Soul can't shake the uneasy feeling that settles like a pit in his stomach as he watches Maka throw her cloak off and onto her bed in one swift motion. With slow hands he goes to untie the strings of his own cloak, catching Maka's eyes with his in the process. "Are you sure you want to spar?" He asks timidly, still caught up in the confusion that the Princess had thrown him into.

Maka nods as she undoes the buttons of her sleeves, pushing them up to her forearms. "Yes, I am sure. As long as you promise that if I win a match, and you do end up taking me outside of the walls, you will not see it as payment."

He refrains from rolling his eyes as his lips lifted upward. "I promise i wont see it as payment," he parrots back, slipping his cloak off and dropping it onto the edge of the Princess's bed.

Seemingly satisfied with his reply, Maka makes it to the middle of her room and stretches her arms over her head. As he moves to follow after her, Maka raises a hand to him, her eyes half-lidded as they trail his body in a very unsubtle way. "You may want to remove your armor," she clicks her tongue, turning her head from him, "Unless you want me to hurt my hands."

This time Soul does roll his eyes as he backs up, leaning on the edge of Maka's bed. "Expecting to land a good punch, are we?" He teases as he brings his hands to the back of his shoulder blades, unclipping the fastens that kept his armor together.

"No," Maka answers truthfully, still looking away from him. "Just want to keep the playing grounds even, that's all."

"Uh-huh, sure."

It doesn't take him long to detach his chestplate and shoulder pieces. His arm pieces slip off with ease as do his shin species. He leaves the golden plated armor on the floor in a heap as he straightens up, stretching his arms over his head. Finally, Maka turns her attention back to him, her eyes wavering over his abdomen region before flickering up to his face.

"Ready now?"

Instead of answering, he drops his arms behind his head, gathering his hair into his hands and tying it back. Maka has already seen his face fully without his hair in the way, what was the purpose of keeping it down around her anymore? Maka seemed adamant about helping him keep his hair with Hero. He could trust her with his face. He doubted she'd be able to match up his face with the very vague description of the 'runaway Cinder Prince' anyway. Not that he saw Maka as an idiot or anything, seeing as she was very much the opposite of that, he just knew that what Stein had said the other night was very sickeningly true. There were many bleach-blond, freckled boys out there, and he did look quite different from when he'd last been home.

Besides, doing hand-to-hand combat with your hair in your face wasn't easy, he would know.

The last time he had taken part in a hand-to-hand sparring match, it had been Blackstar as a training exercise. To put it lightly, Blackstar had kicked the hsit out of him. It was hard to fight when you had no peripheral vision to use. Sword fighting came easier with the hair in the way. At least even with the lack of vision, it wasn't hard to miss a swinging blade. Light always found a way to glisten off it, catching his attention better than a fist could.

With a heald breath, he tightened his hair in a small loose bun on the back of his head in one easy motion. He abruptly turned his head, avoiding Maka's reaction as he sighed.

"Yeah, I'm ready now," He announces, turning around to face the Princess.

Standing before him, basking in the morning light that flooded in from the balcony doors, Maka looked ethereal, like a perfectly painted mirage. His breath caught in his throat in awe as he took in the Princess before him who seemed to be frozen in time, his wide eyes stationed on her carefully.

It was moments like these where he realized just how much his hair affected his vision. Without the jagged bangs getting in his way, he was able to openly admire Maka's appearance.

This was no place to admire her, though.

Clearing his throat, he takes a step toward the Princess. "I'll go easy on you. Can't have you all bruised up before your birthday."

Whatever trance Maka had been stuck in finally breaks as her shoulders sag and she takes a step back, an eyebrow quirking up in interest. "What, are you imagining me with bruises or something?"

"No, I'm not," He corrects sternly, heat rising to his cheeks. What kind of question even was that? Who would purposely think about leaving bruises on someone? "Just- Don't make this weird."

"I shouldn't make this weird?" A hardy chuckle leaves the Princess, her chest and shoulders shaking with every breath. "You're such an idiot, Soul." Fondness oozes in her tone and its incredibly hard for Soul to miss it, to pretend that it isn't there. "I'm going to be honest with you, I have no clue what I'm doing. I don't give you permission to make fun of me."

"Oh, I would never make fun of you, Maka," he sarcastically insists, enjoying the way Maka's smile widens. "Do you want some pointers before we start? I'll give you some leverage."

The Princess lifts her chin in interest. "What a gentleman. Some pointers would be nice, actually."

