Soul couldn’t understand how Black Star had managed tocrash a party he’d been invited to.
He’d helped plan it, even. Soul had suggested the music,the food, the decorations, and his best friend had always approved. Inretrospect, he probably only appeared to be agreeable because he had somethingup his sleeve.
Soul sighed, running a handthrough his hear slowly. Even sitting in an empty classroom, he could stillhear the steady beat of the bass from the floor above. He rolled his eyes; theparty had been over for him as soon as Black Star had hijacked the speakers andlights.
“Mind if I join you?”
Soul jerked his head up atSpirit’s voice. He stood in the doorway, illuminated by the hallway lampsbehind him. Stepping in without waiting for an answer, he adds, “You shouldturn on a light. You’ll ruin your eyes.”
Soul took a sip of his soda,but grimaced when he realized it had fallen flat. “I’ll keep that in mind,” hesaid. Even so, Spirit didn’t bother to flip the light switch when he walked upto Soul, sitting in the seat next to him. Soul subconsciously scooted slightly away.
“So… How’re things?” Spiritasked, causing Soul to give him an odd look.
“You don’t normally ask methings like that,” he said.
Spirit gave him a smallglare. “Well I’m trying to be a nice person, alright?” he snapped a little. “Besides,I need to get used to you.”
Soul’s eyes didn’t move awayfrom him. “Really?” he wondered. “That’s new. No ‘you’ll regret this’ or ‘don’ttouch my daughter’ or ‘she should rethink her decision?’ You’re supposed totalk me out of this.”
Spirit stayed silent for amoment. He glanced once at Soul, but then quickly moved back to stare intospace again.
“No,” he confessed quietly. “Iwon’t. You’re the best guy for her, Soul.” He chuckled a little, sad and soft. “Alot better than I could’ve ever been.”
Soul followed his gaze,staring into the darkness of the room. His eyes fell on the chalkboard that satempty aside from a few crude words some student had painted in the corner. “Thanks,”he replied.
They didn’t say anythingelse for a minute. When Spirit broke the silence, it was in a low murmur.
“I’ve seen her dress. It’s abit too low-cut for me, but I think you’ll love it,” he said. Soul smiled.
“I know she’ll lookbeautiful,” he breathes, imagining for the umpteenth time what Maka might looklike walking down that isle.
Spirit smiled back. “Shealways does,” he agreed.
The music upstairs paused, acheer could be heard from above, and a new beat carried through the floor,signifying the start of a new song. Soul dropped his smile to shoot a hard lookat the ceiling.
“I didn’t invite half ofthose people,” he grumbled. “Black Star owes me big time.”
Spirit grinned a little. “Iwas worse at Stein’s bachelor party,” he admitted, causing Soul to smirk.
“I don’t doubt it, old man.”
Spirit let out a good-naturedlaugh. “Heh… Don’t call me that again.”
Send me a number and 2 or more characters and I’ll write you a (short?) fic!
8. “Your smile is not as bright as it used to be.”
It gotharder as they got older. They had known it would; the more experience they gained,the more difficult their assignments would become. Their talent grew bothrecognized and unparalleled. Lord Death himself praised their efforts, awardingthem with increasingly higher ranks and greater challenges.
Theireyes shone eagerly at first, their hands itching to face those new foes. Withhis sharp blade and her quick skills, their kishin egg count soared. The top ofthe world seemed within reach. Perhaps, they told themselves with everymission, they could reach it this time. Adrenaline filled their souls like arunner’s high, pushing them onward. They could do anything.
Butadrenaline can’t keep anyone going forever.
They didn’tnotice it at first. They had been doing great, plowing down every monster thatcrossed their path. What they didn’t speak of, however, kept them up at night.How the beast they were after had left homes and families decimated like araging flood. How they had been too late and had seen that kishin egg devourthe souls of those teenagers right before their eyes. How they knew they weresent to take this ghoul’s soul only because it had killed so many meisters andweapons before them.
Soul andMaka realized all too suddenly that their high had left them.
Theireyes had seen too much. Their ears had heard the screams, their hands felt thescars. All too quickly their childhoods had been snatched away, contorted andtwisted, and given back as empty husks. They didn’t feel the same excitementanymore, the thrill they had felt when they were younger. Even kishin soulsseemed to glow a duller red. Soul confessed that they had lost their taste.
Hesighed, mulling over the events of the last month as he stared at the darkceiling. Three kishin eggs, five deaths they were too late to prevent. Five. Thatdidn’t include the countless other souls the monsters had consumed before heand Maka received the order to dispose of them.
Thesound of the bathroom door opening broke Soul from his thoughts, and he turnedhis head to watch as Maka strode towards him. Pulling the ring from her fingerto set it next to Soul’s on the bedside table, she wordlessly crawled under thecovers next to him.
Souloffered a small smirk, and although she obviously attempted to return theexpression, her meager grin was enough to hide his teeth once again.
“Yoursmile’s not as bright as it used to be,” he commented softly, turning to hisside to put his arm around her. She seemed to be about to say something smartin return, her pink lips open to begin, but she closed them again after amoment. She pulled closer to him, burying her face in the threadbare cotton ofhis undershirt. Soul almost missed her quiet reply when she finally spoke.
“Yoursisn’t either.”
Hesighed slowly, and he felt her stir against his chest. His fingers tapped idlyon her back, wrinkling the large t-shirt of his that she wore, playing asoundless but familiar tune.
“Wecould quit,” he suggested all of a sudden. Maka gave a small, dry laugh almostimmediately.
“No wecouldn’t,” she mumbled.
Soulnodded, his chin brushing her hair. “Yes we could. Think about it. We’re stillcollege age, so we could get a different education, get a different job, maybebe normal.”
Makamoved her face to look him in the eye. “Soul, you’re a scythe and I can seesouls. We’re not normal,” she said with an air of humor in her voice. Heshrugged.
“Well,we can at least pretend to be normal,” he said. She smiled, a dull glint wherethere had previously been a brilliant gleam, giving him a short kiss.
“I don’t think so,” she saidagainst his lips.
After she pulled away, theylaid in silence once again, and the small moment of cheerfulness they felt hadleft them as quickly as it had come. That seemed to be how they managed to keepfrom collapsing with grief; little refreshing seconds of joy between long, grayperiods where the weight of their work threatened to squeeze the life fromtheir souls.
Soul’s mouth narrowed into a thin line. “Why don’twe quit?” he asked quietly, both to Maka and no one at the same time, his voicecracking unexpectedly.
His meistertenderly nuzzled into his shirt again, a shaky breath from her lungs warminghis chest for a moment.
“Becauseit’s our duty,” she said. “Our job.”
Soulclosed his eyes, trying to exist for just a small while in a world where hedidn’t have to fight for his life, where he didn’t have to watch people die. A littleworld where there was only Maka and her soft touch, her sweet scent, hersoothing soul surrounding his whole being.
“It’sgoing to kill us one way or another,” he murmured in her ear, the hair from herloose pigtails tickling his nose.
He felther shiver a little. “I know,” she said in a voice so tiny and filled with painthat Soul instantly regretted saying anything. “But we have to try and help,Soul.”
He lether scent fill his head as if it could lull the ache in her words and his soul.It couldn’t.
“But wecan’t save everyone,” he said. “We’re going to keep seeing people die. And oneday…” he paused to wrap his other arm around her, drawing her near and holdingher as close as he could while still letting her breathe, “Maka, one day that’llbe you. I’ll see that happen to you and I won’t be able to stop it.”
Shereturned the embrace, her small but muscled arms wrapping around his waist. “Iknow,” she breathed. “I know we can’tsave everyone. I know I can’t save myself,but… We have to,” she said. “We have to at least believe that we can, so we cansave as many as possible. That’s our job.”
Feelingher gaze on his, Soul opened his eyes to see the same brilliant shade of greenthat had become his favorite color. “It’s a risky job,” he muttered. She nodded.
“But itpays well,” she joked a little, offering a smile that he couldn’t help butreturn despite the stinging in the corners of his eyes.
“Yes itdoes,” he said, touching his forehead to hers.
Makaleaned forward slightly to peck his lips once. “Do you really want to quit?”she asked, her sight flickering from his only when she blinked.
Hestayed silent for a moment. “… No,” he said eventually. “I can’t imagine doinganything else, actually. Can you picture me working at McDonald’s?” hechuckled.
Makagiggled in reply. “You’d scare away every customer,” she said. Soul grinned,baring his teeth playfully.
“Welcometo McDonalds, may I take your order?” he said in a mock grumble, causing Makato burst into laughter.
Theydidn’t know if they’d die tomorrow, and the ache of their burdens would most definitelyreturn in the morning. But sometimes, huddled close beneath soft sheets andbasking in the warmth of each other’s soul, they both could forget theirtroubles together in moments like these.
Edit of really really old fic (two years at least) that I still really love. I decided to freshen it up a bit, so I hope you enjoy!
Attack on Titan AU.
Just a hand.
