"Solomon!" The woman's voice was painfully brutal to listen to.
He can't move. His muscles are refusing to budge despite the fact that he knows he should be running right now.
He can't breathe. His mouth is hanging open, his nose scrunched up s the metallic smell of blood protruded around the forest. His chest was hurting so acutely that he faintly thought he must have been having a heart attack.
The man with the beanie was already on the ground, yelling something over the bloodied body, tears coming down his eyes. There were tears rushing down his own eyes. It was a perfect shot right over the heart.
There was no way he was going to make it.
Bile rose in the back of Souls throat as he dropped the crossbow in his hands. He'd never hurt someone before, let alone killed someone. He watched in agonizing pain as the unfamiliar man pressed his gloved hands over the others chest with force, screaming for help.
"You're dead."
The woman, who'd been referred to as Medusa, was rushing toward him through the snow with her bow already strung, an arrow pointed at him.
The thought of running did not register fast enough in his head, his eyes still trained on the limp body in the red snow.
He'd caused that.
He really shot him.
The one person who was willing to do so much for him was there, laying in the cold snow, bleeding on his behalf.
He thought about dropping the crossbow and running over there himself. Thought about sprawling his own body over his in a heap of tears. Thought about whispering apologies into his ears as he lifted him from the snow and ran him back to the safety of their kingdom.
It was too late, though. His decision had already been made; he had to get out of here, as far away as he could manage before he collapsed.
He faintly heard the man with the beanie shout something before he realized the arrow from Medusa's bow was coming straight for his head.
He tried dodging it the best he could, diving to his side, but he failed as the arrow grazed his forehead.
Pain. Burning pain.
The sound of skin tearing echoed in his ears. He barely collided with the snow before he was pulling himself up and running full force in the opposite direction from Medusa.
"His blood is on your hands, you son of a bitch!" She screamed from somewhere behind him as another arrow grazed the back of his neck. "I hope you freeze to death out there!"
He ran as far and as fast as he could with only the image of his beloved friends body lying there in the snow.
He was an awful person.
A damn traitor.
He woke up that Tuesday morning with a gasp, shooting out of his bed. Everything burned and ached, from his chin to his shoulder to his nose.
For the second time that week, he woke up with tears in his eyes.
From the way the sun was shining into the room, he could tell it was at least an hour past when he'd usually wake up. Out of the limited peripheral vision his current state had, he could tell both Blackstar and Kilik were already getting ready, having stilled when he woke.
Without much thought, he faced the wall away from them and looked down at his lap.
He wiped away the tears from his eyes hurriedly, willing whatever remnants of his food from yesterday to stay down at the memory he re-lived once again.
The pain in his nose was finally relieved as he pinched the bridge of his nose with his cold fingers. He had to make sure it wasn't broken. Last night it had looked fine in the mirror back in the bathhouse, but the pain he felt in the moment was a lot worse.
He thought back to the two guards sitting behind him.
Despite the anger that swelled within him with what they'd pulled yesterday, he understood where they were coming from. At the end of the day, they were still his friends and he trusted them.
They were right.
He had to be more careful with Maka if he didn't want to end up, yet again, another passing story.
With a staggering breath, Soul stood up from his bed and glanced over the side of his shoulder just enough to give the two of them a good side view of his profile. The both of them were already looking at him, shock written on their faces.
Soul turned quickly, making his way to the other side of the room, shielding his face as he did.
"Soul," Kilik started from behind him as he began rummaging through his things, looking for the broken mirror he owned. "You're- uh… You're going to be late."
"No I won't be," he replied briskly when his fingers finally found the shattered piece of mirror. "I'll be just on time for my job." He didn't mean to purposely oversleep, he really didn't, but in the end he knew it was for the best.
Guilt swarmed in his gut.
"I think we're friends, Maka."
He angrily bit down on the inside of his cheeks as he brought the small sharp mirror in front of his face, inspecting his nose. Sure enough; it was bruised a bright purple. The underneath of his eyes were stained black and blue. He touched the bridge of his nose hesitantly, deflating when he realized it was only slightly swollen and didn't feel out of place.
He didn't look like himself, not like how he did last night.
His face was blotchy, the wound on his chin having fully scabbed over grossly, both his nose and eyelids swollen to a good extent.
Hell, if he walked out right now in broad daylight and flaunted himself in front of every single citizen in this damn kingdom, he doubted a single one of them would recognize the person he used to be.
He groaned, throwing the shard back into the pile of his belongings.
"Are you okay, Soul?" Blackstar hesitated to ask.
He turned abruptly, shaking his hand in the air. "Does it look like I'm okay?"
The two of them looked at him with wide eyes, neither of them saying anything. A small huff of laughter escaped him as he shook his head.
