#mounting spring

Dear Nanna,

How is everyone? How is Mother handling her condition? I am dying to hear from you all soon, but I know that wait is a burden we must both carry, not only for my sake, but for yours. I find myself writing to you every other day, even though I cannot send these letters. Somehow, the act of putting pen to paper grounds me. It is the only thing that feels certain.

The days on the road are long and exhausting. That continuous tiredness I spoke of before leaving the Walls still haunts me like a shadow. I fear I lack a true purpose here, and the constant mockery regarding my inability to fit in only exacerbates the ache. When my husband is near, the other soldiers do not even dare to lift their gaze from the floor. However, the second he is out of sight, the story changes completely. They mock my accent, my upbringing, my beliefs, and my physical limitations. Their prying eyes devour me, and their whispered comments terrify me. It is my fault, I am aware.

You told me to be receptive and lovely—that kindness would eventually win him over. I am trying, Nana; I swear I am. I know my current struggle is merely the consequence of my own hesitance; after all, a claimed Omega is a respected Omega. "Boys will be boys," they say. I do my best to mitigate the damage by dressing modestly, but in this heat, the fabric feels like a shroud.

Do not fear, I do not bother my husband with these trifles. He is a busy man. I try to spend as much time with him as possible, if only to quiet my fears, but he seems to have a finite amount of patience for my presence. Sometimes he goes hunting or patrolling for hours and insists I remain behind. The Commander mentioned that he needs his "solitude." Mother always said I would eventually learn the signs of when a husband wants dedication and when he desires to be left alone. I think I am finally beginning to recognize the weight of his exhaustion.

He got angry with me the other day. I am still not entirely sure why. He shouted, then disappeared for a long walk, only to return with meat for dinner. He ruffled my hair in what I believe was a silent apology. I have learned he is a man of rigid habits; from the few conversations we’ve had about our "arrangement," it’s clear he had little interest in acquiring anyone to fill his solitude.

However, I am grateful. My only request before abandoning my childhood room was that my husband (whoever he was meant to be) would not be a cruel man. God had mercy on me in that regard. My husband is not cruel; quite the opposite. He is kind and gentle to me. He does not strike me, and he takes diligent care of my well-being and the well-being of those who depend on him.

Lately, I have tried harder to fulfill my role as a beloved wife, hoping it might allow him to fulfill his. Sometimes, I think this whole issue would be resolved if he would simply claim me. I believe he wants me to desire it, too. But if I am allowed to ask you: what exactly should I be desiring?

On our wedding night, he told me he had no intention of doing anything if I did not want to. When I asked him, 'What if I never want to?', he only shrugged and said it would be a long wait until spring.

I do not understand what he is waiting for, Nanna. He is my husband; this is his right, yet he speaks as if I have a choice in the matter. Because he refuses to claim me, I am left standing out like a sore thumb. They see me, they smell that I am still unmarked, and they look at me as if I am a failure. I try to be a good wife, but if he does not want me, then what am I even doing here?

I miss home. I miss certainty. The other day, I had a conversation with another soldier, and I remembered something my husband said. He mentioned that he had accepted this "punishment” (this marriage) just so that other girl in his family, Mikasa, could enjoy her youth.

Looking at her makes my blood boil. I know I am not being a good person; I hate myself for these horrible feelings. But why? Why does she have a choice that I don’t? I know I should be more grateful for the opportunity to honor my family and be useful to my parents. I should be thankful to serve my country in the only way I am capable. I am being spoiled and childish, and I should stop complaining. But why does it bother me so much that she enjoys a freedom I never even knew existed?

—

The flap of the tent suddenly snapped open, letting in a blinding shaft of sunlight. Levi stood there, bended down to check inside, silhouetted against the brightness. He looked fresh, his hair slightly damp from a wash, and he frowned when his eyes adjusted to the dim interior.

"What are you doing in here?" he asked, his voice more blunt than he probably intended. "The sun is finally out. It’s a decent day for once, and you’re sitting in the dark."

She flinched slightly, sliding her hand over the letter to hide the ink. She forced her shoulders to relax, looking up with a practiced smile. "The sun is lovely, but I... I have a bit of a headache."

She added a calculated grimace of pain and kept her voice a mere whisper to complete the play. The word seemed to work its magic as it always did. An unspoken code between them that meant: whatever pain my body is going through, you wouldn't understand it. Levi’s frown deepened, not in anger, but in a sort of confused, distant understanding.

"A headache," he repeated, his brow furrowing. He hovered at the entrance, unsure if he should reach for her or stay back.

"I could get you something to eat," he offered. It was his way of trying, awkwardly so. He had done it the night they met, and he was doing it again now.

"No, thank you. I’m not very hungry."

"Tea, then?"

She looked at the small stove and then at the heavy fabric of the tent. "With this heat? No... thank you. I just need a little rest."

Levi lingered for a moment, his gaze lingering on her. He wanted to tell her that she was missing the breeze, but he didn't want to push her. If she was "indisposed," he felt it was his duty to give her the space he thought she wanted.

"Fine. I'll leave you to it," he said, turning back toward the flap. "I'll be nearby if it gets worse. Don't be a martyr."

As soon as the canvas fell shut and his footsteps faded into the grass, the smile dropped from her face like a lead weight. She looked down at the honest, heartbreaking letter she had been writing, crumpled it into a tight ball, and tossed it aside.

"Everything here is doing great. The weather is improving, and Levi is so attentive. We are very happy over here. I am learning so much about being a wife, and he makes it all so easy. I couldn't have asked for a better match."

There were at least easily two lies in that statement but also at least two truths.

Heavy boots pressed into the sludge, the terrain yielding under the weight until each step became a chore. A loud puff of air left Levi’s nose as he pushed stray hair out of his vision. He remained nearly stationary, ruminating on the salt in his mouth as his mind chewed through his problems with the same slow persistence.

“I don’t know what’s worse—the rain or the aftermath,” the Commander commented, their face twisted in a grimace of disgust.

“Yeah,” Levi’s disinterested reply caught Hange's attention.

“Something wrong?”

“No.” Levi shook his head slightly and resumed his pace around the shifting camp.

It was easily the third time in a week that she had implied she was feeling under the weather. Whether that statement was true or not escaped his humble understanding. As he’d noted before, his knowledge of an Omega’s real nature (aside from the obvious mechanics of a heat) was almost non-existent. Most lower-class Omegas were never allowed to interact with the opposite gender for their own safety, or they were quickly shuffled off to female-only boarding institutes. I mean, I know she isn’t bleeding like a Beta, but…

Did they suffer from pains? Hormonal shifts that changed with the seasons? Whatever it was, Levi had no choice but to trust her blindly. She didn’t strike him as the type who would grant him the pleasure of detailed explanations. Rule number one: if a woman tells you she feels bad, she feels bad.

However, it wasn’t the potential for pain that bothered him. The excuse had been repeated so frequently now that he had started to wonder, or rather, freak out. His eyes instinctively drifted back toward the tent where she was supposed to be. She doesn’t smell particularly different to me… and he certainly didn't feel reactive.

The formation was taking longer to move than usual; after the deluge, reorganization was key. At this rate, everything felt heavy. Tent-mates who were once long-standing friends now felt like mortal enemies. The horses were moodier, the food had lost all pleasure and become a mere duty to keep the body alive, and the carts—once brand new—had each developed unique, annoying ways of breaking down. After three exhausting days of rain, the formation was reaching the end of its willpower. They were on the last leg of the trip, and had the weather held, they would have been there already.

Much to his disappointment, Levi kept ruminating on the idea with no success. He did the only thing he felt capable of doing: he grabbed a cup, poured a well-blended hot tea inside, and placed it safely among the rocks of the running river nearby, hoping the water would cool it down.

Eventually, she walked out. Despite the extra time they’d taken that morning, it was already time to get moving again. The cat was perched in her arms as she surveyed the scene with a tired, confused expression. A cart was buried deep in the mud, and four cadets were struggling to shove it free. The grunts of the four young men combined into a chorus of intense physical labor; or so she thought.

Clearing her throat, she mumbled a few quiet hums to get their attention. “Perhaps... you could add some wood planks under the wheels? So the cart has something to gain inertia against?”

“Look, sweetie,” one cadet drawled, the nickname dripping with mockery. “Men are trying to work here.”

She stared blankly into the abyss, biting the inside of her cheek to hold back a grimace of anger mixed with impotence. However, when she saw the shape of her husband approaching, her eyes followed him in silence.

“Sir!” The cadets scrambled to straighten up.

“What are you fuckers doing?” Levi’s lip curled into a subtle sneer as he frowned. “Hold this.”

To her surprise, the command was meant for her. He pushed the metal cup into her hand, and she stabilized it against her chest alongside the cat.

“I—we thought of using wood planks under the wheels for initial inertia,” the cadet stuttered, stealing her idea.

‘Bruh…’ Her mouth parted in disbelief.

One cadet moved to fetch the planks, but the Captain was already at the back of the cart. “Drop it. I’ve got it.” With a grunt that sounded as if the cart weighed nothing at all, he heaved it onto more solid ground.

She pressed her lips together, trying to maintain a neutral face. Levi slapped his hands together to knock the dust off as he walked back to her. Her eyes grew rounder as a chill ran down her spine. I felt woman-stuff…

“Ehm, your cup?” She moved to return the object, but Levi, still in his focused work-mode, only looked back for a split second.

“It’s yours. Drink it.”

She was about to complain about the heat, but as her hand touched the bottom, she realized it was perfectly chilled. A soft smile appeared, and she sighed in contentment. She took a long sniff of the tea before letting it wet her lips; there was still a lingering bad memory of accepting "affective" drinks from him, but this was different.

She wasn't sure if the long trip was catching up to him too, but their eyes kept meeting—across shared meals, across the formation, and back again. She tilted her head, wondering what could be happening.

“So… what’s going on?” Hange questioned, noticing Levi’s continuous absence of mind. “What did Jean do now?” they asked, seeing him staring at the distant, dirty-blonde teenager.

In the distance, Jean cracked an absurd joke that made the only Omega in the camp shake her head in second-hand embarrassment, a chuckle escaping her lips.

Scoffing in annoyance, Levi kept his grey eyes glued to the scene. “Don’t you think she’s being stupidly receptive to their bullshit?” he asked, hands on his hips. The Commander only shrugged. A silence followed, filled with Levi's internal grunts and scoffs, until he was ready to admit his ignorance. “Do you think… she could be going into heat?”

Hange, who had simply accepted Levi’s usual grumpiness, snapped to attention. They smiled nervously. “This time of year? Why? Did you catch a scent?”

“No, but—” He lingered on the suspicion. “She’s been under the weather, staying inside even when we're moving. Kinda like—”

“Nesting,” the brunette finished for him, grimacing uneasily. “I don’t know. Never heard of it.”

“But with all the exposure... mixed up with us. A bunch of Alphas stinking like shit.”

The logic seemed to land, making Hange nod even as they remained skeptical. “I’ve heard of stress forcing presentations out of season but not heats. I’m not a doctor, though,” they admitted. “I think you’re overthinking it, shorty. If she were going into heat, we’d all be entering a pre-rut.”

“You say that as if that possibility wasn't the worst,” Levi groaned, the mere thought unbearable. “Here. In this place. At this time.”

“It almost sounds as if you don’t want her to go into heat,” the Commander remarked jokingly. But noticing the guilty silence from the other Alpha, he repeated, more seriously, “You don’t want her to go into heat? What kind of Alpha are you?!”

Levi shrugged, avoiding the question, though clearly affected by the topic. “Besides, it’s been what—?”

“Eleven years,” Hange chimed in.

“Eleven years since I had a rut—” Levi started, picking up the information automatically, before he stopped to frown. “How the fuck do you know that?”

“Well… you had one during your first year in the Scouts. I remember because Erwin complained about it for months,” Hange mumbled, their lips gripping a cigarette they were about to light. “He sounded like my mother; it was unbearable when he went into martyr mode.”

—

“So, let’s go over it again,” Erwin’s calm voice echoed through the room on an uncharacteristically bright spring morning.

The sun was blindingly bright for 7:00 AM, illuminating the office where the blonde man sat, insisting on micro-managing every detail of the upcoming two weeks. To Erwin, these dates were essential for the Survey Corps' survival. As he explained every minute part of the schedule, Levi was busy pouring his fourth glass of water, feeling the intense, silent stare of the oldest man in the room, Mike.

At the time, Levi wasn't a Captain yet. He was only there because Erwin was using him as a "pageant queen" to woo rich sponsors. Levi hated it with every fiber of his being, but Erwin had promised him that if he cooperated with the social events, he could finally stop sleeping in the communal barracks and get his own room. Levi wasn't sure which he hated more: the upper-class parties or the sound of thirty men snoring in bunk beds.

“Erwin,” Mike interrupted the long monologue. The sudden break in voice made Hange, who had been dozing off in their chair, jump awake.

“I’m awake!” they declared, looking around wildly.

Erwin ignored them, looking at the tallest Alpha with confusion. “Yes, Mike?”

“I think your 'main event' is going to be… indisposed.”

The word took a second to sink in, especially for the newly reformed thug from the Underground. Levi set his fifth glass of water down and realized everyone was staring at him. To him, "indisposed" sounded like fancy noble talk; to the military, it was the official term used in reports to explain why a soldier was off-duty for their cycle.

Erwin’s blue eyes locked onto Levi. “Are you sick? Do you feel alright?”

Levi clicked his tongue, a grimace of pure exasperation crossing his face. “What is all this shit about? I’m fine.” He wasn't exactly lying. He felt powerful, if a bit off. “My stomach just feels a bit shitty, that’s all.”

“No,” Erwin groaned loudly, the sound of a man watching his funding disappear.

“Told ya,” Mike added calmly.

“I just said I’m fine!” Levi spat. “Why does that asshole know how I feel better than I do?” He pointed a finger at Mike in pure vitriol. They hadn't gotten along since the day Levi was dragged into the light.

The oldest of the four wrinkled his nose. “’Cause you stink, brat.”

Erwin, seeing his grand plans going to waste, stood up. “How is this even possible?” His tone shifted from despair to accusatory. “Have you been sneaking around after curfew? Who have you been seeing to trigger a rut now?”

“Are you accusing me of sleeping around?” Levi’s eyes flashed dangerously.

Hange began to chuckle, using the armrest of their wheeled office chair to spin toward Levi’s face. “Boo, you whore,” they teased.

Mike tried to keep a straight face. “Come on, Erwin, don’t blame him. You’ve been parading him around those fancy spring galas for weeks. Surrounded by upper-class Omegas and expensive perfumes? You set the boy up for failure.”

“I said… I’m… FINE.”

“I feel like shit. Just kill me already.”

Levi was curled on the infirmary couch, sweating like a guilty witness and vibrating with a mix of icy chills and the sensation of being boiled alive.

“I’m not going to kill you; I went all the way to the damn Underground to recruit you,” Erwin paced the dark, tiled room like a caged lion. “Do you know how much I planned this? How could you do this to me, Levi?”

Levi propped himself up on one elbow just to hiss at him. “Yeah, Eyebrows. I’m sure that out of the two of us, you’re the one suffering the most right now!”

“SHH!”

The sharp command from the nurse made both men shut up instantly. Still in her pajamas, she had finally arrived in the middle of the night to check on the "emergency" she’d been summoned for. She, a claimed omega, looked at the young Alpha, and then looked back at Erwin in disbelief.

“He’s about to go into his rut. This isn’t an emergency; half the cadets in the barracks are going through the same thing. Give him a private room and I’ll make sure he has supplies.”

She was clearly exhausted. Erwin, using his best diplomatic voice, stepped forward. “No, you see, we have very important events to attend, and Levi is over twenty-five. Right, Levi?”

The half-asleep nurse adjusted her cardigan and turned slowly to look at the sweating young man on the couch.

“I’m twenty-six,” Levi lied, his voice strained between pants of hot air.

The nurse stared at him, her eyes tracking the line of his jaw and the scent spiking in the room. “Twenty-six? And I’m the Queen of the Walls. Don’t waste my time. How old are you?”

Defeated, Levi looked to the side. “...Twenty-three.”

The nurse scoffed and began preparing a kit. “You know the rules, Erwin.”

“Come on,” Erwin pleaded, desperate. “He’s a special case. He’s not going to grow any taller, anyway”

“No rut-suppressants for anyone under twenty-five. He’s too young,” she insisted. “If his body is going through this, it’s because it needs to. Forcing a young Alpha to skip a rut can have serious consequences for their hormonal development. I’ll take him to the basement—it’s cold there. Give him some pillows, a mattress, and water. Your little schedule will have to wait.”

“It’s very important—”

“How many times do I have to tell you that nature’s timing is perfect, Erwin?” It was clearly an old argument between them. “Come on, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you.”

She signaled for Levi to stand, placing a protective arm around him. Her status as a claimed Omega and the fact that she was twice his age made her nearly immune to his aggressive pre-rut scent.

“I’m not a baby,” he grunted, though he leaned into her slightly.

“Sure thing, kid. Sure thing.”

—

“I remember that,” Hange laughed at the memory. “I’ll never forget how disheveled you looked when you finally crawled out of there, trying to shove an entire breakfast down your throat in a single spoonful.”

The memory was almost as painful as the experience itself. “You only laugh because your heats are barely a blip—you just get a little extra needy,” Levi grumbled. “I could never look that nurse in the eye again.”

“She had a dozen kids of her own, Levi. I’m pretty sure she’s well aware of what happens during a rut.”

The air had begun to shift. The previous nights, which had been unbearably humid and stagnant, were now surprisingly forgiving. The humidity remained heavy, yet the wind became more noticeable, carrying a bracing coldness that was hard to describe. It wasn't just the weather that had changed, but the landscape and its fauna; more than once, her eyes caught birds she had never seen before—wings of snowy white with dark, kestrel-like edges and flat feet like ducks.

As the environment transformed, so did the mood of the troops. Everyone was extra attentive, their movements sharp and jagged with anticipation. For her, however, there was little to do besides stay out of the way. At this point in the trip, she had stopped wondering exactly where they were. The three-week mark had long since passed, delayed by the terrain and the sheer friction of moving an army. After a month on the move, she found herself caring less about the map and more about the simple act of breathing.

Whatever was supposed to happen soon was clearly monumental, but her focus was elsewhere.

“Are you even listening to me?” Levi asked. He was finishing the adjustment of his uniform straps, his movements methodical and tight. Blades were snapped into place, thunder spears were secured to his legs, and his full ODM gear was cinched over the new, dark material.

“Since when are the uniforms all black?” she asked, her eyes tracing the way the light hit the fabric. Without the traditional leather jacket and olive shirt, the sleek, tactical black uniform looked formidable on hims.

Levi stared at her in disbelief, his hands pausing on a buckle. “I swear,” he muttered under his breath, “between you and the damn cat, I’m not sure which of you ignores me more.”

Setting her papers aside, she straightened her posture and finally locked eyes with him. Her gaze had been lost in the details of her husband. Specifically, the way the inverted triangle of his back and his narrowed waist were accentuated by the dark gear. “Sorry. I was thinking about something else.”

“Clearly,” he grunted. “I’m telling you to stay your ass right here until I come back for you. Got it?”

“That’s all? Alright,” she accepted, already reaching back for her pens.

“!!” A small squeak escaped her as Levi suddenly gripped her face, his fingers firm but not cruel, forcing her to look up at him from her seat.

“Do not ‘alright’ me, doll face,” Levi insisted, his silver-grey eyes boring into hers. “Every time I tell you to stay put, you hear ‘wander off.’ I’m not playing. We’re at the coast. This was Marley’s backyard until five minutes ago. We don't know if some piece-of-shit leaked our position or if they’ve got an ambush waiting for the Titan’s shifters. You stay a few hundred meters back where it’s safe. You don't move a fucking inch until I’m standing right in front of you.

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, commanding gravel. “You hear me? DO NOT MOVE. Alright?”

Her pout intensified as Levi’s grip pressed her cheeks together, making her lips bunch up. “Alright,” she muffled.

“I want to hear the goddamn words.”

“I won’t move until you come back for me,” she repeated, her voice distorted by his hand.

“Good.” He let go, but the tension didn't leave his shoulders.

Her frown didn't withdraw. “And… what if you don’t come back?” she asked quietly.

“I’m coming back,” he replied, turning away to finish his final checks. If the assault went as planned, he wouldn't even have to draw his blades.

“But—”

“I said I’m coming back, didn’t I?” he insisted, looking back over his shoulder. He gave her his back again, double-checking that his gas canisters were seated properly. Despite his stoic posture, the subtle, sharp scent of her fear reached him. It was faint, she was trying her best to mask it but he could smell the spike in her anxiety.

He caught her picking up her pen again, her leg bouncing with a restless, nervous energy. “How many times do I have to say it? If I tell you it’s safe, it’s fucking safe.” He was repeating himself now, his alpha ego stung by her distress. It felt like a lack of faith in his capabilities. His rational side knew it was a natural reaction to war, but the wilder part of his brain chafed at the idea of his prospect of a mate doubting his protection.

“Yeah, yeah,” she dismissed him, waving a hand as if he were a nagging mother.

“Oi.” That actually offended him. The people inside the Walls put their lives in my hands without question, but my own wife treats me like a nuisance. The accumulated stress of the month seemed to simmer in his chest. His eyes moved to the parchment in her lap. “What are you writing so much, anyway?”

“Letters to my family,” she replied, barely looking up.

His eyes squinted. The distant gaze, the avoidance, the strange excuses to stay behind—he had seen this pattern before. “Your family,” he repeated wearily. “Your family? Or the people you meet when you’re telling me you’re visiting your family?”

That got her attention. She gasped, the sound sharp in the quiet tent. “I told you nothing happened!” she cried, standing up to face him.

“And I told you I know nothing physical happened,” Levi argued back, stepping into her space. “Luckily for them. I’m an only child; I don’t do ‘sharing.’ It’s not in my fucking vocabulary.”

Her cheeks turned a brilliant, furious red. “Then why—”

“What I’m saying is that I look like an idiot. You trusted some toxic ex enough to meet him in the middle of nowhere, but you don't trust me? The man who’s been keeping your ass breathing this whole shitty month?”

“Because you lie to me!” she exclaimed. “You treat me like some brat, telling me everything is fine when you’re heading into a goddamn war zone. You don’t know it’ll be fine!”

“The hell I don’t,” he hissed. “I know because I’ll come back crawling dirt if I have to.”

The tent fell into a heavy, ringing silence. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she struggled to maintain the eye contact. The common scents of the road: pine, horses, and old leather; were suddenly overwhelmed by her sweet, floral aroma. She couldn't hide the blush crawling up her neck.

“Alright,” she whispered, her voice barely a thread. Searching for a way to end the suffocating tension, she glanced at his gear again. “Black is a good color on you.”

“Is it?” he muttered back, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Then get a damn black cat next time, because I’m tired of picking white fur off my gear.”

‘All I heard,’ she thought defiantly, ‘is that I'm allowed to get another cat.’

The minutes dragged into what felt like hours as she waited for the green light. To be fair, she didn't even need Levi to return to know the area was safe; the sight of the first few scouts returning with relaxed postures told the story. The collective need to finally stop moving and settle down was a shared, palpable relief. Everyone began gathered their belongings, ready to embark on the final leg of their never-ending journey. She did wait for him, but as they began to move again and he was giving out orders; she did move.

—

The white foam surged and withdrew with a rhythmic deliberation that startled her. Her chest tightened and then expanded, as if she were trying to physically swallow the view rather than just look at it. The sand beneath her feet felt ridiculously tender and warm, a strange contrast to the indomitable way the water crashed against the shore.

How could they ever have considered it? she asked herself, the thought feeling utterly absurd now. The idea of the earth being flat. It made sense inside the walls, but here, admiring the horizon and the way it merged seamlessly with the sky, the curvature was so obvious it was terrifying. It made her feel hauntingly insignificant.

Wrinkling her nose, she realized the air felt heavy with a scent she couldn't name—a bracing, saline aroma that somehow felt healing. As the sun dipped lower and the darkness bled in, the reflection atop the water turned it to liquid silver, like mercury spilling from a broken thermometer. It felt unnatural, as if something this vast and beautiful shouldn't be allowed to exist.

Despite growing up spending summers at a countryside manor and swimming in the property’s lake, she was terrified of taking a single step into this water. She gasped when the crystal waves, now churned into white bubbles, brushed against her toes. She stumbled back several steps, heart racing. The ocean was growing—or so it felt.

In a fit of nerves, she scooped the cat up again. The animal let out a sharp complaint; both were exhausted from the journey, but the cat, in particular, was finished with the constant movement and the indignity of being hauled around.

The pendular motion of the tide began to relax her, even as it provoked a hollow sense of emptiness in her gut.

“There you are,” Levi’s voice cut through the sound of the surf.

His heavy boots, designed for the resistance of muddy terrain, were powerless against the shifting silk of the dunes. Instead of his usual disciplined stride, he was forced to slide down the sandy hill toward the coast. His groans echoed, he was about to complain that he had the entire formation searching for a person among the dunes.

She met his gaze over her shoulder, the fading sun casting her features into a deep silhouette. Only the silver underlight of the water defined her face now. The dying light caught the fabric of her clothes, making them appear almost translucent and tracing the shape of her body in a way that was distractingly, temptingly clear. To his surprise, she looked entirely emotionless. In a rare reversal of their roles, he seemed to be wearing more of an expression than she was.

“Where does it end?” her voice was barely a whisper, lost to the breeze.

Levi approached her slowly, his eyes momentarily focused on the shifting ground beneath his boots. “Not sure it actually does. I know it changes names depending on where you are, but that’s about it.”

She simply hummed in response, turning back to the horizon. In what felt like a matter of minutes, the sunset had bled out into pitch darkness. “How deep is it?” she asked.

He hesitated, a low "Eh..." escaping him as he searched for the right words. He seemed a bit lost in the sheer scale of the environment himself. “I think it’s unknown.”

“We don’t know?” she asked, turning to him.

“We, as a country? Or we as humans?”

“Both?”

“Either way, it’s a no. I don’t think anyone has ever found the bottom,” Levi replied.