A hand that Maka held over her heart as she saluted Soul, a senior officer and the man charged with training the new recruits on their first day in the camp. Their eyes, so full of life and willingness to fight for humanity, posed a stark contrast to Soul’s own dull irises. He had witnessed death at is absolute worst, and if she stuck with the Scout Regiment, he had no doubt that Maka and the other recruits would soon see the same. He pitied them really, especially Maka with the confident glimmer in her eye and childish pigtails. With her level of cheerfulness and apparent innocence, Soul didn’t feel as if she’d last long when shoved onto the battlefield.
He had no idea how soon she’d prove him wrong.
Just a hand, one that soon proved to me one of the strongest Soul knew of.
Soul often observed Maka as she trained, watching her handle her maneuver gear as if she had been born with it attached to her hips. He teased her about it a little as they grew more comfortable with each other, saying that her success was just beginner’s luck.
He then discovered her fiery temper and fierce pride when she punched him in the stomach for his remark. After Soul could breathe again, he assigned Maka push-ups for an hour for injuring a senior officer, then left to check on the other recruits.
When he moved back to Maka, she had thrown herself into her push-ups with vigor, and Soul found himself admiring her strength. He resolved never to tease her about it again for that reason, though he promised himself that his backing down wasn’t because he was afraid of her punches.
Just a hand, one that clutched Soul’s when Maka realized her senior officer got nightmares.
Their rooms weren’t far from each other, and Soul supposed she got to her room later than she normally did that night, for she woke him from sleep when she stepped next to his cot. His eyes snapped open, the fear and adrenaline from the battle in his nightmares so fresh on his mind that he almost screamed at her sudden appearance.
“Commander Soul?” Maka said gently. “Are you all right, sir? You were crying out in your sleep,” she said, in a tone much gentler than what Soul had heard her use on the training ground.
Soul stared at her, heaving with breath, his heart pounding so violently that he could feel it hammer in his chest. He tried to calm down for her, reluctant to show further weakness and admit to his nightmares; Maka was his subordinate, and he was supposed to promote the image of the ideal soldier.
But, he thought with a sigh, he couldn’t lie to her either. She had chosen this life, and something in her kind gaze gave him the desire to warn her about what she was getting into.
“When you’ve been in the thick of battle, like I have,” Soul began quietly, his breathing finally slowing, “You’re lucky if you go three nights without nightmares.”
Maka said nothing, watching her feet for a moment. Soul was about to tell her to go back to bed, enjoy her peaceful nights without vivid memories of carnage plaguing her dreams, before she abruptly pulled the stool from the other side of the room over to his bed and sat down on it.
"Sir,” she murmured, reaching her hand out, “Lay down, and take my hand.”
Soul quirked an eyebrow. “You don’t order me around, soldier. And what are you trying to pull?”
She shrugged. “Strength in numbers, I suppose. To help you sleep. It’s just an idea,” She mumbled, beginning to stand, when Soul suddenly reached a hand out to grab her palm.
“Wait,” Soul whispered, but instantly regretted realized how weak he sounded. He tried to adopt a more commanding tone in his next words, though he still felt a burning need to keep her by his side. “Stay, as long as you’re sure you can fall asleep on that stool. You need to rest up for tomorrow.”
She smirked a little. “I can sleep anywhere, commander.”
Soul smiled a little. “Let’s hope so,” he told her, laying down while clutching her hand. Warmth seemed to emanate from her palm, soft against his cold and calloused fingers, and calmed him almost instantly. As his eyes closed once again, he felt grateful or an ally.
Holding her hand became a normal ritual for them to do this whenever Soul suffered nightmares, and whenever his hand laid nestled safely in hers, bad dreams couldn’t touch him.
Just a hand, one that shook with fear when she was sent into battle for the first time.
Soul glanced at Maka, clutching onto her horse’s reins while she shook in the saddle. He frowned, reining in his own mount to wait for his friend to come up alongside him.
“Albarn,” he said quickly. The two had begun calling each other by their last names since Maka had begun comforting him, rather than simply saying “soldier”, or in her case “sir” or “commander”. “What’s the problem?” He asked.
She slowly looked up to face Soul, her eyes wide with fright. “This… This is the real thing,” She squeaked out. Soul gave a small, sad sigh and nodded gravely.
“Yes,” he replied, “This is the real thing. But I know you’re strong. You’re the toughest soldier in the Corps, Albarn. I know you can do this.”
She only nodded once before her emerald eyes fixed upon the gate before them. Soul pulled his horse closer and, much to both of their surprise, placed his hand on Maka’s.
“Strength in numbers,” he smiled a little in reassurance, quoting her. He then turned back around to face the gate, smile fading into a solemn line as he kicked his horse into a canter. He saw Maka follow suit out of the corner of his eye.
Just a hand, with quivering fingers splattered with titans’ blood after her first battle.
Maka’s face reflected pure horror. Not everyone they had set out with had come back alive, and Soul saw that effect in her gaze. All the other new fighters wore similar looks of shock and terror, but Soul placed a comforting hand on only Maka’s shoulder. She looked over at him for a moment, perhaps surprised, before she nodded once silently and grimly. Maka had become a true soldier; she had killed her first titan, but not before it mercilessly did the same to her comrade. It was as if she had obtained a rite of passage.
Just a hand, one that belonged to a girl whom Soul had to comfort that night.
Soul traveled to Maka’s room when he heard her scream in her sleep, and he sighed when he saw her thrash in bed. He quietly pulled up the stool in her room so that it was next to her and sat down upon it, as she had done for him, and slowly took her hand.
Her fits stopped almost instantly, and the agony on her face gradually melted away while her ragged breath slowed to a gentle rhythm. Soul couldn’t sleep sitting up like Maka could, however, and he woke up the next morning with his torso slumped over onto her mattress, their hands still entwined. Maka stirred as Soul sat up, blinking lazily to look at him. She seemed confused for a moment, until she looked down to their hands. Just as Soul opened his mouth to speak, to explain himself, to apologize, Maka suddenly jumped up and hugged him.
“Thank you,” she whispered in his ear. Soul sat surprised for a moment before his arms wrapped around her tightly.
“You’re welcome,” he said.
Just a hand, one whose fingers would always entwine subconsciously with his as Maka slept.
After one particularly horrifying battle, Maka entered Soul’s room once again. Shaking as if she were freezing, clutching the doorway with grasping hands, she stammered, “Can I stay here tonight?”
Soul nodded quickly, scooting aside to allow room for her on his small bed. “Of course, Maka,” he murmured, calling her by her first name. She crawled under the covers next to him, curling against his chest with a small relaxed sigh. Soul smiled a little, kissing her temple gently as he pulled the bed sheets around up around them. He gave a small chuckle as he watched her face redden.
"Calm down, Albarn,” he joked, wrapping his arms around her. He waited a moment, wondering if that was too forward, if she’d pull away, but she leaned into his embrace. Soul could still feel the warmth in her cheeks when she slowly rested her head against his neck. He smiled as sleep took him, the nightmares kept at bay by her gentle hands on his back.
Just a hand that she wrapped around Soul’s own fingers as they fought off nightmares together.
Just a hand that held Soul’s as they sat side-by-side at meals.
Just a hand that slapped him playfully when he cracked bad jokes, as he did frequently since she brought a spark of joy back into his life.
Just a hand that held her horse’s reins proudly as they rode past the wall’s gates.
Just a hand that raised her weapon high in the air; the last thing Soul saw when he became separated from his squad.
He frantically called out Maka’s name when he could no longer see her emerald eyes. He glimpsed a flash of blonde hair and caught the glint of her weapons raised in position to strike, but nothing else. The forest’s trees bunched too thick, its trunks too tall, the sounds of battle and enormous footfalls too loud upon his ears. The very atmosphere seemed to smother him. He couldn’t tell where the screams were coming from, whose they were, or what he could do to help.
Terror coursed through Soul’s veins as he cried, a crack in his voice, praying desperately that his troops would hear him, “Retreat! Soul’s squadron, retreat!”
Only half of the soldiers made it back alive.
Soul collapsed on the ground once he stood within the safety of the walls, devastated, his mind plagued with failure. He had led his troops to slaughter. He had let them down, betrayed their trust. He hoped Maka would forgive him as he searched for her among the injured; only her words mattered to him, spoken with her soft and comforting voice.
Soul didn’t notice for a moment when Blackstar brought him the weapon. Blood laid caked along the blade, though what held the hilt drew in Soul’s attention and caused his eyes to grow wide with fear.
“No,” was all he could say, his voice barely more than a whimper.
Just a hand.
That’s all that was left of her.
“I saw her, Commander,” murmured Blackstar, gulping back tears himself. “She fought better than any of us. She killed two of them, but one came from behind and…” He trailed off, bowing his head. Soul’s chest felt as if it were splitting in agony as he shakily took her hand from him, prying her lifeless fingers from the hilt of her weapon that they still clutched so dutifully. Blood began to cover Soul’s hands and uniform, but he didn’t notice. He held her hand to his chest, feeling for the last time how soft her hand was, holding her tiny fingers against him.