Soul hums, going over the mental list of pointers and strategies he'd remembered learning in training under Ox Fords care. "When you're attacking an opponent, you want to go for vulnerable spots like the stomach, diaphragm, and neck. They're the easiest spots someone could leave open. With that being said, you want to try and focus on covering those spots on yourself."

Hand-to-hand combat was like muscle memory to Soul at this point. With little to no thought, he found himself crouched down, dipping his head the slightest as he brought both his arms up, one slanted over his face and neck while the other hovered close to his chest.

"Keeping a neutral stance like this while you weigh out your opponent's next move is the best way to go, that way you have a way to protect yourself."

Maka nods, mimicking his stance with little effort like a child. Soul can't help but laugh as he corrects her stance.

"Hand-to-hand fights don't last long, they're very tiring. What you want to focus on is defending yourself and finding the best solution to remove yourself from the fight. If you can't find a solution, you want to try to find a way to immobilize your opponent. A punch to the jaw, messing up their balance, anything that would take them back will help you."

"You have to act quickly when you're stuck hand-to-hand with someone. One wrong move and you're dead, especially if they're concealing a knife. Lucky for you, I have no knife that's waiting to cut you up on my person and I'm just testing to see if you can actually fend off an opponent long enough to not get yourself killed."

A breathy laugh escapes the Princess. "Are you sure about that?"

"What, want to pay me down and check for yourself?" He can't help the way he raises a suggestive eyebrow, realizing fairly quickly that his face is on display for Maka to see.

"I'm good," she insists, dipping her head to the side, "Anyway, that's all?"

"All I can't think of off the top of my head-other than footwork. Footwork is important. You don't want to be tripping over your feet mid-battle. You also don't want to be planting them in just one spot. You want to stay on your tippy toes so you can move with ease."

With another nod, Maka is dropping into the stance he'd shown her. "Sounds easy enough. You're going soft on me, right?"

"Right," He affirms, mimicking Maka's stance, "Can't say that anyone else would ever go easy on you if you know, we were to leave the kingdom walls and we were to be attacked."

"I know that," Maka jeers offendedly.

"I'm just letting you know." He raises open palms toward the Princess as an act of surrender. "Give me your worst, seriously. I'll be able to take it."

Curling his hands back into fists, he dipped his head down, ready for a fight.

He couldn't help but find it humorous that the two of them, a Princess of a kingdom and her knighted guard, were about to fight- in the Princess's bedroom, of all places. If anyone had stepped in at this moment he for sure would be losing his job. God, if he even slightly messed up and wounded the Princess, he'd lose his job.

What the fuck was he doing here? All he was doing was orchestrating something that shouldn't have ever been thought of. He was stirring the pot to Maka's fantasies of escaping her kingdom.

He should have shut this down long ago, should have told Maka firmly that he would never take her outside the safety of the castle- but it was too far to turn around now. He'd already taken the Princess out once, would one more time kill?

Maybe he was being selfish. Maybe he liked the idea of escaping too, even if it was for a little bit.

Maybe he liked the idea of escaping with Maka, escaping to a place where he could ditch the lies and the past and fake personas.

This was dangerous waters he was treading in, and God, he was about to drown if he didnt stop whatever this was becoming soon.

Before he can delve further into his caving thoughts, Maka is moving in front of him, fist raised. Her expression has fallen into something serious, her eyebrows drawn down, her jaw clenched like she was ready to put up a fight.

He liked the fire that was burning in her expression.

He's not given anymore time to admire the Princess before him. Without a warning, she was lunging forward, breaking the gap between the two of them. He reacts fast enough, bringing his forearm up to intercept the incoming fist his way, their wrists clashing messily.

Maka steps back, looking a bit surprised. She's refusing to look Soul in the eye, her gaze set solely on his body.

Typically in battle, Soul focused on his opponent's head. Wherever their head was, their body would follow, but he supposed that was besides the point.

Again, Maka is moving forward on him, a poorly formed fist coming for his right shoulder. This time, Soul is able to catch her fist in his hand. He wraps his fingers harshly around the Princess's small hand, pushing her back with enough force to cause her to lose her balance.

This time, Soul advances on her, preparing to land a punch to her diaphragm. Maka's eyes are quick though and she's quick to block her chest, pushing away Soul's hand sloppily, but it was good enough.

"Impressive," Soul comments through labored breaths.

