Chapter Text
Again.
He raised his head towards the other direction, at the strong pull tugging at his being. As soon as the sensation reminded him of the soul's familiar pattern, Death let out a long sigh. Looming over everyone amidst the building's shadows, his eyes soon landed at your form who had seemingly ducked from across a shop's fruit stand. Judging from the way you peeked from under the table together with a hooded cape covering half of your features, much like his, it was obvious that you were trying to lose a group of individuals.
And he could already pinpoint who by the amount of royal guards dashing past through him, charging at the bustling streets in pursuit of their escaped target.
"Where's your highness?"
"No way we lost them again..."
"They couldn't have gotten that far!"
Death scoffed at the unfolding scene, his gaze filled with amusement as they barged their way through the mass of people, completely missing your hiding spot.
Once they disappeared through the swallowing crowd did you then deliberately pop up from your position, breathing out an air of relief. After checking around for any potential jump scare from your pursuers, you discreetly slipped away into the swarming market goers, all the while drawing your hood down to avoid being recognized and quite possibly be captured again.
But Death could see you— feel you so clearly even from afar.
With the intricate design adorning the garments you wore underneath, your determination to be invisible from the public eye, and the most dead give away as the men's distraught yells of your royal title, he could easily tell that you were born into royalty.
Death's pointed look slowly eased. "Good for you."
The last time you had mentioned something along the lines of hoping to be more fortunate with your next life by becoming an heir to a kingdom of some sort, you were nothing but a young commoner. Everyday you got by through the means of letting the spreading garden outside your yard flourish. You were good at what you did that the village folk regularly flocked for your goods; always crafted and tended for with great care. Death could attest to this, notably with the souvenir you had imparted him in that lifetime.
A bunch of forget-me-nots.
He thought it was foolish, for someone to offer him a thing so frail that could wither in his touch.
(He tried to keep the memory of it alive for as long as he could.)
This wasn't something he'd outwardly admit to himself, but out of all your lives he had the dis-pleasure of clashing fates with, it was in that moment where Death deemed you most worthy by how you spent your days to the fullest compared to the those who put little value in theirs.
It's why he never understood the appeal of that silly wish of yours. He believed you were already blessed with much more than those sitting idly on their thrones, wasting away inside their high castles.
Wealth did present itself in different forms.
And so Death told you it was a stupid daydream, his usual spat when it came to your absurdist of ideas, which were frankly plentiful in your brief periods of living.
"I get that it's wishful thinking, but don't you think life would be much better if I was well-off?" You started once, propping up your elbows on your work table that was connected to the windows.
Death was casually seated right beside you, watching you peer outside the meadows with a hopeful gleam in your eyes. "I don't see any problem living in this cottage of yours."
"Of course you don't." You snatched him a glance. "You're always out there traveling while here I am living on my own in this run-down house. It would be nice if I can see the world for myself too one of these days..." And honestly speaking, it did get lonely all by yourself without his company.
"You think you would be happier if you were a noble?"
"If I don't have to wake up worrying about venturing the woods through and back or whether today's harvest would be enough to accommodate my daily needs, then maybe."
That was supposed to come out as a light-hearted confession.
Death's expression hardened, just as subtle. "Are you unsatisfied with this life?"
You faced him thoroughly. "Hey, just because I'm longing for something much more, doesn't mean I don't appreciate what I have right now."
"Then I don't see why it matters. Kings and queens and peasants, you're all going to meet the same fate someday."
(You're all going to meet him in your last moments someday.)
His bitter tone was dismissed by a snort of disbelief. "Why do you always have to turn it into something so dark?" you said with a quirk of your lips.
You often found yourself wondering how indeed you managed to strike an unlikely friendship with such a brooding guy.
"But... do you believe in that stuff?"
"What stuff?" Death's eyes glazed over you. He was unwinding one of his sickles from his holsters, before playfully flicking its sharp end out of boredom.