A heart-wrenched cry ripped through Soul’s throat as he wept for her. He clutched her fingers, screaming no, not Maka, not her.
*Shows up late with angst* Hello friends I hope you like aus and pain.
Cendrillon (Cinderella) AU
Fairytale
Crona keeps herself from crying out in pain as Medusa combs through her tangled hair, pulling and pinning it. The corset bound tight around her chest makes breathing difficult, and a whimper forms on her lips before she squeezes her mouth shut; Medusa will slap her again if she makes another sound. Her cheek still burns from the last time that happened.
She wants to shout, sob, scream for her mother to stop, that she refuses to go that ball, but the snake Medusa implanted in her twists around her soul and bends her will. Crona hates it.
“There,” Medusa purrs, pulling her hands away from Crona’s hair. She steps around to stand in front of her daughter and grabs her jaw, pulling Crona’s face to look up at hers. “As beautiful as any princess. Stand up, child.”
Crona nods, rising from the stool to her full height. She glances at herself in the mirror; her bangs are pulled back evenly on either side of her face, traces of blush dust her cheeks, and her deep blue, lacy dress trails down to her bare feet.
Medusa crosses her arms over her chest and grins. “Excellent. The prince will be drooling over you,” she declares.
Crona’s hands clench at her sides. “I don’t…” she begins, but the spell causes her to choke on her words. “I don’t want… To go,” she finally manages to say.
Her mother’s grin immediately vanishes. “You’re going, Crona,” she snaps. “This is your job.”
She shakes her head. “Do it yourself,” she says through gritted teeth.
Medusa’s eyes narrow. “You’ve met the prince before. He knows and trusts you. I couldn’t get that close to him, but this will be the easy way of going about this. I won’t even have to get my hands dirty,” she says.
Shaking begins at Crona’s knees and creeps up her body. Medusa had only recently managed to figure out that she had been seeing the Prince, but she didn’t know for how long. She has no idea they’ve been meeting in secret for years.
The witch walks closer to her daughter, placing a single finger on her thin lips, and Crona gags when Medusa sends another snake writhing down her throat.
“You will go to that ball tonight,” commands her mother as she brings her hand back to her side. Crona feels a protest rising to her mouth, but the two snakes crawling in her body silence it. “You will take that knife hidden in your blouse and you will carry out my orders. Am I clear?”
Crona breathes heavily, eyes wide. “Y-yes ma’am,” she whispers.
Medusa grins again. “Good girl.”
Crona’s thin hands lift up her dress as she travels up the stairs to the castle. The chatter of the many masked guests fills the air, and dance music drifts from the open doors and windows while the lace from Crona’s mask itches her nose. Medusa’s gold-and-black mask matches her slim dress and hides her identity as the infamous Snake Witch, notorious for trying to usurp the royal family multiple times in years past.
“A glorious night for a masquerade, isn’t it, dear?” the witch says, giving her daughter a smile that anyone else would think casual and pleasant, but Crona knew better. She merely nods.
The glass shoes Medusa gave Crona feel cold on her feet. “It’s just like a fairytale,” her mother had cooed as she conjured them.
If this is a fairytale, Crona thinks, then the knife weighing heavily against her chest destroys all hope of a happily ending.
The crowd within the castle instantly makes her feel nauseous. There’s too many people, it’s too loud. She can’t do this. She wants to run. She wants to run into the prince’s arms, and at the same time she wants to run far away and never see him again.
Crona’s frozen in the doorway until Medusa bumps into her from behind.
“Keep moving, pawn,” she hisses, shoving her forward. Crona begins shaking again, but she steps into the crowd. Her eyes scan the vast, marble ballroom for the prince’s dark hair and golden eyes, but the sea of masks hides him.
She backs against a nearby wall, her heart racing, sweat dripping down her forehead onto her mask. She half-hopes he won’t find her, that she can just go home.
“Crona? Is that you?”
His voice almost relaxes her when it cuts across the floor, causing her head to lift up and their eyes to meet. His black-and-white suit fits him perfectly, and his eyes are ringed with a dark mask like a raccoon’s. A smile spreads across his face as he approaches her.
“You came. I would recognize your gorgeous blue eyes anywhere,” he breathes, taking her hand. He kisses it once gently before looking back up towards her. “I was afraid the crowd would scare you.”
Crona takes a deep breath. “I had to come to your birthday, Kid,” she says quietly. Kid sets his other hand on the side of her face, staring into her eyes as if he sees sapphires buried in her irises.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” he says. “I told Father that I wanted a masquerade in the hope that you’d come.”
She offers a weak smile. “Good idea,” she murmurs.
Kid frowns a little. “Are you alright, Crona?” he asks, wiping a bit of the sweat from beneath her bangs. “You look pale.”
She takes a deep breath. She needs to tell him what she’s doing; she needs to warn him so he’ll run and keep far away from her. Her mouth opens to shout at him, her hands move to shove him away, but the snakes bring her actions to a jarring halt.
“I… I don’t know how to deal with all of these people,” she whimpers reluctantly, as if the snakes have wound themselves around her free will and are willing it to burst. She prays that Kid can see the panic in her eyes, begging him not to believe her lies and to flee for his life, but her silent pleas go unanswered by gods that have no time for witches’ insignificant daughters.
“Then we can go somewhere more private, if you’d like,” he says. She finds herself nodding, and Kid smiles as he begins to lead her along the wall to a staircase in the rear of the room. Once they reach the stairs, the two skitter up the steps like they had so many times in the past, as young lovers running off to kiss in the dark. Countless hours had been spent around corners and behind bushes, their hands tangled in each other’s hair, forgetting that the world around them existed.
The snakes push Crona’s fond memories to the back of her mind. She has a job to do, and if she gets distracted, she might lose her chance.
Kid leads her onto a moonlit balcony where they can still hear the masquerade’s music drifting up from the floor below. He bows once, holding his hand out to her. “Now that we’re alone, milady,” he says, his voice low and teasing, “May I have this dance?”
Fighting the snakes as best she could, a smile graces Crona’s lips for the first time that evening. She curtsies, ladylike, and accepts his hand. “You may, my prince,” she replies. She sets her other hand on his shoulder, while Kid’s fingers find their way to her waist without his gaze ever leaving hers.
It really does feel like a fairytale. The party music plays softly in the background while the round, silver moon glints in Kid’s eyes, causing them to glow like small flames. They had danced enough in secret that their steps are perfectly in sync, even though Crona’s nervous eyes still occasionally flicker down to her feet to make sure she won’t step on his toes.
Slowly, without Crona even realizing it, their bodies have become pressed against each other, Kid’s head resting on her shoulder, his warm breath on her neck. She stiffens for a moment, terrified that he might feel the knife beneath some of the layers of fabric in her blouse. When Kid stops moving, her heartbeat quickens when he pulls his face away from her skin to look into her eyes.
“Crona?” he whispers, a frown creasing his brow. “What’s wrong?”
She shivers, cringing under his gaze, shaking a little. “I…” Her voice cracks and she stops herself, pulling his gaze away from his face. But Kid brings his hand beneath her chin, tilting her head up to look up at him once more.
“Crona,” he says her name again, his voice piercing through to her soul and sending it into chaos. In any other situation, that tone would’ve immediately caused her to spring into his arms, confessing everything to him. But tonight she’s silent.
Kid releases a sigh. His hand moves around to the back of her head, and Crona feels him pull the string tying her mask over her face. As the cobalt-colored velvet drops to the floor, Kid begins tracing his thumb over her cheekbone. “You’re too beautiful to hide behind a mask,” he whispers. Crona flinches again; she doesn’t deserve that kind of praise. She doesn’t deserve any praise, nor his touch, his smile. Not after what she’s been ordered to do.
Too late, she feels the tears slip down her cheeks, and Kid’s concerned eyes widen. “What’s wrong?” he repeats, his voice high with sudden panic.
She stares at him. She wants to tell him everything that’s wrong, but the snakes stop her. “I… Don’t feel well,” she half-lies, vision blurring from her tears.
Kid pauses. “Do you need to sit down?” he asks, but she shakes her head.
“I’ll be fine,” she lies again. Kid frowns, his fingers stroking her face with a soft but electrifying touch.
“But my Crona isn’t smiling,” he sighs. “That means I’m not doing my job.”
She shakes her head. “Taking care of me isn’t your job,” she protests and wipes tears away with her sleeve.
He slips his own mask off, dropping it next to hers on the balcony floor, before he fixes her in his sight once more. “Of course it is. You’re my lover,” he says, his gaze entirely serious. “Now, what will make you happy?”
She stares into his eyes, so honest and caring. Kid would never do anything to harm her, she realizes. But he’d do anything she asked.
Crona’s not sure where her next idea comes from. Perhaps it’s the snakes, or her mother’s influence on her, or it could even be a shard of some unknown madness that’s lain dormant in her soul.
Whatever the case, she then realizes how easy it would be to manipulate a loyal dog into throwing itself off a cliff.