"I'm sorry," Blackstar blurted out, flinching at his own words. "I didn't mean- I didn't mean to hurt you that badly." He both sounded and looked sincere as he stared openly at him, his shoulders tense and his hands folded into fists.
"It's okay," he quietly insisted, rolling his eyes out of habit. "At least you got through to me."
Running a bandage wrapped hand through his hair that had been soaked with sweat, flinching when his fingers grazed the scar on his hairline and his wrist touched the bridge of his nose.
"I'm going to get ready," he announced to no one in particular as he gathered his armor, willingly leaving his cloak in its rightful place in his dresser.
He didn't need its reminder today.
The moment his bruised knuckles met Maka's door it came swinging open, a disheveled Princess greeting him. Her hair was sticking up in different directions in several places, her eyes lined with dark circles. She was already dressed, so he knew she wasn't just waking up, but either way she still looked rough.
"Soul-," Maka was quick to cut herself off as her eyes trailed down his face, stopping at his scabbed chin. "Soul." Her tone fell dangerously serious now as she took a step closer to him, "What happened."
"Nothing," He was quick to hiss out, stepping back. "It's none of your business."
Something flashed across Maka's face that drew him back even more. He couldn't decipher if it was anger or confusion, but Maka was suddenly right in front of his face.
"You're hurt." Maka's eyes flickered up to his own. "As your friend, I want to make sure that you're okay." Her tone held something Soul couldn't decipher either and it left a cold pit in his stomach.
Guilt swelled in his chest. Of course, Maka was going to throw the friend card in his face.
He shouldn't have said they were friends last night.
God damnit.
A half-strangled breath escaped him as his defenses rose into action. "It doesn't matter. It doesn't involve anything that is going to hurt you."
Maka took another step closer to him and he instinctively backed up. Fingers wrapped around his bandaged hand and as he looked down, he saw Maka's fingers tenderly pulling his hand up to her face.
"Sure looks like something I should be worried about, though." The calmness that Maka's tone usually held was rolling back slowly as she forced Soul's hand to stay between the two of them. "Where's your cloak?"
He turned his head distinctly, "I didn't want to wear it today."
His thoughts ran back to the beautiful brooch still attached to it. He was still thankful for the gift, but he just couldn't shake the way Blackstar had looked at it as if it was a manipulation tool.
Maybe he was right.
Maybe he was wrong.
As Maka took another step closer to him, he was pushed up against the railing of the staircase. Maka dropped his hand finally, placing both of her hands on the railing on either side of him, trapping him between her arms.
She was so close now- so damn close that Soul could smell whatever shampoo she'd washed with.
As Maka's arms brushed up against his own, he wished he could feel the full extent of her body heat against his, but his armor prohibited that. Instead, he felt a slight warmth envelope on his body. He cringed at the thought of craving someone else's body heat, especially Maka's.
But there she was, leaned up all against him. She was looking up at him through thick eyelashes, her eyebrows furrowed. From this close, Soul could make out the very light freckles that kissed the bridge of The Princess's nose. He couldn't help but think that even at this angle, she was nothing but attractive.
"Tell me what happened." Maka whispered darkly, "I'm ordering you to as your Princess."
Something curled in his stomach at Maka's tone, washing away the cold pit that had once been there and replacing it with an uncomfortable warmth. Soul refused to meet her eyes again, looking down to the floor where Maka's feet stood steadily in between his own.
"I told you, it really doesn't matter-"
There were two hands on either side of his face. Thumbs traced against his cheekbones, fingers resting just under his ears. Maka's touch was warm, so warm that he immediately found himself melting under the touch.
Her touch didn't burn the way Blackstars had the previous night. Blackstars touch had been rough and quick while Maka's was slow and steady. It was warm and comforting as her thumbs hesitantly rubbed circles against his cheeks. Maka looked concentrated as she focused on the wound against his chin, her slightly chapped lips parted.
"Tell me."
And suddenly, he was spilling all the details from that previous night with ease.
"I was attacked by one of the guards when I was leaving the castle.," He started off slowly, watching as Maka's expression changed. "Some of them found out about us being missing from the castle and went looking for us. A friend of mine attacked me out of anger, preaching about how I needed to be more careful with you."
He watched as Maka processed the information.
"You're hurt because of me?"
"I'm hurt because I should have listened to my better judgment and never taken you out of the castle," He replied hastily. "You could have been in serious danger."
Frustration flooded the blonde's face. "That still makes it my fault, doesn't it?"
"No. I was warned before to be more careful with you." He swallowed awkwardly, watching Maka's eyebrows screw up awkwardly.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Interpret it in whatever way you want," he suggested, pulling Maka's hands from his face. "I can't take you out of this castle anymore. It was a mistake."
He wasn't sure how he'd expect Maka to react, but it definitely did not entail getting a door slammed in his face.