Never once were you bothered by his display of questionable equipment. You've long ago surrendered yourself to the bond you two shared that you trusted he would never flash those blades at you.
(You're right. He wouldn't. At least not in this life.)
"You know, being granted another chance to a second life, turning over a new leaf, the like."
The edges of his mouth curled into a snicker. "You're practically having a conversation with me, a talking wolf, what's stopping you from indulging in some fairytale?"
Your face turned sour and you lightly smacked his arm. "I'm serious." Cheeky bastard. "Do you think there would be an opportunity for me to become someone entirely else?" You leaned over the table top, resting your cheek on your hand along with a half-lidded stare. "Hopefully another life where you're not an ass most of the time too," you added.
Death raised a brow at the latter bit. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear you say that." He had sheathed his sickle once more and relaxed against the cushions of the chair. "I can't say anything about your future, but you were undoubtedly of great annoyance in the past."
"What was that?"
"Nothing. Don't mind my mumbling."
"Ah well..." You lifted your gaze at the arrangement of flora in front of you. Gently poking the petals of your morning picks, you broke into a soft smile. "If I'm lucky, maybe I'll find you first next time."
There was a sudden lump stuck in his throat, roping its way through his chest, compressing it much tighter than he had expected.
"You won't," he said, voice low yet so certain, like this was a common topic between the two of you. His answer would stay the same. "But I will."
Death found his way towards you every time, after all, you had no recollection of your previous lives whenever you two crossed paths in your new ones.
But deep down, he would always know it's you.
That no matter how much he discouraged you through gritting words or dragged you using vice-like grips with threats at the tip of his tongue, or even aimed his blade at you with bared fangs, your spirit would remain unyielding, meeting him head on.
Other times with a sly grin, an inkling that you've figured out who he truly was.
(He wondered if you could remember.)
Mostly eyes with a bold sense of resolution, acting like you were never fazed by his presence.
As if you weren't deterred by anything life threw at you in its unending course of ups and downs. Not even when Death himself would come knocking at your door to claim your soul through the mortal shell harboring it.
Every damn time.
Perhaps that was what infuriated him, initially.
"Ah!"
Death quickly recovered from his nostalgic musings when you came tumbling down, hands forward to put a full stop at falling on your face. A funny coincidence that you just had to step at the hem of your own cloak and trip right into the deserted alley where he was rooted.
You scrambled to your feet with the sole intention of dissolving into the background, be gone forever from everybody's view. Immediately you flung yourself at the stranger draped in black.
"Hide me!"
"What are you—"
"Shh!" Your frantic movements revealed half of his face from under his poncho with you carefully snapping his snout shut. "Act like... act like you don't know me."
It's as if you were begging him to bite a piece of you off. "I don't." His response came out as a growl through clenching teeth.
"Great, now don't look back!" Death was sure you had the capacity to twist somebody's neck when you wrenched his head straight ahead whilst staying put behind him. "Pretend I'm not here."
One of the royal guards had probably sighted you mingling amongst the people walking about and called for reinforcements. You had bumped shoulders with one before breaking into a run at the opposite direction, ensuing a chase with multiple guards hot on your trail. All else was history. Now you'd employed him as your human shield in tries of getting yourself out of the mess you created.
"I'm telling you I saw your highness right this way!"
"We're doomed."
Death didn't doubt that you'd pull something like this. You were unfortunately capable of bringing chaos into the picture in your own way just as the wretched Puss in Boots.
The mischievous thief that you also once were.
Alas, you were not that person anymore. At least not exactly to an extent. That person was a fleeting memory of your past, and regardless of the relationship you had both entangled yourselves with before— which happened to involve a lot of weapons pressed against each other's throats— it was a part of your whole existence that he secretly liked to hold on to.
"Tsk tsk, it seems that you have a penchant for trouble," he said, mirth evident in his voice.
The comment had you responding with a weary chuckle, "Sorry to drag you. I promise, I'm not always like this."
