In France, twenty millions of laborers, engaged in all the branches of science, art, and industry, produce everything which is useful to man. Their aggregate annual wages amount, it is estimated, to twenty thousand millions; but, in consequence of the profit (net product and interest) accruing to monopolists, twenty-five thousand millions must be paid for their products. Now, as the nation has no other buyers than its wage-receivers and wage-payers, and as the latter do not pay for the former, and as the selling-price of merchandise is the same for all, it is clear that, to make circulation possible, the laborer would have to pay five for that for which he has received but four. — What is Property: Chapter IV. [17]

This, then, is the reason why wealth and poverty are correlative, inseparable, not only in idea, but in fact; this is the reason why they exist concurrently; this is what justifies the pretension of the wage-receiver that the rich man possesses no more than the poor man, except that of which the latter has been defrauded. After the monopolist has drawn up his account of cost, profit, and interest, the wage-paid consumer draws up his; and he finds that, though promised wages stated in the contract as one hundred, he has really been given but seventy-five. Monopoly, therefore, puts the wage-receivers into bankruptcy, and it is strictly true that it lives upon the spoils.

Six years ago I brought out this frightful contradiction: why has it not been thundered through the press? Why have no teachers of renown warned public opinion? Why have not those who demand political rights for the workingman proclaimed that he is robbed? Why have the economists kept silent? Why?

Our revolutionary democracy is so noisy only because it fears revolutions: but, by ignoring the danger which it dares not look in the face, it succeeds only in increasing it. “We resemble,” says M. Blanqui, “firemen who increase the quantity of steam at the same time that they place weights on the safety-valve.” Victims of monopoly, console yourselves! If your tormentors will not listen, it is because Providence has resolved to strike them: Non audierunt, says the Bible, quia Deus volebat occidere eos.

Sale being unable to fulfil the conditions of monopoly, merchandise accumulates; labor has produced in a year what its wages will not allow it to consume in less than fifteen months: hence it must remain idle one-fourth of the year. But, if it remains idle, it earns nothing: how will it ever buy? And if the monopolist cannot get rid of his products, how will his enterprise endure? Logical impossibility multiplies around the workshop; the facts which translate it are everywhere.

“The hosiers of England,” says Eugene Buret, “had come to the point where they did not eat oftener than every other day. This state of things lasted eighteen months.” And he cites a multitude of similar cases.

But the distressing feature in the spectacle of monopoly’s effects is the sight of the unfortunate workingmen blaming each other for their misery and imagining that by uniting and supporting each other they will prevent the reduction of wages.

“The Irish,” says an observer, “have given a disastrous lesson to the working classes of Great Britain..... They have taught our laborers the fatal secret of confining their needs to the maintenance of animal life alone, and of contenting themselves, like savages, with the minimum of the means of subsistence sufficient to prolong life..... Instructed by this fatal example, yielding partly to necessity, the working classes have lost that laudable pride which led them to furnish their houses properly and to multiply about them the decent conveniences which contribute to happiness.”

I have never read anything more afflicting and more stupid. And what would you have these workingmen do? The Irish came: should they have been massacred? Wages were reduced: should death have been accepted in their stead? Necessity commanded, as you say yourselves. Then followed the interminable hours, disease, deformity, degradation, debasement, and all the signs of industrial slavery: all these calamities are born of monopoly and its sad predecessors, — competition, machinery, and the division of labor: and you blame the Irish!

At other times the workingmen blame their luck, and exhort themselves to patience: this is the counterpart of the thanks which they address to Providence, when labor is abundant and wages are sufficient.

I find in an article published by M. Leon Faucher, in the “Journal des Economistes” (September, 1845), that the English workingmen lost some time ago the habit of combining, which is surely a progressive step on which they are only to be congratulated, but that this improvement in the morale of the workingmen is due especially to their economic instruction.

“It is not upon the manufacturers,” cried a spinner at the meeting in Bolton, “that wages depend. In periods of depression the employers, so to speak, are only the lash with which necessity is armed; and whether they will or no, they have to strike. The regulative principle is the relation of supply to demand; and the employers have not this power.... Let us act prudently, then; let us learn to be resigned to bad luck and to make the most of good luck: by seconding the progress of our industry, we shall be useful not only to ourselves, but to the entire country.” [Applause.]

Very good: well-trained, model workmen, these! What men these spinners must be that they should submit without complaint to the lash of necessity, because the regulative principle of wages is supply and demand! M. Leon Faucher adds with a charming simplicity:

English workingmen are fearless reasoners. Give them a false principle, and they will push it mathematically to absurdity, without stopping or getting frightened, as if they were marching to the triumph of the truth.

For my part, I hope that, in spite of all the efforts of economic propagandism, French workingmen will never become reasoners of such power. Supply and demand, as well as the lash of necessity, has no longer any hold upon their minds. This was the one misery that England lacked: it will not cross the channel.

By the combined effect of division, machinery, net product, and interest, monopoly extends its conquests in an increasing progression; its developments embrace agriculture as well as commerce and industry, and all sorts of products. Everybody knows the phrase of Pliny upon the landed monopoly which determined the fall of Italy, latifundia perdidere Italiam. It is this same monopoly which still impoverishes and renders uninhabitable the Roman Campagna and which forms the vicious circle in which England moves convulsively; it is this monopoly which, established by violence after a war of races, produces all the evils of Ireland, and causes so many trials to O’Connell, powerless, with all his eloquence, to lead his repealers through this labyrinth. Grand sentiments and rhetoric are the worst remedy for social evils: it would be easier for O’Connell to transport Ireland and the Irish from the North Sea to the Australian Ocean than to overthrow with the breath of his harangues the monopoly which holds them in its grasp. General communions and sermons will do no more: if the religious sentiment still alone maintains the morale of the Irish people, it is high time that a little of that profane science, so much disdained by the Church, should come to the aid of the lambs which its crook no longer protects.

The invasion of commerce and industry by monopoly is too well known to make it necessary that I should gather proofs: moreover, of what use is it to argue so much when results speak so loudly? E. Buret’s description of the misery of the working-classes has something fantastic about it, which oppresses and frightens you. There are scenes in which the imagination refuses to believe, in spite of certificates and official reports. Couples all naked, hidden in the back of an unfurnished alcove, with their naked children; entire populations which no longer go to church on Sunday, because they are naked; bodies kept a week before they are buried, because the deceased has left neither a shroud in which to lay him out nor the wherewithal to pay for the coffin and the undertaker (and the bishop enjoys an income of from four to five hundred thousand francs); families heaped up over sewers, living in rooms occupied by pigs, and beginning to rot while yet alive, or dwelling in holes, like Albinoes; octogenarians sleeping naked on bare boards; and the virgin and the prostitute expiring in the same nudity: everywhere despair, consumption, hunger, hunger!.. And this people, which expiates the crimes of its masters, does not rebel! No, by the flames of Nemesis! when a people has no vengeance left, there is no longer any Providence for it.

Exterminations en masse by monopoly have not yet found their poets. Our rhymers, strangers to the things of this world, without bowels for the proletaire, continue to breathe to the moon their melancholy delights. What a subject for meditations, nevertheless, is the miseries engendered by monopoly!