She wrinkled her nose, a small frown marring her features. “How can that be? It has to end somewhere,” she insisted. “Like... did the Colossal Titan come walking through it?” She tried to picture the largest thing she had ever known, imagining it wading through the silver surf.

“No. It’s deeper than that.”

Her eyes widened in genuine shock. “Really?”

Finally reaching her side, he stood shoulder-to-shoulder with her. “Yeah. They even build these boats—ships as big as castles. And when they sink, they’re just gone. Never found again. That’s how deep it is.”

A chill ran down her spine. What had seemed like a beautiful dream only moments ago now felt like a terrifying, swallowing abyss. The darkness of the ocean at night was penetrating, vast, and horribly enveloping. She pulled the cat tighter to her chest, as if shielding the small animal from the sheer weight of the world in front of them. Yet, she didn't move. She couldn't take her eyes off it.

“What’s... what is that smell?” she asked, the sharp, briny aroma lingering in her nose.

Levi shook his head. “Save the scientific questions for Hange. I have no fucking idea,” he concluded. “Here.”

Her attention snapped to his face, but as his gaze drifted downward, she instinctively extended her hand. Levi placed a small, white shell with purplish-pink dots into her palm. Her eyes softened, and she let out a tender, quiet hum.

“Oh my god,” she whispered. “It’s so pretty.”

“Be careful which ones you pick up. Some of them have weird crabs inside that'll take a piece out of you,” he warned.

“What are these?” she asked, mesmerized by the colors.

“A type of snail, I think.”

She chuckled softly. “Even the snails are pretty here,” she mumbled. “I could stay and look at this forever.”

Levi allowed her a few more moments of silence, letting her eyes stay glued to the dark horizon before he finally cleared his throat. “Well... you’ll have the entire year to watch it,” he declared. “We need to keep moving.”

She let out a groan, tilting her head to the side with a grimace of irritation. “Oh, Levi. The camp can wait.”

“We aren't setting up a camp,” he said. “Come on. Let’s get moving.” Levi’s voice was flat, already setting a brisk pace for the final leg of their pilgrimage.

"To where?" she asked, her voice tinged with confusion. She tried bunching the edges of her skirts in her hands, but the salt-heavy wind seemed to drive the sand everywhere regardless. The cat scooped up and her struggle to keep pace with Levi's long strides. ‘We have all day to set up camp,’ she wondered bitterly. ‘Can’t I just enjoy this for a moment?’

Dedicating only a brief, sharp look over his shoulder, he answered, "To the house."

"House? Whose house?!" Her frustration vanished instantly, replaced by a surge of genuine interest. She hurried her step, rushing until she was walking right at his side.

Levi was busy sorting through a handful of keys he had pulled from his belongings. Without looking up, he simply said, "Ours."

A small squeak of excitement escaped her—an octave higher than usual—as she practically jumped in place. "We’re getting a HOUSE? Levi! Why didn’t you say so?!"

He remained entirely unmoved by her outburst. If anything, his frown deepened, his face settling into a subtle grimace of pure exhaustion. "I told you."

"No, you didn't!"

"Yeah, I did," he insisted. He turned away, mumbling the rest under his breath. "You were too busy having a mental breakdown about... kids, or the no-kids you have. I've no idea."

The logic of her struggle from a month ago clearly still escaped him; to his pragmatic mind, it remained an unsolvable, messy mystery. The excitement grew up not only by the possibility of the house but as she followed him down the path, but the change of prospect.

It felt as if the world had shifted on its axis, a sudden bloom of society appearing where she had expected only desolation. The cadets, who had looked travel-worn and homeless on the road, now moved with a fresh spurt of energy. The settlement was bustling with such life that Levi had to raise his voice just to be heard over the din.

“Follow me,” he called out, his voice nearly a shout as he guided her through the crowd.

After a month of grueling travel, the sight of a functioning community left her wide-eyed and breathless. The formation had clearly bypassed the raw, unsecured coast in favor of this established settlement.

‘He could have mentioned… ALL of this,’ she thought, her mind racing.

The village was well-distributed and the Scouts were being received with genuine enthusiasm. People she assumed were local farmers were greeting the soldiers with buckets of cold water, pouring it over the weary men's necks to break the heat. She watched Hange shaking hands with civilians, sheep peering curiously through fences, and chickens darting between the stone houses. Winding, rustic roads led toward larger buildings in the back—likely the barracks—and the hillsides were meticulously planted with vegetable fields. It was endearing; a place where people had clearly done their best to turn a remote outpost into a home.

A strong tug on her forearm broke the enchantment. Levi gripped her arm, forcing her to keep moving through the throng.

“Levi! You could have mentioned all of this!” she pouted. She had arrived expecting to live in a tent in the mud for a year, only to find this lovely, hidden gem. It wasn't the grand city she was used to, but it was a delightful surprise.

As they moved away from the main tumult, he shot an askance look back at her. “I told you,” he repeated, his voice biting and bitter. It felt like salt in a wound; he seemed genuinely annoyed that she was only now excited about information he felt he’d already provided.

“But you could have been more explicit—”

“Captain!”

They both stopped abruptly. She instinctively moved a half-step behind her Alpha, a subtle, practiced smile appearing on her face. She gave a short nod of acknowledgment as a man approached them, appearing to know her husband well.

She noticed immediately that the man moved with a stiff, heavy gait in one leg, though there was no fresh injury. What added to the case were the three missing fingers on his left hand.

“Captain, a pleasure to have you here,” the man said, reaching out. Levi met him with a firm, professional handshake. “I hope you find everything up to your expectations.”

“Yeah, everything seems alright,” Levi replied. “I hope you’re settling in well here, too.”

‘That’s a strange accent’ she mused, her eyes darting between the two men. ‘He’s a Beta,’ she concluded quickly. The farmer seemed ready to say more, but his gaze finally landed on her, and he faltered.

“Ah! A pleasure to meet you—ehm—” The words hung in the air as he looked to Levi, searching for an explanation.

As if silently coming to his aid, she raised a hand to push a stray strand of hair from her face, lowering her head with a touch of modesty. And just like that the golden string around her finger flashed.

“My wife,” Levi stated.

At the words, she unconsciously leaned into him, her cheeks flushing a soft pink.

The man tried his best to mask his shock, but failed. “Ah!” he gasped, his eyes wide. “Congratulations!” He scrambled to fill the awkward silence. “We met half a year ago and I had no idea, so—” He realized he was digging a hole and wisely stopped. “Congratulations,” he repeated firmly.

“Thank you very much,” she accepted sweetly, while Levi merely offered a low hum of approval.

“I hope the house is suitable for a newlywed couple,” the farmer said, looking slightly abashed.

Levi, however, had reached his limit for social niceties. The man’s curiosity, the welcome party or whatever was none of his interest at this rate. “It’s fine,” Levi grunted, shifting his weight. He looked at the farmer dead in the eye, his expression filled up with clinical boredom.

Each passing minute standing there was physically painful for him. “We’ll be holding a welcome party tonight—“

“Ah, that’s very kind of you,” Y/N said, her social filters clearly far more practiced than his.

From the corner of his eye, the Captain could see more people beginning to notice his presence, peeling away from the crowd to come and offer their own greetings. “The trip was long,” Levi interrupted. He stepped forwards, effectively cutting the man off, “We had been on the road for a month. She’s tired and I need to take a shit in a real bathroom.”

“!!” A surprised squeak vibrated in her throat as Levi didn’t wait for a reaction. He gripped her arm, firmly but not painfully, and dragged her with him. Using her free hand to shield her eyes, she instinctively hid her face in a wave of pure second-hand embarrassment.

“Levi!” Her voice carried the intention of a scream but the intensity of a whisper.

Her complaints died in her throat the moment the cottage came into view. It was small, crowned with a gabled, greyish-blue roof that sat atop rugged, weathered stonework. A single, curved stone path cut through the tall, swaying grass of the front yard, leading them toward the door. They both approached it cautiously, like deer stepping into a clearing in the deep tranquillity of a forest. Levi walked a few paces ahead, their heads moving in sync as they scanned the surroundings. There were other houses nearby, but none close enough to intrude. Some had been personalized by their occupants, standing out from the repetitive military architecture, but theirs remained untouched. A simple shelter waiting for a human hand to transform it into a home.

A heavy silence reigned over their footsteps as they reached the front door. It felt like a continuation of a waltz they had been dancing for weeks; their boots were caked in mud, and she wrapped her arms tightly around herself as the coastal wind grew unforgiving, the temperature plummeting with the dark.

Levi stopped midway, pulling a lamp fuelled by the glowing crystals of the island from his pack. The light flared to life, casting a cold, ethereal glow over their path. Once again—and who knew how many more times they would do this—they stood before a threshold as he fumbled for the keys. He clicked his tongue in annoyance, cycling through the ring to find the one that fit the lock. The arched door was made of a deep, dark wood, matching the frames of the windows she could see from the exterior. Up close, the varied shades of the stones were mesmerizing; tiny details began to emerge in the lamplight, making her secretly wish they had arrived during the day. She traced the rhombus patterns in the larger windows and the slivers of coloured glass in the door’s transom. Small spiders had already claimed the corners for themselves before any human could.

Her eyes wandered over every inch, taking it all in. The cat in her arms let out a sharp mewl of protest, wanting to be set down.

“Finally,” Levi grunted as a key finally turned. The door groaned open, shielding them from the wind. Both peered inside with wary curiosity, but the cat was the first to act—bolting from her arms to enter with its tail held high and proud.

Levi stepped to the side, extending an arm in a stiff gesture. “Ladies first.”

She didn't move. Instead, she looked back at him with a spark of excitement. “Aren't you going to pick me up?”

Levi frowned, his face a mask of genuine confusion. His silent ‘What are you talking about?’ was written in the tilt of his brow.

“It’s considered good luck to cross the threshold with your wife in your arms,” she explained.

“But,” he lingered, his voice flat, “that’s for when you first marry. We’ve been married for three months. Just in case you’ve forgotten.”

She didn't miss a beat before pouting, her disappointment visible. But the look hadn't even fully settled on her face before she let out a squeak of surprise. Levi bent down, his right arm sweeping under her knees, hoisting her up in one fluid, effortless motion.

A fit of giggles echoed through the quiet house; she hadn't expected him to actually do it, let alone make it look so easy. She wrapped her arms around his neck, chuckling like a little girl.

“You too, little shit,” Levi muttered. He reached out with his free hand and snagged the cat by the scruff as it tried to dart past again.

Two, three, four heavy steps in, and he set her back on her feet. “The things you make me do,” he mumbled to himself, though his tone lacked its usual bite.

Once inside, the house opened up to them. Levi placed the lantern on the window ledge, and they both took in the view. In contrast to the rough rubble of the exterior, the interior was bright with whitewashed walls and exposed wooden supports that blended beautifully with the polished floors. To their right, the red bricks of a large hearth promised warmth, and a small, tinted glass window looked through into an adjacent room. There was furniture—not much, but enough for the locals to have made the place liveable.

The dance repeated. She stood in the centre of the room, but this time, her weary look was replaced by pure wonder. Unable to hold back an ear-to-ear smile, she shot him a final glance before sprinting through the space. The cat leaped down as Levi closed the door with a heavy thud, shutting out the world. ‘One task down,’ he reminded himself. Safely delivering her through the wilds outside the Walls felt like the most grueling mission he had ever completed.

He stood back, watching as she explored. ‘Three doors and one staircase,’ she counted mentally, rushing toward the largest door at the back. She stopped, her hand lingering on the knob as she looked back at him. Unlike the heavy front door, these were made of a light, warm wood that matched the red bricks of the hearth. The black iron hinges and knobs stood out sharply against the pillars.

“May I?” she asked.

To her surprise, Levi seemed far less excited than she was. Now that they were finally behind closed doors, the exhaustion was visible in the lines of his face. The continuous stress of the journey was finally catching up to him.

“Don’t ask me,” he said, his voice low and tired. “It’s mine as much as it is yours.”

The weight of his words stunned her for a moment as she stood on the small brick step before the door. She pushed it open, and it gave a soft, high-pitched squeak. The kitchen ceiling was lower here, following the slant of the roof. To the right, stone counters and a sturdy stove waited for use. A large window sat above the workspace, and next to a thick back door was another small, square pane. She propped herself up on the counter to peer through the glass; as she had guessed, there was a backyard.

The tinted glass she’d noticed earlier connected the kitchen to the living area, allowing a soft, colorful light to filter through. In here, the floor was made of the same rustic stone as the outside, and the room sat a step or two lower than the rest of the house—a little trip-hazard of a threshold that made the cottage feel ancient and full of character.

Levi stepped into the kitchen to perform his own inspection, running a gloved hand along the back of the surfaces. He checked for dust and immediately clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“What’s that door?” she asked, pointing to a much smaller door on the left wall. She tugged at the knob, but it remained stubbornly stuck.

“Probably a cellar for food storage,” he guessed, reaching for his keychain again to see which one matched. To his surprise, the door wasn’t locked; it was simply swollen from the dampness. He gave it one sharp, practiced shove with his shoulder, and the wood gave way with a groan.

“Tch,” he muttered as she peered into the cold, humid space.

“The hinges are a bit rusted,” she noted. The cat leaped onto the counter, but Levi scooped it up and set it back on the floor, only for the animal to jump right back up the second he let go.

“Yeah, the reports mentioned the ocean air fucks everything up,” he said. Despite his grumbling, he seemed almost as interested as she was in exploring. “Not bad,” he whispered. ‘My first real kitchen,’ he thought, the feeling a strange, bittersweet ache in his chest.

While she was caught up in her excitement, rushing back to the living room to open the remaining doors like a kid on Christmas morning, Levi paced through the house with a trace of melancholy. The last time he had owned anything similar to a house was when Farlan and he had claimed a spot in the Underground. There had been no plumbing or kitchen back then, as the Underground had no gas or water supply. Then Isabel had joined them, and it was the closest thing he had ever had to actually owning a full home himself.

Catching a glimpse of her checking the door opposite the chimney with a bright smile almost reminded him of how excited Isabel had been as a little eight-year-old girl when he first brought her home. When he had found her on the streets, she was so weak—who knew what she had in her system—that it took a while until she was fully on her feet. And when she finally was... ‘God, she was a hurricane.’ He had never seen so much energy in a kid until he saw fifteen-year-old Eren during his first 3DMG training.

“It’s an office!” she called out from the other room.

Levi forced himself out of the nostalgia to join her. It was a solid space; the largest window faced what was supposed to be the street, and though the room was smaller than his office at headquarters, it felt right. It had the same whitewashed walls, wood accents, and enough empty shelves to satisfy his need for order.

“I’m guessing the other one is the bathroom,” he said, his voice level.

By now, they were moving in sync, checking the rooms one by one. The door next to the chimney led to the bathroom, and beside it stood the spiral stairs to the second floor. Unlike their last place, this house wasn’t empty because of Levi’s decoration choices—or lack thereof—but because it was a shell, ready for them to morph it to their liking. One long hallway ran through the upper floor with two clear doors: one on their left and the remaining one at the back.

“A bedroom,” she whispered as they pushed the first one open. “The view is so pretty.”

The windows here were smaller and set slightly higher to fit the slope of the roof.

“Lucky for us, we’re both short as fuck,” Levi remarked, a rare bit of dry humor surfacing. The low ceiling didn't bother them at all. There was a queen-sized bed flanked by small nightstands and a decent set of built-in wardrobes. She noted the way the natural light hit the floor, thinking it would be the perfect spot for a vanity.

However, the space felt cramped, and there wasn't much room for anything else. While this spiked an upsetting feeling in her gut, Levi seemed completely unbothered by it. He was already moving to check the only remaining door while she stood behind him.

“Just one bedroom,” she said softly, unable to pinpoint why that specific detail bothered her so much.

Levi, busy inspecting the small washroom nearby, clicked his tongue again. “Why would we need more?”

He gestured toward the small room containing only a toilet and a basin. “Look, a toilet to take a shit in the middle of the night so you don't have to wander downstairs.”

But she held onto that thought: Why would we need more? There was an implication to that—one she didn't like.

Meanwhile, the Captain carried on with his inspection of the house as if he held some kind of construction degree. He felt an imposing instinct to judge the build, as if being an Alpha male made him an experienced house builder. He hummed in surprise when he noticed a small door opposite the bedroom and tried to open it. Taking his keys out once more, he used the tiniest one for what was obviously the smallest door.

“What is it?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

“I think it’s a loft.”

It was indeed a loft, and she let out a gasp of delight as the door swung open. The floor was raised, requiring a small step up to enter. The roof was very low, forcing them to stoop, and the corners where the ceiling met the floor were practically useless for storage. But the skylights made her smile widen.

“I can see the sea!” she cried, pressing her face to the glass.

Levi, however, was focused on the layers of dust and the clear signs of rodents. “Oh, I love this room! It has so much character!”

“Yeah, and shit everywhere,” he groaned. “Let's keep it closed.”

“No!” she protested immediately.

“The place is a rat heaven. It’s only meant for storing junk nobody wants.” Levi’s pragmatic mind had already dismissed it.

“I love it,” she whispered. He had a million logical reasons to shut the door and forget about it, but they died in his throat when she added, “I want it to be my art room.”

He didn't argue, at least not out loud. He let out a series of unintelligible grunts and groans as he turned away, letting the subject drop. To settle the matter and end the day, he announced as he headed for the stairs, “I’m taking a shower.”

“Ah!” she exclaimed. “Good idea!” She hummed in happiness; her wildest dreams of taking a hot shower and sleeping in a real bed had finally come true after what felt like an eternity. “We need to get ready for tonight!”

Levi, who had been practically dragging his exhausted body down the stairs, spun around and bounded back up in the blink of an eye. He stared at her in pure, unadulterated distress. “You are seriously not thinking of going to that damn party, are you?”

Oh, they were going.

Simplified acoustic versions of well-known songs filled the spaces that the loud voices and roaring laughter didn’t, carried by the casual strumming of one or two guitars. The massive stone fireplace illuminated most of the hall, casting a warm, flickering glow over the gathering. Everyone (especially Sasha) was absolutely delighted by the feast, finally getting to eat something that wasn’t canned, cold, or just plain grey stew for the first time in weeks. It wasn’t anything actually fancy; mostly, it was beer flowing like water alongside mountains of roasted local game and fresh vegetables. Compared to their usual rations, it was a real feast, but compared to what she had imagined a formal welcome party to be... not so much.

It felt much more like a rowdy local fair. Levi was trying his best to scrape together whatever social skills he possessed, and whenever that failed, he was shamelessly trying to escape the crowded room. Sitting amidst the chaos, she was slowly catching on to the fact that this place was nothing like what she had expected.

“Armin,” she whispered, trying not to catch everyone’s attention. When he didn't hear her over the noise, she tried again. “Armin!” she repeated, louder this time, forcing the blond Beta, who was currently shoving shredded meat into his mouth with his bare hands, to look to his left.

She was trying to eat, but eating everything with her hands wasn’t exactly inspiring delight in her refined sensibilities. “Where are all the girls?” she asked, a note of sadness creeping into her voice.

“Huh?” the Beta hummed in confusion, wiping his mouth. “What girls?”

The Omega took a careful look around. While most of the village members were Betas, with the occasional Alpha scattered about, there were no Omegas. In fact, there were no women at all. “The girls… the female population?”

Armin let out a loud, nonverbal sound of realization as he finally understood. “Ah, you see, as Levi probably mentioned, we are building this settlement to claim the lands before Marley does. By geopolitical rules, if a land has nobody living there, you can claim it.” Armin slipped easily into his explanation mode. “So, what we are trying to do is build little towns so we can finally claim the whole island. This is the port the Marleyans used to use, so for warfare reasons, it’s the first one we took.”

“I see… but why no girls?” she asked again, having desperately hoped for some female companionship, only to find none.

“Well... you traveled all the way out here. It’s a very far, grueling journey, at least until we build a train.”

“A train?”

“Yes!” Armin said enthusiastically, his eyes lighting up. “It’s this new transportation method! It runs on tracks and goes incredibly fast! The idea is to build it so we can connect all the corners of the island in a matter of hours!”

She only hummed in response, mustering no real excitement, but Armin kept going, as this topic was obviously of great interest to him. “You see, even when everything is quiet, there’s always a chance Marley decides to launch an attack on us here. It’s a very remote place with no permanent buildings yet, and a high chance of getting attacked… moving here to break ground and create a settlement wasn't a task where we wanted to bring female civilians just yet.”

“But they are all so excited to see me,” she pointed out, recalling how, hours earlier when they had first arrived at the venue, everyone had been doting on her.

“Don’t take that the wrong way! I think they believe that your presence here means they will soon be able to bring their own families over,” Armin explained gently. “In their minds, if Captain Levi’s wife is moving here, then it must be safe enough for their own wives and kids to move here soon, too.”

“They left their families behind?” she asked in shock. “Oh, the military must be paying them a lot of money to do so.”

The blond Beta looked a bit confused. “Not really,” he admitted. “Well, it’s true that at first, we had a very hard time finding volunteers. I mean, most citizens don’t even want to put a foot outside of Wall Rose just yet,” he added with a dry chuckle. “But for them? It’s a huge chance at a better life.”

Her silence gave away not only her ignorance but her deep confusion. Armin sighed softly. “I mean, even with all the promotions and social work we are doing, most factories in the industrial cities or fancy manors in the Capital won't hire them. Not even farmers who desperately need working hands on their land want to take in people from the Underground. The prospect of moving out here to create little towns where nobody knows their past and nobody will judge them... it’s such a great opportunity that it’s worth leaving their families behind for a while.”

She froze in place. It all made sense now—the lingering injuries, the weird accents, the sick legs, and the missing fingers.

“You alright? You made a weird face just now,” Armin asked, his brow furrowing in concern. “I’m surprised you didn’t know. This whole resettlement project was the Captain’s idea.”

‘His idea?’ The information was heavy and hard to take in, especially amidst the raucous noise and the heat of the fire around her. ‘Don’t look scared,’ she told herself, but then quickly realized she was already failing at that task. Growing up with ingrained prejudices about a particular place and its people wasn’t something that just vanished from your moral compass from one day to the next. But the memory of her childhood friend’s words over tea time rang in her ears, calling her out like a priest’s sermon about loving your neighbour.

Her initial fear was swiftly replaced by a hollow guilt. The thought of her fear making her act like Grace made her stomach twist in disgust. ‘I am being judgmental,’ she reprimanded herself bitterly. Despite the obvious lack of high-class manners exhibited during this wild dinner party, these men had been nothing but incredibly welcoming to her. They are just families trying to live in peace.

If one could even compare the two, she felt an odd, sudden sense of similarity to them. Lately, the world they lived in had changed so drastically that everyone needed to adapt, yet the harsh judgments from previous social rules still remained. ‘I know what it feels like to not fit in,’ she thought, a bittersweet smile touching her lips. ‘Though my situation is still highly privileged compared to theirs.’

However, the social interactions were still hard to navigate. They carried an underlying uneasiness that she had almost begun to expect, bracing herself for it rather than being surprised.

And just as Armin had mentioned, the excitement surrounding her unexpected presence was tightly woven into their hopes for reunion.

“We’ve been thinking of building a schoolhouse next, for when the kids finally arrive,” one man mentioned, leaning over his ale. She could only nod sweetly.

“Maybe yours will be the first kid to use the new infirmary!” another chimed in warmly.

Each innocent comment broke her heart a little bit more.

“How long have you two been together now?” someone asked.

“Three months,” she answered softly.

Her response was met with a chorus of chuckles, knowing nods of agreement, and repeated expressions of camaraderie mixed with a bold, drunken cockiness. The sneaky, supposedly subtle remarks began to pile up, pressing down on her shoulders:

“We’ll make sure not to show up at the house too much.”

“Newlyweds need their sweet time, after all.”

“We’ll keep the welcome party short; wouldn't want to keep you from your... private celebrations for too long.”

“Try not to tire her out too much on the first night, Captain; she still needs to see the rest of the town tomorrow.”

“I imagine we won't be seeing much of you two for the next few days, will we?”

“You look a bit thin, dear. Make sure you’re eating the fatty fish from the morning catch; your body will soon need all those calories.”

One after the other, the comments felt like individual bullets piercing her heart. Just like all the other suffocating social interactions she had endured before leaving the Walls, each knowing wink and friendly tease was a constant, blinding reminder that she was failing. She was failing at all of her wifely duties.

"When is the wedding?"

The blunt question broke her out of her routine of forced, subtle smiles and picking at her food. She fought back the urge to wrinkle her nose as the distinct scent of an Alpha washed over her.

But before she could formulate a polite response, another man beside him answered for her. "They are already married."

Her eyes caught the unfolding scene like a slow, silent movie. The Beta who had spoken was completely oblivious to the tension, but the Alpha shifted from mild surprise to a deep frown of confusion. He stared right back at her, his expression an open book. She could read his thoughts as clearly as if he had spoken them aloud: They are already married? With no claiming mark?

Forcing a light, airy chuckle, she executed her practiced escape. "If you'll excuse me, I need to refresh myself." Spinning on her heels, she walked away, but her ears still clearly caught the hushed conversation behind her.

"Why would you ask her that? Didn't you see the ring?"

"I thought they weren't married yet... it's just, she's not bitten. She doesn't even smell like him."

It was not shaping up to be the best night for either of them.

"Do you know how many poker games I won?!" Hange exclaimed from across the room, their tongue getting caught up on the slurred words. "Seven! Beat that!"

"You’re drunk," Levi stated simply. He held a drink in his own hand, but the amber liquid remained barely touched. "Tch. I want to get the shit out of here."

"Come on, shorty! The night is young!" Hange exclaimed, throwing their arms in the air and projecting their voice far too loudly. "They are all so happy to see you! Our precious little celebrity!"

The short Captain was clearly not interested in the celebration, nor did he care for the extra attention he was getting from every corner of the room. But his look of utter disinterest suddenly shifted as he caught a glimpse of his Omega walking away from the crowd, her face drawn and long. Pushing the stumbling Commander aside, he quickly made his way toward her.

"That’s it! Go claim your wifey!" Hange cheered after him. The loud, obnoxious comment only made Levi's shoulders tense with sheer embarrassment and irritation.