"I highly doubt that." A smirk crawled on Death's features at the thought. "Wouldn't it be crazy if somebody gives your position away?" he whispered, well enough to evoke a dramatic gasp of betrayal.
"You wouldn't dare."
He could feel your hit on his back to carry a point across. Not that it had done anything other than provide him delightful entertainment at your predicament. "What do I get for keeping you from getting yourself into trouble?"
"Um, I'll be out of your hair soon..?" Death imagined you offering him a shrug.
"Fair enough." His ominous frame was enough to conceal you, the assembly of knights in charge finally dispersing throughout the busy streets once they figured out that you were nowhere near the vicinity anymore, much to their chagrin. "Mind telling me why you're torturing your poor guards?"
"I'm not torturing them," you said defensively, uncovering yourself from beneath your hood. "Apparently being next in line to the throne makes it illegal to have some alone time for yourself."
Your savior turned around to regard you at last, so did you. His striking red eyes bore into yours and you had to crane your neck up to meet them. Somehow the passage in between houses where you two were seemed much... smaller. "Don't you know it's only natural for them to be at your service if you're to inherit the title in the future?" he replied as a matter of fact.
You frowned a bit, because yes of course, you were aware how much you mattered to the palace. There was no need for a total stranger to lecture you on that subject considering you've been kept under suffocating watch since then. However, a stranger he may be, you found yourself weirdly unperturbed by his presence. "But following you wherever you go? I'm very much my own person and I have my autonomy to some privacy too." You crossed your arms, looking away. "It just all feels... constricting."
Death barked a laugh at the irony of your statement, earning your stunned reaction. He was almost tempted to say, I told you so, purely to spite your old self. "I'm not surprised, you haven't changed a bit."
Your brows were now creased together. Certainly you would recall if you ran into him way back, you never forgot a face. "Why do you act like you know me? Have we met previously?" you asked, suspicions arising, and yet a tug at your core demanded that you bury them down.
"No," he answered, moving closer than ever that your cloaks were barely inches from each other. His smirk was not budging at the slightest as he held your attention evenly. "At least not yet."
You blinked at him, an itch to unravel who this wolf is was emerging. "You're... odd," you said more to yourself, then you sent him a decided smile to match. "I like odd."
He grinned wider, razor teeth glinting. Death reached over your head and you sucked in a breath at the abrupt gesture. "Oh, I'm sure you do," he muttered right next to your ear, distractedly pulling your hood down your face. Death began walking away, deeper into the narrow path as if he didn't just cause an alarming increase in your heart rate.
What the—
Despite a foreboding air hanging around him, you couldn't help but feel warmth at the faint longing present in his gaze, the ghost of his calming touch, and the familiar utter of his words. As if he was no stranger to your senses at all.
Stranger.
"Wait! I haven't properly thanked you," you called out to his retreating form. Something in your system was screaming at you to follow him into the unknown. "Can you tell me your name? Where are you going?"
Death paused, looking back at you. "As much as I'd love to catch up with everything you've done so far in this life, I have an important business to finish." He hummed, contemplative. "Fortunately, I'm not here for you. Not this time."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means," he said, coy smile returning, "you promised that you'd let me go if I help you lose your cavalry of guards."
Your insides recoiled at the prospect of letting him go. "Will I get to see you again?" you asked, visibly expecting.
There was a flash of delicate emotion in his eyes. It vanished as soon as it came. "You will, corazon."
With that, Death bid you a temporary farewell. He was confident that the blanket of silence falling between the two of you afterwards spoke volumes of how he would honor his vow. Death was a man of his word after all.
Resuming steadily towards his original destination, the towering heights of the castle walls greeted him like an old friend. He scanned the congregation of unaware mortals going on about the grounds as he blended right into the scene; across the blooming fields, through the grandest of halls, up the lavishly built stairs, and into the closed confinement of the king's private quarters.
Death sighed patiently, biding time for the inevitable.
Bestowing you with the royal crown as their successor would come far too early.