It is Walter Scott who says:

Formerly, though many years since, each villager had his cow and his pig, and his yard around his house. Where a single farmer cultivates today, thirty small farmers lived formerly; so that for one individual, himself alone richer, it is true, than the thirty farmers of old times, there are now twenty-nine wretched day-laborers, without employment for their minds and arms, and whose number is too large by half. The only useful function which they fulfil is to pay, when they can, a rent of sixty shillings a year for the huts in which they dwell. [18]

A modern ballad, quoted by E. Buret, sings the solitude of monopoly:

Le rouet est silencieux dans la vallee: C’en est fait des sentiments de famille. Sur un peu de fumee le vieil aieul Etend ses mains pales; et le foyer vide Est aussi desole que son coeur. [19]

The reports made to parliament rival the novelist and the poet:

The inhabitants of Glensheil, in the neighborhood of the valley of Dundee, were formerly distinguished from all their neighbors by the superiority of their physical qualities. The men were of high stature, robust, active, and courageous; the women comely and graceful. Both sexes possessed an extraordinary taste for poetry and music. Now, alas! a long experience of poverty, prolonged privation of sufficient food and suitable clothing, have profoundly deteriorated this race, once so remarkably fine.

This is a notable instance of the inevitable degradation pointed out by us in the two chapters on division of labor and machinery. And our litterateurs busy themselves with the pretty things of the past, as if the present were not adequate to their genius! The first among them to venture on these infernal paths has created a scandal in the coterie! Cowardly parasites, vile venders of prose and verse, all worthy of the wages of Marsyas! Oh! if your punishment were to last as long as my contempt, you would be forced to believe in the eternity of hell.

Monopoly, which just now seemed to us so well founded in justice, is the more unjust because it not only makes wages illusory, but deceives the workman in the very valuation of his wages by assuming in relation to him a false title, a false capacity.

M. de Sismondi, in his “Studies of Social Economy,” observes somewhere that, when a banker delivers to a merchant bank-notes in exchange for his values, far from giving credit to the merchant, he receives it, on the contrary, from him.

“This credit,” adds M. de Sismondi, “is in truth so short that the merchant scarcely takes the trouble to inquire whether the banker is worthy, especially as the former asks credit instead of granting it.”

So, according to M. de Sismondi, in the issue of bank paper, the functions of the merchant and the banker are inverted: the first is the creditor, and the second is the credited.

Something similar takes place between the monopolist and wage-receiver.

In fact, the workers, like the merchant at the bank, ask to have their labor discounted; in right, the contractor ought to furnish them bonds and security. I will explain myself.

In any exploitation, no matter of what sort, the contractor cannot legitimately claim, in addition to his own personal labor, anything but the IDEA: as for the EXECUTION, the result of the cooperation of numerous laborers, that is an effect of collective power, with which the authors, as free in their action as the chief, can produce nothing which should go to him gratuitously. Now, the question is to ascertain whether the amount of individual wages paid by the contractor is equivalent to the collective effect of which I speak: for, were it otherwise, Say’s axiom, Every product is worth what it costs, would be violated.

“The capitalist,” they say, “has paid the laborers their daily wages at a rate agreed upon; consequently he owes them nothing.” To be accurate, it must be said that he has paid as many times one day’s wage as he has employed laborers, — which is not at all the same thing. For he has paid nothing for that immense power which results from the union of laborers and the convergence and harmony of their efforts; that saving of expense, secured by their formation into a workshop; that multiplication of product, foreseen, it is true, by the capitalist, but realized by free forces. Two hundred grenadiers, working under the direction of an engineer, stood the obelisk upon its base in a few hours; do you think that one man could have accomplished the same task in two hundred days? Nevertheless, on the books of the capitalist, the amount of wages is the same in both cases, because he allots to himself the benefit of the collective power. Now, of two things one: either this is usurpation on his part, or it is error. -What is Property: Chapter III.

To properly exploit the mule-jenny, engineers, builders, clerks, brigades of workingmen and workingwomen of all sorts, have been needed. In the name of their liberty, of their security, of their future, and of the future of their children, these workmen, on engaging to work in the mill, had to make reserves; where are the letters of credit which they have delivered to the employers? Where are the guarantees which they have received? What! millions of men have sold their arms and parted with their liberty without knowing the import of the contract; they have engaged themselves upon the promise of continuous work and adequate reward; they have executed with their hands what the thought of the employers had conceived; they have become, by this collaboration, associates in the enterprise: and when monopoly, unable or unwilling to make further exchanges, suspends its manufacture and leaves these millions of laborers without bread, they are told to be resigned! By the new processes they have lost nine days of their labor out of ten; and for reward they are pointed to the lash of necessity flourished over them! Then, if they refuse to work for lower wages, they are shown that they punish themselves. If they accept the rate offered them, they lose that noble pride, that taste for decent conveniences which constitute the happiness and dignity of the workingman and entitle him to the sympathies of the rich. If they combine to secure an increase of wages, they are thrown into prison! Whereas they ought to prosecute their exploiters in the courts, on them the courts will avenge the violations of liberty of commerce! Victims of monopoly, they will suffer the penalty due to the monopolists! O justice of men, stupid courtesan, how long, under your goddess’s tinsel, will you drink the blood of the slaughtered proletaire?

Monopoly has invaded everything, — land, labor, and the instruments of labor, products and the distribution of pro ducts. Political economy itself has not been able to avoid admitting it.

“You almost always find across your path,” says M. Rossi, “some monopoly. There is scarcely a product that can be regarded as the pure and simple result of labor; accordingly the economic law which proportions price to cost of production is never completely realized. It is a formula which is profoundly modified by the intervention of one or another of the monopolies to which the instruments of production are subordinated. — Course in Political Economy: Volume I., page 143.

M. Rossi holds too high an office to give his language all the precision and exactness which science requires when monopoly is in question. What he so complacently calls a modification of economic formulas is but a long and odious violation of the fundamental laws of labor and exchange. It is in consequence of monopoly that in society, net product being figured over and above gross product, the collective laborer must repurchase his own product at a price higher than that which this product costs him, — which is contradictory and impossible; that the natural balance between production and consumption is destroyed; that the laborer is deceived not only in his settlements, but also as to the amount of his wages; that in his case progress in comfort is changed into an incessant progress in misery: it is by monopoly, in short, that all notions of commutative justice are perverted, and that social economy, instead of the positive science that it is, becomes a veritable utopia.

This disguise of political economy under the influence of monopoly is a fact so remarkable in the history of social ideas that we must not neglect to cite a few instances.

Thus, from the standpoint of monopoly, value is no longer that synthetic conception which serves to express the relation of a special object of utility to the sum total of wealth: monopoly estimating things, not in their relation to society, but in their relation to itself, value loses its social character, and is nothing but a vague, arbitrary, egoistic, and essentially variable thing. Starting with this principle, the monopolist extends the term product to cover all sorts of servitude, and applies the idea of capital to all the frivolous and shameful industries which his passions and vices exploit. The charms of a courtesan, says Say, are so much capital, of which the product follows the general law of values, — namely, supply and demand. Most of the works on political economy are full of such applications. But as prostitution and the state of dependence from which it emanates are condemned by morality, M. Rossi will bid us observe the further fact that political economy, after having modified its formula in consequence of the intervention of monopoly, will have to submit to a new corrective, although its conclusions are in themselves irreproachable. For, he says, political economy has nothing in common with morality: it is for us to accept it, to modify or correct its formulas, whenever our welfare, that of society, and the interests of morality call for it. How many things there are between political economy and truth!

Likewise, the theory of net product, so highly social, progressive, and conservative, has been individualized, if I may say so, by monopoly, and the principle which ought to secure society’s welfare causes its ruin. The monopolist, always striving for the greatest possible net product, no longer acts as a member of society and in the interest of society; he acts with a view to his exclusive interest, whether this interest be contrary to the social interest or not. This change of perspective is the cause to which M. de Sismondi attributes the depopulation of the Roman Campagna. From the comparative researches which he has made regarding the product of the agro romano when in a state of cultivation and its product when left as pasture-land, he has found that the gross product would be twelve times larger in the former case than in the latter; but, as cultivation demands relatively a greater number of hands, he has discovered also that in the former case the net product would be less. This calculation, which did not escape the proprietors, sufficed to confirm them in the habit of leaving their lands uncultivated, and hence the Roman Campagna is uninhabited.