Unbothered, Hange turned around to a group of soldiers who were in no better condition than they were. "I was their witness, you know! Until that farmer took them from me," they babbled. The young men merely exchanged grimaces of doubt, as whatever their Commander was saying made absolutely no sense to them.

As Levi carved a path through the crowded hall, he kept raising a hand in curt recognition to those who called his name, subtly acknowledging their existence without dedicating any real time to them. "Oi," he called out, just loud enough for her to hear over the din as she poured herself a glass of water at an empty table. "Why do you look so constipated?"

With him now standing right next to her, she reflexively offered the practiced look and the exact same excuse that had saved her from every uncomfortable conversation so far. "I have a headache."

To her utter shock, Levi seemed surprisingly thrilled by the news. "Really?"

"Ehm," she hesitated, entirely thrown off by his reaction. "Yes?"

"Hold on to that," he instructed sharply. He snatched both of their glasses—including the one still in her hand—and abandoned them on the wooden table. Her cheeks flared a sudden, deep red as he firmly grabbed her hand, lacing his calloused fingers through hers, and started to walk.

What has gotten into him?! she panicked internally, stumbling slightly to keep up with his brisk pace.

"Captain?! Leaving us so early?" a few men exclaimed as they neared the exit.

"She’s got a headache. What kind of husband would I be if I let her walk back in the dark alone?" Levi announced smoothly. He paraded her through the remaining crowd like a festival queen. Every single time someone tried to insist on them staying for one last drink, he fired off the excuse like a perfect shield.

"She has a headache."

"We wanted to stay, but she’s feeling unwell."

"A headache, what a pain. Goodnight."

Only when they were finally out of the square and trudging up the quiet, windy hill toward their newly claimed house did he let out a massive sigh of relief. "Ah, what a fucking blessing," he muttered into the salty night air. But her eyes remained glued to his hand, which was still firmly wrapped around hers, dragging her along.

"Can’t wait to get inside," he added, his pace quickening.

‘Oh... alright,’ she mentally braced herself, her heart doing a nervous flutter. ‘Maybe I’ve done something right.’

The moment they took one step inside the cottage and the heavy door clicked shut behind them, Levi dropped her hand and practically collapsed onto the small sofa with a groan. "Fucking yes."

She, however, walked around the quiet living room, testing each step cautiously on the wooden floorboards.

"You know... I didn’t realize you were the one who organized all this," she said softly, reaching up to take out her earrings and begin unbraiding her hair. "I was very surprised when Armin was talking to me about the town preparations. And the train—that seems like a huge investment—"

"Y/N," his voice cut through the air, surprising her just as the cat trotted out from the kitchen to happily greet them both.

"Yes?" She spun around to face him, moving almost too quickly, her eyes wide and far too expectant.

"Don't."

Just like that, she fell into a stunned silence. She didn't entirely understand what he meant by that single word, but it wasn't enough to kill her lingering hopes. "I—"

"I have been on the road for a month. I've been sleeping on the hard ground and taking shits behind trees," he said, rubbing his temples. She opened her mouth to add that she had been suffering through the exact same journey, but her Omega instincts urged her to resist interrupting him. "I've been keeping everything together, only to get dragged to that damn party. I just want peace and quiet for a few hours. So, could you not?"

To his visible relief, silence reigned for several minutes.

"Alright," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Even so, her presence continued to linger. She moved through the room with painstaking slowness, removing her jewellery piece by piece, unbinding the tight coils of her hair, neatly arranging her shoes by the door, and methodically feeding the cat. She was waiting. Every second was a quiet plea for some kind of sign, a look, or a change in his posture.

"I am... going to bed," she finally declared, her voice sounding rough after the long stretch of forced silence.

"Night," he mumbled. Unlike her strained tone, his voice was soft—not out of caution, but out of a genuine, weary tranquillity.

"Are you... going to bed?" she asked. She lingered on the words, her fingers nervously tracing the edge of her wedding ring. She tilted her head slightly, trying to catch a better view of his face in the dim light.

"In a minute."

For her, the tension in the room was thick enough to be cut with a spoon, though it was clearly a one-sided feeling. Reluctantly, after a few more agonizing minutes, she made her way toward the stairs. She climbed them slowly, painfully so, as if each step were a heavy burden.

"Night," she repeated from the landing.

She waited. She waited while sitting upright on the edge of the mattress. She waited while reclining against the headboard, and she waited while curled tightly under the blankets. The entire moment felt like a cruel déjà vu. The bedroom door remained ajar; almost closed, but not completely. She could hear his faint movements in the other part of the house and waited nervously in a room that smelled foreign, tucked into blankets that offered no warmth and resting on pillows she didn't recognize.

But in a bitter coincidence to her wedding night, the door never opened; at least not while she was awake.

‘I thought... I thought I did everything right during the trip,’ she thought, her throat tightening. ‘I gave him goodbye kisses. I tried to give him space. I stayed silent when he needed it.’ She felt the hot sting of tears threatening to spill.

There had been a blind, desperate hope that he would simply claim her tonight and make her life easier; that he would mark her and silence the whispers. ‘He doesn’t want me. I just don’t understand.’

The only comfort came from a subtle weight at the end of the mattress. She felt it move toward her until a soft, warm body curled up against her side.

"Goodnight, Clauwy," she whispered, feeling the cat’s happy purr vibrate against her as she finally closed her eyes.

The subtle, flickering tail of the cat brushed her left hand as she scooped him up. It tingled, and her clothes were quickly covered in the fur shed from her peaceful stroking; it had happened at night while she slept, and it was repeating now as she sat in the attic.

“If you go for a stroll around the coast, stay nearby. The zone is still not safe.”

The memory of his words made her scoff, though it was out of pure, bitter amusement. Her husband’s warning before leaving early this morning couldn't be further from her current reality. Her mind was lost in the canvas as she tried her best to represent the view using only graphite. She repeatedly clicked her tongue when something didn’t come out perfect, or when she had to improvise with the meager tools she had at her disposal.

“Can’t I draw a damn straight line today?” she cursed under her breath. Her attention shifted momentarily from the painting to her own fingers. Not only were they stained black, but she also noticed the lines in her hands—the dryness.

Her memory shifted to her own hands moving gracefully over a piano as she played to entertain her father’s business companions. She remembered looking up with starry eyes as they praised him, then back to her hands to ensure she didn't lose the rhythm. Soft, glowing, and perfectly taken care of. Her manicure was always neatly done, without a single trace of hard labor.

What had started as the subtle, whitish light of the early morning had now turned into the task of her eyes adjusting to the orange glow of late afternoon. The cat repositioned himself in her lap, pushing his paws against her stomach as if the spontaneous creation of more space would somehow result. The movement caused her charcoal to fall and break.

“God, Clauwy!” she complained, bending down to pick it up. She noticed the edge of her dress was dirty, still stained from her days on the road. The constant use and washing (the result of only being able to carry a few items) had worn down the fabric. She was struck by the sheer simplicity of her current wardrobe.

She remembered her first formal parties during the Season; her presentation to society. Her mother had insisted on spending well over the budget for her dresses, believing the firstborn’s success would set the stage for the entire family.

“Ugh, Y/N! It’s not fair,” Grace had complained. It was Grace's second year in the Season, yet Y/N’s dance card was already full of reserved names.

Her cheeky giggles back then had been on purpose, designed to annoy the other Omegas. Her waist had been accentuated by a gorgeous corset, and her majestic dance gait moved every little ruffle with her. She recalled raising that white paper with golden accents to her face, giving a superior look to her friend in a display of faked narcissism.

“The Earl asked me for a dance,” she had sang.

“Ugh,” the older girl pouted. “What’s your secret?”

“I’m just delightful,” she had mocked.

The invitations from the nobility had been constant—something her family talked about for weeks afterward. They were wealthy, but nobility was another level entirely; the possibility of landing a match like that was everything. Of course, she never admitted that she had studied the venue beforehand, choosing a dress colour specifically to stand out against the room’s décor.

The suitors, the presents, the invitations for strolls around the Capital during the warmer months... “Any man would be lucky to marry her.”

She had blushed at the comments from her father’s friends, lowering her head to accept them with practiced modesty.

“Remember, nobody likes someone full of herself,” her mother had said while helping her get ready. “A good wife knows how to stand out, but also how not to outshine her husband.”

“Yes, mother.”

They used to praise her talent for organization when she took over the household roles while her mother was feeling under the weather. “She will be great with kids,” they would say as she kept everyone in line during dinner parties.

All the things she was supposed to grow into: a prideful daughter, a beautiful bride, a delightful fiancée, a modest wife, a devoted mother.

‘Lord… I’m so far away from home.’

She remembered her little sister asking their grandmother to write on the back of a messy, finger-painted piece of paper: ‘I’m an artist like my sister.’ She remembered being admired, praised, desired, and loved.

But when she looked up and saw her reflection in the tilted window of the loft, she saw lips pressed tight to hold back tears that were already running free. She saw messy locks escaping her hairstyle because she had nobody to help her pin it up anymore, and the neckline of a rough apron she wore to protect her only dress.

“I had so much potential,” she whispered, turning back to the painting. “Now I can’t even do a stupid landscape.”

The bedroom door protested with a sharp, high-pitched squeak, much like every other door in the newly built cottage. It was obvious the construction materials were still learning how to settle into the frames and adapt to the coastal environment.

“Hey,” Levi’s voice was as soft as a breath, testing to see if she was even awake.

Curled in her bed with the cat tucked into her arms, she didn't even look up at him. She simply remained there, rooted in place. “Hey,” she replied, her voice a poor excuse for a sound.

“All good?” This time, he took a few steps inside, the floorboards groaning under his weight. It didn't take a genius to notice she wasn't alright, but it took a brave man to face the heavy scent of melancholy filling the room. “I had a lot of work; couldn’t get back earlier. I thought you were asleep.”

The sadness in the air was thick enough that he didn’t even need to be her mate to feel it. “It’s alright,” she mumbled. To her surprise, he actually took a seat on the edge of the mattress.

“You been here all day? I didn’t see you down at the coast.”

‘If you already know the answer, why do you ask?’ She only hummed, neither affirming nor denying.

“Why don’t you go out and catch some fresh air?” he insisted, his fingers tapping a rhythmic, restless beat against the mattress while his eyes remained fixed on her. “It’s late, but we can still go for a stroll.”

We.

“I have a headache.”

Levi’s grey eyes squeezed shut painfully. He held his breath for a long moment before letting out a heavy, tired sigh—either finding the strength to keep going or a way to lie to himself. ‘Come on, I’m not that stupid,’ he thought. He sat there with his knees parted, staring blankly at the stainless paint on the wall.

‘Maybe Eyebrows was right; I’m too much of a softie deep down,’ he thought bitterly, slowly turning to his right to look at her huddled form. ‘But fuck, it hurts feeling this useless.’

“A cup, maybe?” he asked softly, but she only shook her head against the pillow. Still, he remained.

Suddenly, he rose from the bed. For a second, she imagined he was finally leaving, but he only reached for the piece of paper resting on the nightstand before sitting back down. “Mh,” he hummed, admiring the sketch. “Is it finished?”

She gave a small, nonverbal nod.

“Not bad, Froggy,” he said, hoping the nickname would coax a smile or at least some reaction out of her. He turned to look at her again, but her expression didn't budge. “Is it our view from the loft?”

Another hum of approval. He tried once more, forcing a real praise out of him “Looks good.”

“No, it doesn’t,” she spat out suddenly. “The shadows are over-blended, the edges aren’t sharp enough, the lighting is weird, and the perspective is all wrong.”

“Well, it looks good to me,” he declared flatly.

She didn’t reply, at least not for a long while. When she finally decided to speak again, she only said, “I’m going to sleep.”

Levi wished he knew how to comfort people better, or at least how to communicate what he was actually feeling. “Alright,” he puffed out, letting out a soft groan of effort as he stood to leave the room. But before he reached the door, his hand reached down, catching her face and messing up her hair against the pillow. “Sleep tight.”

The walk of a defeated man is hard to hide.

“Levi,” her soft voice stopped him midway through the doorway. He glanced back into the room. “Thank you.”

His teeth gritted; it annoyed him to be so powerless in his own home. “For what?” His question wasn't just for her, but for himself.

“For being so gentle.”

One hand closed the door behind him while the other squeezed his heart. “Oh, fuck me,” he whispered to the empty hallway.

The next morning, her footsteps resonated on the ceiling of the bottom floor at an unusually early hour. She had been woken by a repetitive, systematic thumping.

Bracing herself against the staircase, she peeked down to see what was going on. Her confusion only grew when she saw Levi’s back. He was standing on top of one of the kitchen chairs that had been dragged into the living room, facing the wall opposite the chimney.

“Be careful with the nails,” he said. How he knew she was standing there behind him, she didn’t know.

“What are you doing?” she asked, purely perplexed. As if tracing a crime scene, her eyes noticed the rolled-up thin pieces of wood on the floor, the nails, and a saw; as they moved up, they finally saw him getting down from the chair. She frowned, almost angry but out of pure confusion. “Why did you do that?”

Her art piece, put in an improvised frame and held proudly on display on top of the wall by some nails he had strategically hammered to the wall.

“Well, you said we needed decoration,” he declared. He began methodically sweeping the floor and putting his tools back in their place.

“Levi, that’s not decoration. That’s a stupid charcoal drawing.”

He acted as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened; or at least, that’s what his stoic face gave away as he finished putting on his uniform. Her deep frown followed his every movement.

“How many houses on this shitty island have a painting of the sea?” he asked casually. “None. So it’s the best one by default.”

All the internal noise in her mind went completely blank. She just stood there, watching the sketch hang on the wall like a divine figure. The front door opened. “I’m going,” Levi announced, pulling on his jacket.

“Captain! What took you so long?” Sasha complained from outside, where the team was waiting for him.

“What’s that?” Jean asked, his eyes landing on the new frame through the open door.

“She painted it.” Levi’s thumb pointed back toward her. Suddenly, every eye in the squad fell on her. she stuttered, still trapped in shock.

“You did?” Connie asked, impressed.

She didn't have time to respond before Levi did it for her. “Of course she did,” he said, heading out. “She’s an artist.”

The house fell silent. Her attention remained unwavering, locked on the piece. She could still see the flaws; the wrong perspective, the crooked lines. But the nail in the wall seemed to be holding her up as much as the art.

‘Am I… an artist?’

She thought of the party organisation everyone had praised, the way she arranged the decor, the specific colours she chose for her dresses to stand out in the venue. Everything she had ever done had been through that lens.

‘I am… an artist.’

A memory of her own voice, screaming at Levi back at the camp, echoed in her mind: “Who am I if I am not a mother?!”

She looked at the sea on the wall and finally had the answer.

“I am an artist.”

Author's note:

Hi! How is everyone? Did you miss me? I missed you all haha Where have I been? Well trying to survive haha, I promise that once my life its not a fanfiction itself, I will be able to update more frequently. I hope all of you have an amazing beginning of the year and that this chapter allows you to ignore the world wide chaos haha. Thank you, as always for this amazing amount of support that this fic always gets. From the bottom of my heart.

Lucy

P.S: I CRIED LIKE A BABY WRITING THE FINAL ARC OF THE CHAPTER SO YOU ALL BETTER CRY WITH ME SO I DONT FEEL LIKE AN IDIOT. Thank you

Period of time? Unknown. Exact hour? No clue.

The space and time he found himself in was a very particular one: too late to know you’re losing valuable sleep, and too early to actually wake up.

In situations like this, everything seemed to linger in an extra uncomfortable area. The sleeping bag was too itchy and too hot. Everything was too hot, actually. Levi felt like he had been boiling in his own skin, wishing he could peel it off and purge it entirely. The sounds of wild animals at night annoyed him—sounds that, on other occasions, might have awakened a sense of nostalgia that never truly existed. A longing for a memory in nature, built entirely from fictional expectations rather than real experience.

‘Too loud,’ he thought.

Too loud, too tight, too hot. Everything clung.

His head turned to the left, and he observed her sleeping peacefully. Her messy hair spread over the sleeping bag’s cover, which had been turned into an improvised pillow with some of her clothes stuffed inside. Back in his tent, he felt both happy and annoyed at the same time. Happy that the silly cold war was over; annoyed because during the one or two nights he had slept alone in his tent, he’d been able to sleep almost naked and fight June’s weather with less grace but far better results.

“Ugh, fuck it,” he muttered, lifting himself slightly to pull off the pants that felt like a medieval torture machine. Nothing had ever felt more freeing. One or two minutes of pure, cold bliss. Before everything began warming against his skin again.

Why was he awake? He blamed the heat, but anyone would know he simply had too much in his head.

Suddenly, he groaned.

Two paws pressed against his lower belly, and the cat seemed to weigh as much as the Colossal Titan. Four legs followed, the animal bumping its head against Levi’s and purring contentedly. Then, as if it weren’t already boiling hot inside the tent, the pet decided to tuck both pairs of legs underneath itself and settle right on top of Levi’s chest.

He couldn’t bring himself to push it away. The closed eyes, the steady purr of contentment. It was oddly satisfying. The rhythmical vibration, the peaceful expression that almost looked like a smile.

“I’m trying to sleep here,” Levi complained, as if blaming the animal for his wakefulness would make any difference.

The cat lifted its head, bumped his again, then curled closer to the alpha’s neck and kept purring. ‘I know. I’m helping,’ it seemed to say telepathically. Levi stayed motionless as the subtle, continuous vibration lulled his eyelids into heaviness.

His attention was stolen by a couple organizing bottles on the top shelves. The dark-chocolate-haired man laughed as she failed to reach the spot to put the whiskey back. She pouted in mock anger as they enjoyed their little corner of happiness in that wretched place. Her hand lifted to pinch his arm playfully, and the simple ring on her ring finger shone brightly. It was stupid how eye-catching it was, even in the dim light.

“Levi… are you even listening to me?” Farlan spoke from the other side of the table.

The truth was that the ring was simple, probably cheap, made of no particularly valuable metal. It wasn’t extravagant at all. It just was to him.

“You know… we could go to another pub,” the greyish-haired young man added, only to follow it with a sassy remark. “I mean, if it affects you that much.”

Levi let his full weight sink into the back of the chair, casually throwing one arm over it as he raised the glass to his lips and clicked his tongue. “Don’t be stupid. Why would it affect me?”

The blond stared at him silently, unmoving, as if waiting for the alpha to notice that his façade of nonchalance was about as convincing as a kid walking with both arms extended and eyes closed, pretending to be a mummy.

‘Why would it affect me? She only went and got engaged in a couple of months, with some guy, and started a damn pub. Just like we once talked about.’

“Let’s carry on and think of a place where we could train with the new equipment we got,” Levi muttered.

Seeing Farlan roll his eyes and laugh annoyed him. “How many times do I have to tell you that it was a mutual split?”

“Whatever allows you to sleep at night,” the blond replied between chuckles.

With consciousness, he might have noticed that he couldn’t recall their faces—any of them, really. Faceless people his mind accepted without question, placeholders standing in for who they were supposed to be.

‘It’s alright. We have different dreams,’ he had convinced himself, back when they’d finally gotten their hands on the 3DMG. Back when it felt like learning to fly would be enough to bring them one step closer to the surface.

“You know… it’s probably wrong of me to say this, but my sister wouldn’t say no if one day you invited her for a drink or two.”

The underground’s scratched glass and damp walls dissolved, melting into the steady stone of Trost’s military facilities. The edges of the memory blurred. People moved slowly, voices reaching him without faces attached, his mind knew what was being said, even if his eyes couldn’t supply the details.

Some old training friend of Erwin’s suggested it. The blond had chuckled, nervous.

“I appreciate it, but… I’m too focused on the cause.”

“Geez, Erwin…” Levi didn’t remember interrupting, only the murmurs around him. “Did you hear? Marie’s pregnant again.”

Who is Marie? Back then, he’d been too new to the circle to place the name.

“I’m happy for her. She always wanted a big family.”

“Be honest, man… don’t you regret it sometimes?”

The conversation circled him without ever pulling him in. Levi observed from the outside, admiring the other Alpha’s unwavering devotion.

‘No regrets.’

That was what they had bonded over.

As time went on, Levi couldn’t tell whether Erwin was losing the plot, or finally revealing his true colours. The way he smiled when they discovered Titans were once human. The way he insisted on the Wall Maria expedition even after losing an arm. The way he broke down at the thought of dying without seeing what was in the basement.

“I can’t,” Hange muttered.

The building felt like a mausoleum after their return. Not just for Erwin and Moblit, but for the Survey Corps itself. They’d never been many, but returning with barely fifteen left made the silence unbearable, gnawing at the walls.

“Come on, Hange. We need to hold a meeting. Those are in the commander’s office.” His voice came out softer than intended. Maybe because he’d realized his only surviving friend needed whatever care he could still offer.

“I can’t go in there. I can’t move my things… that’s Erwin’s space.” The bandages still covered one eye, not yet healed. The new commander’s gaze unfocused. “I don’t even know how to run these stupid meetings. Why did Erwin think this was a good idea? I never wanted this.”

A hand covered their face, but Levi felt it — the held-back resentment in their remaining dark eye, directed at him. Held back because, deep down, the scientist didn’t want to feel it, yet part of them blamed Levi for making another choice.

“Fine,” Levi said, pushing himself off the wall. “I’ll do it. I’ve cleaned your room before. I’ll do it again.”

Filling boxes, dividing things between what was still useful for the military, donations, and items Erwin’s family might want, even after years without contact. As the books were removed from the shelves, something shifted. Hidden among the endless pages.

Levi braced a hand against his thigh as he bent down, his body still aching, and picked up an envelope.

Marie.

Written on the front.

He turned it over a few times. No address. No real intention of sending it — surely. The creases in the paper showed it had been opened and closed many times, probably reread over and over.

‘I shouldn’t,’  he thought…and did anyway.

Do you regret it?

Levi scoffed, raising a hand to his temple and pressing hard. If the man who led all of this had doubts, had missed the untaken path… what was left for the rest of them?

A bitter chuckle escaped him. “This was all a hell of a lot easier when we could just blindly follow you, you idiot.”

She showed up to the funeral (held after Levi brought the body back) with the three little girls in tow. She hugged Hange like an old friend, though the brunette barely reciprocated, and then caressed Levi’s arm with the gentle care only a mother could give. Nile came too, looking more affected than Levi had expected.

“Thank you, Levi.” He never thought he’d hear that from Nile.

Levi never mentioned the letter. But it lingered in his mind as his eyes drifted back to the family, again and again.

“A tea shop?” Her head tilted in cute confusion. “Isn’t that too calm for you?”

The heat of the fire and its light irritated him.

“I wanted that.”

I wanted that.

I wanted that.

The heat was unbearable.

His eyes blinked repeatedly, trying to adjust as the corners stuck together with dried boogers. “Fuck.” He jolted upright, reaching for his uniform. The cat protested and sprang away like it had springs in its paws.

Dawn was breaking. Even this early, the air was thick with humidity. The promise a brutal day. He’d fallen asleep. Deeply. Unusually so.

He pushed the tent flap open and shoved his boots on, feet outside while the rest of his body stayed in. He ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it back, hating how everything clung with sweat.

“Mmmh.” Her groan echoed as she rolled onto her side, away from the light. The cat walked along her like a tightrope before curling up on top of her head.

Levi froze, gray eyes fixed on the back of her neck. The humiliating memory of arriving drunk at his office resurfaced. The same feeling lingering now, though different somehow.

Without thinking, he shook her shoulder.

“Y/N, wake up.”

After several attempts, she groaned loudly. “What? What’s going on?” She propped herself up on her elbows, eyes barely opening.

“I’m leaving.”

Her yawn was deep and visible. “Leaving? Where? Did something happen?” She rubbed her eyes, and his attention caught on the subtle shine of her ring. Her hair was a mess, her mouth sluggish as she swallowed sleep. Her dress had slipped off one shoulder, exposing her collarbone and part of her chest.

His gaze stayed fixed, expression stoic. She blinked a few times before looking back at him — one eye half-lidded, the other still closed.

“No. Nothing happened,” he muttered. “I’m just leaving for work.”

She sat cross-legged, arms resting between her knees, still half asleep. “…Okay?” Her confusion was unfiltered. “You leave for work every day. Why wake me up?”

He looked away, breaking the scrutiny, staring outside. The pause drew her attention.

“Levi?”

“I just didn’t want you to wake up and wonder where I was.”

It made no sense to her. Levi had come and gone for work while she slept for nearly two months of marriage without ever saying goodbye, something she’d even mentioned while talking with the girls in Trost. Even the first morning, she’d woken alone, hours passing before she knew where he’d gone.

“I’m running late,” he said, clearly abandoning whatever intention he’d had.

To his surprise, her hand caught his shoulder, turning him back. A soft, almost nonexistent kiss brushed his left cheek. Maybe not even a real kiss, cheek against cheek.

“Have a good day at work,” she murmured.

By the time it registered, she was already lying back down, drifting off again.

-

The landscape changed just enough to remind them they were moving, but not enough to make the journey feel like progress. Endless stretches of flattened grass. Mud swallowing boot soles. Wheels from the supply carts carving the same tired tracks deeper and deeper into the earth. The same jokes repeated. The same complaints about rations. The same low morale that no one wanted to acknowledge out loud.

And the heat.

It wasn’t the honest, dry heat of a clear summer day.

It was thick. Wet. Personal.

The kind that sat on skin like a second layer, crawling under clothes, settling in joints, making tempers shorter and movements slower. Even breathing felt heavier, like pulling air through soaked fabric.

By midday, shirts clung to backs. Hair stuck to necks. Leather straps rubbed skin raw where sweat softened it. The horses foamed faster. The whole formation’s thunder started to sound like cattle. More than once, the omega has enclosed herself in the cart as not only the heat was unbearable but so alphas' stink.

As the situation became harder and harder to resist, a cold cloth rested against her forehead and neck.

“It’s the atmospheric pressure. It’s dropping,” Levi said, steady and matter-of-fact, as he tended to her. This time, not out of fear, but out of real physical necessity. Her blood pressure was collapsing, her body protesting violently against conditions it was never meant to endure.

Meanwhile, he remained unperturbed, aside from occasionally swiping sweat from his neck and forehead, his gaze fixed on the sky with quiet, simmering anger.