“Kiss me?” she whispers softly. When Kid’s eyes widen, she licks her lips a little. “Please?”
It takes but a moment for the surprise to fall from Kid’s lips and for a sultry smirk to appear in its place. “Of course, my lady,” he says, leaning close to her. “It’s always my pleasure to serve.”
At first she returns his kiss dispassionately, afraid to get too committed, too attached. Quickly, however, spurred on by Kid’s soft lips and her own desperation, her hands move to cup his firm jaw. Kid’s own fingers grasp her waist and pull her closer to him, and Crona wishes their last kiss would never end.
Their last kiss.
Immediately the joy, the passion, the fire in Crona’s veins is snuffed out. Kid’s tongue and heated breath no longer excite her; they feel intrusive, like they don’t belong anywhere near her. One of her hands moves to his shoulder, while the other slips from grasping his jaw to reach into the hidden folds of her blouse. The bait’s been set, Kid’s distracted, and neither he nor Crona notices that she’s crying again until one of her tears slips over her lips.
The prince pulls away from her almost instantly, his kind eyes troubled. He opens his mouth to speak, possibly to ask her once more if something’s wrong, but Crona’s cry drowns out his words as her knife plunges into his stomach.
Crona realizes then that the party’s music has gone silent. The only sound is the rhythmic ticking of the castle’s clock tower, and the steady beat of Kid’s blood dripping onto the floor.
He stares at her for a moment. His golden eyes are wide, swimming with pain and confusion, and he begins to fall backward. Without thinking, Crona darts forward, grabbing him in her arms, even as he hisses in pain. She sits down and sets his head on her lap, though all the while she feels nothing.
Without warning, she gags. It feels like something’s crawling up her throat, and she coughs onto the floor. The two tiny snakes fly out of her mouth, barely more than small bolts of energy, before they slither off quickly to find their master.
“So you were cursed,” Kid murmurs, sounding tired and weak all of a sudden. Crona whips back around to him, and with the snakes gone, the horror of what she’s done slams into her like a battering ram when she sees the knife embedded in his stomach. His breathing is shallow, and fresh blood spills from the wound. “I’m glad,” he continues, taking breaks to cough up blood onto his lips, which are still bright pink from their kiss. “For a moment, I was afraid… That it had all been an act. All these years, just to kill me. I shouldn’t have… Doubted you.”
Crona shakes her head, setting her hand on the knife’s hilt. Kid cries out when she pulls it from his body and it clatters to the floor. The blade is tinted red with royal blood.
“I’m s-sorry,” she stammers, trying to use her dress’ fabric to put pressure on the wound. “But I needed to take it out so we can work on healing it…”
Kid frowns at her, grunting a little in pain. “Crona, stop,” he pleads, bringing his hand up to her face and turning her head to look at him. “Please. You can’t do anything.”
Her eyes widen. “Don’t say that,” she snaps, hands shaking. “Don’t you ever say that. I’m going to save you, Kid, I promise-!”
“Crona,” he sighs and interrupts her. “Get out of here. I don’t want them to catch you and blame you for my death.”
A sob escapes her lips. “But I did it,” she stutters.
He doesn’t seem to hear her, and a small smile settles on his face as he wipes tears from beneath her eyes.
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes. “I bet…” He pauses, coughing violently, spitting blood. “I bet the stars wish they shone as brightly as you…”
Crona’s mouth is dry, and her entire body trembles. “Kid, stop,” she whimpers, although he’s already stopped. His eyes are closed, his hand slips from her face, and he’ll never speak again.
The clock tower chimes, its dual hands pointing to twelve.
At the first bell, Crona screams and hugs Kid’s body close.
At the second bell, her hands grasp at his suit, wet with blood.
At the third bell, she lets him go with a sob, his lifeless corpse dropping to the floor with a sickening thud.
At the fourth bell, she’s running away from the balcony and to the stairs. Her mask is left behind, and Kid’s pooling blood reaches it and stained the fabric red.
At the fifth bell, Crona nearly trips on the staircase.
At the sixth bell, she dashes into the ballroom.
At the seventh bell, Medusa finds her. “You did it!” she smiles, looking proud.
At the eighth bell, mother and daughter rush through the ballroom. Medusa grins, “When we get home, I’ll give you all the sweets you want. I’ll even let you sleep in tomorrow.”
At the ninth bell, a scream goes up from the balcony. A party guest has found Kid.
At the tenth bell, one of Crona’s glass shoes falls off her foot and onto a staircase from the castle as they run to their enchanted carriage. She ignores it while Medusa tells her over and over how proud she is.
At the eleventh bell, the ball is thrown into ruin as word spreads that there might be a murder among the guests. Meanwhile, Crona and Medusa jump into the carriage that had formerly been a mere teapot. The wolf that Medusa turned into a coachman whips the horses – previously mice – into a run, as they make their clean escape from the castle. Crona looks out the window, staring at Kid’s home. Her heart breaks when she realizes once more that she’ll never see him again, or feel his touch, or get to make him smile, and it takes all her willpower not to scream.
At the twelfth bell, terrified party quests scatter, running down the stairs that Medusa and her pawn had escaped down mere seconds ago.
Crona’s glass slipper is stepped on and shattered.
I’m on a roll. Short and sweet, set in the world of From Blue To Red. (Which can be read at ffn, ao3) Tl;dr: this is a college AU that doesn’t require you to read FBtR before you read it. (But if you want to read FBtR, that’d be nice too.)
Day 3: Sea
All That Remains
Kid felt dread sink into his stomach as if he had swallowed a barbell, which pulled him down with its weight.
“Kid?” Crona asked, peering at him from across the small café table. “Are you okay? Did you hear what I said?”
He heard it, so he nodded. He heard every word, each one hammering nails deeper into his heart, threatening to shatter it.
“I’m going to transfer to a college in the next state, so I’m moving inland. I won’t stay here anymore.”
Crona smiled a little. “I just think that it would be nice to go somewhere that specializes in my major, like Maka did,” she explained. Her shoulders bunched up and her voice lowered sheepishly. “I really only came here with her because I didn’t want to go to college alone. But I think I can be brave now,” she smiled a little.
Kid loved that rare smile of hers. It was one he didn’t see often, glowing with confidence. He simply wished that confidence wasn’t directed at leaving him.
“But Crona,” he said slowly, desperate to dissuade her, keeping a straight face and hiding his panic well, “If it’s out of state, that’ll be really expensive.”
Crona shrugged. “Morte University was really expensive, too. Medu… My mother didn’t help pay for it at all,” she replied, sticking her spoon into her ice cream. She took a large bite of the strawberry dessert, licking her lips of the excess that had dripped from her spoon, causing Kid to lick his own lips subconsciously. “But if I get a job, work hard, and take more student loans, I should be fine.”
Kid frowned, his own chocolate ice cream seeming flavorless on his tongue as he swallowed a spoonful. “Student loans aren’t a good idea in the first place,” he muttered. Crona’s shoulders fell slightly.
"I know,” she mumbled, and Kid hated to see the smile slip from her lips. “But I don’t think I have any other choice if I’m going to go.”
Kid turned down to his ice cream, not meeting her eyes. “You could… Not go,” he suggested. “Morte University has a good literature program, too.”
Crona sighed, eating some more of her ice cream. “I know, but… Eibon Academy has been my dream for a while,” she replied. “I’d really like to go at the end of this semester.”
Kid gulped down a mouthful of chocolate and unspoken pleas. No matter how much he wanted to keep her to himself, no matter how much he wanted her close at all times, no matter how much he wanted to protect her, he knew he couldn’t stop her without feeling guilty.
“I know you can do whatever you put your mind to,” he said softly, resigning himself. The smile and kiss that she leaned across the table to deliver were almost worth the heartbreak.
Laying on his back on his leather couch, Kid gazed up at the ceiling with tired eyes.
"She’s leaving me,” he mumbled, throwing a pillow over his face. “She’s leaving me and making terrible decisions about her life and I can’t stop her or it’ll crush her dreams,” he added, voice muffled.
“Who? Crona?” asked Liz, who sat in the floor in front of him, playing video games with Patty.
Kid ripped his pillow off her face and shot her a small glare. “No one said anything about Crona,” he spluttered, flustered.
Liz turned around to smirk at him. “Kid, the garbage boy found you and Crona kissing behind Fish N’ Ships the other night,” she grinned. “You better hope that Maka kills you quickly when she finds out.”
Kid groaned, leaning back and shoving the pillow onto his face again. “Lovely. Maka gets to kill me before I die of separation anxiety. How convenient,” he muttered.
Patty’s loud video game music mixed with her cheers. “HA! Take that, you! You’re DEAD!” she shouted.
Kid lifted the pillow slightly. “What are you girls even playing?” he asked.
Liz rolled her eyes. “A rhythm game,” she mumbled. “Anyway, Kid, what did you mean about Crona leaving? Where’s she going?”
Kid sighed. “She’s transferring colleges at the end of the semester,” he said. “She’s going to Eibon Academy.”