“All parts of the Roman States,” adds M. de Sismondi, “present the same contrast between the memories of their prosperity in the Middle Ages and their present desolation. The town of Ceres, made famous by Renzo da Ceri, who defended by turns Marseilles against Charles V. and Geneva against the Duke of Savoy, is nothing but a solitude. In all the fiefs of the Orsinis and the Colonnes not a soul. From the forests which surround the pretty Lake of Vico the human race has disappeared; and the soldiers with whom the formidable prefect of Vico made Rome tremble so often in the fourteenth century have left no descendants. Castro and Ronciglione are desolated.” — Studies in Political Economy.

In fact, society seeks the greatest possible gross product, and consequently the greatest possible population, because with it gross product and net product are identical. Monopoly, on the contrary, aims steadily at the greatest net product, even though able to obtain it only at the price of the extermination of the human race.

Under this same influence of monopoly, interest on capital, perverted in its idea, has become in turn a principle of death to society. As we have explained it, interest on capital is, on the one hand, the form under which the laborer enjoys his net product, while utilizing it in new creations; on the other, this interest is the material bond of solidarity between producers, viewed from the standpoint of the increase of wealth. Under the first aspect, the aggregate interest paid can never exceed the amount of the capital itself; under the second, interest allows, in addition to reimbursement, a premium as a reward of service rendered. In no case does it imply perpetuity.

But monopoly, confounding the idea of capital, which is attributable only to the creations of human industry, with that of the exploitable material which nature has given us, and which belongs to all, and favored moreover in its usurpation by the anarchical condition of a society in which possession can exist only on condition of being exclusive, sovereign, and perpetual, — monopoly has imagined and laid it down as a principle that capital, like land, animals, and plants, had in itself an activity of its own, which relieved the capitalist of the necessity of contributing anything else to exchange and of taking any part in the labors of the workshop. From this false idea of monopoly has come the Greek name of usury, tokos, as much as to say the child or the increase of capital, which caused Aristotle to perpetrate this witticism: coins beget no children. But the metaphor of the usurers has prevailed over the joke of the Stagyrite; usury, like rent, of which it is an imitation, has been declared a perpetual right; and only very lately, by a half-return to the principle, has it reproduced the idea of redemption.

Such is the meaning of the enigma which has caused so many scandals among theologians and legists, and regarding which the Christian Church has blundered twice, — first, in condemning every sort of interest, and, second, in taking the side of the economists and thus contradicting its old maxims. Usury, or the right of increase, is at once the expression and the condemnation of monopoly; it is the spoliation of labor by organized and legalized capital; of all the economic subversions it is that which most loudly accuses the old society, and whose scandalous persistence would justify an unceremonious and uncompensated dispossession of the entire capitalistic class.

Finally, monopoly, by a sort of instinct of self-preservation, has perverted even the idea of association, as something that might infringe upon it, or, to speak more accurately, has not permitted its birth.

Who could hope today to define what association among men should be? The law distinguishes two species and four varieties of civil societies, and as many commercial societies, from the simple partnership to the joint-stock company. I have read the most respectable commentaries that have been written upon all these forms of association, and I declare that I have found in them but one application of the routine practices of monopoly between two or more partners who unite their capital and their efforts against everything that produces and consumes, that invents and exchanges, that lives and dies. The sine qua non of all these societies is capital, whose presence alone constitutes them and gives them a basis; their object is monopoly, — that is, the exclusion of all other laborers and capitalists, and consequently the negation of social universality so far as persons are concerned.

Thus, according to the definition of the statute, a commercial society which should lay down as a principle the right of any stranger to become a member upon his simple request, and to straightway enjoy the rights and prerogatives of associates and even managers, would no longer be a society; the courts would officially pronounce its dissolution, its nonexistence. So, again, articles of association in which the contracting parties should stipulate no contribution of capital, but, while reserving to each the express right to compete with all, should confine themselves to a reciprocal guarantee of labor and wages, saying nothing of the branch of exploitation, or of capital, or of interest, or of profit and loss, — such articles would seem contradictory in their tenor, as destitute of purpose as of reason, and would be annulled by the judge on the complaint of the first rebellious associate. Covenants thus drawn up could give rise to no judicial action; people calling themselves the associates of everybody would be considered associates of nobody; treatises contemplating guarantee and competition between associates at the same time, without any mention of social capital and without any designation of purpose, would pass for a work of transcendental charlatanism, whose author could readily be sent to a madhouse, provided the magistrates would consent to regard him as only a lunatic.

And yet it is proved, by the most authentic testimony which history and social economy furnish, that humanity has been thrown naked and without capital upon the earth which it cultivates; consequently that it has created and is daily creating all the wealth that exists; that monopoly is only a relative view serving to designate the grade of the laborer, with certain conditions of enjoyment; and that all progress consists, while indefinitely multiplying products, in determining their proportionality, — that is, in organizing labor and comfort by division, machinery, the workshop, education, and competition. On the other hand, it is evident that all the tendencies of humanity, both in its politics and in its civil laws, are towards universalization, — that is, towards a complete transformation of the idea of society as determined by our statutes.

Whence I conclude that articles of association which should regulate, no longer the contribution of the associates, — since each associate, according to the economic theory, is supposed to possess absolutely nothing upon his entrance into society, — but the conditions of labor and exchange, and which should allow access to all who might present themselves, — I conclude, I say, that such articles of association would contain nothing that was not rational and scientific, since they would be the very expression of progress, the organic formula of labor, and since they would reveal, so to speak, humanity to itself by giving it the rudiment of its constitution.

Now, who, among the jurisconsults and economists, has ever approached even within a thousand leagues of this magnificent and yet so simple idea?

“I do not think,” says M. Troplong, “that the spirit of association is called to greater destinies than those which it has accomplished in the past and up to the present time... ; and I confess that I have made no attempt to realize such hopes, which I believe exaggerated.... There are well-defined limits which association should not overstep. No! association is not called upon in France to govern everything. The spontaneous impulse of the individual mind is also a living force in our nation and a cause of its originality....

“The idea of association is not new.... Even among the Romans we see the commercial society appear with all its paraphernalia of monopolies, corners, collusions, combinations, piracy, and venality.... The joint-stock company realizes the civil, commercial, and maritime law of the Middle Ages: at that epoch it was the most active instrument of labor organized in society.... From the middle of the fourteenth century we see societies form by stock subscriptions; and up to the time of Law’s discomfiture, we see their number continually increase.... What! we marvel at the mines, factories, patents, and newspapers owned by stock companies! But two centuries ago such companies owned islands, kingdoms, almost an entire hemisphere. We proclaim it a miracle that hundreds of stock subscribers should group themselves around an enterprise; but as long ago as the fourteenth century the entire city of Florence was in similar silent partnership with a few merchants, who pushed the genius of enterprise as far as possible. Then, if our speculations are bad, if we have been rash, imprudent, or credulous, we torment the legislator with our cavilling complaints; we call upon him for prohibitions and nullifications. In our mania for regulating everything, even that which is already codified; for enchaining everything by texts reviewed, corrected, and added to; for administering everything, even the chances and reverses of commerce, — we cry out, in the midst of so many existing laws: ‘There is still something to do!’”

M. Troplong believes in Providence, but surely he is not its man. He will not discover the formula of association clamored for today by minds disgusted with all the protocols of combination and rapine of which M. Troplong unrolls the picture in his commentary. M. Troplong gets impatient, and rightly, with those who wish to enchain everything in texts of laws; and he himself pretends to enchain the future in a series of fifty articles, in which the wisest mind could not discover a spark of economic science or a shadow of philosophy. In our mania, he cries, for regulating everything, EVEN THAT WHICH IS ALREADY CODIFIED!.... I know nothing more delicious than this stroke, which paints at once the jurisconsult and the economist. After the Code Napoleon, take away the ladder!...

