of the demon? She tried to escape during transport, I assure you all force was within reason." Behind them, the Hell Child scoffed, and Medusa tutted, reaching for a jar on her shelf. She knelt in front of the demon, pulling the lid off and holding it under her nose. The Hell Child snarled, but the fight in her eyes went dull, and her body slumped against the wall again.

"No I'm afraid I have a mission for you." Arachne continued, holding her arm out to her son. He joined her at her side, head bent to listen. "Your Aunt's soldiers have failed in their mission, and I need you to go and complete it."

"What about Little Kid?"

"Our Little One is a smart boy, and he knows his mission. He won't stand in the way of anything." Arachne assured him. "And if he does, you know how to fix that."

When the sun was at it's highest point, Maka found herself wandering around the cottage. The Witch Celeste had a vibrant garden, with roses that crawled up the fence in several colors, both natural and unnatural. She was rather partial to the gold buds, herself. The herbs grew wild, the plants intertwining and making a thick solid wall. Behind the wall, she was able to spot a white head of hair, and the unmistakable thwink of a bow being released.

When she rounded the corner, she found Soul nocking an arrow. She looked for his targets, but she couldn't see any, just the giant trees that marked the edge of the Forest. "Are you shooting at the Forest?"

He shook his head, and pointed up. Nearly fifty feet above their heads, she could see a few arrows embedded in the wood. "There's dummies set up inside too. About a hundred yards out." He pulled the string of the arrow back, and breathed. There was a mumbling of words she couldn't hear, and the string was released. The arrow flew from his hand quickly, seeming to gain speed as it flew towards his target. She walked towards him, and his ears pricked up just a little, and he turned to look at her. "Nice dress."

"I had to borrow it from your sister. My clothes are stained in your blood. Your mother has offered to wash them out for me." Maka pulled herself up onto the fence in the garden and Soul glanced at her. "How's Blake?"

"...In pain." She answered. The Hell Child nodded, pulling another arrow from his quiver. Again, she heard the mumbling over his arrow, and he released it again. "What is that? That you whisper before you fire?"

"A prayer, to keep the arrow straight."

"What kind of God does a demon pray to?"

Soul looked at her, eyes flashed a darker red before he turned back to the targets she couldn't see. "One that makes arrows faster than blades." Maka glanced at the way the arrow went, a flash before her eyes before it was gone. He pulled another arrow from his quiver and looked at her. "How are you with a bow?"

"I'm nothing with a bow. It's not exactly what I would call safe."

"Can't survive on only one weapon, isn't that what you said?" If she didn't know better, she would think he was taunting her, but the Hell Child didn't seem the type to joke around. Maka snorted, hopping off the fence.

"If I thoroughly embarrass myself here, I want something in return."

"You already saw me use a sword, I would say that we're even." Soul scoffed. Maka wrapped her hand around the arrow, but looked at him.

"How did you heal yourself? You were half dead this morning. Yet here you stand. Completely fine. I want to know what you did." The Hell Child was silent for a moment, his grip on the arrow between them became tighter. Maka didn't back away, she wanted an answer for his recovery, and he would be the only one to give it to her. He stared at her, but she didn't look away this time.

"...My father gave me his blood. Demon blood has a many number of uses, but...it's not safe. There's nothing from Hell that doesn't have a cost. It's not something to become dependant on. Slowly eats away at your humanity." Soul released the arrow and Maka blinked. Demon Blood was only in legends, tiny stories that echoed in the dark when children tried to sleep. In those stories, heroes fell into Hellfire inside their own heads, echos and screams with every damned step they took. "You have a funny look on your face when you're trying not to judge me."

"I-I'm not!...Why did he give it to you if it has such risks"

"I have to go get Wes. I'll be safer in the long run if he heals me now."

"But you're just healed? That's amazing. If people knew-"

"Demon Blood is a dangerous thing. Humans don't understand it. And they destroy the things they don't understand."

"… You and I may have a lot in common. Dwellers aren't well understood."

"No, but Dwellers aren't sanctioned for death on sight, now are they?" Soul offered her his bow, and she took it.

"Not an official decree, no." She admitted, looking towards the Forest. "I can't see your targets."

"Then make your own, Dweller." She glared at him once, for good measure, and turned to look into the trees. Far enough in, but not too far, a tree stood, alone in its area. Maka nocked the arrow Soul had given her, and pulled back on the string. She took a deep breath, and released. Her arrow flew a whole two feet before it dove straight into the soft grass beneath her feet. The Hell Child let out a smug little cackle, and she frowned.

"Oh, shut up."

"Here," He walked up to her again, arrow in hand. She snatched it from him, and nocked it. When she pulled back, she could feel the Hell Child's hand on her hers. "Care for a suggestion? Never know, arrow might save your life one day." She tried to calm the red blooming on her face, hoping he wouldn't notice as she nodded. He moved behind her, lifting her elbow up more, and tilting the bow so she had a higher arch. "Better."