Liz frowned. “Wow. Uh… That’s rough, buddy.” Her adoptive brother groaned once more.
“Thank you for your support,” he snapped.
Pulling the pillow from his face, Liz shot back, “Kid, you won’t be able to breathe with that on your head.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Well what would you do if Patty decided to leave you?” he retorted, as if that validated his actions.
“I wouldn’t try to suffocate myself,” Liz replied, setting the pillow next to the couch. “But I get what you mean. It’d be hard, especially if she was going somewhere far away. But I know she wouldn’t be leaving me,” she offered a small, gentle smile. “She’d just be moving away. She’d still be my little sister, just like Crona will still be the girl you make out with in back alleys,” she grinned.
Kid picked up the pillow that had been under his head and threw it into her face.
The next few months were hard. Between study dates, ice cream parlors, and not-secret-anymore kisses, Kid kept an eye on the calendar, wanting to make the most of every moment.
2 months, three days until Crona leaves.
1 month, fourteen days until Crona leaves.
Twenty-seven days until Crona leaves.
Eleven days until Crona leaves.
Crona leaves tomorrow.
“Thanks for getting me these new suitcases, Kid,” she smiled at him. He merely nodded, helping her pack her Christmas and going-away gifts into her bags. Maka was out with Soul, leaving Kid and Crona alone in the dorm to pack her belongings in preparation for the next day.
Crona sighed, and Kid saw that she had paused to look at a framed picture. He moved over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and setting his head on her shoulder as he gazed at the photo with her. Within the simple, dark wooden frame sat a photograph taken months ago, before their swimsuits had been abandoned for sweaters. Their group of friends stood on the beach, smiling in the October sun after taking the last swim of the season. Kid remembered that day; following that beach trip, hidden by the rocks of the cove as their friends walked on, Crona had finally consented to a kiss from him.
“I’ll miss the sea,” he heard her murmur. Kid turned his head, laying a gentle kiss on her neck.
“I’ll miss you,” he said. Setting the photo down, Crona quickly set her hands on his arms, leaning into the embrace.
“I’ll miss you too.”
They stood there in silence, the soft skin of her cheek against his face, when he felt her begin to shake.
“Crona?” Kid said, worried. He straightened his back as she turned around in his arms, and his eyebrows creased when he saw her shoulders quivering and her eyes watering.
“I… I’m leaving you,” she whimpered. “I’m leaving you, I’m leaving Maka, and I’m leaving everyone else.”
Kid tightened his grip around Crona, holding her to his chest and letting her tears fall on his shirt.
“You’re not leaving me,” he whispered, quoting Liz, “You’re just moving a little ways away. You’ll still be mine, and I’ll still be yours,” he whispered into her ear.
She wound her own arms around him, fingers gripping the back of his shirt. “I’m not ready,” she said softly. “Why did I agree to go? I can’t do this. I don’t know how to deal with going away on my own.”
Kid stroked her hair with one hand and wove his fingers between the lavender strands. “You can do this, Crona. You’re strong and brave, and if I know my Crona at all, she’ll power through this and be the best student Eibon Academy’s ever seen,” he said.
She moved to glance up at him, her azure irises rimmed with red from crying. “You think so?” she asked, and he nodded, placing a kiss to the top of her head.
“I know so,” he said, smiling at her.
He couldn’t have known how he’d look the next day, tears dripping down his own cheeks, as Crona gave him one final kiss goodbye.
He had no idea that he’d tell her over and over that he’d visit her, skype her, call her, text her, even send letters to her, as she waved and had to walk from his arms to the bus’s open doors.
He didn’t know how he’d stare after her as the bus pulled away, and make a heart shape with his fingers as his eyes met hers in person for the last time in months.
He didn’t realize how he’d embrace her again during spring break, holding her tight in his arms as he twirled her around in the air, before landing a starved kiss to her lips.
For in that moment she remained in his arms, soft and warm, and Kid could almost believe that he’d never have to let her go again.
I actually? Got this done?? In less than 24 hours??? I’m impressed with myself.
More Harpy AU!
Day 2: Holding Hands
Nevermore
Kid had been watching her.
He’d been suspicious of Crona at first. He felt that he had every reason to avoid her: she had tried to kill him during the battle on that ship, she had almost killed Soul, and she was the daughter of the witch that released the kishin.
He feared her too, as one might fear loose and rotting floorboards. Even when treading carefully, there was no telling when the floor would give way and he’d be sent falling, so Kid avoided Crona entirely to stay out of danger.
He watched her because he felt the need to keep an eye on her.
Maka seemed to trust her though, and that was enough to make Kid curious. He stopped avoiding her to remain at a “safe distance,” but chose to observe her without talking to her much. That seemed to upset her for some reason, and Crona’s cream-colored wings would droop whenever she made the effort to speak to him and he ignored her or brushed her off.
He watched her because he wondered about her.
Kid found her leaning against one of the school’s balconies, her head turned to the expanse of Raven City. The evening breeze lifted the uneven strands of her lavender hair and ruffled her feathers. Small, pink talons stood in full view below the hem of her dark, black dress, only adding to her oddness.
Kid cleared his throat to alert her to his presence and she spun around, deep blue eyes wide with panic as her wings flared out, ready to lift her to safety if need be. Kid made sure his own wings laid pinned to his back, nonthreatening and small.
“Good evening,” he said quietly. She only nodded, but her feathers smoothed down slightly. Kid stepped towards her slowly, his black talons clicking on the stone of the balcony. “About to take an evening flight?”
Crona’s wings sagged a little. “No,” she said quietly, turning back away from Kid. “I’m not a strong flyer,” she added.
Kid came to a halt next to her, sharing the view. “Then, if you don’t mind me asking, what are you doing up here?” he asked while he stuffed his hands in his pockets.
Her eyes flicked back towards him, but she swiftly looked away again. “Just looking at the city,” she murmured. Kid studied her face; her skin looked soft and flawless, if not a bit gaunt, her nose small and round. Her lips were thin, and Kid traced her smooth jawline with his eyes. It was then that Crona turned to him, blinking like an owl, and Kid tore his face away immediately to not be caught staring.
Because for some reason, in the fading light of sunset, she looked beautiful.
Kid opened up his dark wings and flapped once to hop on top of the balcony’s wall. Crona looked up at him.
"Are you going flying?” she asked. Kid nodded, and he watched the faintest hint of excitement light up her eyes, her wings opening in anticipation, before her face fell again and she stepped back from the wall.
Kid shuffled his talons once. “You can come with me if you’d like,” he said. Crona glanced up at him.
“But I’m not a strong flyer,” she replied. Kid shrugged a little.
“The only way to make yourself stronger is to practice,” he told her, extending his raven wings to their full length. With a single, strong flap, he pushed himself into the air, not waiting to see if Crona followed. But strangely enough, he felt relief when he heard her rapid wingbeats behind him.
Kid wheeled through the city, soaring between buildings and over animated streets, watching the town pass below him in a blur, like a watercolor painting decorated with the lengthy shadows and golden lighting of sunset.
He stopped to perch on a pointed roof when he heard Crona begin to pant. She landed soon after him, stumbling a little, and Kid panicked. He reached his arms out swiftly, catching her and pulling her upright before she fell.
“Are you alright?” he said softly, one hand grasping her palm, the other around her waist. She nodded, still panting slightly, and Kid slowly released his hold. His fingers shook a little, so he plunged his hands back in his pockets to keep them from being seen.
“You fly really fast,” Crona said, seemingly not noticing his jitters. “It’s hard to keep up.”
Kid faced away from her. “I’ll try to fly slower,” he said nonchalantly. He thought he heard Crona squeak a small “thanks,” but he had already taken off again. Out of the corner of Kid’s eye, be saw Crona follow close behind.
“Why a mourning dove?” he asked her one evening while they took a break in a church bell tower. Crona’s endurance had improved since they had begun flying together, but she still needed to rest more frequently than Kid, and he was willing to stop for her.
She gazed at him with those big, too blue eyes, and he found himself regretting his question when she turned her face to the ground. Kid opened his mouth to tell her that she didn’t need to answer if she didn’t want to, but she spoke first.
“It’s because I’m not meant to be a harpy,” she mumbled, grasping her arms. Kid’s next question spilled out of his mouth before he was able to stop it.
“What do you mean?”
Crona’s wings bunched up, extending over her shoulders like shields. “I was born a human, but Lady Medu… My mother found a way to fuse my soul with a harpy’s soul,” she explained. “I’m kind of an artificial harpy, and she says I didn’t come out right.”
Kid extended one wing, stretching it so that it rested against Crona’s back. She looked towards him again, and when he noticed that her eyes looked watery, he stepped closer to her and folded his wing around her.
“I think you’re perfect,” he said. A faint gray blush burst onto her cheeks, and Kid retracted his wing almost immediately. “Come on. We should be heading back,” he said quickly, leaping from the tower. He turned his head to make sure she was following at a steady pace.
“Kid,” Lord Death sighed, stopping his son from leaving the Death Room. The younger Raven turned to face his father, holding himself straight.
