Trigger Warning: Depictions of domestic abuse
We're both selfish; But it's different
His father is looking down on him with a disappointing gaze; a look he's been on the receiving end of one too many damn times. The flower stem that had once been tucked between his thumb and index finger falls to his feet, petals breaking at the impact.
"You're never leaving this room again, ever." His voice is unwavering, and it scares him.
"Dad, I was just-:
He flinches when his father steps closer to him. He can't help but notice the fist he's sporting.
"There's no buts about this situation, Solomon! You can't even follow simple orders."
He stares up at his father, trying to stay strong, trying not to crumble before him. He's ignoring the way his knees are crying to buckle, ignoring the fingernails pricking into his palms.
"I- I couldn't just-"
A hand is raised to his face and he has half a mind to take another step back when harsh fingertips slip across his cheek. It's not the first time he's been hit, and from the looks of it, it won't be the last.
"Shut up, you imbecile," His father scolds. "You can't do anything right, can you? We've given you so many chances, Solomon, and yet every time we still find you ignoring clear orders, doing the complete opposite!"
His father is looming over him again, and this time there's no escaping the hand sweeping his way. He's already backed up against his bedroom wall when his father slaps him hard enough for his head to snap the opposite way.
"I am no raising an incompetent son, do you understand me?" He isn't given the chance to reply when his fathers hand comes across his other cheek.
He stands there for a second, collecting himself as he cowers in front of his father. That just happened, didn't it?
Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees him. He's cringing up on himself, standing as stiff as a board with his eyes watching tentatively. He felt sorry for the poor guard who had to witness these beatings so frequently.
His eyes flicker back to his father, who is still fuming with anger. "This kingdom will go to ruins one day in your name."
He wasn't expecting the sudden onslaught of a fist colliding with his jaw. He wasn't expecting his knees to finally give out, sending him strength to the wooden floor. He lays there, stunned as he watches his fathers feet shuffle away.
"Please," he mutters through chapped and broken lips when he realizes his father is raising a foot in front of his face. He raises his arms in front of his face in just enough time to block the kick that was aimed for his nose. The rubber burns against his arms, but all he does is hiss out in pain.
He sees him, out of the corner of his eye, turn abruptly away from the scene. It's for the best, he tells himself, as his father comes down on his fragile arms once again. He'd rather take the beating than watch his poor guard take it for him.
Maka is following him down the stairs frantically. She wants to tell him to stop, to just turn around and sit in her room, but she feels like she has no authority to do so.
"Soul, wait, please!" Maka called from behind him as he reached the bottom step. He doesn't know exactly where he's going. He can't go far, after all. His duty was tied to this tower; to the Princess who stood behind him in withering breaths.
"Please, I really never meant to hurt you," She spills out, "I feel like we really could be friends. You're an amazing person, Soul, but you just don't understand what it feels like to be trapped."
He finds himself turning around so fast that the breath is practically knocked out of his lungs. Maka is standing on the last step of the staircase, just a few hairs away from his face. She blinked owlishly at him, her red blotchy face slightly sobering up.
"I should have known your motives from the start." He chuckles, "Looking at you is like looking in the mirror."
Maka's' face screwed up sourly. "Is that supposed to be some type of insult?"
"It means we're way more alike than you think we are," He whispers under his breath, pushing closer to the Princess. Maka retreats back up a step, looking more flustered than confused.
"I don't get what that's supposed to mean." she confesses.
"Good," He spits back, turning around. "You're not supposed to get it."
He walks promptly out of the Princess's tower, and thankfully, he's not followed.
Sweat drips profusely from his forehead, drenching his short hair. He's too caught up in the fluid and familiar motion of swinging the blade clutched in his hands to think about how disgusting he felt.
He's angry; the type of anger that drove him down to the guard's practicing range, where he'd pelt the dummies until they tore open with the dullest blade he owned.