Her legs were propped up against a tree trunk while she watched him upside down — Levi’s back broad and steady in her vision. The muscles in his shoulders flexed and shifted, his forearms tightening as he rolled his sleeves higher, trying to fight the weather at least a little. It was quite the spectacle.

Her cheeks flushed, and not only because of the summer heat.

“Are you alright?” she asked, her body still feeling like jelly.

“Yeah. Worry about yourself.”

“Tch.” She clicked her tongue. ‘Damn you alphas and your physical endurance. Why do your bodies never have to suffer anything? I’m dying over here.’

“Stew… again?” she asked, each word carrying the faint weight of her last hopes. “I feel like I have stew coming out of my ears.”

“Don’t be spoiled. Eat it.” Levi barely turned his head, just a half inch over his left shoulder to look at her, while his hands kept busy—cutting potatoes without a board, his blade scraping against his palm with practiced ease, and dropping them one by one into the pot of boiling water where the rest of the ingredients were already swimming.

“I can’t keep eating stew… I feel like I don’t want to eat at all. Is there nothing else?”

“I could make rice.”

She frowned, her nose wrinkling slightly. “But that would just be… stew without all the rest.”

“Well, it’s still not stew,” the captain pointed out, as if that small difference carried any real meaning.

She sighed in defeat, rolling her head to the side as the headache was killing her. “You know… this is not very romantic. Not what I imagined our dinners as a freshly married couple would be like.”

Levi didn’t indulge her melancholia. “I think it is. Who the hell do you think hunted the rabbit for yesterday’s stew?”

Her expression froze as the words sank in. “THAT WAS A RABBIT?!” she shrieked, recoiling in her seat as if the memory of her previous meal suddenly turned in her stomach. “I thought it was the meat we brought in our rations!”

“We’ve been travelling for an entire week. No rationed meat would survive this heat.” His tone made it sound almost insulting that she had to ask.

“When I asked you what was in it, you could’ve mentioned the rabbit!”

“For what? So you’d get sentimental and refuse to eat it? Nah.”

Her brows knitted together as her voice lowered into a wounded accusation. “You’re my husband! You’re not supposed to lie to me.”

Levi finally turned fully, a wooden spoon in his right hand and the other resting against his hipbone, the steam from the pot curling around his shoulders. “When we swore in front of the civil court and the church, what did you swear to do?”

The question caught her completely off guard, shifting her tone and expression in a heartbeat. Her eyes wandered to the flying insects circling the dim lantern light, as if they might hold the answer. “Love, to cherish… and to obey,” she murmured under her breath, almost ashamed to say it aloud. Her cheeks warmed to a subtle shade of pink—she hadn’t expected him to turn the night into a cross-examination.

“Well,” Levi said flatly, completely unfazed by the tension he’d stirred up, “I swore to protect and provide. You’re protected, and you’re provided for. Being honest wasn’t in the contract.”

Her deadpan glare came quickly, though her blush faded even faster. “How generous of you,” she muttered, the sarcasm so thick it could’ve left sticky drops on the grass between them. But then she raised her voice again, a sudden frustration bubbling through: “Why did I have to swear to obey, and you didn’t?! That’s not fair!”

Levi gave a dry, amused scoff and turned back to the pot, stirring lazily as the smell of boiled herbs filled the night air. “Not my fault being an omega in this society sucks,” he said. “I don’t know—vote against that law in parliament.”

“I cannot vote! I’m an omega!” she snapped, more offended by the suggestion than the law itself.

“Well, I don’t know—overthrow the government, kill a couple of MPs, change the law,” he listed matter-of-factly, as if it were no more difficult than baking bread. “It worked for us.”

She raised one eyebrow slowly. “Did it, though? You’re in the middle of nowhere, going somewhere you don’t want to go, stuck with me and your pitiful salary.”

The alpha slowly turned his head again, squinting at her through the rising steam. “Shut up and eat,”

One

Two

During dinner, Levi’s gaze drifted upward once again, tracing the sky with a faint hint of disdain, as if he were reading something in its heavy clouds.

Three

Four

“Oh, thank God,” she whispered, tilting her head back, letting her face drink in the sky, savoring each subtle shift.

Nearby, the brook murmured along its bed, clear and still, but tiny, circular ripples began to scatter across its surface. The heat of the day lingered, and where warm air met cooler water, thin wisps of mist began to rise. Birds in the trees shuffled nervously, seeking shelter among the branches.

The drops were big, typical of a summer rain.

The little tears slide down the leaves, the horses squeaked, one playful drop slide down her neck make her chuckle. The night turned darker as the heavy clouds covered the moon. The scent of wet earth and herbs from the stew mingled, grounding the moment in a quiet, intimate relief.

She tilted her face up again, eyes closed, letting the night sky and the soft, uneven rain touch her cheeks. Each droplet provided soft relief, glittering like tiny jewels before sinking into her hair and clothes.

“Don’t you love the rain?”

Levi squinted as the quietness of the first drops brought memories he didn’t care to relive. “No,” he said simply, his voice low.

The rain began almost imperceptibly at first. Soft, scattered taps on the leaves and the roof of the tent. Almost a lullaby.

“!!”

Her eyes snapped open, and she sat up immediately as the cat tried to hide in the sleeping bag. Galloping against her chest, her heart fought to steady itself, her ears still ringing from a thunderclap that had pierced the sky.

“W-what was that?”

The wind outside tore through the night, and the poor tent seemed to struggle with the absurd task of staying upright.

“Great. You’re awake,” Levi said, glancing at her. The tent flaps slapped against each other as he bent over to pull on his boots.

“We’re going to secure the horses,” he said, tightening the laces. He gestured toward the entrance. “If water gets in, take the things out and put them in the cart. Keep them dry.”

“Bu—”

Before she could protest, he was already gone. Her pupils struggled to adjust to the dim night, lips parted as she tried to process what was happening.

A moment later, he appeared again, peeking into the tent, his hair already dripping wet.

“I’m coming back for you,” he said, voice sharp. “Do NOT move. Except to the carts. You hear me? I mean it this time.”

This time, she obeyed. Mostly because she had no intention of getting lost in the forest while the sky was practically falling on them. She was extra careful performing the task he had put her in charge of when the water started sneaking inside. She sat on the edge of one of the carts with their belongings piled beside her, the cat hiding inside her desk.

“Shhh, baby. Behave,” she murmured, rocking the cat, as if the animal could understand why they were in this situation, and why it couldn’t just walk away to a safe place.

‘Well… at least now he’s letting me take care of something.’  The thought wasn’t as mood-lifting as she had expected.

As the camp came alive despite it being the middle of the night, she knew her partner would return soon. She scanned faces in the dark until one finally looked like him. She stayed exactly where she was.

When he reached her side, he seemed rushed. He climbed into the cart and rummaged through their belongings — the ones she had secured.

“Where did you put my—” He cut himself off mid-sentence. “Never mind.”

Her attention never left him. “Levi,” she called as he started putting on his gear with urgency, already looking ready to leave. “Levi, what’s going on?”

“You go in the cart. Don’t worry.”

‘Great. Here we go again.’ She frowned. “You’re leaving now?”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t it dangerous under this storm?”

“No.”

“What do I do? How are we going to ride in this weather?”

“Told you. You go in the cart.”

“B—”

“Get ready. We are leaving.”

“What did we talk about? You explaining the situations to me?” she snapped, frustration bleeding into her scent and reaching him, forcing his cascade of actions to stop. He turned around, one hand still gripping the clip of the harness in front of his chest.

“Don’t use that on me,” he warned. The charged atmosphere didn’t sit well with his most primitive instincts. “I don’t even let my alpha comrades assert demands.”

To his surprise, she didn’t back down. The combination of her frown, the bitter scent, and the rocking of the “baby”, the cat, in her arms was bizarre. And somehow oddly natural.

“Then explain it to me,” she said, steady. “So I don’t have to go around demanding it.”

Everything in his expression showed he was grudgingly giving in.

“I’ll go first with most of the horses to see if we can secure a path that isn’t flooded for the carts,” he said. “The carts will move, but probably extremely slow because of the weather. You go in the cart with Armin.”

It sounded like a rushed summary someone gives you right before a test. Trying to condense as much information as possible into something simple.

“Happy now?”

“Very.”

“Glad.”

They stared at each other with almost no sympathy, both words spat with mutual disdain.

But her attitude shifted quickly when she processed what he had actually said.

He kept muttering under his breath like an angry mother cleaning a house, not noticing her expression change as he continued preparing.

“Do you realize my job involves very confidential information, right? I can’t go around explaining every damn thing to you, Y/N.”

And he kept going.

“So when I tell you to do something, just do it. Don’t argue with me, ‘cause—”

“So… that means we part ways?” Fear slipped into her voice as she glanced back at the formation preparing behind them.

“Huh?”

“You won’t be riding next to my cart.” She swallowed. “I’ll be alone.”

“With Armin,” he corrected.

‘Armin is sweet, but not exactly who I’d pick to feel protected…‘

It was her turn to grudgingly accept. “Alright,” she muttered, eyes lowered.

“Don’t be a pain in the ass.” Despite the wording, his tone was almost gentle, for him. “How many times do I have to tell you? If I say it’s safe, it’s safe.”

‘Well, aren’t you a fucking liar?’ his own mind snapped back at him. He shoved the thought away. He didn’t have time or room to hesitate.

“Alright,” she repeated, this time with a spark of conviction.

“I’m off,” he said, already placing one foot in the stirrup.

“Wait.”

“What now?” he said, already out of patience — only for her to lean forward and press another soft peck to his cheek.

“See you later…”

—

“You seem particularly quiet today,” Armin said later. Despite the weather, she had insisted on sitting at the front of the cart with him, arms folded, anger written clearly across her face. “Everything alright?” he added with a small smile.

“Yeah. Why do you ask?”

A deadly stare from the corner of her eye, teeth clenched.

The blond tried to smile, but only one side of his lips lifted, forming an awkward, conflicted grimace.

“Well… I’m not an alpha,” he said carefully, “but I can smell something is wrong… metaphorically speaking.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she spit.

The cart creaked and swayed as the wheels struggled through mud that sucked at the wood with every turn. What previously had been an endless canvas of distant forest and beige open meadows, had now turned into grey mess. They could hardly see much ahead and sometimes keeping eyes open was hard not only because of the water but because of the lack of sleep.

Water streamed down the sides, dripping steadily from the edges of the cover. Wind shoved against them in uneven bursts, making the cart shudder and forcing Armin to tighten his grip on the reins.

The horses snorted nervously, ears pinned back as thunder rolled again across the sky, louder this time, closer.

Progress was slow. Painfully slow.

The world beyond a few meters was just sheets of rain and flashes of white light.

Beside him, she sat stiff and silent, staring ahead through the downpour, jaw set, hands clenched in her sleeves as the cart lurched forward through the storm.

“You know, rainy days used to be the worst when Titans were still around,” Armin said, raising his voice slightly over the steady drumming of rain against the canvas cover.

The distance they would travel wouldn’t be much, not only because of the multiple turns they had to make to avoid getting stuck in mud, but also because the horses weren’t performing miracles under these conditions. Every meter they gained, following the signals from the riders ahead, was painfully slow. The cart wheels groaned through wet earth, jolting every few seconds as they hit hidden stones or deeper patches of sludge.

“Really?” she asked. And, as the strategist he was, it worked. Her interest was quick to peak.

Armin nodded, water dripping from the edge of his hood. “We couldn’t see the colour signals. Most sections ended up completely cut off — no communication, no warning. Just… whatever showed up in front of you.”

“That sounds awful,” she muttered, trying to even fathom the idea. Her fingers absentmindedly tightened in the cat that was inside her clothes as a kangaroo, grounding herself in something warm and alive.

“Yeah. It was.” He said it simply, without lingering in the weight of the memory. The cart lurched again, forcing him to adjust the reins. “So even if this seems chaotic… believe me, we’ve been through worse.”

Armin had always been extremely gentle with her, and she couldn’t help the small pull of sympathy in her chest. “Thank you, Armin. But I’m not worried about that…”

Her words lingered at the edge of silence before her anger resurfaced, sharper now, steadier. “He pisses me off. I don’t understand him.”

“Who?” Armin glanced to his right briefly before focusing back on the narrow, flooded path. “Captain Levi?” Before she could even reply, he sighed. “To be fair… I don’t think anyone does.”

The old habit of playing with her ring hadn’t disappeared once it finally fit her properly. If anything, it had rooted itself deeper; a nervous tick she couldn’t shake. Both hands rested on her lap as her thumb rolled the band back and forth.

“I shouldn’t be talking about this,” she murmured, the words more a reprimand to herself than to him. Years of ‘marital problems stay inside the marriage’ echoed in her head in her mother’s voice.

“It’s not like we have anything better to do,” Armin scoffed lightly, though his grip on the reins stayed steady and careful.

“It’s… alpha-omega things.” She shook her head slowly, as if explaining it to a beta felt almost pointless. Or maybe just unfair.

Armin pressed his lips together. He didn’t look convinced to let it drop. The side profile of the distracted omega; soaked, exhausted, still trying to hold herself together. It stirred a strange sense of camaraderie in him. One he hadn’t realized he’d been missing.

“You know… I defended you after the Trost incident,” he said finally. “And I decided to step in and help you at the wall.” He added, quieter, remembering how things had actually unfolded, “Not that it helped much, but…”

“Yeah?” Y/N frowned slightly, confused about where this was going. It was true; out of all the cadets, she had felt closest to him. But she’d never thought there was anything deeper behind it.

“My mom was an omega.”

“Ah.” She exhaled, more confused than sympathetic. “That’s… sweet.” It came out as polite reflex more than anything else.

“My dad was a beta.”

Oh.

“And when I was little, I showed a lot of signs of presenting as an omega.”

“Male omegas are very rare,” she said quietly, stating the obvious more than questioning it.

“Yes.” Armin swallowed, rainwater running down the bridge of his piggy nose. “But I don’t think there’s a better way to explain how I felt after I didn’t present… other than saying that suddenly, I was seen.”

He adjusted the reins again as one of the horses stumbled slightly, the cart rocking hard enough to make the lantern inside swing.

“Before that, the doubt clouded how people saw me. I could never just react — I could only overreact. I could never be angry, only hysterical.” With each statement, he stole a quick glance at her. “When I spoke up, it was because I spoke up. When I stayed quiet, it was because I chose to.”

With the raw, worn-down anger of someone who had swallowed it for years, he said, “And when I lost the chance to present… it all disappeared. Suddenly, what I wanted and what I had to say mattered.”

Silence settled between them, short but heavy. The rain hammered against the cart’s wooden sides, and somewhere ahead, a horse whinnied in protest against the wind.

The blond exhaled, tired and exasperated, while she pressed her lips together, knowing exactly what he meant and knowing, painfully, that only one of them had been allowed to benefit from that shift.

“What I’m trying to say is…” He adjusted his grip on the reins. “I feel you.”

A small, defeated but genuine smile appeared on her rain-soaked face. Her left hand reached for his and gave it a soft squeeze. “Thank you.”

Neither of them knew how to move forward from that moment. Neither wanted to break it. Neither quite knew how to hold something that emotionally heavy without dropping it.

“So…” she said after a second, clearing her throat, “does that explain why you like that alpha girl?”

His nervous laugh was almost swallowed by the rain and the strained snorts of the horses. With flushed cheeks, the cadet looked away.

“Maybe,” he admitted, voice barely louder than the storm. “But… don’t tell Eren about it. They’re not on good terms.”

She shrugged, a small scoff escaping her. “Don’t worry. It’s not like Eren comes to talk to me.”

The shift in her tone made Armin glance at her again. “Eren doesn’t hate you… he’s just…”

Whatever word he was searching for clearly didn’t come easily. “To be honest… I’m not even sure what he likes anymore.”

The shared exasperation that followed needed no words; the eye rolls, the tight lips, the synchronized sighs fogging faintly in the cold air. Even the horses seemed to complain in rhythm with them, hooves sucking wetly out of mud with every step.

‘What is that alpha’s fucking problem,’ practically hung unspoken between them.

“Are you two fighting?” she asked, looking toward him. “Aren’t you childhood friends?”

“No and yes,” he answered immediately, in that order.

The subtle pout pulling at his thick lower lip made him look far more endearing than he probably intended. At least, that’s what she thought.

“He’s… not himself anymore.” Armin swallowed. “He’s drifting away. And every time I try to talk about it, the team tells me to drop it so I don’t upset Mikasa.”

“I see.”

But now that he’d started, he couldn’t stop.

“I understand he’s been through a lot. I mean… a damn lot. We all have. But him the most.” His hands moved as he spoke, careful but restless even while holding the reins. “But lately he says the worst things whenever we try to talk about where the island plan is going.”

The cart jolted violently, and he steadied the horses with a soft command before continuing.

“I… I feel like we don’t have anything in common anymore. Like we’re two strangers held together by history instead of actual friendship.” His jaw tightened. “And don’t get me started on how shitty he’s been to everyone lately.”

Rain streamed down his face, indistinguishable from anything else.

“There are all these new people from the other side of the world that I feel I have more in common with than him.” Armin let out a shaky breath. “Is it insensitive for me to say I miss my friend?”

Eren wasn’t part of her old life, not really. She had little to compare him to. But the situation felt painfully familiar anyway.

“If something happened to Eren… would you be there for him?”

“100%.”

There wasn’t even a flicker of hesitation.

“Then you have your answer,” she said softly, a bittersweet smile tugging at her mouth. “You said you were childhood friends, right? You miss the old Eren… just like Eren probably misses the old you.”

She shifted slightly, pulling the cat closer under her coat as another cold gust hit them.

“Asking someone not to change after ten or twelve years is… kind of pointless.”

He looked down, voice barely audible. “I guess so.”

“You care about him because you shared a path,” she continued gently. “But maybe that path is splitting now.” She shrugged. “Maybe it comes back together someday. Maybe it doesn’t.”

Like a child scared to go into kindergarten, he muttered, “But I don’t want to.”

Her soft chuckle was mostly an attempt to ease the heaviness between them. “That doesn’t mean you two can’t be friends, silly. It just means… maybe you need to loosen the relationship a little so you can build others.”

Shifting slightly toward him, bracing herself as the cart lurched through another patch of mud, she added, more animated this time,

“Think of it like decluttering. You don’t have to throw everything away — but you need space to grow, too.”

“Yeah…” The first one sounded doubtful. But as his head gave a few small, unconscious nods, the second — “Yeah,” — carried a little more conviction.

“If you’re so worried that Eren is going through something,” she continued, pushing wet hair away from her face, “why don’t you talk about it with Levi? He’s your squad leader.”

“Oh, no.” Armin’s answer came instantly, almost horrified. “We do not talk about those things with Captain.”

“Why no—” But halfway through the question, she squinted, then winced in understanding. “Ah… yeah. I think I know why.”

“He tried to comfort us once.” The color seemed to drain from Armin’s face as he stared ahead into the rain. “I have never felt more awkward in my life.”

She slowly tilted her head side to side; not disagreement. Just acceptance.

“But it’s not all bad,” Armin added quickly, almost out of loyalty. “He tried to comfort me once… in his own way.”

“Really? Why? What happened?”

That memory was clearly even less shareable. Armin grimaced, shoulders tensing. There were too many things they had lived through that simply didn’t translate to normal life. Confessing to a civil, who probably saw death as something way less common than they did, that her husband has comforted him after he killed for the first time wasn’t a good approach.

“Anyway,” he said quickly, shifting the reins in his hands, “one time the previous commander told me the Captain is actually very shy—”

“Edward?”

Armin groaned loudly over the rain. “Erwin.”

“Ah, yes… it was something with an E,” she said casually, then shook her head. “Levi doesn’t strike me as shy. He’s very outspoken about what he wants… especially what he doesn’t.” Her eyes rolled dramatically as echoes of his endless orders replayed in her head.

“Well,” Armin chuckled, “he’s not shy in the sense of being afraid to speak. But he’s… very reserved. And he has a hard time communicating.”

That thought seemed to snap something back into place in her mind.

“But that’s the issue!” she burst out. “I am trying.” She paused dramatically, raising both hands toward the stormy sky. “And God knows I am trying to get closer to him. To make it feel more like… a couple.”

“I—”

Her frustration spilled over, raw and unfiltered. “I hear from everyone and their mother that I’m not pregnant because of my own fault. That if my husband doesn’t want me, it’s my fault.” Her jaw tightened. “But I’m the only one asking for kisses. Giving goodbye kisses. And what does he do? Walks away. Does nothing.”

Armin’s eyes widened as far as physically possible. His lips pressed into a thin line. Everything about him screamed: ‘This is too much information.’

“And the tone he used—”

“What did he say?” Armin asked cautiously.

“Well… he said nothing,” she muttered. “But he breathed weird,” she added with renewed intensity. “I’m just saying I wish he would put in effort too.”

Talking about the emotional life of his superior felt like walking straight into a trap that would eventually snap shut on him, but Armin tried diplomacy anyway. “You know… I think Captain Levi and Mikasa are similar in that department. As alphas.”

“Eren used to get so mad whenever Mikasa tried to carry heavy things for him. Or saved food for him.” He added quietly, almost like a footnote, “I mean… they’re both alphas. But we all know who’s the more alpha out of the two.” Then he returned to his point. “What I mean is… maybe the Captain’s effort looks different. Less physical. For example — he used to never cook for the team. And now he cooks for you every day.”

That landed.

The realization visibly hit her, melting some of the defensive tension in her shoulders. “…Now that you mention it…”

“Plus,” Armin continued, gaining confidence, “unlike many higher-ups, Captain is very respectful toward female soldiers and omegas outside work. As a guy, sometimes… it’s nice when the girl takes the first step. So we know we’re not being creeps.”

He hesitated, then added carefully, “Maybe… you could ask him to teach you how to ride. He’s an incredible rider. And it would honestly make our lives easier if you could ride your own horse.”

While the conversation was friendly and easygoing, the trip was quickly becoming unbearable for both. The cart wheels dragged instead of rolled, sucking noises coming from the mud with every forced turn. Water still dripped from the cart canvas in slow, fat drops, each one landing with an annoying, repetitive plop into the puddles below.

Once they reached the final top, both jumped out of the cart with so much pleasure that it could be translated into their expressions. Their knees almost buckled from standing too fast after hours of forced stillness. But the only mood the soldiers in charge of guarding the carts had was exhaustion and tiredness. They had stopped multiple times in the road, as the cart kept getting stuck or the horses got scared.

The storm had ceased but only so little; by each corner of the sky they awaited heavy clouds, and the wind was still blowing heavily. It was clear whatever the weather had under its sleeve was going to carry on for a good while.

‘Ugh… we will never arrive at that damn coast,’ she thought while dragging her feet through the mud and reaching the little secured area they prepared inside a forest, hoping blindly that the gigantic trees would provide a bit of cover from not only the falling water but also the wind — but it felt more like wishful thinking. Her miserable thought wasn’t far off; at this rate they were losing at least two days of distance in a trip where each step mattered.

As usual, her eyes scanned the area with confusion. The cat, now on a leash, walked around shaking its paws with each step. ‘Why is there no camp?’

No fire smell. No cooking smoke. No voices settling down for the night. The cat’s ears twitched violently every time wind pushed through the branches above, tail puffed twice its normal size. Proudly ass displayed.

Levi stepped into her path. “I see you didn’t die.” but, to add to her confusion, he was still with the gear on. The comment was clearly connected to her fear of travelling far from him in the formation.

“Sadly,”

The moodiness wasn’t well received but understood. “Aren’t you the life of the party?”

“Look who is talking,” she said with little to no energy, but to her surprise, Levi handed her a cup of warm tea.

“Drink that and stop complaining.” The metal cup was still hot enough to sting her fingers.

The faint steam that came out of the improvised cup was enough to calm her soul, despite it missing the cream and honey she so liked. “I’m so wet,” she confessed after taking a good sip and moving one soaked hair lock out of her face. “I am literally dripping.”

The alpha, who had not stopped working for a second since her arrival, froze mid-motion and directed her deepest frown at him. “What?” she asked, confused. “It’s true.”

“Don’t say that around other people. Ever. You hear me?” The grave, deep tone he used confused her. Shutting his eyes closed, he muttered while rubbing his forehead like he was trying to erase the last five seconds from existence. “You really choose the worst combination of words,” before clicking his tongue.

‘Everything I do pisses him off.’

The continuous move of the formation forced her mind somewhere else while she resumed her leisure stroll while trying to stretch her legs after hours sitting down. One yawn, then two. “When are we setting the tent?”

“There’s no tent tonight, not with this shitty weather,” he declared.

Somewhere behind them, someone cursed loudly as a cart wheel slipped again.

Her gasp forced him to keep going. “Our horses waited here for a bit as we waited for the carts. Now you and the cart rest here while we try to secure another camp – hopefully, by then the rain will have stopped enough for us to set a tent without it getting pissed on before it’s finished.”

“So… I sleep here?” Her voice sounded far from pleased. “You’re already leaving?”

“You can sleep in the road if you want; we need to keep moving as soon as the horses are rested,” Levi said. Despite the weather, he seemed far drier than her. “This is not a holiday. We’re soldiers. We push. That’s it.”

“So you’re leaving,” the omega insisted.

“Yes, I am off.”

Her pout didn’t go unnoticed, not at all. While she debated with herself about the situation and realised that Armin’s conclusion made sense, Levi was sizing her up and down. ‘If I knew how to ride, this would be easier.’

“Don’t you have another coat?” A drop of water slid off her chin and hit the mud between them.

“Huh?” The question came out of nowhere for her, only to then be answered correctly, “No. I wasn’t planning on taking a shower in the middle of the countryside when I packed.”

The squeaking of the horses in the distance and the sound of the galloping made both force their attention backwards.

“So, you’re leaving,” she repeated and forced him, who was looking over his shoulder at his soldiers, to turn around.

“Yes. I’m off.”

Despite the situation replaying for a second time, neither attempted to move. He stood there, feet so secured in his position that if he wasn’t so short, someone may have taken him for a tree. She mirrored the attitude.

Both made an inhuman effort to not wrinkle their nose and try to catch a sign of anything. The most unusual was that Levi was the first to lose the stoicism to replace it with a frown.