“Yes, Father?” he asked. Lord Death, wrapped in his own dark wings, loomed over him. His mask, designed to be a simplistic raven’s skull, entirely covered his head.
“We need to have a bit of a chat,” he said. Kid automatically frowned, even before Lord Death added, “I think you should stop hanging around with Crona.”
Kid stiffened, and his feathers puffed up slightly. “With all due respect, father,” he said, trying to keep from snapping, “Why would I have any reason to do that?”
The Raven sighed again. “Kid, I’m afraid she might be a bad influence,” he confessed, stepping forward, his dark talons peeking out from under his feathers as he strode across the platform. “She’s not entirely trustworthy. She’s repeatedly tried to kill my students, and helped release the kishin. There’s no telling if she’s fully on our side.”
Kid stepped back, glaring at his father. “Do you not trust me enough to choose who I spend time with?” he muttered.
Lord Death shook his head. “No, Kid. I know you’re plenty trustworthy,” he said swiftly. “I’m just saying that… Well, you see,” he staggered. “Sometimes, children your age sometimes let their emotions cloud their judgement.”
Kid’s fists clenched at his sides. “You don’t know her,” he growled. “You’re the one that’s not seeing her for who she is. She’s beautiful, sweet, amazing, and perfect, and I’ll spend as much time with her as I want!” he shouted and turned on his heel, indignantly storming out of the Death Room, ignoring his father’s calls behind him.
Crona started to smile when he stomped towards her on the balcony, but her face fell just as quickly. “Kid?” she murmured, looking concerned, “Is something wrong?”
He didn’t answer, merely jumping onto the balcony wall and spreading his wings.
“Keep up,” Kid said curtly as he lifted into the sky, wheeling swiftly down into the city below. He heard her stiff feathers beating the air behind him.
They flew without stopping, and he ignored her questions when they glided past the city limits. He only stopped once they reached a rock arch out in the desert, with Raven City a mere shape on the horizon. He landed heavily, stumbling slightly on the ochre stone, and Crona almost collapsed when she lighted down.
Kid’s face fell when he saw her panting, her shoulders rising and falling with each dry breath. He walked towards her, careful with his footing, and slowly wrapped his arms around her.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry,” he whispered over and over, waiting for her to breathe steadily again. His hands rubbed her back, from the base of her spine to brushing against her scapular feathers, then down and back up again.
Crona’s thin arms moved to wrap around Kid’s waist, and they remained there even after she had calmed down.
“What happened, Kid?” she asked softly, her breath warm on his ear. He sighed and his grip around her tightened.
“Father doesn’t want me around you anymore,” he mumbled. He noticed her wings began to droop, and he quickly added, “But I don’t care.”
He felt her stiffen, so he resumed rubbing her back. “I don’t care,” he said again. “I know you’re nothing like he thinks. He’s just too paranoid to see how wonderful you are,” he whispered. “And I wouldn’t trade the time I get to spend with you for anything.”
She pulled her head back, staring at him with wide eyes. “You really mean that?” she murmured. Kid offered her a soft smile.
“Every word,” he assured her.
Their eyes remained locked on each other for another moment. Slowly, gradually, her eyelids began to close, and she leaned towards him again. Through some unspoken signal, Kid did the same, meeting her kiss halfway.
When they flew back to the city, hand in hand, wings in sync and brushing against each other, Kid realized that he didn’t fall in love. Somehow, something about her had pushed him off-balance, and he had staggered forward for a while as if he could catch himself, but he inevitably toppled headfirst into her soul.
Between finals and all the other stuff that’s been going on IRL for me, this is probably the only prompt I’ll be able to get done on time. But I have ideas for all of them, and I will write them, they’ll just be a little late.
Heavily influenced by @kidxcronayear2015‘s Snake. Go check it out!
Day 1: School Uniforms
The Lion’s Share
Year 1
“Gorgon, Crona.”
She hears her name ripple through the dining hall like wildfire, carried by lips both young and old in shock and slight horror. Their reaction should have been expected, she tells herself, but she’s still tense and rigid as she steps forward to the stool where the gnarled hat sits, waiting.
Azusa watches her climb into her seat – she’s still quite small, having not yet hit the growth spurt that she’s told will come with adolescence – and then sets the hat on her head. The room falls silent in suspense as the brim slips over her eyes, shrouding her in darkness.
“So, what are you, eh?” She hears its voice in her head, causing her to jump slightly. “Looks like you’ve got Slytherin in mind. Sure, it’s a house of bloodlines and prestige, and you have plenty of that, Gorgon.”
Crona gulps nervously.
“But no, no I don’t think you belong in Slytherin,” the hat adds, and she stiffens, her fingers gripping the sides of the stool, as the hat goes on. “Smart, yes, loyal, very, but you are most truly…”
“GRYFFINDOR!” it shouts, filling the room with its voice, and Azusa promptly lifts the Sorting Hat from Crona’s head.
The red-and-gold decorated table erupts in cheers, while half of the Slytherin table sits slack-jawed. A Gorgon, a Gryffindor?
Crona stares blankly at the wall, her blue eyes wide, her entire body shaking. This couldn’t happen. She was supposed to go to Slytherin. She was supposed to join the same house as her mother, her aunts, her entire bloodline. She was supposed to do something right for a change.
The cheering fades and the room falls silent once more. Someone coughs. Crona still hasn’t gotten down from the stool. She can hear her heart pounding in her ears, and she’s sure that if anything sat in her empty stomach, it would be on the floor by now. She feels sick, and the room spins.
The Slytherins begin to snicker. The Ravenclaws start to roll their eyes. The Hufflepuffs whisper to each other, casting concerned glances towards the frozen first-year. The Gryffindors have resorted to gently coaxing Crona over to their table, as if they’re trying to draw a wounded animal from its corner, with a mix of kind and nervous smiles.
“Ms. Gorgon,” Azusa says sharply, “You need to get down. There are other students waiting to be sorted.”
Crona doesn’t move. Why a Gryffindor? There must be some mistake.
The Slytherins’ laughter fades, drenching the hall in awkward silence once again. Crona’s knuckles are turning white. Azusa sighs and rolls her eyes.
“Alright, come on,” she mutters, forcibly lifting Crona from the stool. The laughter from the Slytherin table starts up all over again as Crona’s set on the floor, knees quivering almost violently. A blonde girl from the Gryffindor table comes up to her slowly, and per Azusa’s instruction, guides her to her new House. The other students seated around the table cheer once more, though they’re almost drowned out by Slytherin’s jeers.
Crona’s broken out of her terrified daze only when food appears before her, and her meal is tasteless even then.
Sleep had struggled to take hold of Crona that night. She’s almost falling face-first into her breakfast when familiar, harsh hissing jolts her awake. She stares at the incoming owls, spotting the pitch-black sooty owl almost immediately. It shoves aside other owls on its way to the Gryffindor table, landing in the middle of Crona’s plate, startling her into almost falling off her seat as it hisses once again, loudly enough that many nearby students cover their ears.
It snaps at her when she tries to take the letter from it, beak clicking. Maka, the blonde from yesterday, has to distract it before Crona can retrieve her message.
There’s a single piece of parchment in the envelope. When Crona unfolds it, dread creeping up her spine, she finds it contains just a single sentence, written in the direct center of the paper in ink as black as a moonless night.
Don’t bother coming home.
Crona almost breaks down in sobs in view of the entire Gryffindor table. But she waits, holding it in until she’s alone during a break, where she collapses in a corner alone and cries until her eyes are dry and her sleeves are wet from wiping her tears away.
Christmas break finds Crona alone in the dormitory, listening to the train whistle outside as it grows fainter and fainter. Maka, her closest friend so far, has gone home to her Papa, leaving Crona to herself. The only other Gryffindor that remained was Blackstar, and he intimidated Crona too much for her to try and interact with him by herself.
The stone halls of Hogwarts seem bigger and colder when no one is with her. She wraps her arms around her thin frame, her robes doing little to block out the winter freeze that seeps in through the outside walls.
A tickle in her nose causes it to wrinkle up, and a small, chirping sneeze follows it.
“Bless you.”
Crona almost jumps two feet in the air. She whips around in fright, staring at boy who stands about ten meters away, down the hall. He’s taller than her, but still short, with sleek black hair and gold-colored eyes that she would’ve stared at longer, if the green-and-silver tie adjourning his neck hadn’t caught her eye.
He stalks closer to her, his perfectly-shined shoes silent on the floor, and she’s too paralyzed with fear to run.
“You’re the Gorgon, aren’t you?” he asks when he comes to a stop much closer to her. “The witch who wouldn’t get off the stool on that first night.”
She wishes she knew an invisibility spell. She just wants to fade away and never talk or think about that horrible night ever again.
“You’d have to be Medusa Gorgon’s child,” the boy continues, his eyes narrowing. “If you were eleven when you entered Hogwarts, then that’s too young for you to belong to Shaula or Arachne; they both died before you were born.”