He doesn't know what exactly drove him down here tonight, but he guesses it has something to do with his parents and the new lock on his bedroom door. It didn't stop him from getting out here, obviously, jumping from a three story window isn't as dangerous as his parents thought it was.
He's slashing into the side of the dummy, drenched in tears and sweat. He wants to yell-wants to scream to the entire world how mad he is, how much he despises every little bit of it- but he doesn't. He keeps himself quiet as he pounds his sword into the dummy's side like an ax, his fingers burning and blistering.
He's already halfway into tearing the dummy apart when he hears the familiar tread of footsteps behind him.
"Soul," their voice calls out quietly to him. He ignored it, throwing his sword into the dummy twice as hard.
"Soul. Please." He's preoccupied, but they don't seem to care. "Soul, please. It's midnight."
His sword drops to the grass limply as he turns around, only to be greeted with a hand in front of his face. His brain doesn't have enough time to recognize whose hand is coming to greet him before he's flinching back so violently that the other person jumps back too, their hand dropping to their side.
Flashes to his father run through his mind so violently he feels like he's experiencing whiplash.
Hands coming down to beat him- fists against his arms and chest- feet and knees coming down on his stomach and arms like he was a punching bag-
"Jesus, Soul," They whispered in the night, their facial expression a mix between hurt and confused. "I wasn't going to hurt you."
"I know," he mumbles numbly, "I know, I know- I'm sorry."
"You have nothing to be sorry about…"
Soul doesn't return back to the castle that day, after having predominantly walked out. After walking himself out of Maka's tower, he walked right out the castle on autopilot and found himself back in his bedroom at the guards quarters.
Blackstar was still here, as it was his day off. He looked alarmed, to say the least, when he watched Soul trudge back into the room.
"Soul? Are you okay-"
"You were right," he confesses, tensing at how 'cut to the chase' they sounded. Suddenly, he's sitting on the edge of Blackstars cot, his face cradled in his hands. "God, you were right about everything."
Blackstar doesn't reply for a second, but when he feels a hand graze the opening in his armor around his elbow he instantly settles into the touch.
God, he was so touch starved.
"About the Princess," he spills, pulling his head from his hands. Blackstar looks at him with wide eyes. "She's just as selfish as you said she was."
Blackstar does not push any further, and instead, envelops him in the most half-assed hug he can manage with Souls armor.
"I'm so sorry, Soul." He mumbled sincerely to his friend's ear. "I'm sorry about everything. I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't want to see you hurt."
He leans into his friend's arms, resting his bruised chin on his shoulder. "I know," He gets through a ragged breath. "I know."
Maybe he wouldn't be so mad about Maka if she had a valid reason for wanting to leave the castle. Her parents seemed lovely- God, they'd probably allow her beyond the gates if she just asked.
Soul probably shouldn't be talking. He was selfish in his own ways, admittedly; but at least he wasn't selfish enough to leave a kingdom simply because he didn't feel like he was suited to be a prince.
The following morning, Soul returns to the castle an hour earlier than he was expected to arrive. He's expecting to be bombarded the moment he walks in by an advisor to be scolded for his absence yesterday, but he isn't. What he pulled yesterday was stupid, he knew that. He could get into a lot of trouble for leaving the Princess by herself. God, he was putting Maka at risk by leaving her alone. He doubted she had any sense of self-defense. This kingdom did not engage in any wars, there would be no reason to teach the Princess protective skills.
Despite his anger with the Princess, he vowed the second he started up the tower stairs, he wouldn't pull something like that again. His feelings weren't worth more than someone's life.
When he arrives and knocks at Maka's door, he gets no response. His first thought it maybe she's still asleep, but that wouldn't make any sense. From what he knew so far, Maka was a morning person. She was always awake before the sun rose.
Without a word, he pushed the unlocked door open, only to be greeted with a still and quiet room. "Maka?" His voice sounds strained, but he was too busy focusing on the strain he felt on his limbs to care.
There was no sign of Maka anywhere in the room.