“Fortunately,” M. Troplong continues, “all the projects of change so noisily brought to light in 1837 and 1838 are forgotten today. The conflict of propositions and the anarchy of reformatory opinions have led to negative results. At the same time that the reaction against speculators was effected, the common sense of the public did justice to the numerous official plans of organization, much inferior in wisdom to the existing law, much less in harmony with the usages of commerce, much less liberal, after 1830, than the conceptions of the imperial Council of State! Now order is restored in everything, and the commercial code has preserved its integrity, its excellent integrity. When commerce needs it, it finds, by the side of partnership, temporary partnership, and the joint-stock company, the free silent partnership, tempered only by the prudence of the silent partners and by the provisions of the penal code regarding swindling.” — Troplong: Civil and Commercial Societies: Preface.

What a philosophy is that which rejoices in the miscarriage of reformatory endeavors, and which counts its triumphs by the negative results of the spirit of inquiry! We cannot now enter upon a more fundamental criticism of the civil and commercial societies, which have furnished M. Troplong material for two volumes. We will reserve this subject for the time when, the theory of economic contradictions being finished, we shall have found in their general equation the programme of association, which we shall then publish in contrast with the practice and conceptions of our predecessors.

A word only as to silent partnership.

One might think at first blush that this form of joint-stock company, by its expansive power and by the facility for change which it offers, could be generalized in such a way as to take in an entire nation in all its commercial and industrial relations. But the most superficial examination of the constitution of this society demonstrates very quickly that the sort of enlargement of which it is susceptible, in the matter of the number of stockholders, has nothing in common with the extension of the social bond.

In the first place, like all other commercial societies, it is necessarily limited to a single branch of exploitation: in this respect it is exclusive of all industries foreign to that peculiarly its own. If it were otherwise, it would have changed its nature; it would be a new form of society, whose statutes would regulate, no longer the profits especially, but the distribution of labor and the conditions of exchange; it would be exactly such an association as M. Troplong denies and as the jurisprudence of monopoly excludes.

As for the personal composition of the company, it naturally divides itself into two categories, — the managers and the stockholders. The managers, very few in number, are chosen from the promoters, organizers, and patrons of the enterprise: in truth, they are the only associates. The stockholders, compared with this little government, which administers the society with full power, are a people of taxpayers who, strangers to each other, without influence and without responsibility, have nothing to do with the affair beyond their investments. They are lenders at a premium, not associates.

One can see from this how all the industries of the kingdom could be carried on by such companies, and each citizen, thanks to the facility for multiplying his shares, be interested in all or most of these companies without thereby improving his condition: it might happen even that it would be more and more compromised. For, once more, the stockholder is the beast of burden, the exploitable material of the company: not for him is this society formed. In order that association may be real, he who participates in it must do so, not as a gambler, but as an active factor; he must have a deliberative voice in the council; his name must be expressed or implied in the title of the society; everything regarding him, in short, should be regulated in accordance with equality. But these conditions are precisely those of the organization of labor, which is not taken into consideration by the code; they form the ULTERIOR object of political economy, and consequently are not to be taken for granted, but to be created, and, as such, are radically incompatible with monopoly. [20]

Socialism, in spite of its high-sounding name, has so far been no more fortunate than monopoly in the definition of society: we may even assert that, in all its plans of organization, it has steadily shown itself in this respect a plagiarist of political economy. M. Blanc, whom I have already quoted in discussing competition, and whom we have seen by turns as a partisan of the hierarchical principle, an officious defender of inequality, preaching communism, denying with a stroke of the pen the law of contradiction because he cannot conceive it, aiming above all at power as the final sanction of his system, — M. Blanc offers us again the curious example of a socialist copying political economy without suspecting it, and turning continually in the vicious circle of proprietary routine. M. Blanc really denies the sway of capital; he even denies that capital is equal to labor in production, in which he is in accord with healthy economic theories. But he can not or does not know how to dispense with capital; he takes capital for his point of departure; he appeals to the State for its silent partnership: that is, he gets down on his knees before the capitalists and recognizes the sovereignty of monopoly. Hence the singular contortions of his dialectics. I beg the reader’s pardon for these eternal personalities: but since socialism, as well as political economy, is personified in a certain number of writers, I cannot do otherwise than quote its authors.

“Has or has not capital,” said “La Phalange,” “in so far as it is a faculty in production, the legitimacy of the other productive faculties? If it is illegitimate, its pretensions to a share of the product are illegitimate; it must be excluded; it has no interest to receive: if, on the contrary, it is legitimate, it cannot be legitimately excluded from participation in the profits, in the increase which it has helped to create.”

The question could not be stated more clearly. M. Blanc holds, on the contrary, that it is stated in a very confused manner, which means that it embarrasses him greatly, and that he is much worried to find its meaning.

In the first place, he supposes that he is asked “whether it is equitable to allow the capitalist a share of the profits of production equal to the laborer’s.” To which M. Blanc answers unhesitatingly that that would be unjust. Then follows an outburst of eloquence to establish this injustice.

Now, the phalansterian does not ask whether the share of the capitalist should or should not be equal to the laborer’s; he wishes to know simply whether he is to have a share. And to this M. Blanc makes no reply.

Is it meant, continues M. Blanc, that capital is indispensable to production, like labor itself? Here M. Blanc distinguishes: he grants that capital is indispensable, as labor is, but not to the extent that labor is.

Once again, the phalansterian does not dispute as to quantity, but as to right.

Is it meant — it is still M. Blanc who interrogates — that all capitalists are not idlers? M. Blanc, generous to capitalists who work, asks why so large a share should be given to those who do not work? A flow of eloquence as to the impersonal services of the capitalist and the personal services of the laborer, terminated by an appeal to Providence.

For the third time, you are asked whether the participation of capital in profits is legitimate, since you admit that it is indispensable in production.

At last M. Blanc, who has understood all the time, decides to reply that, if he allows interest to capital, he does so only as a transitional measure and to ease the descent of the capitalists. For the rest, his project leading inevitably to the absorption of private capital in association, it would be folly and an abandonment of principle to do more. M. Blanc, if he had studied his subject, would have needed to say but a single phrase: “I deny capital.”

Thus M. Blanc, — and under his name I include the whole of socialism, — after having, by a first contradiction of the title of his book, “ORGANIZATION OF LABOR,” declared that capital was indispensable in production, and consequently that it should be organized and participate in profits like labor, by a second contradiction rejects capital from organization and refuses to recognize it: by a third contradiction he who laughs at decorations and titles of nobility distributes civic crowns, rewards, and distinctions to such litterateurs inventors, and artists as shall have deserved well of the country; he allows them salaries according to their grades and dignities; all of which is the restoration of capital as really, though not with the same mathematical precision, as interest and net product: by a fourth contradiction M. Blanc establishes this new aristocracy on the principle of equality, — that is, he pretends to vote masterships to equal and free associates, privileges of idleness to laborers, spoliation in short to the despoiled: by a fifth contradiction he rests this equalitarian aristocracy on the basis of a power endowed with great force, — that is, on despotism, another form of monopoly: by a sixth contradiction, after having, by his encouragements to labor and the arts, tried to proportion reward to service, like monopoly, and wages to capacity, like monopoly, he sets himself to eulogize life in common, labor and consumption in common, which does not prevent him from wishing to withdraw from the effects of common indifference, by means of national encouragements taken out of the common product, the grave and serious writers whom common readers do not care for: by a seventh contradiction.... but let us stop at seven, for we should not have finished at seventy-seven.