‘Come on… the past few days you were all about those goodbye kisses, and now that I stick around for them, you let me stand here like an idiot.’

‘You make the first move, asshole.’

One last time, he repeated, “I’m off,” with so much disdain.

“Okay,” her nose wrinkled this time, not trying to catch on to anything but out of pure hate.

“Tch”, the clicking of his tongue, a nervous tick mimicking hers with her ring, echoed in the empty forest. To her surprise, he unbuttoned his green cloak and put it around her. “Put this on; you look like shit,” he said and added, “And stop telling people you’re wet.”

Looking down at it, the fresh memory of his formal trench coat around her during their wedding day struck a sensible nerve in her. That, or the smell of it penetrated her nose and flooded her senses like rain flooding soil. Fighting each cell to not bring it to her nose and take a good inhale of it, especially because she feared purring like a fool like the last time.

“Wait,”

This time he was ready, embarrassingly so if he could admit it. Already tilting his head to a side as her hand touched his shoulder, he was ready for her to press her cheek against his and mimic a fake subtle kiss sound now that the rest were too far away for him to fear the scrutiny.

He was not ready for what she actually did. She didn’t even give him time to close his eyes when she softly pressed her lips against his in a very subtle peck. Like the one they had shared, it is a way less romantic setting inside the tent. Her eyes were closed, and he thanked any existent god for it because his surprised face would only carry on more problems.

When she opened them up, the bottom of her eyes was already raised in composure with her cheeks. Those were also blushed. “Take care,” she said.

What was she expecting? Not even her own mind could make itself up about it. But his hand reached for the back of her head, and she blushed deeper, thinking that as if in a romantic book, he was going to push the back of her head to go deeper. But instead, he placed the hood over her head.

“Don’t catch a cold,” he said, already stepping back. While he didn’t give her enough time to speak, her face immediately grimaced in tiredness. “I don’t give kisses to sick people. I’m very germophobic.”

It made her chuckle. “Really?”

“Don’t come crying later on.”

The rain eventually eased a little bit, and the idea of missing a tent never crossed her mind until now. But when it was passing midnight and they had just arrived to build the camp up, she certainly did.

Levi shoved the itchy gray blanket higher over his shoulder with a decisive tug, like he was drawing a line, marking the end of whatever pushy conversation she thought she could keep going. His bare legs stuck out the bottom, he’d long given up on staying fully dressed in this godforsaken heat, modesty has lost the battle. But ditching the blanket altogether felt like surrendering to the cold. That was too much. Some things just made sense, even if they didn’t.

One arm folded beneath his head, his face turned away from her, eyes squeezed shut with deliberate force, his brows deeply furrowed. He wasn’t asleep, anyone could tell but he was clearly committed to faking it. Or at least, forcing the night to end by sheer will. Mostly, he was hoping she’d get the message.

“Levi…” she called out again.

“Go to sleep,” he muttered, each word bitten off and heavy with exhaustion. Her persistence was wearing him down, strand by strand, like a fraying rope.

“But I need to ask you something…” She shifted upright slightly. Her voice had that unmistakable pouty tone—he could practically hear the lip quivering.

“Ask me in the morning.”

“But—” she protested, voice smaller now, embarrassed.

He groaned into the blanket. “For the love of—what could possibly be so important that it can’t wait till sunrise?”

Her voice dipped into a sheepish murmur. “It’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you…”

His brow twitched. Levi let out a longer breath, then scoffed. “And it just had to be asked at three in the damn morning? In a tent?”

“…Kinda.”

The awkward silence that followed was laced with too much emotion to ignore. He cracked one eye open and glanced over his shoulder. She was sitting up now, fiddling with her fingers and looking away.

‘…She’s kinda cute like that,’ he thought grimly, and instantly regretted it.

“I wanted to ask you in private,” she murmured.

Levi propped himself up on an elbow, gaze sharpening. Whatever this was, she clearly wasn’t going to drop it.

“What?” he asked, already annoyed, but clearly listening.

“Well, since you're my husband now and all… I guess it should be you who teaches me.” She was dancing around the words like they were hot coals, and that irritated him even more. He clicked his tongue. “I want to ride.”

His brain shut off.

“…What?”

“It was Armin idea!”

It’s just that his brain had already gone places. Dangerous, sweaty, deeply inappropriate places.

“I want you, as my husband, to teach me how to ride. I don’t really know how to do it, and I’m kinda ashamed, but I thought if I felt a little bit in control, I might be willing to try new things—”

Her awkward stammering was cut off by his sharp interruption, voice rough and suddenly tight.

‘A couple of kisses and you’re already asking me this?’

“Riding what?” he cut in, voice suddenly dry and a little panicked, because his brain was already passing down all the decisions and thinking to his other head.

‘She’s that ready? I mean… I do prefer to be on top, but—shit, for a virgin, she’s eager but I guess it's easier for a virgin to see how much deep they want to go? And here? In a tent? I mean, I won’t be the first to do it like this, but… damn, I thought she'd want a bed at least.’

‘Not that I’m complaining, though.’

“A horse,” she said flatly, frowning at him like he was the idiot. “What else is there to ride?”

All the tingling heat rushing down his spine screeched to a stop. His body had been seconds away from betraying him—his scent, his posture, everything had been more than ready to jump the gun. He was even ashamed of how quickly his own body betrayed him giving away a “I’m more than ready,” scent.

“Well,” he muttered under his breath, “I could think of a few things…”

She sniffed. “Wait. Why do you smell like that?”

“Go to bed, for fuck’s sake,” he growled, flipping back over and yanking the blanket high enough to bury half his face.

“Are you going to teach me or not?” A muffled thud followed, along with her yelp: “Don’t hit me with a pillow!”

“Shut up!” Levi hissed. “You’re gonna wake the whole damn camp!”

-

Despite the rush and them being behind schedule, everyone in the formation needed a day to recover. Especially the horses who had been doing all the heavy pushing through the mud.

“Captain? The meeting to decide the new route is about to start, sir.”

Armin approached his superior with confusion, as it was unusual for him to be late. But he stopped midway, choosing to admire the scene from a safe distance.

Levi was holding the lead of his black mare while Y/N sat on top, hardly showing the posture or attitude of a girl who could be considered to be riding.

“Straighten your back. You’re slouching,” Levi instructed, but the girl kept her fearful grip on the reins.

“I’m going to fall,” she squeaked as Levi made the horse move in slow circles around the open area.

“No, you won’t.”

“Yes!”

Two pairs of blue eyes followed the scene in silence, not daring to disturb it and lose the moment’s momentum.

“Even if you fall, I’ll catch you.”

She blushed, and her tense shoulders relaxed slightly. The beta wondered if, under different conditions, he would have caught a shift in scent.

“Really?” she muttered, though there was no real doubt — only playfulness.

“You think I wouldn’t be able to catch you?” Levi raised a single eyebrow, as if the question itself were absurd.

“I believe you,” she said between giggles.

The blond’s desire to stay out of it was strong, but he had a task to perform.

“Sir… the meeting?”

Levi barely looked behind himself as he continued guiding the horse. “You can go in my place. I’m busy.”

Armin’s mind froze mid-motion, like an animal pretending to stay still to avoid being caught.

“Me?” His voice was barely a whisper as he pointed at himself. “In a higher-up meeting?”

How many times had they, as cadets, admired the higher-ups walking into offices and closing the doors behind them, papers in hand? Their last view always being straight backs and pressed uniforms. Wondering what was discussed inside.

“It’s about time you and the others start taking responsibilities. I can’t keep babysitting you all forever.”

While it felt like those reasons were clouded by a recently discovered personal interest, Armin still felt like a duck thrown into the air to learn how to fly — ready to spread its wings, but scared of the fall.

“Thank you, sir!” He saluted, the meaning finally sinking in, confusion turning into bright eyes. He stomped loudly before rushing back. “I’ll report everything in great detail.”

“Yeah, yeah.” The captain seemed unworried about the possibility of the blond messing up and quickly returned to his task. “I’ll let you go. Gallop around alone.”

“NO!” she squeaked in fear, barely managing the posture needed just to make the horse walk. “Don’t let me go!”

But when she turned to beg him, Levi had both hands in his pockets, and the horse was already moving in steady circles.

“I already did.”

“Levi!” She kept looking over her shoulder in panic.

“Eyes forward,” he called out, calm but firm.

The instructions were faintly heard in the distance as the cadet rushed back toward the main tent. Seeing him return without the short captain, Hange frowned.

“And Levi?”

With the enthusiasm of a kid in a candy store, Armin said, “He said I could go in his place!”

Tilting their head slightly, Hange used the higher ground of the hill they stood on to observe the scene.

“He said he’s busy,” Armin added, his voice distant despite standing right next to them.

They frowned, not out of confusion. The picture was crystal clear. Levi stood with hands on hips, giving instructions while the girl slowly, steadily grew more confident atop the black horse. Levi’s horse.

It wasn’t uncommon for superiors to send advanced cadets to meetings in their place. Hange themselves used to send Moblit sometimes. But the lingering feeling of betrayal didn’t fade with logic.

Why does it bother me so much? I’m always the one telling him to get closer to her.

Feelings didn’t have to be logical to be real.

The horse slowed to a stop, and Levi moved to pat its nose.

“You did good,” he said, surprisingly gentle. “Good girl.”

The omega flushed through the entire spectrum of red as her voice jumped an octave.

“Levi! That’s not appropriate!”

Gray eyes lifted, and the man’s stoicism only made it worse.

“I was talking to the horse.”

Playful complaints, embarrassment mixed with entertainment, companionship — it all blended into distant chuckles and teasing remarks.

Hange understood that standing on the hill, watching them enjoy their little bubble, wasn’t going to change anything. They slowly turned away. The couple’s conversation faded into the background as Armin’s rambling about meeting preparations grew more prominent.

“I am so excited about maybe taking part in meetings. I’ve been researching the origins of the soldiers we’ll receive, and their countries are mind-blowing.”

Somehow, that snapped something inside the usually lively commander, who had gone unusually quiet.

“Really? Every time I try to talk to Levi about cultures outside the walls, he seems so uninterested. I would love to discuss it with someone.” The comment sounded casual, but carried a thin layer of bitterness.

The blond, too deep in his excitement, didn’t notice.

“Well… Captain Levi doesn’t strike me as someone who’s into that.”

“How could he not? It’s fascinating!” the brunette exclaimed, trying to return to their usual eccentric energy.

But that easygoing attitude was hard to find when the cadet summarized the issue so simply, shrugging.

“Some people just have different interests—”

One.

Two.

Raindrops began falling from the sky again.

“—different dreams.”

Their head moved slowly, lips slightly parted, brown hair clinging to their face. They watched from behind as the gray sky finally opened again. Levi stopped the horse and extended his arms to help her down.

“It’s raining,” she complained.

“Come on. Barely a June shower,” he said as her feet touched the dew-covered grass. “Isn’t that kind of your thing?”

“My thing—?” Before she could process it, he added:

“Froggy.”

Her gasp was loud. “Do NOT call me that!”

She pouted in mock anger as they enjoyed their little corner of happiness in that wretched place. Her hand lifted to pinch his arm playfully, and the simple ring on her ring finger shone brightly. It was stupid how eye-catching it was, even in the dim light.

“Commander?” Armin called, realizing Hange had stopped walking.

The truth was that the ring was simple, probably cheap, made of no particularly valuable metal. It wasn’t extravagant at all.

‘It’s alright. We have different dreams,’

Extra scene:

While the omegas debated the invisible weight they had felt since birth; like a combat boot pressing against their necks during their long, painfully slow march. The alphas waited ahead for their return.

Cigarettes hung loosely from their lips. Vacant expressions. Endless hours of staring into the abyss, each man lost in his own thoughts. Or perhaps no thoughts at all.

Eventually, the Commander glanced to his left. “You good?”

The Captain — who had been enduring physical exhaustion, mental overload, and enough doubts about his life choices to trigger a full existential crisis at the early age of thirty-four, all while leading a country into war — answered: “Yeah. You?”

“Yeah.”

One slow drag from the cigarette. A throat cough to clear it. A few guttural groans of complaint. Then silence settled again.

“You think…” Hange started in a wondering tone, the kind that immediately told the Captain nothing good was about to follow. He remained unfazed. “If Titans had genitals… when they do the hardening, would it just get harder on the outside, or would they get a boner too?”

Levi’s hand came up, palm covering his eyes.

“Think about it and let me know,”

Author Note:

I want to extend a personal thanks to all of you. I've mentioned in a post and in private that the past year hasn't been particularly easy for me. But the love and support this story gets is unthinkable for me and when I was having extremely bad days I would sit down to read the comments or talk to friends about random scenes about this fic.

Thank you deeply <3 As always, thank you for reading and supporting this story. I fear this is not my best work but I have something special reserved for next chapter so I will try to bring it as soon as possible and give it extra care.

Lots of love,

Lucy

P.S: it will never not be funny to me how half of the characters talk about Erwin's death as this major trauma they all had and Mc being like "Who?"

Despite the heat of the season, the river’s water bit at her skin with a sharp chill that made her ease in slowly, inch by inch. Her arms pressed tight against her chest as if to shield her from the cold, until the water rose enough for her to move them in slow, circular motions, creating little ripples that caught the early sun.

“Are you done?” a deep voice called from the distance.

She froze, shoulders curling as if his voice alone made the water colder. Turning her head, she tried to catch sight of him beyond the rocks and reeds, but he was too far to see clearly.

“I just got in!” she shot back, her voice carrying a pout he couldn’t see but likely imagined anyway.

From a safe distance on a jagged boulder, Levi sighed, rubbing his brow with two fingers before letting his hand drop to support his chin. His elbows rested on his parted knees, the pose as still as a hawk perched on a branch. She had been insisting for days that she couldn’t last another without washing, and that very morning, she’d declared that while the others set up camp, she was determined to bathe in the nearby river.

‘I’ll be damned if I let her wash in the river without someone standing guard.’

“Make it quick,” he called, voice flat and steady, though her lack of reply only told him she’d tuned him out. His eyes narrowed at the rippling surface. ‘My ass is already going numb on this damn rock.’

‘You can carry on with the rest of your duties, I’m just going to rub some soap on me,’ her earlier words replayed in his head, mocked now in his own tone. ‘As if I can let an omega bathe naked in the river next to an entire camp of alphas.’

To her credit, the chances of anything happening beyond a few prying eyes were slim. ‘I’ve been cooking, setting up the camps, and dealing with that damn cat. If I haven’t seen a single nipple, neither will they.’

His nose wrinkled before he even heard the approaching voices. “Go back,” he barked, loud enough for the young alphas to hear but not loud enough to startle the woman who was still enjoying her rare sliver of solitude in the middle of nowhere.

“We’re just establishing a perimeter, sir,” one of them called back, his voice carrying that faux-respectful tone of someone trying to sound innocent but failing.

“Yeah? And I was born yesterday.”

He didn’t have to repeat himself. The cadets caught the edge in his voice, the kind that meant move now, ask later. Their shuffling feet faded back into the brush. But as soon as they were gone, a different, more familiar stink pricked at his senses.

“Turn around,” he ordered flatly.

“It’s me,” Hange’s voice carried, annoyingly cheerful.

“Yeah, I can smell you. Turn around.”

The faint rustle of bushes being pulled apart was followed by a hissed curse.

“The son of a bitch is smart,” Hange muttered, only to catch a tired, unimpressed glance from Armin, who had come along reluctantly.

“What are friends for?!” Hange exclaimed as if that excused everything.

“Commander… I don’t think hitting on your Captain’s wife is very friend-like,” Armin said quietly, his arms folded.

“And hitting on the girl that killed your entire Captain’s squad is very subordinate-like?” Hange shot back with a grin too sharp to be friendly.

Silence fell, cold and brief as the river water.

“The camp is ready,” Armin finally said, voice low.

“That’s what I thought, smarty-pants.”

––

“Did you enjoy the show?” Hange asked, waiting inside one of the tents while scanning over maps and blueprints, checking their orientation.

“There was no show. Unlike some people, I’m not a creep,” Levi replied through clenched teeth.

“It was a joke, come on. You’ve lost all your sense of humour lately,” Hange chuckled, the sound half-bitter, half-amused.

“Perhaps you’re right,” Levi muttered, his voice low and mellow, just before snapping back with sudden irritation. “’Cause what the hell are you doing with that damn cat on your shoulders?”

The animal was curled around Hange’s neck like a scarf, completely content, the tip of its tail flicking lazily every so often.

“Isn’t he cute?! I should’ve adopted a cat a long time ago,” they grinned.

“You?” Levi arched an eyebrow. “You can’t even keep yourself alive, let alone a pet. Especially one of these. He’s got just enough intelligence not to shit his pants.”

Hange, unbothered, stroked the cat’s back fondly. “Don’t be dense. Did you know cats have the mental capability of a toddler? You’re basically calling a toddler stupid.”

Levi rolled his eyes and began gathering the scattered papers, rolling them up neatly to store away. With a cigarette balanced at his lips, he mumbled, “As if.”

Before he could light it properly, Hange plucked it from his mouth the moment the flame caught, popping it between their own lips with a cheeky smile. Levi’s expression flattened into pure exasperation, not a trace of endearment, just deep, bone-weary annoyance.

“I’m telling ya,” they teased.

“Tch.” Levi grumbled, fishing another cigarette from his pocket. “You’re using being a commander as an excuse to be a pain in my ass.” He lit it, then hesitated, narrowing his eyes. “…Wait. For real?”

Hange’s little hum of certainty stuck in his mind longer than he’d admit. ‘Perhaps that asshole Eyebrows was right… I’m that damn sensitive,’ he thought begrudgingly later that night.

Later, crouched beside the animal, he reached out with a careful hand. “Sorry, buddy,” he muttered as the cat ate with noisy enthusiasm. Levi had traded one of the freshly caught fish for it, a half-hearted apology gift. “I didn’t mean to call you fat.” A beat. “Or stupid.” Another pause. “…And adopted. I mean, you are stupid, but…”

He trailed off, words catching somewhere between honesty and guilt. For some reason, insulting a creature with the mind of a three-year-old didn’t sit right with him.

“If it makes you feel better, at least someone wanted you enough to adopt you. I was just abandoned.” The words came low, almost bitter, as if he wasn’t talking to the cat at all.

The animal didn’t care for his confession, too busy purring and devouring its treat. But Levi lingered a moment longer, hand still on its fur.“This stays between you and me, ok? No need to tell your mother,”

--

For her, the days came and went without much fuss. Life on the move wasn’t gentle. It didn’t help that the deafening sound of her own conscience reminded her, over and over, that everyone else had something to do — except her.

The Scouts busied themselves taking measurements, marking distances, and collecting soil samples. She guessed, for later examination. Whenever they weren’t bouncing along on shaky carts or working under the blazing sun, she used those brief moments of stillness to capture the beauty around her.

It wasn’t very successful. Between the constant stomping of boots and the hum of activity, the wildlife wanted nothing to do with them. No animal ever stayed still long enough for her to sketch. And whenever she strayed too far from camp, Levi’s hand would immediately grip her sleeve or arm. Not rough, but firm. Controlling.

“Where are you going?”

“I just want to draw,” she complained, glancing toward the open meadow.

“Draw in camp,” Levi said, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

“No animals come near camp,” she muttered, her voice barely above a thread. It wasn’t the first time they’d had this discussion.

“Stay where I can see you, or someone from my squad can. Told you.”

She pouted. “But—”

“Do what I tell you.”

Her quiet frustration did nothing to sway him. Forced to return, she sat beneath a patch of shade, glaring at her unfinished sketch. The bird she’d been drawing had long since flown away. Her loud sigh vanished into the summer air. The scorching sun didn’t reach her, but the heat lingered, oppressive even under the meagre shadow.

“This is all the detail I’m getting,” she muttered, brushing away the crumbs of rubber from her page.

Satisfied enough, she reached for her pen to sign it. To give the piece, however incomplete, a sense of closure. But her hand hovered over the page, the pen tip dotting faint marks as her thoughts wandered.

‘I used to practice which extra initial would look best with my name, but I never made a signature of my own.’

She frowned. ‘Well… it would’ve been pointless, right?’ she reasoned silently. ‘I’d eventually take my husband’s name, so…’

That thought struck a deeper chord. Like every other small habit she’d been taught, it revealed something unsettling, as if her life hadn’t truly started until she was married. But the same people who told her that also told her to give up her individuality.

Wasn’t that the whole system? Omegas were raised to be given away. Sent to new families they’d barely know, rarely returning to their own. New names. New homes. New owners. The government-sponsored schools for low-class omegas promised protection, education, and preparation. In truth, they were quiet holding pens. Most families considered it a blessing: one less mouth to feed, and a small payment in return.

They would grow up among others like them, all dressed the same, eating the same meals, repeating the same empty phrases about duty and belonging. Only to finally “earn” a home when they were betrayed into marriage.

‘I had an easy life… could’ve been worse,’ she thought bitterly. ‘A lesser evil is still evil.’

She looked down at her page again. “Y/N…” she wrote, then hesitated. ‘Wait… what’s his last name?’

“AH!”

The sudden exclamation made her jump. She turned sharply, startled.

“An artist!”

“You scared me!” she gasped, hand to her chest. Then exhaled when she realized it was only Hange.

“Hardly,” they teased with a grin, ignoring her glare. “Can I see?”

Before she could object, Hange plopped down beside her, taking the notebook from her hands. “Wow… you’re really good! Real talent!”

“Not really,” she murmured, her cheeks warming under the unexpected praise.

To her surprise, the Commander seemed genuinely engrossed.

“Are you an art lover, Commander?”

“Hange,” they corrected with a wave of their hand. “And… maybe you could call it that.” Their tone softened as they flipped through the pages. “Someone important to me used to be a very good artist.”

By now, she had learned that most of Levi’s comrades carried some shade of loss in their hearts.

“Oh, maybe I could get some tips from them,” she said gently, though her voice carried the hesitance of someone who already knew the answer.

The single visible brown eye glimmered faintly, reflective. “Sadly, Moblit isn’t with us anymore.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s alright,” they murmured, eyes still on her sketches. “You couldn’t have known. He would’ve loved talking about this — though he was a shy one.”

“I would’ve loved that too,” she said softly. “Though, I can hardly ever finish anything. I wish I could just make quick studies of everything I see… something to use as a reference later.”

Those words lit a spark in Hange’s eyes.

“Is that so?” Their tone shifted — playful, almost conspiratorial.

Unaware, she nodded slowly. “Yes. There are so many animals I’ve never seen before, even within the walls. I wish I could draw them but—”

“They move too fast,” Hange finished for her.

“Yes, exactly!” she said, surprised by their accuracy. But the glint in their eye left her uneasy.

“So, what you want is something that could… capture the moment,” they said, the corners of their mouth curling into a knowing smile.

She blinked, uncertain. Her gaze darted away, lips pressing together. There was something hidden in their words she couldn’t quite grasp. “Yes, something like that… but that’s not possible.”

Not used to Hange’s eccentricities, she looked around helplessly, searching for some cue to ease the strange tension. But the Commander just kept smiling to themselves.

“I think,” they said at last, “I could solve at least that.”

“At least that?” she echoed, blinking.

While the eccentric alpha’s mind wandered into a thousand directions, already scheming whatever invention they’d just thought of, she caught something strange in their tone.

“At least?” she repeated again, narrowing her eyes. But before Hange could burst into their usual enthusiasm, she smiled softly and added, “You already solve plenty as it is, Hange.”

The forest went still. The Commander’s wide, cheeky grin faltered. Their expression slowly dimming as the words sank in.

“Excuse me?” Their voice, usually warm and excitable, now carried an unexpected edge.

Surprised by the change, Y/N tried to recover quickly, though she didn’t retreat. The subtle wrinkle in her nose told them she’d caught onto the shift in the air.

“Sorry,” she said carefully, hands folded over her lap. “The way you phrased it just… made it sound like you don’t do much. Or like you’re not good at solving things.”

The smile that followed from Hange wasn’t their usual one. It was thin, apologetic — almost painful. “Ah… haha. Why would you say that?”

Y/N remained seated, calm and patient, waiting as if for a storm to pass. And sure enough, it came: the verbal avalanche.

“It’s just an expression, you know? I didn’t mean it that way. It’s not that deep. Maybe I just have good days and bad ones, like everyone. Being a commander isn’t easy, especially a new commander. There’s a lot to live up to.”

“Is that so?” she asked gently.

That made Hange pause mid-ramble, brows knitting together. “Wait… are you serious? You don’t know?”

Her silence answered for her.

“Well, Eyebrows— I mean, Erwin Smith—was the previous commander,” they explained, catching themselves.

A small hum of understanding left her lips. “So… you haven’t been Commander for very long?”

“No,” they said quickly, straightening. “Erwin Smith. The Commander of the Scouts. The leader of the uprising?”

“Sorry,” Y/N smiled apologetically, shoulders hunching. “I’m not very versed in politics.”

“Well, he was the best,” Hange said quietly, voice tinged with melancholy. “He did an excellent job.”

“Like you.”

The young omega’s words landed softly, her tone light and sincere. As if they were sitting under two completely different skies. She smiled so brightly her cheeks pressed against her eyes, the buttery yellow of her dress glowing under the scattered light.

“No,” Hange said, shaking their head. “I’m not even close. I sit in meetings where I’m supposed to look serious and composed. I’m not made for that.”

“Well,” Y/N countered gently, “we’re about to meet with new people thanks to you and your planning.” She scooted a little closer. “I think you’re not giving yourself enough credit.”

Their eyes met; defeat and warmth mingling between them.

“You don’t get it,” Hange sighed. “You didn’t meet him. He was so good at this.”

A short silence lingered before Y/N frowned. “If he was that good,” she said matter-of-factly, “then why is he dead?”

Hange blinked. Then burst into laughter, loud and genuine. “Damn, girl! I wasn’t expecting that!”

She smiled, startled by the reaction. “I’m just saying! If he was so good at his job, why is he gone?”

“Well…” Hange raised both palms helplessly, chuckling. “He did the best he could.”

To their surprise, a gentle hand rested on their forearm. Her gaze met theirs; steady, kind.

“As you do,” she said softly. “As you are.”