"What am I supposed to say?"

"Hm?"

"The prayer. What is the prayer?"

He lifted his eyebrow at her, but turned back so they were both facing her target. "Eitilt níos tapúla ná bás."

"What does that mean?" She asked, arrow taunt as she waited. Soul only whispered the words again, and tapped her fist. She released the arrow, this time the bolt flew faster, hell bent on embedding itself within the tree. It hit it's mark with a satisfying thunk, and Maka threw her hands up in victory.

Soul scoffed, taking the bow back from her. "Aye, the Dweller has shown us all."

"...I don't like your sarcasm, you know. That was rather impressive, if I do say so myself." She stuck her nose in the air, and made her way back to the fence she had previously made her throne. "So, what does it mean? Are you not going to tell me?"

"Didn't think you'd care about the words whispered to the Gods of Demons."

"Words hold more power than arrows, and I want to know."

Soul snorted again, pulling an arrow from his quiver. Before Maka had the time to blink, the arrow was sent flying. It landed less than an inch above hers in the tree, and he let out his breath. "Eitilt níos tapúla ná bás. Fly faster than death."

Kid stood at attention near the gates surrounding the small cottage of the Witch.

He didn't know what he was doing, or why he was doing this. He just knew that the sun was about to fall beneath the sky, and the Star Clan Survivor wasn't back yet. Kid very rarely felt outside of the emotional spectrum of "This is acceptable" and "This is bad", but he was almost worried that the Star Clan boy had run away.

It would've been understandable, after all, no man wanted to be purchased, just to end up dead in the middle of the Forest, and even for a smarter man, like the Star Child, such an end would be unsatisfying. He was a warrior, a man who fought for all he had, and protected with even more than that. Kid had only met few men like that, most had been the Knights in his father's court. They had been good, honorable men. They hadn't waved off the second born son when he had followed them around, they had given him a sword. They had taught him how to fight like them, how to win with the honor they all held above everything else.

He'd be loath to admit it, but he's fairly certain that the Star Child would make a great knight. Assuming he came back, of course.

The Sun had finally reached the end of the sky, the glow of day fading into dusk as the Sun disappeared beneath the land. Stars began to crawl into sight, filling the space the Sun had left. The Star Child returned when the Sun extinguished itself, and the Moon took his place. His head was hung, and he looked as though he had lost more than just one battle today. Kid suddenly felt foolish, he had no reason to be standing at attention, waiting for a slave to return, but he still didn't move. When the Star Child finally noticed him, his lip drew back in a snarl. "Are you the gloatin' type? Because I swear to every grave under my name, I'll show you true battle."

"No, I don't gloat. It's unbecoming of a ruler." Kid answered, locking his hands behind him. He didn't know what he had been planning on accomplishing with this, but he was almost certain another fight wouldn't solve anything. Unless… "But if you want to fight, I'll accept."

"Is this a joke or something?"

"I don't mean with swords. If you want to fight me, I'll fight you as men fight each other outside of a castle. Fist for fist."

"What? You think some bare knuckle brawl is going to lessen the sting of defeat I've felt today?"

"Suppose we won't know unless we try?" Kid shrugged, and he watched as the Star Child fought a smile from his face. He popped his knuckles and gave a nod.

"Very well, I accept such a challenge." He pulled his shirt off, and stood across from the prince, bare toes gripping into the grass. The Star Child was surprisingly lean, muscles filling his frame. His torso looked similar to his arms, ribboned in scars. They were all of varying stages of healing, some more recent than others.

Kid followed suit, pulling off his boots and shirt as well. He felt slightly foolish, debasing himself like this, but he almost wanted this just as badly. Kid hardly lost when he fought at the castle, but if it was because of superior skill, or his opponent's fear of beating the second son, he was never sure. He was sure, however, that this man had absolutely no problems beating the teeth from his skull.

Kid stood on ceremony, but his opponent did not. The first fist he threw was headed straight for his face. Kid managed to block it, carefully, but he felt the throbbing from the impact begin immediately. The Star Clan Survivor countered with a left hook, headed for Kid's chest. The Prince had to take the brunt of that hit, but took the opening to bring his elbow down on his arm. The man howled, dropping low and sweeping his leg against Kid's.

The Prince watched as his world twisted on his axis, and he landed hard on his back. The Star Clan fighter dove on top of him, his fist pulled back. Kid sat up quickly, wrapping his arms around Blake and using the surprise to flip the two of them so he was on top. He pulled his fist back, and Blake just laughed in his face. "Gods Above and Below, did you just fucking hug me?!"

"...I believe the technical term is tackle."