It is said that M. Blanc, who is now preparing a history of the French Revolution, has begun to seriously study political economy. The first fruit of this study will be, I do not doubt, a repudiation of his pamphlet on “Organization of Labor,” and consequently a change in all his ideas of authority and government. At this price the “History of the French Revolution,” by M. Blanc, will be a truly useful and original work.

All the socialistic sects, without exception, are possessed by the same prejudice; all, unconsciously, inspired by the economic contradiction, have to confess their powerlessness in presence of the necessity of capital; all are waiting, for the realization of their ideas, to hold power and money in their hands. The utopias of socialism in the matter of association make more prominent than ever the truth which we announced at the beginning: There is nothing in socialism which is not found in political economy; and this perpetual plagiarism is the irrevocable condemnation of both. Nowhere is to be seen the dawn of that mother-idea, which springs with so much eclat from the generation of the economic categories, — that the superior formula of association has nothing to do with capital, a matter for individual accounts, but must bear solely upon equilibrium of production, the conditions of exchange, the gradual reduction of cost, the one and only source of the increase of wealth. Instead of determining the relations of industry to industry, of laborer to laborer, of province to province, and of people to people, the socialists dream only of providing themselves with capital, always conceiving the problem of the solidarity of laborers as if it were a question of founding some new institution of monopoly. The world, humanity, capital, industry, business machinery, exist; it is a matter now simply of finding their philosophy, — in other words, of organizing them: and the socialists are in search of capital! Always outside of reality, is it astonishing that they miss it?

Thus M. Blanc asks for State aid and the establishment of national workshops; thus Fourier asked for six million francs, and his followers are still engaged today in collecting that sum; thus the communists place their hope in a revolution which shall give them authority and the treasury, and exhaust themselves in waiting for useless subscriptions. Capital and power, secondary organs in society, are always the gods whom socialism adores: if capital and power did not exist, it would invent them. Through its anxieties about power and capital, socialism has completely overlooked the meaning of its own protests: much more, it has not seen that, in involving itself, as it has done, in the economic routine, it has deprived itself of the very right to protest. It accuses society of antagonism, and through the same antago-nism it goes in pursuit of reform. It asks capital for the poor laborers, as if the misery of laborers did not come from the competition of capitalists as well as from the factitious opposition of labor and capital; as if the question were not today precisely what it was before the creation of capital, — that is, still and always a question of equilibrium; as if, in short, — let us repeat it incessantly, let us repeat it to satiety, — the question were henceforth of something other than a synthesis of all the principles brought to light by civilization, and as if, provided this synthesis, the idea which leads the world, were known, there would be any need of the intervention of capital and the State to make them evident.

Volume II: The Escherian Chronicles

Chapter 1: You've Arrived At Your Dream Destination

Chapter 2 Welcome to the Flock

Chapter 3: Happy Hatching Day

Chapter 4: Every Child's Dream

Chapter 5: The Best Fieldtrip Ever

Chapter 6: Wayne, We Created a Plot Hole!

Chapter 7: Tabi Tabi Po, Nuno

Chapter 8: Six Hundred Feet Under

The entirety of Volume 2 was previously just two chapters, so you can imagine how long they were, especially because Chapter 5 has two fairly big branches.

The two of us were shoving each other back and forth, all the while giggling uncontrollably. Almost as though we were cadets again, twelve years old and full of stupid ideas, as Ben and Leyna watched us fool around from the sidelines.

The thought of my siblings made me smile. I’d sent a letter to Leyna in the past few days, making sure that it would arrive in Mitras before today. It was her birthday too, after all, as well as Ben’s. The three of us used to send letters back and forth before meeting up at home back in Shiganshina, where Ma would be waiting for us with a homemade cake, and maybe even a few muffins and cookies to take back with us if we were lucky. She always made sure to send us on our way with stuffed bellies and some extra food, as though we were children going to a friend’s house for a sleepover again.

And in the years Dad had still been alive, even though he wasn’t always in the best state of health, he always made an effort to prepare a gift for us, whether it was little trinkets from the market or handmade gifts he’d carved out of wood. He’d taken up a light hobby of woodcarving after retiring from the Scouts, just to keep his hands busy as he stayed within the house. One particular year he had made all three of us little carvings of wolves, with each of our initials engraved on the bottom.

I miss you. On instinct, I slid my hand around the little wolf charm that dangled from the cord around my neck. All of you.

The base was practically empty by the time Hanji and I left the castle. The soldiers were either still in bed or holed up in the mess hall, still blinking the sleep from their eyes. I was the same, more or less (the night owl to Hanji’s early bird)—which is why I nearly shrieked out loud when something slammed into me from behind.

“Oh, I’m sorry, captain!” Gretel’s hair was unusually messy, her eyes wild and her cheeks flushed red. “I didn’t see you there! But actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you something, now that you’re here…”

I could already feel my eyebrow inching up. Why is she so hyper today? It’s not even fully sunrise, so why is she so damn excited?

“What is it, Mayer?”

“Evan and I were talking a couple days ago, and Reggie and Emily are okay with it if you are—but we want to have a little celebration for Murphy’s birthday tonight!”

My jaw dropped; my eyes went as wide as they could go. Hanji was snickering beside me, although I couldn’t tell if it was because of me or what Gretel had said.

It’s Murphy’s birthday today? So soon?

And sure enough, I recalled glancing at his form in just the last couple weeks, stating that his birthday was coming up soon. At the time I’d smiled and thought nothing of it (none of the kids on my squad did anything special to celebrate their birthdays anyway)… But now I was starting to feel particularly stupid.

“What a small world!” Hanji’s arm was back around my shoulders, as she clapped Gretel on the back so hard the poor girl almost stumbled over. “It’s Mia’s birthday, too!”

“Wait, it is?! I didn’t know, captain! How—I mean, happy birthday!”

“Thanks,” I mumbled, sending a glare in Hanji’s direction. “I don’t really like to advertise it, but this one makes a point of letting everyone and their mother know about it.”

“Of course.” Hanji made no effort in concealing her smirk, as she mussed up my hair with a rough hand. “Actually, now that you mention it… Mayer, can I have a quick word for you?”

“Um… Okay, Section Commander. But why…?” She glanced from Hanji to me, and then back to Hanji—and suddenly she was nodding eagerly, her lips laced into a smile. “Oh, of course! When would you like to talk?”

“Right now, actually. The sooner the better, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I couldn’t agree more!”

It was hard to ignore the churning feeling in the pit of my stomach, as I watched my best friend and my cadet huddle close together, their expressions already saying much more than words ever could. And as Hanji started to lead her away, she glanced at me from over her shoulder and smirked, “Don’t wait up for me, this might take a while!”

Of course it will. But all I could do was hope that Hanji wouldn’t go overboard with whatever she and Gretel had planned.

|~|

Breakfast had gone by rather smoothly. None of the other Squad Leaders made a fuss over my birthday—at least, not like Hanji had. Mike and Nanaba had kept it simple, wishing me a nice day as they stood up to refill their plates. Erwin had smiled and encouraged me to make some time for myself at the end of the day, to which Levi scoffed at from over the rim of his teacup. The two of us snickered to each other, avoiding eye contact as we sipped our tea, as Erwin quirked his eyebrow at us. Poor oblivious Commander…

Levi was already well aware of my plans for today, and once we were alone the two of us headed out to the stables. A comfortable silence settled over us as we saddled up our horses, with Mischa giving my hand a friendly nuzzle as I passed her stall.

As I took Edel’s reins and began to lead him out of the barn, a familiar tuft of reddish-brown hair caught my eye. Huddled in Misty’s stall was Murphy, whispering sweet nothings into her ear as he brushed her down. I smiled when I saw how her coat shone in the early morning sunlight; obviously Murphy took great pride in taking care of his steed.