Hange’s lips pressed together. They broke the eye contact, voice dropping to a faint thread. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Y/N replied with a small smile, rubbing their arm comfortingly. “Now… could I ask you something about Levi?”

---

The camp was alive with activity. Soldiers bustling about, taking advantage of the brief stop, while others tended to their gear or rested where they could. Amidst the organized chaos, she spotted Levi seated on a stack of wooden crates, calmly peeling potatoes with the same precision he used in battle.

Even in such a mundane moment, he radiated quiet authority. She blinked in surprise at the sight of him, the front buckle of his chest straps undone, his posture curled over parted legs as he worked. It was... oddly humanizing.

She approached, heart fluttering with a cocktail of nervousness and admiration.

“Levi!” she called out cheerfully, her voice bubbling with energy.

He glanced up, eyes meeting hers; cold, uninterested, as usual.

“What?” he asked flatly, then turned his gaze back to his hands.

She stopped in front of him, eyes wide, lips parted with awe. “Is it true? What they told me. That you defeated the Beast Titan?”

The question made his brow crease at first. “The monkey?” he muttered, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah.” His reply was simple, as if she’d asked about the weather.

But she couldn’t hold it in. Her smile spread, radiant and sincere. “You really did that? Made the Titans line up like that?”

Her voice was so full of wonder, her bright smile so pure, that Levi was reminded for a second of the kids who used to chase him through the streets. Something in him softened. A flicker of pride sparked in his steel gaze.

“Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here,” he said, matter-of-fact.

Her Omega instincts swelled with joy, washing over her in a warm tide. She felt proud—deeply, instinctively proud. Her eyes crinkled at the corners as her smile widened, and her scent began to slip out unbidden, betraying her happiness. It was as if, in that moment, her body insisted that choosing this man was not just a political match. But the choice of a capable, discerning mate.

Levi’s eyes narrowed. He sniffed faintly. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

She smiled, flushed pink with emotion. “Oh… nothing…”

He clicked his tongue, an exasperated puff escaping his nose. “What?”

She giggled, raising a hand to her mouth in pure, cheeky delight. “I always thought when people called you Humanity’s Strongest, it was just some dumb rumour. You're so—tiny, you know?”

His eyes widened, pride stung. It felt like a dagger between the ribs. “You think that’s funny?” he muttered darkly.

She nodded enthusiastically, still laughing. “But it was a lie! You are Humanity’s Strongest!”

He sighed, glaring off into the void like it had personally offended him, letting her words, both the insult and the admiration, sink in like some weird bittersweet mix.

She spun on her heel, ready to bounce off as energetically as she’d arrived, when something tugged on the back of her dress. She yelped as the momentum pulled her down onto a crate beside him.

“Where do you think you’re going, girly?” Levi said, unimpressed.

“Oi!” she squeaked, twisting to look at him, but he was already placing a knife and a potato into her hands.

Pointing with his own blade, he said, “Help me with the peeling.”

“Nooo!” she whined, pouting dramatically. “This was a trap! Why?!”

“Because you’re eating this too,” he said dryly. “Chop chop.”

She sighed and reluctantly started fumbling with the task. “What are we having?”

“Stew.”

She made a face. “We’ve had that the past five days!”

Levi rolled his eyes. “And what do you suggest? Michelin-star cuisine?”

“Oh! A mushroom risotto with quail would be so lovely right now,” she said dreamily, sitting beside him with all the poise of a pampered lady.

Levi gave her a long, unimpressed look. He didn’t even bother answering.

She pouted, picking up on the unspoken judgment. “It can’t be that hard to make…”

“Do you even know how to cook?”

She chuckled. “I don’t even know how to turn on the stove.”

The afternoon light was fading into a muted gold, stretching long shadows across camp. The smell of dirt, smoke, and simmering stew hung thick in the air as the scouts worked around the fire; chopping, peeling, setting up for dinner. The rhythmic sounds of knives against wood filled the quiet hum of conversation.

Levi sat across from her at a makeshift table, a pile of unpeeled potatoes between them. The glint of the knife in her hand made him twitch.

“You’re insufferable,” he muttered with an entertained scoff. Though there was something almost fond under the gruffness. He paused mid-motion, catching sight of her clumsy grip. “Wait, wait — you’re gonna chop a finger off.”

Before she could protest, he reached across and took back the knife and half-peeled potato. “Like this. Thumb braced at the end. And never, never point the knife toward you. That’s an accident waiting to happen.”

He demonstrated smoothly, wrist steady, movements clean and practiced. Then, with a small sigh, he handed the knife back.

“Like this?” she asked, mimicking him with exaggerated concentration.

“Not bad,” he said, though he still reached over to nudge her fingers and adjust the blade’s angle. “Just details.”

Eventually, Levi returned to his own pile, the rhythmic scrape of his knife swift and even. She was slower, more hesitant. He didn’t need to look at what he was doing. The work was muscle memory, but his eyes lingered on her hands anyway.

“Eyes on the task,” he reprimanded softly, noticing her gaze drifting toward him instead of the potato.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“I don’t have money.”

Her pout was instant. “That’s not what I was going to ask!” she squealed. “And besides, there’s nothing to buy here!”

“I don’t know,” he said dryly, “coming from you, I wouldn’t be surprised if you asked me to buy a damn tree.”

Muttering under her breath, she grumbled, “I saw you hiding a lot of money in the office before we left.”

“That’s for a rainy day.” Levi was already stealing from her pile now that he’d finished his own.

Rolling her eyes, she whispered just loud enough for him to hear, “Your whole life is a rainy day.”

That earned her a firm, calloused hand gripping her cheeks, squishing them together until her lips puckered like a bunny’s.

“Oi,” he scolded, voice edged but teasing. “Don’t get cocky with me, doll face.” He gave her head a playful shake before letting go. “What do you want now?”

She rubbed her face and glared. “How do you write your last name?”

That made him pause. “What?”

“I asked Hange, but they said they didn’t remember exactly,” she said, squinting at him. “What kind of friends are you two? Haven’t you known each other for years, and they don’t know your last name?”

Levi frowned, turning back to his work. “Why do you need my last name?”

“It’s my last name too,” she said simply.

That made him look up sharply, eyes wide.

“Well, I want to sign my art pieces,” she explained. “And I can’t without a last name.”

‘Damn’, he thought, feeling something warm and unbidden crawl up his chest. A small, primal spark of pride that irritated the hell out of him.

“Ackerman.”

She hummed thoughtfully. “With a K or a C?”

He didn’t even think before answering, too focused on pretending he wasn’t flustered. “I think both.”

Her silence made it clear something was off.

“You think?” she repeated.

“Keep peeling,” he muttered, trying to brush it off.

“You don’t know how to write your own last name?” she asked, genuinely confused.

Levi exhaled through his nose, patience thinning. “Keep peeling, or we’ll be eating tomorrow night instead of tonight.”

“But—”

“Drop it, Y/N.”

The shift in his tone was immediate; deeper, heavier. The air in the small clearing grew tense. That alpha energy that clung to him, the musky sharpness of command mixed with the faint lavender she’d come to recognize as his, thickened, demanding submission.

Her frown turned from confusion to anger.

“Why do you react like this?” she asked, frustration rising to meet his.

“Because you keep pushing!” Levi snapped back, the words cutting before he could stop them. “I told you to drop it. Why do you always have to dig under my skin?”

The regret hit him the instant it left his mouth, but pride patched over it before guilt could surface.

She didn’t say a word. Lips pressed tight, eyes glassy, she stood, dropped the half-peeled potato on the ground, and walked away.

He sighed heavily, dragging a hand down his face. “Damn it.”

By the time the stew was bubbling and everyone gathered for lunch, she was nowhere near him. Hange, of course, noticed immediately.

“Why’d you two fight this time?” they asked, appearing at his elbow while the rest of the cadets whispered and laughed a few meters away. Levi was pacing irritably, wiping down a forever dirty fallen tree.

He shot them a glare over his shoulder. “Here’s a better question — why the hell is my entire squad whispering behind my back that I’m fucking my wife in a tent?”

Hange froze, then pressed their lips together in an unmistakably guilty smile. Finger pretending to be guns, shot at him before they did a 180 turn. They began to turn away, but Levi grabbed the strap of their 3DM gear and yanked them back.

“I asked you first,” he said flatly.

“Alright, alright!” Hange raised their hands dramatically. “What did you expect me to say? It’s easier to lie and say you two are fucking than explain why you aren’t!”

Levi’s glare could have cut through steel. “I’ve got four words for you. Mind. Your. Own. Business.”

Hange only shoved their hands into their pockets, unimpressed. “You know I’m right.” Their nose twitched, catching his irritation like smoke. “Why are you baring your teeth now?”

“She’s always pressing me,” Levi growled.

Hange hummed knowingly. “Mr. I-Don’t-Talk-About-My-Personal-Life just discovered his wife is part of his personal life.”

As they began to stroll, Levi threw a hand up in frustration. “Which damn side are you even on?”

“I don’t know,” Hange said with mock thoughtfulness, pulling out a cigarette. “Emma’s? Oh wait — maybe April’s!”

Levi froze mid-step, colour draining from his face. “Why the hell are you bringing them up?!”

Hange shrugged, feigning innocence. “Maybe because you always broke up with them the second they wanted to be let into your life?”

He started muttering curses under his breath. “It wasn’t like that. They weren’t serious things.” His voice sharpened defensively. “Mr. I-Never-Remembers-Deadlines suddenly remembers my entire sex life, huh?”

The jab barely phased Hange. “I’m just confused, shorty. You had no problem screwing them, but when Y/N tries to take two steps closer to you, you freak out.” They exhaled smoke, eyes glinting. “Is it because if Isabel were alive, she’d be around her age?”

Levi froze again. His skin went pale, jaw locking.

“Wait—you haven’t thought about that?” Hange asked, now half-regretful.

“Why the hell would you say that!” Levi grimaced like he’d been punched in the gut. “Fucking hell!”

“I just thought it was obvious if you do the count—”

“Don’t do the count!” he barked, voice cracking into panic. “If you ever want Zackly off my back so I can legally claim her one day, don’t do the count! I’ll never get it up again if you keep saying that!”

Hange broke into laughter, utterly delighted by his horror. “You’re being dramatic.”

“How the hell am I supposed to get hard after you just compared her to Isabel?!” “Who’s Isabel?”

Her voice cut through the air behind them, sharp and unexpected. Neither Levi nor Hange had imagined she’d been listening.

Levi turned around, somehow managing to look even paler. If that was humanly possible. His brows furrowed instantly, his whole expression darkening like the name wasn’t even meant to be spoken out loud.

“Nobody,” he replied flatly.

But by his reaction alone, Y/N got all the information she needed. It wasn’t like when Mattie’s name had come up, Levi had barely even blinked then, only reacting with mild annoyance. But this? Levi looked like he wanted to bury that name in a hole so deep it’d never crawl back out.

Quickly, she turned to Hange. “Who’s Isabel?”

“I have no idea,” Hange replied way too quickly to be believable.

She wasn’t buying it. “Who’s Isabel?” she repeated, this time directing the question squarely at her husband, who was busy snuffing out his cigarette.

“Nobody. None of your business. Drop it.”

She frowned. “Nobody or none of my business?”

“Y/N,” Levi’s voice sharpened, firmer this time, though there was the faintest glint of amusement in his eyes. She was trying so hard to look pissed, arms crossed, brows furrowed. And he couldn’t help but find it, annoyingly, a little endearing.

She huffed, refusing to back down, her scoffs filling the awkward silence as she waited for answers that weren’t coming. “You told me you had nobody.”

“Huh?”

Levi’s eyes flicked back to her, a flicker of something almost embarrassed in his expression. The mere idea of Isabel being linked to that kind of past made his jaw tighten. Meanwhile, Hange burst into uncontrollable laughter.

“Oh, nothing like that,” Levi grumbled, glaring at the both of them. “You’re insane.”

“Are you still in contact with her?”

“I can’t— I can’t breathe,” Hange wheezed, sliding down the nearest tree, clutching their stomach from laughing so hard.

Levi threw them a murderous look. “Stop laughing, Four-Eyes. You’re giving her ideas.”

“You write to her?!”

“No!” Levi snapped, as if the suggestion was physically painful. “She’s dead. Happy?”

If he thought that brutal honesty would calm her down, he was mistaken. Her eyes widened, her pout deepening with dramatic horror. “Great. My competition’s a dead lover. The peak of martyrdom.”

Hange’s hysterical laughter echoed through the forest like a siren. Levi ran a hand down his face, exhaling hard. “Fuck me,” he muttered under his breath, before adding pointedly, “You’re the one who snuck off to meet your ex, not me.”

‘Ouch’. That one hit home. Her scowl melted into an indignant pout.

“I’m never speaking to you again,” she declared, turning around with a dramatic flare worthy of stage curtains.

“Yeah, yeah.” Levi took a drag from his cigarette, completely unbothered. “You’ll come crawling back the second you realize you need me.”

“I won’t!“

Levi rolled his eyes. “Sure. Let’s see how long that lasts — especially when you remember you can’t even light a fire to cook dinner.”

--

“You have to hand it to her,” Hange said with a grin. “For someone with the fierceness of a newborn kitten, she’s got a hell of a lot of willpower.”

It had been two days on the road, and after she’d sworn she wouldn’t speak to him again, she’d spent one night sharing a tent with the other cadets.

“I just wish she’d chosen my tent,” Hange added, wiggling their eyebrows just to annoy the shorter man further.

Levi only clicked his tongue in exasperation.

“She’s not letting it go,” Hange chuckled, their breath fogging in the freezing night air.

“It’s the age,” Levi muttered. He said it the way he often did. Not just about his wife, but about plenty of cadets under their command. Hange, who’d never had younger siblings or raised anyone like Levi had, didn’t exactly excel at reading youth behaviour.

“You think?” A puff of smoke slipped from their lips as they frowned. The explanation didn’t quite sit right.

Levi nodded. “It’s the same thing. Jean struts around like a peacock, trying to be the shiniest bird in the flock. Eren’s in his mysterious-loner phase. Armin thinks he can wear a girl down till she agrees to date him.” He gestured vaguely in the air with the cigarette between his fingers, as if summarizing a lecture. “And she thinks controlling me is gonna make sure I don’t cheat.”

“And what does that have to do with age?”

“Easy,” Levi said dryly, as if it were obvious. “You need the energy for that kind of crap. At that age, you’ve got it. I’m too tired to be jealous.”

Hange grimaced, caught between disagreement and amusement, their lips twisting up despite the deep frown. “You’re not that old.”

“No. But the only thing I’m jealous of right now is that she can still sleep eight hours straight.”

“Dear Sheena,” Hange muttered, then let out a bittersweet chuckle, dropping their head. “Same…” The truth of it stung more than they’d expected. “What happened to us? We used to laugh at Erwin for bailing on poker night just to get to bed earlier.”

“That asshole happened!” Levi snapped. “He died and left ten extra years on each of us. Some kind of posh blond, receding-hairline curse.”

They both scoffed sarcastically.

“I’ve got gray hairs on my balls,” Levi added flatly, “too old to waste time chasing someone to make sure they don’t cheat.”

“You don’t care?” Hange pressed. “You seemed to care when she met her ex.” Their camaraderie gave them the freedom to poke the bear.

Levi shot them a sharp sideways look full of disdain, then clicked his tongue and took a drag. “That’s different,” he muttered.

The Cheshire grin spreading across Hange’s face only irritated him more.

“I care. Course I do. Anyone cares if they get cheated on. But people’ll cheat on you no matter what. You can’t stop it. I’m not wasting energy on that shit.”

The approving hum from Hange made him elaborate further. “I mean, if you’re with me, don’t fucking cheat on me. But I’m not gonna chase you around like a dumbass.” Then, with a sarcastic snort, he added, “Guess my only real fear about being cheated on is catching an STI if we’re going bare.”

That got Hange laughing again, nodding eagerly. “Plenty of my Girl friends found out like that.”

“It’s insane. If you’re gonna be an asshole, fine. But don’t risk my damn life,” Levi said.

“Now that you mention it,” Hange mused, “maybe it’s a breed thing. Most of us low-breeds —and betas too,  we’re not so intense about it.”

Levi grimaced, not entirely buying it.

“Think about it biologically,” Hange pressed, leaning into the science. “You guys are wired to be strictly monogamous. Your instincts can’t even process the idea of another. It’s genetics, basically.”

“Maybe,” Levi said, unconvinced.

“And, as you said, at that age hormones hit harder. It all fits.” They seemed pleased with their own conclusion. Taking a triumphant drag, they blew out the smoke and asked, “So, were you like her at that age?”

The high breed alpha went quiet. His gaze wandered across the black grass, as if searching for something buried there. “…No,” he said finally.

“Oh. Well, I guess you’ve always been mellow for an alpha—”

“I was worse,” Levi cut in, smoke curling out of his mouth as he looked up at the sky.

Hange snapped their head toward him, shocked and delighted. “Wait! Really?!”

But Levi was already finishing his cigarette, stomping it out as he turned to walk away.

“HEY! Don’t drop that bomb and then say nothing else!”

Head lowered, clearly ashamed, he cursed under his breath. “There’s nothing more to add.” He hesitated, then admitted through gritted teeth, “I was just remembering how I treated my partner at her age. I was fucking insufferable.”

“Really?” Hange’s grin was too wide, like a kid let loose in a candy shop.

“She was a beta. Didn’t help. I was stupidly intense over nothing,” Levi muttered, cheeks tinged faint pink, cursing himself for opening up at all. “My twenty-year-old self would’ve loved having someone match that toxic intensity.”

Despite the small, pitiful argument that could have ended as quickly as it began, Levi knew deep down it had stirred something in him. Was it Hange’s words or something else? Stand too close to a mirror and you lose perspective; the answer had always been right in front of him. He’d simply chosen to ignore it.

“Can we ask you something about the Captain?” Sasha whispered across the campfire, trying to keep the conversation between the cadets.

Either because of his Ackerman senses or plain alpha instincts, Levi heard it anyway. And as if slipping under the influence of some old dream, the few words that followed sent him down a memory he’d avoided for years.

“…now that Captain Levi is a husband,” she added, eyes sparkling with nosy hope. “How is he like?”

In his mind, another voice answered—bolder, young, uncertain.

“He’s… nice.”

Nice.

The word warped as it echoed. It bent and stretched, changing shape until the present slid away and the room in front of him became another place entirely. The flickering cracking of the fire turned into burned lanterns of in a place consumed by humidity,

He could almost see her: Becca’s messy hair fanned across the pillow, dust from the Underground floating in the lamplight as they tried to cram into a narrow twin bed. Space had never been customary when they were together; back then, closeness was enough.

“I can’t believe she’s doing this to me,” Becca complained.

A younger Levi hummed in acknowledgment, inattentive, still drifting in the afterglow. His thumb traced lazy circles over the warm skin of her bare waist. He was tired—of everything, and specifically after that. But the topic that had brought her here had resurfaced the second they were done, apparently more important than any sweet nothings he could manage.

“She’s not that old! I don’t understand.”

She kept talking while he buried his nose into her neck, hoping for the reassurance of a scent that would ground him. Nothing. Just hair oil and soap. His nose wrinkled, disappointed at the nothingness—beta-neutral. Nothing, his instinctively mind muttered. She smells like nothing.

“Levi, are you listening to me?” Her golden-brown eyes lifted toward him as she propped herself on his chest; when she leaned back, her chest flashed into his view again.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered.

“Then what did I just say?”

Under her glare, his mind went blank. “Uh… that she’s not that old?”

Becca’s frown deepened. She pulled away, cursing under her breath, and began gathering her clothes from the end of the mattress. He knew instantly he’d screwed up. Somehow, somewhere. He sat up and reached for her arm, trying to coax her back.

“Come on, Becca.”

“You’re unbelievable,” she snapped. “You barely have time for me for weeks, I come to tell you something important and you don’t even listen!”

He clicked his tongue, dragging a hand through his tangled sweaty hair. “It’s not that deep. I’m sorry, alright? What’s the issue with Lizzie?”

She paused, one hand in her shirt, jaw tight. With a sigh, she forgave him for the hundredth time, maybe because she wanted to nothing more. “She’s leaving.”

“I know. Aren’t you happy for her? She’s getting out of this shitty place.”

Becca walked into the tiny attached bathroom without fully closing the door. No need for that anymore, and raised her voice so he’d hear. “It’s not that,” she called. “She says this is her last chance, and I don’t think she’s that old! Maybe she can still find someone she truly loves!”

Levi finally forced himself upright, bracing for a long night. “If she’s twenty-five, she’s old enough.” At twenty-two, it sounded true to him.

“But—” She stepped out again, ready for the fight.

He got there first, voice drifting through the half-closed door. “Come on. A widower with a decent farm in Wall Maria and five kids. He was her father’s friend and wants to marry her. An Underground, twenty-five-year-old, lower-class omega? If you ask me, Lizzie seems smarter than you right now.”

“Really?” she shot back, furious. “She’s my roommate! Like a sister! And she’s marrying some forty-year-old who needs a full-time nanny!”

Levi, already tugging on his shirt, argued, “I don’t know, Becca. Being locked in this pisshole, needing an alpha escort to go anywhere, seems worse than raising brats on a farm. Be happy for her. Enjoy the time you’ve got left together.”

“I know that,” she bit out, arms crossing tight.

“I’m just saying.” He sighed, “Lizzie’s right. It sucks, but she doesn’t have any other option.” He sat on the edge of the bed to pull on his boots. “Farman asked her, and she seemed happy enough about it. She even said he’s nice.”

The brunette rolled her eyes so hard they almost pulled a muscle. “Men,” she cursed.

Levi shrugged, helpless. “What?”

“Nice,” she repeated, scorn a razor’s edge.

“Yeah. Nice,” he insisted.

“Nice.” She laughed, sharp and bitter. “Nice!”

“Yeah—fucking nice,” Levi snapped, temper sparking. “What’s your problem today?”

“‘Nice,’ Levi? Really?” Her anger simmered hotter as he failed to catch the point. “Nice is how women describe a man when we know we got the short end. He’s nice—at least he doesn’t hit me. He’s nice—at least he won’t rape me. He’s nice—at least he won’t kill me.”

“Fine, alright. She’s making a desperate decision. What do you want me to do?” he barked. “I’ve got enough on my plate with us trying to steal those 3DMG from the MPs and—”

She spun on him, eyes glassy as she yanked her trousers up. He was stunned by how quickly she turned into sadness. “Nothing!” she cried. “I want you to do nothing!”

“Then why wind yourself up like this? Why tell me all this if—”

“I want you to listen! LISTEN!” Her voice cracked high. “You think I haven’t thought of everything you said? That I don’t know all this? My best friend is leaving forever and I have to cope with it. Not everything is something to add to your never-ending to-do list!”

Her messy crying collided with his tired frustration and practiced rejection. Minutes dragged like hours. He didn’t really get it, the deepness of her desperation but she had finally reached her last straw. Unaware, he reached out to comfort her.

She moved away from his hand. He tried again, softer. “Come on, Becca. It’s been a hard few days for me too. Give me a break—”

“I know,” she said coldly.

“So don’t make it harder for me. We’re trying to get out of this hellhole—”

But whatever usually softened in her had gone still. Disappeared. “I won’t bother you any longer.”

The drama of it irritated him, he had no idea her internal deadline had already passed. “Really?” he exhaled, exasperated.

“Yes, really. Go on. I’m sure Farlan is waiting for you somewhere.”

“Sometimes you’re unbelievable. I tell you I’m fried and you pull this?”

“That’s why—go.” Her voice cracked, frost melting into tired resignation. “I won’t annoy you anymore. Keep chasing the carrot like a good horse. I just hope you don’t regret all the moments and all the people you leave behind as you chase your eternal dissatisfaction.”

The words struck his pride more than his heart, and that should have gave him a clue. “You say that like you don’t want to leave this place.”

“I would stay forever in this shitty place,” she shot back, raw as a wound, “as long as you were here with me”

His heart skipped a beat but hers has stopped beating a while ago.

“That’s the difference between us.”

It ended there. For her, it was something she’d been circling for a while, hope had kept her trying. For him, it came out of nowhere.

“He’s nice,” Y/N had said. And that one word burned through him now across the firelight.

Back at the camp, Levi stared into the embers. The cadets’ whispers faded to a dull hum. Somewhere, Hange laughed at some distant joke. Night insects simmered in the grass.

Nice.

A bitter smirk tugged at his lips as he kept his head low, forearms resting loosely on his parted knees. The memory of her hadn’t come to him this vividly in years, though lately, he’d almost cursed how often her presence lingered in the back of his mind since he’d been dragged into this whole messy arrangement. The ring, the dreams, even the thought of sharing a rut with someone after so many years.

“Happy now, Becca?” he muttered, his voice rough with old resentment. “Almost thirteen years later, and I have to admit you were right. I bet you’re rejoicing with pride wherever you are.”

Maybe she lingered as a ghost because she’d been the first, and only official relationship he had ever allowed himself to have. ‘With titles and all that jazz,’ he mocked under his breath. The rest? Consciously or not, he had accepted she’d been right all along: he had no time, no life, and no personality left to fully commit to anyone or anything ever again.

The faint smirk stayed on his lips as each memory rose like a ghost. He’d always claimed he had no time for feelings, even joking once, “I’m too emotionally constipated for that.” As if saying it aloud could bring peace.

“What’s your last name?”

“It’s mine too.”

Her sweetness, her calm acceptance of roles imposed on her. It had both comforted and hurt him.

“How’s your new wifey?” an MP had asked during that meeting.

The only word that had come to his mind was, “She’s mellow.”

“Mellow’s good. They get even mellower with age.”

He’d despised that; how relieved he’d felt thinking of her that way. As if she’d been trained to be his wife. Obedient. Gentle. Predictable. Everything he used to hate. And yet that very thought had comforted him. All the women he’d ever been with had been strong-willed, defiant. To find relief in someone mellow went against everything he once stood for. The thought heavy in his chest. Somehow, through it all, he’d become everything he’d sworn to destroy.

He remembered Lizzie—how at twenty-five she’d been called a grown woman, yet everyone had said she was lucky to be marrying a man with a steady position. He’d hated that simplicity, that complacent view of life. But now, looking back, he realized he’d turned into that same kind of man—stable, resigned.