Crona knows this. She nods silently, hoping that if she agrees with the Slytherin, he’ll go away. He doesn’t.
“Medusa, the witch who’s been in hiding for years,” he mutters, as if he can’t believe what he’s saying. “The most infamous dark witch in the past five centuries. And somehow her daughter is found and accepted into Hogwarts. And somehow, against all odds, that child is a Gryffindor.”
He leans forward, glaring at her wide and frightened eyes. “It all seems very suspicious to me,” he snaps. “Are you a spy, Crona Gorgon? Did your mother send you to infiltrate Hogwarts?”
Crona takes a step back and squeezes her eyes shut, bracing herself for more accusations, shaking with fear.
But the Slytherin falls silent. After a moment, Crona cracks open one eye, and finds the boy standing as he was, staring at her with a strange emotion in his eyes.
“Well,” he says after a moment, shoving his hands in the pockets of his trousers, “I suppose I should be grateful you’re not a Slytherin, anyway. Can’t have another Gorgon sullying my house’s name,” he scoffs, turning away from her.
She’s about to dart off when loud footsteps reach her ears, echoing through the halls, and two blonde girls quickly round a corner to come bounding at the boy.
“There you are, Kid!” the taller one calls, coming to a halt behind him. The girls’ ties match the boy’s, causing Crona to shrink back even further. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you!”
Kid sighs. “Yes. Sorry,” he mutters, following the two girls and leaving Crona behind as if she didn’t exist, which is fine with her.
Only after she’s back in the silent safety of the Gryffindor common room does she realize who she met in the corridor.
The two girls had called him Kid. He was Kid Morte, the Headmaster’s own son, who lived in the castle with his father. That boy had a reputation as one of the coldest snakes to ever slither in to Hogwarts.
Shivering in front of the hearth, Crona agreed with the rumors.
Year 2
Maka denied that Kid was as bad as they said. Her Papa had been friends with Headmaster Morte for years, and Maka had spent plenty of time with Kid over her childhood. She said that although the second-year Slytherin may seem cold at first, he was very friendly once you got to know him. She also said that the two girls that hung around him were Liz and Patty Thompson, a fourth-year and a first-year, respectively. Kid had convinced Headmaster Morte to adopt them from the streets when Liz had refused to come to Hogwarts unless she could take her little sister along with her. Maka was sure that Kid never would have done that if he only looked out for himself, but Crona was skeptical. There was plenty he could gain from having the Thompsons around like two toughened bodyguards.
Crona could almost sense the suspicion Kid directed at her every time they shared a class, and his hatred was as obvious as the cold colors of his tie. But like it or not, he was stuck with her again next Christmas, as two of the only students remaining in an otherwise silent castle.
She’s gained a bit more confidence in the past year, having made enough friends that most people seem to have forgotten she’s a Gorgon; from Blackstar and Maka in Gryffindor to even two Hufflepuffs, Soul and Tsubaki. And she might be imagining it, but she thinks that the intensity of Kid’s glares may have died down.
“So you’re left here again?”
Crona almost jumps again. She knows Kid’s voice by now, but it’s no less jarring when it comes to her over the quiet of the empty library. She looks behind herself and stares at him, meeting his disconcerting golden gaze. She nods once.
“Stein’s still here, so there’s nowhere else I can go,” she murmurs. Kid raises an eyebrow.
“Franken Stein? The Ravenclaw Head of House?” he wonders.
Crona nods again. “Mm-hm. He let me stay with him over the summer,” she replies, and Kid scoffs.
“You didn’t go home to your mother?” he mutters, prompting Crona’s shoulders to bunch up.
“She didn’t want me back,” she whimpers a little.
Kid’s harsh expression drops suddenly, and his brows furrow slightly. “She didn’t want you back?” he asks, pulling out the chair next to her. She sighs and shakes her head. Kid frowns as he sits. “That’s odd. Why not?”
Crona wraps her arms around herself. “It’s not odd. She didn’t want a Gryffindor in the family,” she mumbles. “She told me before I came here that if I was sorted into any house besides Slytherin, I wasn’t her daughter.”
Kid’s gold-colored eyes narrow as they watch the table in front of them. “Well that’s not fair at all,” he snaps, surprising her. He turns to glance at her again and adds, “But Stein doesn’t have a great reputation either. Staying with him must’ve been terrifying.”
She smiles a little. “Actually, Stein’s really nice. He’s not nearly as bad as people say, and he’d never hurt any of his students or anyone he cares about,” she explains.
Kid made a small humming sound in agreement, and he leans back to look towards the ceiling. “Some people aren’t anything like what rumors say about them,” he says softly. Crona’s smile falls. All she can do is nod.
They slip into silence, and Crona turns back to her book. She couldn’t help the feelings of suspicion she began to point towards Kid; perhaps he only wanted to know about her so she’d be less of an unknown threat.
Whatever the case, they continue to run into each other over the break, getting to know each other better with each encounter. She learns that Kid enjoys a muggle sport called “skateboarding,” and that he’s working on bewitching one such skateboard to fly. He loves symmetry and aesthetics, and spends a good bit of his free time straightening the paintings in the halls (for which they were grateful). He loves having authority to be able to shape things how he wants them, so he hopes one day to be Headmaster like his father. But he’s also afraid that he can’t live up to his father’s reputation, and struggles with self-doubt. Crona does her best to reassure him, that she’s sure he can do anything he puts his mind to do, and it seems to help. In turn, she tells Kid about her nightmares and visions of Medusa, and the horrible things she had done when Crona had been a child, like conducting magical experiments on her very blood. That was why, she confesses, that she bled black.
When a small package appears in front of the Gryffindor common room on Christmas day, addressed to Crona but with no sender, she doesn’t have to think long about where it came from. The miniature, enchanted stuffed lion Kid gave her glows with just enough golden light to chase away nightmares when she sleeps.
Year 4
Crona hurries down the stairs from the dorms, hearing loud chatter and laughter from the common room. Many students are clustered behind the fat lady’s painting, some with their ears pressed against the closed doorway.
“What’s going on?” asks Crona, sliding up behind the small throng.
“A Slytherin’s trying to get in,” comes a hurried reply. “Shut up and listen; he’s hilarious.”
Crona frowns, shoving through students to try to get to the back of the painting.
“You haven’t come anywhere near guessing the right password, boy,” The fat lady says with a yawn in her voice. “You’re never going to get it. Just crawl back to your snake pit.”
Boos and hisses sound from the Gryffindors at the fat lady’s snide remark.
“Just let me in!” cries a voice that Crona recognizes, coming from the other side of the painting. “Uh… Bravery! Chivalry! Lion!” he guesses.
The fat lady laughs. “Really? Is that all?”
Crona finally makes her way to the portrait. “Can you let me out, please?” she asks over the din. She hears the fat lady sigh.
“For you, of course, Crona. Just make sure this reptile doesn’t get slither inside behind you,” she mumbles, swinging open. Crona practically topples forward, almost landing on the floor, before his arms catch her.
“Are you all right?” Kid asks softly, while the fat lady’s entryway closes behind them. Crona nods, and she picks herself up. She notices then that, at her full height, she’s taller than him now.
“Yeah,” she says. “What are you doing here? And why couldn’t it wait until the next time I saw you?”
Kid takes a deep breath. “Because I needed to ask you as quickly as I worked up the courage,” he mumbles. Crona’s about to ask what he means, when Kid suddenly whirls around to glare at all the nearby paintings, which have begun to whisper to each other.
“Any of you spread rumors about her, and I’ll have father throw you in the lake!” he shouts, then he adds, his voice lower, “I hear the squid likes portraits.”
That sends them scattering like ripples in a pond, all running from the threat of the Headmaster’s son. He sighs.
“Now,” he says, turning back to Crona, “I wanted to ask if you’d like to accompany me on the next Hogsmeade trip,” he asks.
She tilts her head. “… Like a date?” she wonders slowly, feeling unfamiliar warmth in her cheeks.
Kid nods, coughing slightly into his elbow nervously. “Yes, I suppose,” he replies. “Like a date. Actually, I planned to take you to The Three Broomsticks for a meal. Would that be all right?”
She nods again, and Kid’s anxiety falls from his face as he smiles. “Great. I’ll see you then,” he says softly, taking her hand to press a chaste kiss to her pale knuckles. His golden eyes pull back up to hers, twinkling gently in the low light.
Crona’s face burns, but she finds herself smiling. “Bye,” she squeaks, her voice small. Kid nods, smiling back at her, while his fingers grasp onto hers for as long as they can as he slowly walks away from her, and she watches him leave until he turns a corner and is out of sight.
“What were you doing out there?” the other Gryffindors ask, clamoring around her as he steps back inside the common room. “Did you get him to leave?”
All she can do was nod and tell them she had gotten the boy to leave. None of their questions imply that they suspect her of anything, and why would they? It’s inconceivable that the headmaster’s Slytherin son would ever have anything to do with the Gryffindor Gorgon.
Only Crona knows of the lovely feeling that had swelled in her chest when he kissed her hand.