“Good morning, Enns.” The boy smiled at me before turning back to his horse. “Oh, and happy birthday!”

Poor Murphy—the tips of his ears burned scarlet as he stumbled over his words, nearly dropping the brush and startling Misty in the process. He gave a nervous laugh, threading his fingers through his hair as he struggled to look me in the eyes.

“Ah, t-thank you, captain—but how did you…?”

“Mayer let it slip this morning.” I was careful not to mention the celebration she was planning with the rest of the squad. It was their secret to share, not mine. “I take it you’re like me and don’t make a big deal out of it, huh?”

“I…I guess so.” He kept his eyes on Misty, as she lowered her head to nibble on a bit of hay. “It’s just…easier that way.”

Yeah, it is. I knew the feeling all too well.

“I get it. Still, you have to make the best of it, alright? It only comes once a year, so enjoy it while you can!”

“…Yeah, you’re probably right. I’ll try to enjoy it, captain.” He reached over to brush Misty’s forelock out of her eyes. “Maybe we’ll practice some jumping today. What do you say, girl?”

And he was lost in his horse again, just the way I’d found him. With a gentle tug on his reins, I started to lead Edel towards the exit once more. The clopping sound of his hooves bounced off the walls of the barn, followed by the sound of Mischa’s hooves right behind us.

“Oh, and happy birthday to you too, captain! I hope you enjoy your day, too!”

Edel’s ears pricked forward at my gasp; I nearly tripped over my own two feet while getting him out the door of the barn. I could hear Levi snickering from behind me, and even Mischa was grunting and bobbing her head as though she were laughing.

Damn it! I guess word travels fast among the kids, huh?

“Thanks, Enns…”

I could hear him laughing from the barn as I swung myself up into Edel’s saddle. And as I gripped the reins, I gave Levi the fiercest glare I could muster—I was not enjoying the smug look on his face.

“Not one fucking word, captain.”

He remained silent, even as the two of us began to ride away from the base, but the smirk on his face said much more than any words could.

|~|

The road to Trost was long but familiar. The trodden paths through the forests, the little streams that dotted the outskirts of the town, and even the occasional rabbit that leapt out from the bushes, seemingly unaware of the two large horses in their line of sight. Neither of us said anything on the way there—not even when we headed towards the old hill at the edge of the district, far away from the rest of civilization.

Edel’s hooves were heavy against the grass. The reins were slick in my hands, my fingers cramped and sweating. I could feel my heart in my throat as I halted Edel just for a moment, only to swipe a small bunch of white flowers from the little grassy patch beside the trail.

They’re not edelweiss flowers, but they’ll do the job. I think he’ll like them all the same.

The cemetery was just over the hill, in the northwest direction of Trost District. There were countless cemeteries within the Walls, plenty of resting sites for both fallen soldiers and civilians alike. They were usually buried in separate sections, depending on the districts that watched over them, but after Wall Maria had been lost to the Titans about four years ago, they were now buried alongside each other: civilians, Scouts, and Garrison soldiers. Such was the case with this particular cemetery, with the soldiers’ headstones bearing the emblem of their branch.

Levi and I left Edel and Mischa at the edge of the cemetery, where they could graze in the meadow nearby. I held the bunch of flowers to my chest, twirling my fingers around the stems. Now that I could see them up close, I realized they were myosotis flowers, with the faintest splash of blue on the petals.

Forget-me-nots.

Something warm brushed against my hand. Levi kept his eyes forward as he pressed his palm to mine, sliding his fingers through my own.

“You alright?”

I swallowed hard. “I’ll be okay.”

Together, the two of us began to walk through the cemetery, careful not to disturb any headstones or gifts that had been laid out. We had visited cemeteries before, especially after the winter expedition of 847, to pay our respects for the soldiers we’d lost. But neither of us had been to this one in years—and especially not together like this.

The eastern side of the hill was dedicated to the Garrison soldiers lost throughout the years. Some who had lost their lives in the fall of Wall Maria, and some who had passed away countless years before that. But they were all the same in the end, just like us Scouts. They had all worn those twin roses on their backs with pride, just as we did with the Wings of Freedom sewn into our cloaks.

A familiar silver headstone came into view. On instinct I tightened my hand around Levi’s, and he gave my fingers a gentle squeeze.

I’m here. It’s okay.

It was the last one in the twelfth row on the hill. Faded and sprinkled with moss, with the roses of the Garrison carved into the surface. I knelt down to the headstone, well aware of Levi’s eyes on me, as I grazed my hand along the words written against the stone.

Benjamin Wolf, Sergeant of 18th Squad, Shiganshina District

June 15th, 821 – June 22nd, 845

The little white flowers looked so out of place next to the headstone, an odd splash of color against the mossy ground. I could feel my throat closing up as I pressed my palm to the surface of the stone, and the memories of my brother’s face flooded before my eyes.

The way the wind would tousle his messy brown hair. The way the sun would turn it a faint shade of red. The mischievous sparkle he would get in his eyes, the one he’d always had since he was a little boy. The warm bear hugs he would crush me with, the rough palm mussing up my hair as he laughed. The way he said my name, either in happiness, disappointment, or sheer disbelief. Despite our close bond as kids, even he couldn’t always defend me and every little thing I did. There would be times where I would come home practically dripping in mud, to my mother’s horror and my father’s disappointment (and my sister’s smug delight), and even Ben couldn’t find it in himself to speak in my defense. He would just shake his head and tell me later on, once we were all cleaned up and tucked into bed, “I thought you knew better than this.” And as usual, I would only roll my eyes and shrug him off. “Next time it won’t happen, I swear.”

I miss you. Even after all these years, I still miss you so much.

“Mia.” A gentle hand on my shoulder, bringing me back to the world around me. I gazed up at Levi, whose mouth was set in a hard, tight line. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I gave him a smile, albeit a bit forced, and squeezed his fingers softly. “I just want to stay here for a bit.” Besides, if I didn’t want him to accompany me today, I wouldn’t have asked him in the first place.

He nodded once before taking a few steps back, allowing me a bit of privacy as he turned his gaze to the horses at the end of the hill. I cleared my throat and turned back to the headstone, touching my brother’s name once more.

“…I just wanted to say happy birthday, Ben.” The tips of my ears burned as I spoke; you would think after all my years of being a soldier, I would get used to talking to headstones in the cemetery. “I know I couldn’t visit you last year, and I’m sorry about that. I had some stuff going on in the capital—you know what that’s like, huh?”

It was just another thing the two of us could bond over: our personal distaste for the air of Mitras, and the interior of the Walls in general. Neither of us could see why or how Leyna loved it so much; to us, it was just a dingy, crowded place filled with nobles who would kiss up to you one minute and talk about you behind your back another.

“Anyway, I won’t stay for too long. The kids are supposedly planning something for Murphy’s birthday later tonight, so I have to be there for them. You’d like them all, I think. Evan has your brain, and Murphy looks just like you did when you were his age. And Reggie and Gretel are growing up to be such fine soldiers. And Emily—I haven’t told you about her yet, have I? She’s the newest member, I picked her out once she graduated earlier this year. She could be a fantastic medic with the right training, but I don’t know if she wants to be one. I’ll have to ask her about it later on…”

A soft breeze fluttered past the hill, knocking my hair off my shoulders. With a tight swallow, I kissed the tips of my fingers and pressed them to the surface of the stone, right above Ben’s engraved name.

“Happy birthday, Ben. I’ll come visit you soon, alright? I promise.”

I pushed myself off the ground, leaving the little white flowers beside the headstone. Levi was at my side at once, wrapping his hand around my own as he kissed my temple softly. He was silent as he began to lead me back down the hill, keeping his fingers laced through my own.