And still, when she thought of him, the only word that came was “nice.” Anything else would’ve been a lie.

“What’s your last name?” The words echoed in his mind, dragging him back to another moment.

He’d been sitting in front of a stack of government papers, ready to sign off his claim. The administrative woman behind the desk had barely looked up when she said, “Fill it out with your information.”

Her rectangular glasses hung from the tall bridge of her nose, balanced precariously on the tip enough to make anyone wonder if she actually needed them to see. They had on both sides decorated little treads that connected the pair to her neck. The frames were emerald green, matching both her nails and the trim of her uniform, the standard for those serving the administrative offices of Wall Sheena. She carried out her duties with a kind of dignified lethargy, the air of someone who had all the time in the world to make others lose theirs.

When he reached the line marked Surname, he paused. What was he supposed to write? He’d left it blank. ‘I’m Levi, just Levi’ But when he handed the form back, the woman turned it around and frowned.

“You forgot your last name.” She wasn’t friendly.

He’d stared at her for a long moment. “Is that important?”

She’d blinked, confused. “Is the sky blue?”

He almost laughed. ‘Of course it was important.’ His last name was now hers, at least on paper. He thought of Kenny then, bleeding out between rage and resignation.

‘Just her big brother,’

When the priest’s voice finally echoed ancient, Levi had kept his eyes low, fixed on the chapel floor. His mind had spent so much time admiring the cold tiled floor of the chapel that now it was easy to remember.

“I, Levi Ackerman, swear in the name of the Gods to provide for and protect the one I take under my care.”

When he read the vows he was meant to repeat, he almost scoffed. The gods could hardly hold less value or power over him. Nothing in his beliefs could summon any real feeling of devotion. The whole ceremony, the pomp of it, rubbed him the wrong way. Maybe that was why he had never considered marriage. And yet, when he spoke those ridiculous words aloud, he felt something heavy settle upon him.

Protect.

Humanity’s strongest, swearing to protect. It must have been a bad joke, he thought. They’d told him these were the traditional vows. Not that he knew her well enough to write his own.

“My daughter Petra says she’s honored to dedicate her life to your cause. But you must understand, as a father, I’m worried.”

Protect.

“I’m entrusting you with my squad,” Hange’s voice echoed in his mind as he watched Nifa’s brains paint the ceiling of that house.

Protect.

“Trust us, big bro!” Isabel’s hand waved as he galloped away. He could no longer recall her face clearly. Nor Farlan’s. Not their smiles, anyway. Only their faces frozen on the cold ground, carved into memory like scars.

Protect.

“She left a few hours ago, sir.”

The sweet voice from the hotel front desk had sent him spiraling.

The money he’d left on the nightstand. Her clothes. Everything still intact but she was missing. Hange had reassured him, almost motherly, that they’d find her. They used to joke that serial killers could roam freely without the MPs finding a trace. But god forbid a wife run away from home. They always found them in a split second, only to return them to their abusive husbands.

Levi had locked himself in the bathroom, grinding his teeth until they clicked, eyes squeezed shut. He wanted to scream, to tear his hair out, to break something, anything. He’d lost her. Again, and again, and again.

There was always that pitiful part of him whispering, “Don’t ask me not to try again—you know I will.”

The same part that had pushed him to chase Zeke back to the Walls. He imagined her; stupid, sweet, and unaware of the world. How many girls who ran away ended up in the Underground, drugged just enough to endure what was done to them? If she ended up there, with dead eyes, that would be on him. Another failure. That was all he could think.

“I thought she reminded you of Isabel.”

Isabel. His mother. Becca. Petra. Everyone—and no one.

“I just want to draw!”

“Stay where I can see you.”

If he’d kept them all within sight, would anything have been different? Maybe with age, fear replaces courage. He’d lost his boldness, he realized. The trees she’d wanted to see had turned to monsters in his mind, and then back to trees again. Was it just fear of the end, or was danger truly there?

“Can you believe Y/N didn’t know who Erwin was?”

Hange’s voice pulled him back to the present.

Levi blinked. “Huh?”

“She didn’t know who Erwin was! How’s that even possible?” Hange said, half laughing. “She’s a hell of an artist, too. Moblit would’ve loved to talk to her.”

“Well… it’s been what, three years? What was she—eighteen? I didn’t know who the hell the Scout Commander was at that age either.”

Hange chuckled. “We keep talking about dead people around her. She probably thinks we’re insane.”

“Maybe we are,” Levi muttered. “Only crazy people would survive what we do.”

He seemed so distant, so lost in thought, that it finally pushed Hange to ask, “What’s gotten into you tonight? You’ve had that boring face on all evening.”

Levi gave only one answer. “Ghosts.”

Like Persephone tricked into staying by a few pomegranate seeds, she’d descended into his underworld, forced to understand his mind, crowded by the memories of the dead, their absence still sharp enough to wound.

Rising with tired resignation, “Where are you going?” the lower Alpha’s voice called after him as he left his place. However, he didn’t reply—only moved toward his tent and promptly sat down next to her.

She jumped a little in her place, not expecting him to do so. Her pout arrived the moment he did; she looked away angrily.

“Here,” he said, pushing one chocolate in her direction.

Shooting an askance look over her left shoulder, she kept up the act. “If the gift was done before, it doesn’t count,” she claimed, as the dessert was part of the treats she had received before leaving the Walls.

“Well, but they’re in my tent—the one you refuse to go into,” he argued. “So it counts as new.”

Y/N didn’t reply, keeping her act up proudly. To her surprise, a rough hand landed on her head, messing her locks.

“Come on, girly. Don’t make it so hard for me,” he said, his voice dropping a tone lower. “You remember what you mentioned about the shitty ring?”

That alone made her turn around, only half an angle. “That it was shitty but we tried to make it work?”

“I know I’m shitty,” he muttered, “but I swear I’m trying.”

Once she fully turned, he clicked his tongue, exasperated. “You enjoy making me crawl for it, ain’t ya?” His expression was a mix of annoyance and tenderness.

She couldn’t help but smile, which earned her a firm squeeze on the cheeks from his left hand. The roughness of his fingertips sent shivers down her spine.

“Maybe,” the omega admitted softly.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he said. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t let you get away with half of this.”

It only gave her more power than she liked to admit. The shiny wrapper of the chocolate glimmered between her fingers as she rested her head on his right shoulder. The chilly air of the summer night carried the fragrance of wild lime trees.

‘He hates when I ask,’ she thought, letting most of her wonders die quietly in the back of her mind as the fire flickered in front of her.

‘I need to open up,’  he thought, tensing at the idea.

While walking an unknown path, she admitted, “I feel so lost.” The words brushed against his arm as her lips moved, still resting her head on him. The magical glow of the fire mesmerized her, so ancient yet admiring the raging fire never gets old.

As she spoke, Levi had his eyes glued on his own squad. The enthusiasm once shining brightly in their eyes was still there, but faintly. Eren sat down in a corner, uninterested. Withered petrol green eyes wrapped to the present. While Levi didn’t regret his choices, and Armin’s blue eyes still shone the brightest, the twilight of an era had begun to set on the horizon. Hange’s dinner companions were no longer research notes, but endless meeting agendas. The original purpose of it all had started to crumble before them, as new armies rose with renewed conviction.

This time, Levi wasn’t sure he shared their goals.

“What should I do?” she asked.

He didn’t order her this time. He only shrugged, dragging her head slightly with the movement, and whispered, “I can’t tell you that. You’ve gotta find it on your own.”

Her frown wasn’t of anger.

His hand reached out for her notebook once a spark from the fire drifted away with the soft change of wind. Before placing it safely behind their improvised seats, his attention lingered on a drawing. A recreation of his own horse.

He brushed a thumb across the page to see it better, but the graphite smeared. “Shit,” he muttered.

“It’s alright,” she mumbled. “They’re all smudged. I have no way to fix the piece.”

He went through the pages. “Earl Grey,” he said.

“Huh?” she asked, sitting up straighter, the left side of her hair tangled from resting on him.

“That’s my horse’s name,” he said casually. Then, after a pause, “Though I found out later it’s a she.”

It made her chuckle. “And you complained about my cat’s name?”

The askance look she got from the Alpha was enough to know he found pride in his mare’s name.

“Why that?” she asked.

“I like tea,” he simply said.

She hummed in distant understanding. The explanation was vague and easy to conclude.

“You like to draw,” he added casually as if those two thoughts combined. “Ever thought about doing it professionally?”

The shake of her head was followed by a grimace of absurdity. She wondered what had gotten into him to say something like that. It was optimistic, dreamy; almost childish. Being good at drawing didn’t make someone an artist, and liking to draw didn’t mean you could live off it.

“I bet every bored wife likes to paint, write, or play the piano,” she added with quiet disdain.

“I wanted to have a tea shop.”

It cut through the night like a blade. Her mind froze. “You?” she asked, incredulous.

He nodded, still looking through her sketches.

“Isn’t that too calm for you?” she teased, though her smile was gentle. Somehow, the idea of him behind a counter didn’t fit anywhere in her mind.

“I wanted that,” he said simply.

Her eyebrows knit together, lips pressing thin as her head tilted slightly. “But… you’re Captain of the Special Operations Squad.”

From half-lidded eyes, she looked at him, trying to read more into his tone, until he suddenly chuckled.

“Ironic, isn’t it?”

Author note: Hello! How are you, my babies? I'm sorry its been so long... adult life is not easy. Don't come for me for this chapter, I fear I have a very clear idea what I wanted out of it and it came out as a mess... But you know what I always say? The best chapters are the finished chapters, so here it is! Happy halloween.

--

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The early morning grass shimmered like silver under the pale rays of sunrise. Dew clung to the long green blades, slipping down as each step pressed them to the ground. The steady march of boots moved across the open field with unwavering purpose — yet they didn’t belong to the peaceful scene. The heavy combat soles crushed the tender spring grass without hesitation. In contrast, the little red Mary Janes beside them felt almost like an apology. Like a kiss.

Despite the early hour, the formation was already moving. Whatever sweet, quiet moments they had shared before were long gone — replaced by the steady rhythm of preparation, orders, and the low rumble of horses.

Two playful taps landed on Levi's shoulder from behind, interrupting him as he sorted folded maps and supply lists, ensuring nothing was left behind.

“What?” Levi asked, only half-turning, his eyes still scanning the papers in his hands.

Her entire demeanor had shifted since earlier. Now her cheeks were pink, her eyes wide and uncertain. Lips pressed together, swaying ever so slightly on her heels, she asked with exaggerated politeness, “I was wondering…” She hesitated, glancing around at the sea of soldiers and horses, her voice dropping with the weight of propriety. “When… do we stop for… you know… ladies' rooms?”

It took him a second to process the request. Levi's expression barely shifted, but his eyes narrowed with mild disbelief. His hand lifted, the papers pointing vaguely toward the endless stretch of forest and fields that surrounded them. “The world’s yours,” he said flatly. “Literally.”

Her expression soured instantly. “That’s not funny.”

“It’s not a joke,” Levi deadpanned.

Her shoulders stiffened. “You want me to… go in there?” she gestured vaguely toward the woods like they might swallow her whole.

“But— I can’t— that's…” She looked around as if a hidden outhouse might materialize behind a tree. “I thought… surely… we’re stopping at some— civilized place.”

“Do you realise that a few years ago the expeditions outside the walls were to re-take land? There's no civilised place” Levi cut in, his voice as flat as the plains. “We’ll be outside the Walls for three weeks.”

Her face twisted in quiet horror. “That’s… unsanitary. There’s bugs. And animals. And…” she hesitated, lowering her voice with all the dramatics of a noble-born omega, “What if someone sees?”

Levi exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. “We’re ten hours outside the Walls. Trust me, sweetheart, nobody’s hiding behind those trees with a pair of binoculars waiting for a show.”

She pouted. “I’ll wait.”

“You won’t.”

“I can.”

Levi tucked the papers into his saddlebag and turned to her fully now, arms crossing, the usual blunt edge to his tone sharpening. “I give you a day, and I am being generous.”

“I’ll be fine.”

He let the silence linger, his eyes trailing over her defiant little stance — the pristine shoes, the dress, the delicate scowl that didn't quite belong out here. Finally, he clicked his tongue. With some resignation mixed with caring, he said softly . “Want me to send another girl with you? If you’re so scared of being seen.”

Her eyes widened in mortification. “Absolutely not!”

"Want me to go with you?"

The sheer scandalized gasp that left her mouth made a few nearby soldiers glance their way. “Levi!” she hissed, cheeks burning red now. “I am not— that’s—! That’s inappropriate!”

“Then I don't know what you want from me,” Levi replied simply, turning back. 

She huffed, arms crossing stubbornly again.

“You should go.” It was more than just a suggestion, “Last thing I need is you getting an infection out here. You end up needing antibiotics in the middle of nowhere,"

"Forget it!"

Levi’s mouth twitched — not quite a smile, but close enough to betray mild amusement as he turned back toward the horses. “City girls,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

Lately, the world seemed to move as quickly as the camp did. Or at least that’s how she felt when she nearly collided with a soldier unpacking the temporary camp they had thrown together. She muttered an apology, surprised, but the man moved away with an unapologetic haste. Everything was built up and torn down before she had a chance to remember her way around. While this pace had become her new reality, Levi’s recent comment about the conditions “outside” the Walls had made her reflect on it more deeply than she intended.

She sat on a wooden crate, looking around without much opportunity to interact, fighting the growing urge to excuse herself for nature’s call. The world seemed to change so quickly that it felt like a moving camp—set up and dismantled to suit the ambitions of men. From not understanding Titans, to discovering human Titans, to befriending them, to fighting them; from old governments to new ones, shifting rules, shifting territories—until finally, a new world altogether. It had all happened faster than her little sister had managed to get potty trained.

Trying to take in everything that had happened to their small island while simply sitting on that crate, waiting for departure, was almost absurd. As absurd as her old friends sounding nostalgic for the “old days,” as if clinging to stability in the middle of a ballet spin. Either you learned to twist your head so you didn’t get dizzy, or you lost your footing entirely.

It was the worst of times and the best of times, the age of knowledge and also of ignorance. They knew more now than in the past hundred years, yet still knew absolutely nothing. Compared to a few years ago, some would say this was the time to be alive, while others mourned a so-called golden past. And yet, in perspective, everything happened so quickly and yet so slowly that if she had to update a friend on what had happened in the past twenty-four hours, she would need another twenty-four hours just to tell it. But if asked about the past few years, she could only shrug and say, “Everything’s the same.”

Her eyes followed the youngest cadets—freshly graduated, still green—rushing around trying to carry as much as they could, eager to prove themselves. Despite rank or alpha status, most of the female soldiers were scrubbing used pots, while the young men carried themselves with the airs of subtle emperors.

A bitter half-smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. Somehow, all of this carried an air of custom, of inevitability. Her mind wandered back to the streets where she’d grown up: mornings in her small room, the alleys she used to hide in, the sacrifices of her parents, her scuffed school shoes.

It was as if she were a bird, circling above it all. She could almost see the children in her enclosed neighborhood enjoying their summer holidays; the men, always gathered in the gentlemen’s clubs—if you asked, “Are they always there?” the answer would be, “Are the Walls still standing?” She imagined Mitra Cathedral’s white linens hanging to dry, the national newspaper announcing the day’s bread prices and which signs were lucky in love that week. Fanatics would scream themselves hoarse at the horse races, some winning money, others losing, though they would inevitably lose again—because, everyone knew, those things were always arranged by the Military Police and the mafia behind the illegal betting stalls.

The hum of the Scout camp pulled her back, but so did the memory of fear in the adults’ eyes years ago, when news of Wall Maria’s fall had made the front page. Maybe for these new soldiers—many from faraway lands—it felt the same: their lives would be forever changed. Yet, back home, everything remained the same.

The uniforms. The newspapers. The cathedrals, the schools, the clubs, the streets.

Then, from the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a bird she had never seen before. Similar to the sparrows in Levi’s office, but not quite—the backs of its wings were blue, its breast ochre and white. She turned sharply, fumbling for her notebook, thinking to sketch it quickly before it flew away.

But it was gone.

As confused as she felt, she imagined the bird was also startled—frightened by the changes to its own hometown—and had taken flight.

“You lose something?” Levi’s voice came from behind.

“My notepad,” she murmured. “I saw a beautiful bird, and I wanted to paint it—”

“I’ve loaded everything up already. Come on, let’s go.” His arm extended, hand making a sideways “come on” motion, urging her to stand and walk with him.

She rose, following, though her eyes still searched the treeline for a glimpse of the animal. “But—” she protested softly.

“You can paint on the way,” he replied.

‘That’s not the point,’ she thought. While they had done drastic improvements in only a few hours ago, they were still two very different people, it was obvious that for Levi the duty and practicity to stick to the schedule would never be less important than for her a piece of art. Or better said, the only thing she found herself capable of doing in the location.

“Not gonna find it staring backwards,” he said, tone flat but not unkind.

“It was beautiful,” she muttered, more to herself.

“Tch. Lots of things are. Doesn’t mean they stick around.”

That was indeed true.

“No! I said it first!” “No! I did, are you nuts?!”

At some point, the long trip had turned into a competition over who could shout the song’s chorus first. From her seat in the cart, head resting on her hands, she watched with quiet amusement as the team’s focus drifted further from their so-called military behavior. Levi had eventually ridden slightly ahead, no longer bothering to keep them in line.

‘I guess at some point, you have to drop the attitude and just be what you truly are… teenagers’, she thought, watching Armin argue heatedly with Jean over who had finished the chorus first.

The game itself was simple: someone named a song, and the first person to sing enough of it earned points. How many points? That depended on how many were playing and how many actually joined in. Let’s say Levi’s squad had six members—if only one sang, they got the remaining five points. The more people knew the song, the fewer points you earned. And if nobody knew it, the one who had proposed it scored the full six points.

Unsurprisingly, Armin and Jean were fighting for first place, far ahead of the others. At the start, Levi had called them out for acting like they were on a school trip. But even the Captain had eventually grown tired of scolding and simply let them get on with it, riding at a steady pace in front.

She, meanwhile, stayed quiet—an observer to what felt like an exclusive club she hadn’t been invited to join.

For the second time in under three minutes, she shifted uncomfortably.

“You okay?” Mikasa asked, glancing over her shoulder.

“Yeah, don’t worry.” She smiled faintly, but her leg wouldn’t stop bouncing, and she wrapped her arms around herself. It was becoming unbearable.

“Hey, if you need to take a piss, it’s fine—we can stop for a while,” Sasha, who was driving the cart this time, called out far too loudly for the omega’s comfort. Her face flushed bright red.

“No, thank you,” she muttered quickly. ‘The last thing I need is stopping the whole formation and announcing, loud and clear, that I need to pee.’

“Whose turn is it?” someone asked.

“Mine.”

“Nah, Armin, you’ve played enough!”

“Yeah!” another chimed in.

The blond pouted. “Well, that’s how the rules work.”

“Maybe Y/N wants to play?” Mikasa suggested, turning the attention onto her.

Heat rose to her cheeks as if under a spotlight. She straightened. “I—uh—” She hesitated, uneasy at the thought of joining in. “Maybe if Levi plays?” she offered, more to dodge the attention than to include him.

But before she could even finish saying his name, Levi had already turned his head, looking back at her over his shoulder. The sharp glint in his gray eyes said clearly: ‘What the hell? Don’t drag me into this.’

“Yes!”

“Captain, join us!”

“Please!”

“Tch.” He clicked his tongue at the cadets’ relentless insistence, irritation etched into his face—yet, without a word, his horse’s pace eased, keeping him still ahead of the group but close enough to hear them. The subtle concession made her chuckle. He’d agreed, however reluctantly.

“You have to pick a song but don’t tell us—”

“I know how to play,” Levi cut in at Armin. “I know you brats think I was born being eighty years old, but I was a kid once too.”

“Only one, and then you all get off my ass,” Levi said flatly. He seemed to think longer than she’d expected, as if he were taking the game far more seriously than anyone had anticipated.

“Girl Paper Eyes.”

A brief, reigning silence followed. The cadets glanced at each other, brows furrowed.

“I—uh—” Jean tried to jump in first, but quickly realized he had absolutely nothing to add.

Armin attempted to hum something, but the tune sounded far too generic to belong to any real song. Levi rolled his eyes, his expression saying more than words—that this only confirmed his taste in music really was as ancient as they thought.

Then, from the back of the cart, a sound began to rise. A subtle hum, but with a real rhythm—emerging shyly, like flowers pushing through late snow. Timid at first, but growing.

Levi’s head turned over his shoulder, drawn to the voice as it began to shape itself into words.

“Stay until the dawn…” Her eyes closed as she dug through her memory for the right lines, her voice settling into a steady tempo. “Dream a dream slowly in my… hands…” She hesitated, searching, then found the flow again. “Until the sun breaks through the window.”

Her tone grew stronger, the lyrics unfolding one by one, painting themselves on the invisible paper in her mind.

“Girl with rayon skin, don’t run anymore—this is your time now. And say no more, girl—heart of chalk: When all are asleep, I’ll steal a color from you.”

When she finished, the lack of any joining voices made her open her eyes again, smiling awkwardly. “Is… that it?” She glanced around the squad, looking for confirmation.

To her surprise, Levi’s face showed a flicker of genuine surprise before something else slipped in—just the barest spark of pride in his eyes.

He gave a single approving hum, nodding slowly, both convinced and pleased.

“Yay!” She bounced slightly in her seat. “That’s five points for me, right?” She turned to Armin, who still looked as though he were trying to dig the song out of his brain. “Right?”

Her head tilted to the side with a bright, expectant smile.

“…Yes,” Armin forced out, his expression straining. It was painfully obvious he wasn’t a good loser—especially after several rounds in which she had not only caught up to him but was now on a winning streak.

“I hate this game,” Eren muttered darkly.

“I love this game,” she declared, clapping between chuckles.

“How do you know so many songs?” Armin asked, almost offended at being outdone.

“It’s called being jobless,” Jean quipped, but judging by the look on her face, she didn’t find that one particularly funny.

“No,” she pouted, “I used to take art classes near the university in Stohess, and the students played a lot of the songs from the downtown bars.”

The group let out a low, unified hum of understanding. All of them being country folk, they couldn’t really compete with the kind of cultural exposure Capital kids had.

“I didn’t know you were from the Capital!” she pointed out, her eyes lighting up, eager to gather any crumbs of information about her husband.

Levi, however, shut it down flatly, “I’m not.”

She frowned, confused — a mix between a pout and a scowl.

“I thought maybe you went to those bars,” Armin picked up the conversation, sparing her the awkward moment. “We wanted to go the last time we were in the Capital, but… they ask for more age.”

That caught her attention instantly. “Oh! I always wanted to go too! The girls that come out of there have the prettiest shiny little dresses, and they’re always laughing so much! I bet they have so much fun dancing!”

There was a short, puzzled silence from Armin before he asked, “And… why didn’t you just go?”

“Oh no,” she replied with the firm resolution of someone who had never even considered the possibility, “Those places aren’t for girls like me… imagine what people would say.”

It was painfully obvious she was holding back from repeating that idea the way she’d heard it growing up. Words like “whores”, “easy”, “common” probably floated around in her household whenever those bars came up. Levi, hearing that, shot an askance glance over his shoulder to check her expression.

“But the girls I met in Trost invited me! And now that I’m married, it shouldn’t be an issue,” she added, suddenly so excited it was like the gates of heaven had opened before her. “Right, Levi?”

“Huh?” Levi half-turned in his saddle as they kept riding, raising a single eyebrow, clearly unimpressed that the question was even asked.

“That I can go to those bars now.”

Levi’s response was immediate, flat, and left no room for argument. “Don’t even dream of it.”

Her face went from bright enthusiasm to sheer indignation in a second. “And why not?!” she protested. “Are you seriously siding with my family on this?”

To be fair, using Levi’s very public disdain for her family’s political circle to her advantage was a little shady — but strategic.

“Tch.” Still leading the group, he clicked his tongue and shook his head. “It’s got nothing to do with them. I don’t care what anyone does with their free time. You’re not going because women aren’t allowed alone — and I’d have to go with you.”

“Oh, yes, of course. Like Sophia goes with Flegel. And Lina with her brother.”

“Exactly.”

A long silence followed.

“… I don’t see the problem,” she muttered under her breath.

“I’m not dragging myself to some humid, piss-stinking bar, sitting in a corner all night while drunk idiots blast music, puke on the floor, and grind on each other.”

“You could dance with me,” she offered sweetly, flashing him a bright, persuasive smile.

The look Levi shot her over his shoulder was answer enough.

“Oh, come on! Please! I really want to!”

“And I want a better salary,” Levi replied dryly. “Life’s disappointing, doll face.”

She pouted, crossing her arms. “I’ll make you change your mind,” she mumbled defiantly. “I can be very convincing.”

“Your optimism is… endearing,” Levi replied, completely deadpan.

“You don’t sound very endeared.”

“That’s because I’m not.”

At that, Jean nudged his horse a little closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “Hey, quick heads-up — if you domanage to soften him up, let us know, yeah? We’ve been trying to get him to ease up on the cleaning rota for years. Zero success.”

The column slowed to a halt. They reached the next stop while the sun still lingered low in the sky, its light fading toward orange. The horses slowed, and orders rippled through the squad to start unloading gear. She glanced around, puzzled; the occasional clink of harness buckles filled the silence as soldiers began to dismount. She frowned, scanning the open stretch of meadow and the sparse trees.

“Why are we stopping? There’s still daylight left,” she asked, brushing her skirts clear of dust.

Levi, already loosening his mare’s girth strap, barely glanced her way. “We are staying here.”

She watched him unload supplies from his saddle, pulling out the folded bulk of a tent. The tent and all its gadgets didn’t seem heavy in his hands as he carried them. She picked up the cat from the leash, wary of the movement around her and afraid someone might step on him. Levi’s methodology mirrored how he organized his belongings to start the day—they moved quickly, efficiently, but with a weight of tiredness, the kind that spoke of years of repetition.

“What do we do?” she asked, searching for guidance as he kept grabbing things.