Maka rolls her eyes, adjusting her sleeves so they settle better on her upper arms. "Wasn't that impressive. C'mon, give me a little more to work with here."

Soul listens and he obliges.

He advances on the blonde once again, readying his fists. His punches are coordinated, but he barely puts any strength behind them as he aims for the Princess's chest. Maka easily intercepts each punch, pushing him back just a step.

Suddenly they're circling each other with playful grins. Soul enjoys the way the adrenaline rush that fills him feels as he shifts his weight experimentally on his feet, preparing for another advance.

The Princess doesn't expect him to leap forward, charging at her. Unprepared, Maka recoiled as Soul's fist met Maka's hip with force. The Princess jumps back, hissing slightly.

"Okay, ouch," she grumbles, dropping her hands as she rubbed her side. "I yield, give me a moment."

"I didn't even hit you that hard," Soul muses, stepping back. He wipes the sweat that was starting to form from his forehead with the back of his gloved hand, eyes trained on the Princess.

"I don't know if you noticed but I don't have a lot of padding there, idiot." Maka laughs under her breath and Soul can't help the way his stomach lurches at the sound of it. When she's finally recovered, the Princess shakes her wrists out, bringing her fists up. "Again?"

They continue like this for a few rounds. Soul wins, again and again, managing to land a couple of light punches to Maka's ribs and diaphragm, each time Maka yielding so she can reassess what she is doing wrong. He doesnt hurt Maka again, thankfully.

"Do I just suck at this?" The Princess whines, dropping her hands to her sides.

"No, you're just inexperienced." Soul reassures her, stepping up to his friend. With a bruised hand, he grabs her shoulder, shaking it slightly. "You're doing good for someone who's never fought."

Shrugging out of his grasp, Maka turns her back to him as she throws her hands to the ceiling exasperated. "What am I doing wrong? I'm doing something wrong, right?"

Soul hums. He'd been watching Maka carefully since they'd been fighting. She wasn't necessarily doing anything wrong. She mimicked Soul's moves perfectly, just never putting enough force behind them. She also had failed to use her legs to her advantage.

At one point, Soul had managed to get close enough to hook the tip of his shoe behind the Princess's shin, knocking her off balance. He'd grabbed onto Maka's hand just in time to save her from falling face forward into the carpet.

"Use your legs more," is all Soul offers h im.,

"Helpful, so helpful."

"Want to try again, or do you want to pick this up another time?"

The Princess considers his offer, taking in shallow and rapid breaths. Sweat was dripping down her temples slowly and Soul was doing all he could to prevent himself from moving forward and wiping it off himself.

"No, let's keep going. Last one," maka settles, finally wiping her forehead.

This time, Soul eases up on her, feeling a bit sorry he's put the Princess through such exertion. He could tell that Maka was slowly becoming tired despite the fact she still put one-hundred percent of her efforts into their sparring match.

They are practically toe-to-toe in this match.

This time, Maka takes no hesitation to keep advancing on him, throwing punches at him. She manages to get him a few times, a punch landing on his shoulder and a second on his collar bone. He's pleasantly surprised by the force Maka puts behind them as he stumbles back just a bit.

"Okay, that's better-"

He doesn't expect Maka to throw all the strength she has into her next punch. He doesn't react in time, doesn't lift his arm fast enough to block the punch aimed for his ribs. The second it lands, it burns. It's not enough to make him reel back in pain, but it definitely gives him motivation.

If Maka could dish it, she could take it.

With a bit more confidence this time, Soul is reaching out, grabbing Maka by the forearm and pulling her forward with a tug. When the Princess gives an exasperated sigh and winds up a punch with her right arm too, Soul is catching her other hand, holding both of her wrists in front of them with force.

The amount of force he's using is bruising. He watches as Maka's face wrinkles in confusion for a moment before she looks up to Soul with wide eyes, pupils dilated.

"Going to yield?"

Maka licks her lips, her eyes flicking back down to their hands. He's expecting her to yield. He's expecting her to give up. He's expecting them to be done sparring for the day and for Maka to admit maybe she's not ready to go outside of the walls, but none of that happens.

It's just a while 'sword sparring' session once again.

With a literal growl, Maka was using her entire body weight to twist her arms in Soul's grasp. Soul stumbles, caught off guard by the sudden movement, he barely notices the leg Maka had stuck out to trip him.

In one fast, messy, and heated motion, Soul is falling onto the edge of the Princess's bed, and he's taking Maka down with him.