As we reached Edel and Mischa and began the trek home, a gust of wind flew by—and suddenly I heard it. Light and soft, but it was there. A familiar voice, carried by the wind, a promise of love and family. A gentle goodbye, a soft kiss on the cheek.

See you soon, Mia.

My brother’s voice echoed in my head the whole way home, filling me with a warmth I hadn’t known in years.

|~|

It was just past sunset when Gretel came knocking on my door. As per her meeting with Hanji earlier, she had refused to let me in on what she and the others were planning for Murphy’s birthday. So I was in the dark as much as he was, unfortunately.

“Meet us at the edge of the woods. And you’re not allowed to ask any questions! Section Commander Hanji’s orders, of course. Oh, and you don’t have to worry about bringing your horse. We’re not going too far, anyway.”

I could feel my eyebrows knitting together with every word she spoke. Hanji’s in on it now? That’s not a good sign… What in the world could those two be planning?

So I left my office as fast as I could, still in my uniform (minus the jacket) and the straps of my gear, with my cloak thrown over my shoulders. It was unusually breezy tonight, as the remnants of spring blew through the base. Tomorrow summer would officially begin, and the days would grow longer and hotter and borderline unbearable.

Might as well enjoy the cool air while it lasts, right?

Murphy was waiting at the edge of the forest, along with an impatient Evan and Gretel. The two of them smirked at each other before leading us towards the trees, with a tiny lantern swinging from Evan’s grasp.

“This way!”

The two of us followed them through the trees, dead twigs crunching beneath our boots. The path was one I knew all too well—the same one Edel and I rode whenever we wanted to get some extra practice in. Indeed, just ahead on the road was the fallen tree he had jumped over perfectly just a few weeks ago.

Gretel suddenly quickened her pace, with Evan right at her heels. Suddenly I knew why, and already I felt the urge to swaddle myself up into my cloak and disappear into the dirt below.

A small campfire had been built in the tiny clearing of the forest, the flames licking the bottom of a silver pot. Two brown horses were lingering beside a small wagon a few yards away, with a couple of crates resting in the back. (They must’ve wheeled it out here before someone let them loose to graze.) Hanji waved at me from her spot beside the fire, with Nanaba and Erwin sitting on either side of her. But they weren’t the only ones seated around the fire.

Oh no—there were so many more.

Reggie and Emily were talking to Nifa and Petra, as Oluo tried to listen in on their conversation in a not-so-subtle way from Petra’s side. Eld and Gunther turned and smiled over at Gretel and Evan, who practically raced to their spots between Reggie and Nanaba, with Evan dragging poor Murphy along by his wrist. Moblit gave me a somewhat apologetic smile, as Mike threw a smirk at me from over his shoulder. Even Levi was seated among them, in between Eld and Oluo as he sipped his tea. My face burned as he smirked at me from over the rim of his teacup.

“So glad you guys could make it!” Hanji was kneeling over the pot at the fire, swirling a spoon against the silver. “Why don’t you take a seat? The stew’s almost ready. I hope you’re hungry, because there’s a lot of it!”

As much as I wanted to sit by Levi, I knew it would only lead to more teasing from Hanji and Mike (and maybe even a few uncomfortable looks from our squads). So instead I slipped in between Nanaba and Murphy, who had not stopped blushing since we arrived at the little site.

“…What’s all this, anyway?”

“A little celebration,” Gretel was quick to answer, clearly sharing Hanji’s enthusiasm. “For both you and Murphy. Hanji decided we combine our little parties and celebrate them at the same time!”

“It’s nothing too fancy,” Nanaba said with a smile, “but at least it’ll give us some time to unwind. And you two deserve a break every now and then, right?”

Well, when you put it that way…

So that’s what Hanji and Gretel had been so excited about earlier. They were secretly plotting against our backs, fixing up this little get-together just to celebrate our birthdays. While neither of us cared for the extra attention, it was hard to stay mad at them for making such a sweet gesture.

Murphy was starting to loosen up as the night carried on, too involved in telling Evan and Reggie about what he’d accomplished in his extra training with Misty today. Gretel was huddling herself in her jacket in a desperate attempt to keep warm, as she listened to Nifa and Emily halfheartedly arguing about which one of them was going to ascend the ranks quicker. Petra was tugging on Oluo’s ear, chastising him for putting on a show just to try to impress the captain, as Gunther laughed and told her to ease up. Mike was starting to pass around a jug of water for everyone to fill their cups, while also subtly nudging a bottle of wine into Moblit’s side.

“Not with the kids around,” I growled, and Erwin chuckled behind his cup. I’ll be damned if any of them try to drink when the kids are here. No one needs to see Mike or Moblit when they’re drunk.

“Ever the responsible one,” Hanji sighed, as she began spooning the stew into the little bowls at her side. “You’re no fun, you know! You’ve always been like that, ever since we were kids.”

“And I’ll continue to be like that until we’re both old women.”

It wasn’t until I started passing the bowls down the line that I saw Evan’s eyes on me, a frown etched on his face.

“If you don’t mind me asking, captain… What was growing up as kids like Section Commander Hanji like?”

My fingers quivered around the next bowl. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop myself from smiling, from smirking as Hanji’s jaw clenched ever so slightly. This is my chance—payback’s a bitch, Zoë!

“You think she’s hyper now? Well, she was much worse back when we were kids! Couldn’t sit still for five minutes, even for a lecture. Remember how Duvalier was always yelling at us because we kept talking during training?”

“So what if I do? You never stopped me, you know!”

“Because every time I tried you would always drag me back into your silly antics!” By now Nanaba was trying so hard (and failing) to hide her laugh behind her palm as she sat between the two of us. “Should I tell them about the time you got your hair twisted in the ODM gear on the second day of training?”

“Don’t you dare!”

“Wait—Section Commander, you had long hair at one point?”

I nearly laughed out loud at the baffled expressions of Eld and Reggie, as they stared at Hanji with their jaws to the ground. Hanji was pouting with her cheeks puffed out, angrily swirling the spoon in the pot of stew in front of her.

“Yeah, she did. Ended up falling flat on her face with her hair caught in the wires!”

“You keep talking about that, and this stew’s gonna end up on your head!” Hanji threatened, waving the spoon back and forth in her fist. “Fine, then. Kids, wanna hear what your captain used to do when she was younger?”

My fingers clenched around the little bowl Nanaba had handed me. Oh, I can only imagine what she’s going to bring up!

“She used to sneak outside to sit on the roof of the barracks, so much so that Duvalier had to wait outside for you with a lantern, just to make sure you wouldn’t leave! And you think I was the only one to act up once in a while.”

“Once in a while? Do you wanna be the one wearing this stew, Hanji?”

“Alright, alright, not in front of the kids, you two.”

Nanaba was quick to hold out her arm in between us, although everyone around the campfire knew neither one of us would ever raise a hand to each other in malice. I couldn’t imagine ever going after my best friend like that, even if she annoyed me to no end sometimes.

Soon enough, and with Hanji sticking her tongue out at me in a final gesture of defiance, everyone began to fall silent as we dug into our dinner. The stew was surprisingly tasty, made of potatoes with some extra seasoning sprinkled in. Hanji didn’t really cook all that often, but the few meals she knew how to cook were always satisfying to both the eye and the stomach. Before I knew it, I was already halfway done with my bowl, and I could see Murphy and Gunther eyeing the pot for possible seconds. Even Levi seemed to be enjoying it, his shoulders sagging just a bit as he paused for yet another sip of his tea.

“There’s plenty more to go around, so have as much as you want!” To Hanji’s delight, both Gunther and Murphy (as well as Petra and Nifa) held out their bowls to her. When they were finished, I held out my own bowl to her, and she refilled it with a little prideful smirk.