"You hugged! It was a hug! Aha!" Blake dropped his head to the dirt, and he just kept laughing. Despite himself, Kid felt a smile grow across his face too, and a few chuckles escaped. Blake sat up, still laughing, and he flicked Kid's nose. "Oh, I yield. Your advanced palace tactics were too much for me. How will I ever surpass this?" His nose was only inches from Kid's, and Blake met his eyes. He blinked for a moment, then slammed his fist into Kid's face. "Sorry, cheap shot I know, but you did nearly stab a sword through my pulse earlier, so now I feel we're even." Blake stood up, knocking Kid from his lap, and he held out his hand.

Kid gave him a frown, but accepted the hand he was offered. "I don't appreciate cheap shots."

"Life is cheap, Highness."

"You can call me Kid. Forest isn't my domain anyways, I'm no prince here."

Maka and Celeste had chewed them out for their stupid fight.

The Dweller had paced between the two, explaining in great detail how stupid the two of them where, and if they were so keen on getting their asses kicked couldn't they have waited until they were literally about five feet into the Forest, as she would be more than happy to let them get their asses kicked in there.

Blake laughed like she was bluffing, but he also wasn't sure. Maka had wild eyes, and sometimes he was convinced she might try to leave them all for dead the first chance she got. Celeste only shook her head, applying a balm to Kid's face, and a small ice spell against the pain in his elbow. Soul sat in an overstuffed chair in the den, a smirk on his face. "Didn't think you'd need a babysitter, Highness."

"Didn't realize the Dweller had been brought to be a babysitter." Kid muttered as Celeste finished up her work. She gave both boys a stern look before she returned to her workspace. Maka whirled on the Prince, fire in her eyes.

"Do not trivialize me, or my place here. You wear a crown but you have no power."

"Don't speak like we aren't still in my kingdom." The Prince's voice was calm, but the threat was present. Blake frowned, flopping down on the larger couch in the corner of the den.

The dweller spat more hatred towards the Prince, stalking off the to room she had taken residence up in. The ruler sighed, and laid himself down on the floor, where he had slept the previous night. The Prince was hard to figure out, and Blake didn't truly appreciate it.

There was nothing possessing Kid to try and bring honor back to their relationship with a fist fight. Kid was his owner, the word sitting bitter on his tongue. He was used to servants and slaves, used to treating people like objects. He reacted to Maka like he'd expect a ruler to. He was wary of her, just as hatred burned in her gut for him. Blake shut his eyes, listening to Kid try and get comfortable on the floor, the uneven breathing of the Hell Child as he waited for them to fall asleep before he slept himself.

They planned on entering the Forest tomorrow, and Blake finally felt a cold ball of fear settle into his stomach. No humans entered the Forest and left, and powerful as they were, they were human. Blake was a human, and so was the Prince.

Below him, the Prince's breathing turned into small snores, and Blake rolled onto his side, towards the noise. As much as he hated the Royal Family breathing, there was something calming in the snoring.

The sun rose too early.

Maka was awake to see the fire take its place in the sky, and she swallowed her fear. She didn't want to go into the Forest.

I brought you in, I give you what little I have, but this may not be your home. Her father's words had haunted her since she had left his home. Her quest to remove herself from the branches of the trees had been worthless. She had nearly gotten past the castle, and here she was again. A scattering of yards were all that stood between her and her birthright.

The Forest housed her mother, somewhere. Maka couldn't help but wonder if she knew she was coming. She looked to the end of her bed, seeing Celeste had returned her shirt and trousers to her. She pulled them on, leaving the dress they had let her borrowed folded up neatly. In her bag, she secured the book at the bottom, piling her other sparse clothes on top.

She walked into the small den to find the rest of her party awake, in varying states of panic. The Prince sat at the table, looking even paler than he usually did. Blake was pacing, the length of the kitchen and back again. The Hell Child was chewing leaves, methodically wrapping arrowheads to the bolts. He didn't look as though he'd slept at all.

Celeste was at the table, jarring leaves and pastes, wrapping them in bundles. "I've given you cures for the most basic ailments. You'll not get too cold, too hot, too thirsty, but please. Respect the Forest and it will give you what you need."

"Aye, mother."

"I'm not joking around! You're not exactly welcome in those trees either! And I'll be damned if I lose my children-"

"You won't lose your children mother." Soul's voice was flat, and Maka dropped her bag on the table. The men looked at her, and she sighed.

"I promise, Celeste. You'll get your children back. If I have to drag their dumb asses home myself." Maka smiled at the Witch, and her shoulders seemed to relax even if it was only microscopically.

"Wanna make the same guarantee for my handsome mug?"

"Blake, you'll be lucky if I don't kill you myself." Maka growled. Blake, for all his nervousness was smiling at her at least. He seemed to be in much better spirits than she had left him with. "...Are we ready?"

"Yes. We are." Soul answered, putting his arrows into his quiver. "Da's outside tacking up the horse. So, when you're ready, Dweller, we can go."

Maka sighed, and shouldered her bag again. She looked at the men in the room, and she felt the power shift. She was in charge now. She would be the one to lead them to their fate, and she took a deep breath. "Let's go then."

So! What do you think :)