Continuation of last year’s SoMa Week Day 4. More Avatar AU!
Day 7: Just Kiss Already
Grand Dragon
Soul sighed dejectedly as the smell of hot tea wafted through the kitchen, drifting into his nose, while his grandmother poured him a cup of the drink. He would’ve liked to have Maka sitting beside him, but she had left in a huff earlier, saying she was going to go for a walk to cool her head, leaving Soul alone with Granny.
She hated the Fire Nation, she had said. She hated being here. She hated that Soul had dragged her across the ocean to stay in Capitol City, where she had to change into red and black clothes so that she wasn’t given harsh glances everywhere she went. She just wanted to go home. She just wanted to go back to her village.
Soul planted his face in the table. She hated him, he was sure. She’d never agree to the reason behind this visit, why Soul had wanted her to meet the last of his family.
“Now, dear,” Granny said, setting the steaming cup in front of her grandson, sitting across from him at the dark wooden table. “Tell me what happened. Let Granny see if she can fix it.”
Soul didn’t move his head to look at her. “I can fix my own problems, Granny. I’m not a kid anymore,” he grumbled into the table. He heard her take a sip of her tea.
“Maybe not, but you’re pouting like a toddler,” she told him.
He growled a little, lifting his head. “Maka’s being irrational,” he muttered, grabbing his cup and taking gulps of the hot tea.
“You’re going to burn your throat,” Granny chided.
Soul huffed, setting his cup back down. “I’m a Firebender,” he replied, as if that excused him from getting burnt.
Granny scoffed at him. “So was your great-grandfather, and he got burnt when my mother made him hot tea,” she said.
Soul shrugged, drinking more of his tea even though his tongue still stung. He’d never admit to the pain, but he could’ve sworn that Granny cast him a knowing look.
“Anyway,” she continued, taking another sip of her own drink, “What seems to be the problem? From what I’ve seen, you and Maka love each other very much. How long have you known each other?”
Soul thought a moment, counting off years on his fingers. “Eight years,” he said. “The year I first stayed in her village, then I was deployed for five years, and then I went back for another two,” he explained.
Granny glanced up at him with her aged mahogany eyes, which were wrinkled slightly at the edges. “Sounds complicated,” she observed. “Had she changed in those five years that you hadn’t seen her?”
Soul smiled slightly. “She had changed so much. She’d grown taller, more mature, and looked more beautiful than ever,” he sighed a little, gazing off into space, remembering how she had looked that day.
“Did you write her letters at all?” Granny asked, and Soul shook his head. “And yet she still welcomed you back. That’s dedication and true love, if I ever saw it.” At Soul’s blush, she chuckled again. “Your face has gone red, Soul. Must be all that hot tea.”
Soul coughed nervously. “Right. Hot tea,” he agreed, avoiding her eyes. “But if she really… If we’re really, uh, in love,” he stammered, struggling to say the truest thing he’s ever known, “Then why is she constantly arguing with me now? What did I do to upset her?”
Granny’s smile fell. “Every relationship encounters disagreements and arguments,” she said softly. “It’s natural. You’re just encountering a rough point. If you emerge together, your bond will be made stronger for it.”
Soul sighed again. “But how can I fix what I’ve done if I don’t know what I did?” he mumbled.
“Well, she didn’t want to come here, did she?” his grandmother replied. “Perhaps if you explain to her why she’s here, and the reasons for all your other actions, then she won’t be as hostile. You never know; there might be something bothering her that she won’t tell you, either.”
Soul stiffened, his eyes widening. He told Granny why he had come, but he had kept the reason a secret to Maka. He hadn’t wanted to tell her until the last minute, but if it was pushing her away, he worried that he might be forced to say something sooner.
“And then what?” he murmured. “What if that doesn’t help?”
Granny’s smile returned to her face, bright and playful. “Then kiss her,” she beamed. “It worked on your grandfather whenever he was in a snit. Well, when we were younger. Besides, you two have been here for a week and have barely held hands. Just kiss already,” she laughed, while Soul’s face turned beet red.
Maka stepped in the door after the sun had gone down, appearing to have calmed slightly after her walk, which made Soul reluctant to bring up the topic that had made her upset in the first place.
But Granny continued dropping prompts, and he knew that she expected him to repair his relationship with his girlfriend. So with a sigh, sitting next to her on the couch while she read over a tome, facing away from him with her legs curled up so that her knees were pointed towards him, he finally spoke.
“Is there anything wrong?” he asked slowly.
Maka suddenly slammed her book shut and fixed him with a glare. “Really?” she said incredulously, her eyebrows raised. “Really, Soul? Now you ask me if something’s wrong?”
Soul felt like shrinking into the fabric, but he didn’t move. “Yes,” he said, trying to sound calm.
He watched Maka’s grip on her tome tighten as if she was trying to choke the pages out of it. “Soul, ever since we got here, ever since we got in that boat, ever since we left my village, I’ve been miserable. And you only think to ask me now?” she shouts.
Soul opened his mouth to say more, but Maka spoke again before he did.
“Yes, something’s wrong. Everything’s wrong!” she continued. “I hate being here! I hate how the Fire Nation looks, I hate how it smells, people were hostile to me until I put on clothes that made me look like them, and you have absolutely no reason to have brought me here! I should go home right now and leave you on this miserable little island-!”
He cut her off by capturing her lips with his, catching her with her mouth open. Her breath was rapid, worked up, and she pressed her hands to his chest to push him away, until he nipped her bottom lip. Her body tensed for a moment, and he felt her suck in a swift breath, before she relaxed and began to kiss him back. Soul smirked a little, bringing one hand up to cup the side of her face.
Soul wasn’t sure how long the kiss lasted, with rushed breaths in-between melding their lips together, but Maka pulled away suddenly when they heard footsteps on the floor. She whipped around, face flushed, breath heavy, as Granny smirked in the doorway.
“Oh, don’t mind me, kids,” she grinned, turning and walking back out the doorway. “I wasn’t hearing anything, so I thought I might check on you. I should’ve known.”
Maka’s face became even redder, but she managed to put on a pout as Soul turned her face back to his. He could feel the warmth in her cheek against his palm.
“Being a good kisser will not win you this argument,” she muttered. Soul smirked a little.
“You look absolutely adorable when you’ve got your bottom lip stuck out like that,” he said, leaning forward to set his forehead against hers. She corrected her expression so she looked more irritated than pouty, but Soul still found it endearing. “Look, Maka,” he said slowly, brushing her bangs away from her eyes with his forefinger, “Nobody likes the Fire Nation. It’s dirty, it’s dingy, it’s always hot, and everything smells like ash. I wouldn’t have brought you here if I didn’t have to.”
Maka frowned. “Why did you have to?” she asked.
Soul stared at her, the smirk falling from his face. “Well, I uh…” he stuttered, staring her straight in the eyes. Those vibrant, emerald green eyes, the color of which was brought out brilliantly by the red in her Fire Nation outfit. “I… Wanted you to meet the rest of my family, and that’s just Granny at this point…” he trailed off.
She tilted her head. “Why’s that?”
He sighed. “Because Mom and Dad were killed in the war, Wes is MIA…”
“No, not that,” she interrupted him with a roll of her eyes. “I mean why did you have to introduce me to your grandmother?”
Soul watched her closely. Maka, the girl of his dreams, nestled in his arms as if she was the most fragile and gentle being in the world, but with a constant spark in her eyes that showed how easily she could topple a mountain if she wanted. Strong, soft, powerful, small, beautiful. His Maka.
But his next words could change all that. She could stay his, the light of his life and the girl who had given him a reason to live and smile once more, or she could say no, and that would be the end. No more holding hands, brushing their fingers against each other. No more silent cuddles, which never lasted long enough. No more kissing that long, smooth neck, no more of her warm lips on his. No more seeing her beauty every day, or belonging to the most amazing girl in the world, or doing as much as he could to make her smile and show her just how much he loved her.
“Soul?” Maka’s voice broke into his thoughts. “What’s going on? You zoned out.”
He gulped. Even with the risk, it would be worth it if she agreed, he reminded himself. He had to take that chance. He had to take the next step, either with her or alone.
“Will you marry me?” he blurted out, one hand on her back, one hand grasping her fingers, which still laid on his chest.
Maka froze, and Soul went rigid. He shouldn’t have done that. He shouldn’t have asked. She was going to say no. She was going to reject him. She’d return home to the Earth Kingdom and he’d stay in the Fire Nation with Granny, otherwise alone for the rest of his life, never to find someone as stunning, as wonderful, as—
“Yes.”
Soul allowed himself a single breath. “D-do you mean it?” he said shakily. She nodded.
“Yes,” she replied, taking a breath as well. “I want to marry you.” She smiled, releasing a soft giggle. “Actually, if you didn’t ask soon, I was going to ask you myself when we got back to my village.”
Soul laughed, crushing her in a tight hug. She didn’t protest, wrapping her arms around him and clinging tight.
“Congratulations!” Granny leaned in the doorway and grinned.