He's on autopilot as he makes his way to Maka's bed, pulling the sheets up to reveal the underneath of the bed. It was empty; barren. No discarded cloak.
He throws the sheet back down with wide eyes. There was no way the Princess left.
He turns around abruptly, scanning the rest of the room with his heartbeat pounding in his ears.
There, sitting on her desk, is a single piece of paper.
"Don't come looking for me. I'll be back later.
-Princess Maka."
He stares down at the clearly quickly scrawled words before he slams the note back down on the desk hard enough to make his still healing hand burn. The ink smudges when he pulls his hand away.
Fresh ink.
She couldn't have gone far.
"God damnit," he whispered under his breath as he made his way out of the bedroom and back down the staircase. He had to find Maka, and quickly for that matter. Where the hell would she have gone? And why would she even come back if she managed to go far? She clearly didn't want to stick around anymore, so if she had the chance, wouldn't she just leave fully?
He tried to not make it apparent how frantic he feels as he makes his way down the hallways at a fast pace. The servants around him don't pay him much mind, thankfully, too busy with their mundane tasks of keeping the castle tidy.
He doesn't know where he's going. He doesn't even know where Maka is going. There were only a handful of places in the castle that Soul really remembered, and they were just simple places Maka had dragged him to before. He's been in a lot of meeting rooms, mainly because that is where Maka met with servants and those who were making preparations for her party. He'd also been to the indoor garden area, the kitchen and the library, but that was about it.
Maka didn't seem too interested in any other rooms in the castle. If she said she'd be back, she most likely wasn't planning on going far.
It would be hard to spot her around the castle if she was wearing his cloak.
The first room he finds his feet taking him to is the kitchen. Two thoughts ran through his mind. One, if Kilik was there, he could ask him to help him discreetly find the Princess. Two, one of the cooks was clearly a friend of Maka's, if she'd stopped by the kitchen today she may have told her where she was going.
He sped up his pace, his hot breath pushing up against his face uncomfortably.
He made it to the kitchen rather quickly, thankfully. The second he stepped into the doorway, he was surprised by how many people were already in there moving boxes and chatting. His eyes scanned through the crowd before they settled on the one guard in the corner of the room who had been in the middle of lifting a large crate.
He walks in without announcing himself, catching a few glances thrown his way, but it doesn't bother him.
"Kilik," He addresses loudly. The guard turns, startled as he drops the crate onto the table he'd been moving it to.
"Soul? He replied steadily. "What's wrong?"
A breath of relief practicality left him as he took a step closer to Kilik, whispering close to his ear, "The Princess left, and I don't know where to start looking for her. I need to find her soon or I am in deep trouble.
Kilik does not visibly react, thankfully. He just nods, turning over his shoulder to catch someone's attention behind them.
"Kim, come here."
Kim. He recognized that name. That's Maka's friend.
From behind the table Kilik had just been at, a short girl emerged. Soul didn't recognize ever seeing her before, but he was sure he recognized the voice as soon as he heard it.
"Kilik? What's wrong?" Kim's eyes shifted to where he's standing and she tenses. "Soul?"
He's surprised Kim recognizes him, since he's pretty sure they have never seen one another face to face, but at the same time he shouldn't be. Everyone kind of knew of SOul, the only guard with white hair.
"Have you seen Maka?" He asks under his breath.
Kim's eyes widen as she looks away from Soul. "I saw her for breakfast, but that was about it." Something in the way Kim is standing, looking away from Soul, her body turned from him, gives Soul the idea that she knows something she shouldn't be telling him.
"She's gone." he informs the cook easily. "Left a note telling me to not go after her, but we have to meet with the advisors in an hour. Where should I go and look for her?" He keeps his cool well, thankfully. His tone remains even with just enough anger to intimidate someone.
Clearly it works, because Kim glances at him from the side of her eyes before looking back to Kilik. "If anyone asks, I didn't tell you this, but there's a room on the second floor of the library. You'd miss it if you weren't paying attention, but it's behind one of the book shelves towards the east wall. I'm pretty sure she hangs around there."