“We unpack.”

Understanding that as her cue to put down the small belongings she had brought, she moved toward the back of the cart.

“Leave that, I’ll carry it later,” Levi pointed out, grabbing her arm and tugging slightly to stop her.

“But—” the omega began, frowning and glancing back and forth between the cart and him. “You said—”

For a moment, she wondered if he’d simply vanish into the bustle of soldiers and leave her to figure things out on her own. Standing still, it made him turn when he realized she wasn’t following. Half-turn and hastened pace, he extended a hand and grabbed the cat from her arms, shoving it over his shoulder. “Come on. Do you need a written invitation? You chase me all the time, and now suddenly you don’t follow?”

Once again, as that first night, his sharp eyes tracked her shoes behind him, just as he observed Titans’ movements and adjusted his pace accordingly. “Careful, that’s horse shit,” he said, extending his arm to stop her and grabbing her shoulders to redirect her steps.

“Your instructions aren’t clear,” she pouted.

“When I give you clear instructions, you do whatever you want anyway,” he teased, half annoyed.

“Where are we going?” she asked as they moved deeper into the meadow.

“Searching.”

“Searching for what?”

“A place.”

“What place?”

Levi sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “You know I hate these silly interrogatories. Why do you do them?” he muttered, turning toward her. They were far enough from the rest of the squad to speak quietly.

“Me? You’re the one who keeps giving me monosyllabic responses!” she shot back. “I don’t even know why we stopped!”

A brief, tense silence followed, filled with a battle of stares. He finally sighed again, conceding the point in his mind but far too proud to admit it. Despite pride and marriage being two words that rarely mix smoothly. “We are stopping here because setting up camp in the dark’s a pain in the ass,” he said flatly. “Takes a while to get everything in place. Better to do it while we can still see.” His tone was clipped, matter-of-fact, leaving no room for argument.

“Thank you,” she spat out. “Was it that hard?”

He let his shoulders drop, exhaustion briefly crossing his face. “Don’t drag it. I don’t like going around explaining everything.”

“Then explain it to me once and I’ll remember it,” she insisted. “I don’t have military training. I don’t even know what we’re searching for.”

“A place to set a tent. Not too humid, with a steady floor.”

“Thank you.” Her voice was polite but far from pleased.

“You’re welcome,” he replied with dry sarcasm.

The small argument was short-lived. She watched him drop a rolled tent onto the ground, his movements efficient and practiced. Her gaze flicked to the fabric bundle, then back to him.

“Where… am I going to sleep?” she asked, trying to keep her voice neutral, though the question felt far more intimate than she intended.

Levi straightened slightly and looked over his shoulder at her. “Here.”

“Here?” She blinked. “You mean—your tent?”

A faint crease appeared between his brows, as if she’d just asked whether the sun rose in the east. “What, you thought you’d get your own?”

The tips of her ears warmed. “Well… yes.”

Levi’s stare was dry enough to strip paint. “A woman sleeping alone out here is never a good idea.” The way he said it was less about courtesy and more about an unspoken truth—one she suddenly realized she couldn’t argue with. “Plus, I know I told you I didn’t use the bedroom, but I’m not sleeping on the floor. So we are doing what an entire military board wants: sleeping together as a married couple.”

Not intending to be sarcastic, she added, “I don’t know your parents, but mine are married, and they have separate bedrooms.”

“Separate bedrooms and yet seven kids. Wealthy folks are weird as fuck,” he muttered, shaking his head as if it were incomprehensible.

“It’s not weird,” she insisted, grabbing the cat’s leash and letting him stretch his legs. “Why would you share a room all the time if you just need to during the heats?” Though phrased as a question, it came out more like a statement of fact.

To her surprise, Levi looked up from his crouched position, disbelief written across his face. “What?… it’s true?”

He pressed his lips together and returned to his work, thinking to himself, ‘Well… there goes my sex life if she thinks we’re only supposed to do it when we want a brat.’

She fidgeted, glancing toward the other soldiers. “What about the other cadets?”

“They share bigger tents. Four, six people, sometimes more.” He straightened, giving his tent a short kick to unroll it. “Mine’s small. Fits two.”

Her eyes wandered to the cadets’ camp area, where she caught sight of a cluster of girls already wrestling with their bedrolls—six of them crammed in tight, elbows and boots nearly overlapping. She imagined trying to squeeze herself in there, barely able to move, and quickly decided against it.

The thought of trying to sleep like that made her stomach knot. It was either a cramped, airless night among strangers or sharing this modest space with Levi—who, despite his clipped words and unreadable face, was still her husband.

When she turned back, Levi was already fastening the tent poles, not bothering to see if she’d made up her mind—he clearly assumed she had.

“Keep it zipped tight,” he instructed, voice flat but commanding. “No gaps. You don’t want bugs or whatever crawling inside.”

She nodded.

“Dinner’s going to be late,” he added after a pause, “If you want, take a nap first. Rest while you can.”

She hesitated, caught off guard by the unusual care in his tone. “I… I might,”

Levi’s eyes narrowed slightly, scanning her. “And take a piss before it gets too dark,” he said bluntly.

She froze. “I… I don’t need to,” she protested, crossing her arms defensively.

He didn’t wait for a response, already striding back to his place in the leading formation.

“Wait!” her voice called from a short distance. He stopped abruptly and looked over his shoulder, silent but expectant.

“When can I take a shower?”

He didn’t bother replying—just turned back and kept walking, as if that alone was the answer.

“…I hate camping,” she muttered.

–

The camp buzzed with low chatter, the occasional clang of cutlery, and the crackle of firewood. The stew for the night was hot, thick, and barely appetizing, but no one complained — not openly, at least.

Hange bent down with a wooden bowl in hand, holding it out to the omega girl who sat a little off to the side, arms crossed, clearly pouting. “Stew’s still hot,” they offered cheerfully. “Eat before Sasha raids the pot again.”

She shook her head with a small grimace. “No, thank you…”

Hange’s brows lifted as they plopped down right beside her, comfortably close on her right. “What’s the matter, love?” they asked, elbow lightly bumping her arm. “Don’t tell me you’re nervous just because you’re sharing a tent with your hubby tonight.”

They winked — cheeky and dramatic — and just like that, her expression went from grumpy frown to wide-eyed horror, her face lighting up like a Christmas tree.

“What?!” she yelped, loud enough to startle one of the nearby horses.

On her left, Levi leaned just slightly into her periphery, still crouched over his own bowl. “Hange,” he said, his tone exhausted, “don’t be a pain in the ass.”

“Ohhh, touchy tonight, are we?” Hange chuckled. “Sensitive alpha energy, huh?” Then they turned back to the girl and nudged again, voice light but curious. “So, seriously now. What’s wrong?”

“She doesn’t want to piss in the forest,” Levi answered flatly, spooning another bite into his mouth.

The girl gasped, scandalized. “Levi! We’re in the middle of dinner!”

“What?” Levi muttered, unfazed. “It’s true.”

“Have some manners! You’re going to make the Commander lose their appetite!”

But Levi slowly shook his head, gesturing vaguely toward Hange with his spoon. “Nothing can kill theirappetite. You’ve got no idea the kind of shit they’re into.”

“Into?” she repeated, eyes wide. “Like… hobbies?”

Both Levi and Hange scoffed at the same time, almost in sync.

She looked between them, bewildered. “What’s so funny? Him? You? What is this, why are you two always talking in riddles?”

Without missing a beat, Hange flung an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a half-hug. “Well, if he’s being cranky, you can always share my tent instead.”

Her eyes widened, genuinely unsure if that was a joke. “Really?”

“You wouldn’t want that,” Levi cut in, deadpan. “They don’t wash their hands after taking a shit.”

“EW!” she yelped, immediately jerking away from Hange and scooting a bit closer to her husband on instinct.

Hange gave a playful shrug. “You’d be even more disgusted if you knew what he does.”

“What?! Why?” she blinked, curiosity sparking past the disgust.

Hange leaned in, grinning wide. “Well…”

“Shitty glasses,” Levi warned, already preparing to shut the whole thing down.

“Do you know what shibari—”

A sharp thwap cut the air as Levi smacked the back of Hange’s head.

“HEY! I’m your commander!”

“Then behave like it,” Levi shot back, voice cool and unimpressed. “You’re scaring her.”

Hange laughed through it, rubbing the back of their head. “You’ll scare her,” they teased.

“Tch. I’m not a savage.”

But at that, the girl stood up with a huff, clearly irritated. “I hate sitting between you two. You never include me in the conversation!” She spun on her heel and stormed off toward the other cadets’ fire, plopping herself down in between Jean and Connie.

Levi watched her go, then slowly went back to his food like nothing had happened. Once she was out of earshot, he muttered low, “I’m not a savage. I’ll just… wait until she’s a bit more mellow.”

Hange chuckled into their spoon. “Sharing tents, huh? Just don’t forget to blow out the candles. You know how shadows look on fabric. Not very forgiving.”

Levi closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, as if praying for patience. “I’m not going to cherry-pop my wife in a tent, for fuck’s sake.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Hange grinned, clearly not sorry at all. “A man of class, how noble.”

They took another bite before adding casually, “But since you told me you couldn’t even jerk off when she was in the next room because it ‘felt weird’... I figured you might be a bit more needy by now.”

Levi choked slightly on his stew, shot them a sharp look, and growled, “Shut the fuck up.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Hange grinned, entirely entertained.

There was a beat of silence between them — until Levi muttered under his breath, almost like a joke not meant to be heard, “…But she better not ask me twice.”

Hange snorted into their bowl. “Really?”

Levi shrugged, nonchalant — or trying to be. “I think I lost all my willpower trying to avoid her when she still stank of that last heat."

––

Despite his so-called lack of tact and chronic impatience, ‘he is… suspiciously gentle,’ her mind muttered with a mix of embarrassment and reluctant surprise as she scooped away her used clothes. Louder than a whisper but still hushed, she announced, “I’m done.”

Levi was waiting outside while she changed, ready to step in once she finished. He pulled aside the flap of the tent and ducked under, closing the entrance behind him. “Too many mosquitoes. Keep it shut,” he said, fastening the ties with practiced efficiency.

Still curled inside her sleeping bag, she kept her head down, but her eyes followed him as he sat cross-legged and began undressing. Boots first, then the jacket. He’s probably boiling in that uniform. It wasn’t hard to guess—she’d been sweltering in her summer dress all day; she couldn’t imagine carrying that much gear on top of it.

She reached for his discarded boots without thinking. “Do I put them outside?” she asked, already reaching for both pairs of shoes.

“No. A snake or some bug might get inside. Leave them here.”

She set them aside, watching him strip down to his shirt. Clauws, unusually lively for the hour, was pawing at the tent wall, trying to swat at the bugs drawn to the glow outside. She glanced toward the lantern hanging nearby, its pale light catching on the strange glowing stone they’d found on the island—remarkably reflective and unexpectedly useful.

Levi tugged off his shirt with a low grunt, the cool air brushing over sweat-damp skin. His hands moved automatically to his belt, loosening it before working his trousers down. Then his gaze flicked sideways—catching her watching him from where her arms rested over her knees. Her eyes darted away instantly, but it was enough to make him hesitate.

‘What the hell do I do?’ He didn’t care about being seen—years of shared barracks and open showers had long killed any modesty. But she looked mortified.

He left the trousers on, just unbuckled. Very comfortable. Perfect for my insomnia, he thought wryly.

Clauws was still going after the bugs. Levi scooped him up. “Oi. Stop it,” he ordered, tapping a finger against the cat’s forehead. “You’re gonna tear the fabric.”

The moment he set him down, the cat went right back to scratching. “This animal is so dumb,” he muttered under his breath before glancing at her. “You done?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. Lights off.” His tone was more field-captain than romantic partner.

For a while, they lay like that—Levi on the right, her on the left. She shifted uncomfortably on her back, watching him roll to his side, folding his arm under his head for a pillow. ‘Should I have taken the right side? Don’t wives always sleep on the left? Is he even asleep? I can’t tell.’

She stared at the tent fabric. At the poles holding it up. At the back of Levi’s head, then the line of his bare shoulders under the thin blanket. The air was stifling—heat trapped inside the sealed tent, growing heavier by the minute. But neither of them moved the blankets. The uneven ground pressed through the floor no matter how perfectly he’d chosen the spot.

But the real discomfort… ‘I can’t hold it anymore. I need to pee’. She squeezed her eyes shut, legs pressed tight together, the ache almost unbearable. One last glance at the alpha—‘If I just roll over slowly, maybe he won’t notice.’

It had been at least an hour. Surely he was asleep. She eased herself upright, careful not to jostle the cat, fumbling for her shoes in the dark.

“What are you doing?” Levi’s low, raspy voice came from right behind her. She hadn’t heard him move—hadn’t even heard him breathe. She squeaked in surprise, jumping back.

“Shhh! You’ll wake everyone!”

“You scared me!” she hissed, hand clutching her chest, legs pressed tighter together. ‘If I piss myself out of pure fright, I’m never living this down.’ “Who are you—a vampire?”

“Get back to sleep,” he ordered like she was a cadet sneaking out past curfew.

“I… I just need to do something quickly,” she said, already pushing herself up. Now that he was awake, there was no point trying to be subtle.

“What the hell could you need to do in the middle of the night?” Levi sat up too, his eyes adjusting to the dim light.

“Nothing important. I’ll only be a moment.”

“For fuck’s sake…” He groaned, reaching for his boots and tugging them on.

Her head snapped toward him. “W-what are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” he grumbled, raking a hand through his hair, pushing it back. The heat was oppressive, sweat already clinging again. “Going with you so you can take a piss.”

If there was a part of her that could actually die from embarrassment, she was certain it just had. “…Alright, yes, I need to go—but why are you coming?” Her voice was barely a thread, mortified.

“Because it’s unsafe, you moron.” He shrugged with one hand like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “That’s why I told you to go during the day. Now it’s dark—there are wolves.”

“Or worse… men.”

One step, make it two. Without a word he turned around, his rough, calloused hand reached down to haul her up from where she sat. “Come on,” he muttered, already pulling her along. “I don’t have all night.”

Before she could protest, his brisk pace carried them toward the treeline. The forest ahead during the night time had lost all definition and just seemed like a clamp of dark figures lingering on top of them, the air cooler and thick with the smell of damp earth. 

“I can’t see a thing,” she complained, stumbling slightly over a root. It was obvious that for the alpha it was easier, they eyes were better equiped to see with little light sources.

“That’s why you should’ve gone during the day,” Levi shot back, not bothering to slow. His voice had that clipped patience that meant he was already regretting giving her a choice in the matter.

He stopped just short of the deeper shadows and gave a nod toward a cluster of trees. “There. Make it quick.”

She hesitated, glaring at him before slipping behind the largest tree trunk she could find. Levi stayed a short distance away, arms crossed, scanning the dark with that restless, watchful stillness of his.

She shuffled farther.

“Don’t go too far,” he called.

“But—”

“Stay close and just go,” he said, turning his back to the trees, hoping that would be enough to settle it.

The silence—or rather, the constant backdrop of crickets, night birds, and distant rustles—was briefly broken by the faint ruffle of fabric.

A minute passed. Then another.

“I can’t,” her voice finally broke from behind the tree, sounding like she might cry.

Levi’s eyes shut, jaw tightening before he exhaled in a long, frustrated groan. “For fuck’s sake…” He pinched the bridge of his nose, lowering his voice so as not to draw the camp’s attention. “What now?”

There was a pause, her hesitation thick enough to hear. “What if… you hear me?”

Levi dragged both hands down his face. If he were capable of openly showing emotion, he might’ve cried from sheer frustration. Instead, he gritted his teeth and muttered in the quietest tone possible, “If I piss too, would you finally do it?” His only hope was that the embarrassment in his voice could pass as exhaustion.

“…Maybe.”

Without another word, he turned to face the tree he’d been ignoring, trousers already unbuckled. “Done,” he said flatly, as if that settled the matter.

The sounds that followed suggested she had finally caved, though the whole thing was clearly far more complicated for her than for him. Levi had spent years working under pressure in life-or-death situations—speed was second nature to him. If you didn’t believe it, Zeke could give you the full record.

That’s why, the second he heard her scream, he was already moving—forgetting any silly sense of modesty.

“What happened?” he demanded as she stumbled straight into his arms. His body reacted instinctively, pulling her in close before shifting her slightly behind his left side, shielding her with his own body. His senses sharpened instantly, searching for any source of danger.

Her muffled sobs—without tears—told him it wasn’t life-threatening. “What the hell?”

“It was awful!” she choked out.

“What?” He scanned the area again, in case he’d missed something.

“I—I…”

“Come on, Y/N, I’m getting eaten alive by mosquitoes here. Hurry it up, yeah?” His voice was a blend of worry and pure impatience.

“I was… doing my thing,” she said, burying her face in her hands. Each sentence was met with a tight, exasperated nod from Levi. “And when I looked down—”

“Yes, yes,” he urged, waving his hand for her to get to the point.

“There were a pair of eyes looking at me!” she wailed, voice thick with disgust.

“…Uh?”

“I pissed on a frog!”

That did it. Levi’s shoulders began to shake, his left hand coming up to cover his face.

“You’re laughing? DON’T LAUGH!”

“Ha—” The sound broke free despite his best effort, his low chuckle growing until it was unmistakable.

The humiliation crawled over her skin like the mosquitoes on her arms. She’d never seen him genuinely laugh before—and of all times, it had to be now.

“It was awful!” she insisted.

“Well… maybe the thing liked it,” he said between breaths, smirking. “A golden shower.”

“Ugh?”

“Never mind.” He ruffled her hair roughly. “Let’s go before it asks you for consent.”

“What are you even talking about?” she groaned, hurrying after him. “I need a shower.”

“Why? You didn’t get pissed on.”

Meanwhile, Jean, Sasha, and Armin stood nearby with a lantern in hand, watching the two of them return. Her hair was a wild mess, he had no shirt on, and his trousers were half-unbuckled.

“I’m too delicate for this,” she muttered, voice still breathless. “It’s too long for me.”

“Quit whining,” he said flatly. “You’ll get used to it. It’s rough at the start.”

“I need a shower… I feel sticky and dirty in places I didn’t even know I had.”

Whatever small talk they’d been sharing on the walk back died instantly when they spotted the cadets—likely on night watch—standing in their path. If there were a new shade of red to be named, it would’ve been after her in that moment. Wrapping her arms tightly around herself, she rushed into the tent and zipped it shut without a word.

“Is she okay?” Jean asked, brows drawn. “We heard a scream.”

Levi gave a low shrug. “Yeah. She’s just embarrassed.”

The choice of words didn’t help a cause he wasn’t even aware he was fighting. “And she hates camping,” he added, as if that explained anything, before disappearing into his own tent.

The three cadets remained rooted in place, mouths slightly open, still processing.

“So… Commander Hange was right,” Sasha whispered, eyes wide. “They’re doing it out here.”

“And we didn’t hear a thing.”

Jean and Sasha turned to Armin with identical grimaces.

“Why the hell do you wanna hear them, dude?” Jean asked, disgust written all over his face.

“I don’t!” Armin spluttered. “I’m just saying!”

Sasha folded her arms and frowned in thought. “I don’t know… maybe they’re not. She said ‘long,’ so she can’t be talking about Captain Levi. He’s too short.”

“How do you know it’s not proportional?” Jean teased, earning a sharp glare from her.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Armin said cautiously. “Alphas’ members can be massive. Scary even.”

Both Jean and Sasha turned to him at once, voices perfectly in sync.

“…And how do you know that?”

––

The immensity of the forest—and especially the vastness outside the Walls—was overwhelming. It was as if the silence itself, heavy and crowded with nature, pressed in until it felt suffocating.

“Levi… are you asleep?” she whispered once they were both back in their respective places.

“Don’t tell me you need to take a shit now,” he mumbled, lips sticky, eyes forcibly shut. He was clearly not asleep, and he knew dreamland wouldn’t be promised to him tonight, but he wanted to at least pretend to try.

“No!” she pouted. The sound of her shifting in the enclosed space reached his ears, a clear sign she was now sitting upright.  “May I ask you something?”

“Ask me in the morning.”

“I don’t think I’ll be brave enough in the morning…” The sadness lacing her words cracked one of his eyes open. ‘What now?’

“What? Make it quick,” he muttered, peeking over his shoulder. To his surprise, she was wide awake—sitting cross-legged, hair falling around her shoulders, posture curved forward.

“Have you… kissed many people?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Is this one of those jealousy scenes again?” he groaned. But the subtle shake of her head, the hopelessness in her eyes, told him otherwise.

“Yes. Why?” he answered bluntly, hoping that would close the matter. He rolled onto his forearms.

“Like… with Mattie?”

“Y/N… I’ve got no energy for childish jealousy.” He exhaled sharply. “What’s the real point here? Let’s talk like adults, like last time, and let me get some damn rest.”

The phrasing stung, but not enough for her to fight back. “During dinner… all the cadets were talking about hookups and make-outs they’ve had. Armin told me about this girl—”

“Annie,” Levi cut in, already knowing. He added it like an impatient footnote.

“Oh, so you knew? And Jean has a crush—”

“On Mikasa. Doesn’t take a PhD to figure that one out.”

“I think they’d look cute together,” she said softly, a small smile flickering. “What do you think?”

“That won’t happen until Eren grows the guts to ask the damn girl out already.” Levi sat up fully now, baffled why she was keeping him awake just to talk about his soldiers’ crushes.

“Ah… I thought they were just like family,” she muttered, then frowned. “Aren’t they siblings?”

“No idea,” he said, scratching his head with zero interest. “Considering I’m married to someone half my age, I’m in no position to call anyone out.” It was meant as a joke, though she didn’t laugh. “So? What’s this really about?”

She stroked the cat absently on her lap. “Talking about bars earlier today… and your squad, and all the cadets sharing who they hooked up with last summer, or who they left behind for this expedition… I realized how much I’ve missed.”

Alarm bells rang in his head. Levi shifted uncomfortably, he felt the conversation veering into territory he was worst at handling, so he tried to wash it off before it stuck. “If this is about the damn clubs, I promise I’ll take you to one when we’re back. Okay?” The offer was reluctant, but he hoped it would settle things—like bartering away a smaller coin so she wouldn’t notice the bigger debt.

But she shook her head. “It’s not that…” Her voice dropped. “It’s just… I’m married, I’m supposed to become a mother, to already be at another stage in life than them. And yet… the only man I’ve ever kissed is my ex-fiancé.”

‘Ouch.’

Levi looked away, now sitting fully upright. A heavy sigh escaped him. He already knew where this was headed. The thought echoed something he had once wrestled with himself, back when he’d refused to let Mikasa be chosen for the Ackerman deal—the same parallel thought. She was young, and he wanted her to do the dumb shit he had at that age: get drunk, maybe smoke something reckless with friends, kiss someone in the back of a bar until her lips were raw, experiment clumsily until it wasn’t awkward anymore. Dry humping someone because the real deal felt too much yet. Make out in an alley, fool around until she figured out what felt good. Discover herself the messy, human way.

It felt right—for someone young to learn that alongside someone equally inexperienced. What she’d been denied, he knew, was that chance. And by giving her freedom then, he’d taken it from her now. Back then, he told himself it wouldn’t matter. Maybe because she was raised differently. Maybe because she was an omega. Maybe because he didn’t know her yet, so hurting her felt abstract. But now she was here, in his tent, in his life. And the deal she’d signed before she understood the terms weighed heavier by the night.

He liked to call himself open-minded. But not so open that he could watch his wife go off and “make up for lost time” with someone else. So instead, he just said, “Sorry.” It wasn’t really his fault, but it felt like it.

She sighed—then chuckled faintly. “It just made me realize… I haven’t even kissed my own husband.”

That froze him. “Uh?” His chest burned with sudden, stupid shame.

She chuckled again, softer. “You didn’t even kiss me at the altar.”

“Tch.” He rubbed at his undercut, avoiding her gaze. “You were a crying mess.”

“Would you have kissed me if I wasn’t crying?” she asked, voice achingly genuine.

Levi clenched his jaw. ‘I’m too old to be this nervous over something so stupid.’ “Not really. Felt awkward as hell.”

“Oh…” Her disappointment was obvious, sinking into her tone. “I wish…” She lifted her gaze, those doe eyes cutting straight through him. He clenched his jaw, already knowing whatever she asked next, he’d cave.  “We could at least try sometimes. To make this feel… less awkward. More like a couple.”

“You’ve got a strange way of asking a man to kiss you.”

This time she laughed, and thank god she did. Levi felt his social ineptitude crawling up his spine the way it always did when she hugged him in public.

“So… do I close my eyes?”

It was pathetic how much the question rattled him. “Right here, right now?” His voice rose an octave in disbelief. He’d done worse. Everyone knew it. But this? This felt stupidly intimate.

When her expression fell into a pout of disappointment, he cursed under his breath. “Fine. The shit you make me do.”

If it was supposed to spark love, it didn’t. He leaned in, cupped her face, and brushed the quickest, briefest kiss against her lips. She kept her eyes closed, waiting, hoping—but he had already pulled back. “Done. Happy? Can I sleep now?”

Her frown was hard to hide. “How did that feel to you?”

“Awkward as shit,” he admitted without hesitation.

“Yeah… me too.” She flopped back onto the ground, too drained to argue. “I thought it would feel… intense. Fulfilling.”

“Well, you’re not the first girl to marry an older guy and realize after the first night that things are usually a lot less intense and fulfilling.” His dry tone almost made it a joke. He rolled back over. “Now let me sleep.”

“This was not in my plans for tonight,” she muttered.

“And pissing on a frog was?”

Those six words made her sit bolt upright, indignation snapping her wide awake. “LET’S FORGET ABOUT THAT. Let’s pretend it NEVER happened!”

He had to suppress the twitch at the corner of his mouth, the ghost of a chuckle threatening to break through.

“Nah. I’m gonna bring that up until the day I die.”

Her gasp was dramatic enough to echo through the canvas walls. “No! You’re my husband! You’re supposed to remember cute little moments and give me sweet names—like honey or flower! Not haunt me with this humiliation!”

Levi didn’t even flinch. “Got it. Froggy, from now on.”

Her wail was instant. “NOOOO!”

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