Kilik's eyes are back on him, "Want me to come with you?"
He nods, and before he knows it Kilik is trailing behind him through the castle.
"What happened with your two? I thought you were cool or whatever."
Soul has the half sense of mind to scoff. "I thought Blackstar would have already told you." Sneered Soul, "You guys were right, big whoop."
"Right about what?"
"Maka," He replies coolly, as if it was obvious, "She was just using me to get out of the castle and got mad i wont sneak her out again."
Kilik doesn't comment, and he's thankful.
Soul follows Kim's directions, making his way to the second floor of the royal library and walking towards the east wall. Sure enough, there was a small crack between the bookshelf that led to a small halfway.
"I'll wait here," Kilik announces from behind him as he slips through the bookshelves. He kind of wishes Kilik would follow him as some sort of backup, but he knows he doesn't need it.
When Soul meets the end of the small and cramped hallway, he's brought into a small dirty room. He's taken back by the sheer amount of books carelessly thrown about the room, papers filled with scribbles all around them.
There, sitting in a small alcove of the room, is Maka. She's wearing his cloak, sitting idly with a notepad leaned against her knee.
"Maka."
The Princess's head snaps up quickly, a pen dropping from her hand. "How did you know I was here?"
"It doesn't matter, you idiot." He rushes towards the Princess, hastily grabbing at her arms and pulling her from the alcove. She puts up a little bit of a fight, pulling away from Soul's touch like he'd burned her.
Maka pauses suddenly, her mouth hanging open as she takes a once over of Souls outfit. Honestly, he'd forgotten he wasn't wearing his armor for once and instead was wearing a tight-fitting pair of tan slacks with a loose-fitting white shirt.
"The outfit," Maka pointed out, "What's with the outfit."
Soul stares down at the Princess for a moment, processing her words. There were much more important things to be discussing right now than his outfit.
"We're both supposed to be fitted today for outfits," He replied as if it were common knowledge. "We're supposed to meet with the tailors and advisors soon and I didn't have the time to wait around for you. Can we get going, please? I would rather not lose my job because you wanted to hang around in a hobbit room."
Screwing her mouth shut, Maka lifted her head confidently, eyeing Soul.
"You didn't seem to care about losing your job yesterday when you walked out," She says confidently.
"That was different. You made me leave." His tone is growing snappy and he knows he should put himself in check, but he doesn't. "I'm pretty sure you wouldn't want to hang around a Prince who just wanted to use you for his own benefits."
"I told you, I wasn't trying to hurt you. I really wasn't," Maka insisted.
Taking one last look at her expressional face, Soul turns abruptly, eyeing one of the shelves in the corner of the room. "I thought you wanted to actually be friends, you know," He whispers just loud enough for the Princess to hear. "It's been a while since anyone had really treated me nicely, that wasn't the guards and it felt nice. I think I have the right to feel upset, don't you?"
Maka doesn't reply as she stands, floundering like a fish trying to find the right words to say.
"I think the worst thing was I stuck up for you- I vouched for your character to the other guards, saying that you were a genuinely kind person even when they said that you were probably just like every other egotistical royal. I really thought you were different." He turns back to Maka, finding two wide eyes staring up at him. "I hate being proven wrong, Maka."
The Princess looks to the floor, avoiding his gaze.
"That's what i thought," he scoffs, "You really don't have anything to say, do you?" He feels his confidence drastically slipping as he watches Maka's face morph into something soft and vulnerable.
"I don't plan on walking out again like that. As big of a fool as you made me out to be, your life is more valuable than some petty feelings I hold."
They don't exchange another pair of words as Soul ushers Maka out of the room angrily. Kilik watches them with interest as they walk back to the main part of the library.
"Found your Princess, I see." He easily jokes, trying to break the tension between the three of them.
"Yeah, what a catch." He wishes that was the last time he had to go and find his Princess, but it isn't. Maka makes his job a living hell for the rest of that week.