“Thanks for putting this together, Han.” And for making such delicious stew. “You guys really didn’t have to do this, but thank you.”

“Yeah, thank you!” Murphy added, and his face went scarlet as he wiped his mouth of any leftover stew with his sleeve.

“Ah, it’s no big deal!” Hanji waved us off with a smile and a twinkle in her eye. “You guys deserve to be spoiled a little bit. It’s not every day we get to celebrate two birthdays on the same day, you know! Besides, it’s not much out here, but at least it’s better than being inside a stuffy restaurant in Mitras, huh?”

She winced as soon as the words left her mouth. My spoon clanked against the side of the bowl, the only sound in the air besides the crackling fire. Someone cleared their throat softly; by the sound of it, it was either Oluo or Evan.

She didn’t mean it. No, of course she didn’t. She would never try to hurt me intentionally, that just wasn’t like her. It was an honest mistake, something that didn’t even have to be forgiven.

Still, no one had openly mentioned my current ban from the capital city in almost a year. And while I wasn’t angry at Hanji for accidentally bringing it up, I was angry at myself for even letting it happen—for letting it get that far in the first place.

“…Honestly, good riddance.” That was Reggie’s voice, as he leaned back in his seat with a sigh. “It’s not really that fun over there, anyway.”

“Yeah, it kinda sucks,” Gretel added with a shudder. “Bunch of old people with too much money on their hands. I’d be glad to be banned from that place—that means I wouldn’t have to go to those stupid meetings and gatherings every few months.”

Evan and Emily were nodding in agreement, with Murphy shrugging his shoulders in approval. And sure enough, the other kids were following their lead, looking much more relaxed than they had been before.

“Mitras is…a bit boring, I’ll admit,” Petra said with a laugh. “For something that’s so admired by everyone, I was expecting it to be at least a bit beautiful… Honestly it was far from beautiful when I went for the first time!”

“And it probably won’t change all that much in the next few years,” Eld replied, “so it’s not worth worrying over.”

“You’re right,” Nifa chimed in, taking another bite of her stew. “Why bother worrying about stuff we can’t change? We might as well make the best of it, right?”

My fingers trembled around the hilt of the spoon. I could feel my eyes growing warm, my vision suddenly getting blurry—but one quick swipe of my sleeve across my face, and I was smiling into my bowl of stew like an idiot.

Thank you, you guys.

Suddenly it was much easier to breathe, to look my fellow soldiers in the eye as they conversed all around me. As the hours crawled by, and the pot was licked clean of any stew left, we ended up laughing and talking just as always, with the crackling fire in between us.

And for a moment, I didn’t see them as my fellow soldiers. I didn’t see Reggie and Emily and the others as my kids. I didn’t see Hanji and Nanaba as my best friends, Mike as my fellow Squad Leader or Erwin as my Commander, or even Levi as my lover. Right now, under the moon’s glowing rays, and the summer air blowing through our hair…we were just people. Human beings with dreams, passions, goals, fears, and everything in between. We didn’t have titles or power over each other. We were simply seventeen people who were swept into the same lifestyle as our comrades, who were enjoying a well-earned night of peace after so many months of turmoil. And for the first time in months, maybe even years, I saw them all, both young and old, cadets and veterans, enjoying themselves with beautiful smiles on their faces.

Somehow we got on the topic of sharing childhood stories with each other, ranging from our lives back in our home districts to our first expeditions beyond the Walls. And before I knew it, most of us were doubled over laughing as Eld spilled the beans on his friends: that both Oluo and Petra had soiled themselves the first time they went beyond the Walls.

“You swore you’d never speak of it again!” It was hard to not laugh at the shrill tone of Petra’s voice, her amber eyes flaring with fury as her fingers twitched at her sides. If it weren’t for Oluo and Levi sitting between them, I would’ve put money down that she was going to strangle poor Eld.

“It’s alright, it happens to all of us at some point.” As always, Moblit was the supportive one, as he offered her a sweet smile from across the fire. “Nothing to be ashamed of, really!”

“You’re one to talk,” Mike chuckled, and immediately Moblit’s face began burning a bright red color. “Didn’t you have a similar accident when you were sixteen? I remember, you were in my squad when it happened!”

“Aw, cut it out, Mike!” Hanji was quick to defend her friend, despite her uncontrollable laughter. “Like you never had that happen to you…”

“As a matter of fact,” Erwin’s voice was cool and calm as he smirked at Mike, “I seem to recall you hurrying off to the barracks after our first expedition together. It really does happen to everyone, doesn’t it, Mike?”

The look on his face was absolutely priceless, the final nail in the coffin for everyone around the campfire. We were gasping for breath, some of us wiping tears from our eyes, clutching our sides as we struggled to breathe once more. In all the years I’d known them, I didn’t think I’d ever seen Murphy and Gunther, and even Nanaba and Hanji, laugh as hard as they did that night. And the rest were no exception—hell, even Levi of all people managed to crack a smile at that.

It was pure, unbridled bliss. Surely a night to remember.

But the moon was starting to wane, its rays growing weaker against the shadows of the trees. It was getting late, far too late for a handful of kids whom I knew had training the next day. But before I could even say anything on the matter, a firm but warm hand came to rest on the top of my head. I glanced up at Levi as he mussed up my hair, as well as Murphy’s from his place beside me.

“Might as well start heading back.” He was speaking more to mine and his squads, rather than our little group as a whole. “I don’t want any of you whining about not getting enough sleep tomorrow.”

Upon seeing the deflated faces of Evan, Emily, Eld, and the rest of the kids, I half-expected them to put up a fight, just as I would’ve done when I was their age. But none of them did. Instead, Reggie was the first to stand up, followed by Nifa and Emily, and then Gunther and Oluo.

“You’re right, captain. Do you want any help cleaning this up?” Reggie motioned to the pot in the center of the group, as well as the collection of dirty dishes stacked on top of it.

“We’ll take care of it. Just get yourselves to sleep, don’t wait up for us.”

One by one, the cadets began to disburse. Emily and Nifa were side by side, hands brushing one another’s as they trailed behind Eld and Gunther. Reggie took up the rear with Oluo and Petra, as Evan and Gretel went on ahead yawning loudly. Murphy was the last to leave, but before he turned away, he gave our group a thankful smile, his cheeks a beautiful rosy shade.

“Thank you for this. It was a lot of fun. …Oh, and Section Commander, you’re a really good cook!”

Hanji puffed out her chest and gave the kid a smirk. “Why, thank you! I’d be happy to make you some more home-cooked meals once in a while, if you’d like!”

Murphy nodded eagerly, his amber eyes shining beneath the moon’s rays—and then he was off, scurrying after his friends and squadmates.

A few moments of silence passed. Eventually their footsteps faded into the forest, leaving the rest of us completely alone. And wordlessly, the seven of us moved closer to the campfire, with Levi settling himself beside me in the grass.

“…Now can we start drinking?”

I rolled my eyes and held out my cup to Mike. “Fine, but pour me some while you’re at it!” No way am I letting you and Moblit keep it all to yourselves.

Mike slid the wine bottle from earlier out from under his jacket (he had made sure to keep it out of the kids’ line of sight after I’d scolded him for it) and began filling our cups one by one. I only wanted a little bit—alcohol still wasn’t my favorite, but this was a special occasion—and Levi refused it altogether, opting to stick with his tea instead.

“They’re good kids,” Mike suddenly said, catching me off guard. His face was unusually soft, his brown eyes warm behind his shaggy blond bangs. “You’re lucky to have ’em, you know.”

I thought of Emily’s calm and collected nature; of Reggie’s natural talent as a leader; of Evan’s incredible mind in the field; of Gretel’s snippy nature, as sharp as her blades; and finally of Murphy’s love for his comrades, and the beautiful glimmer of his eyes in the sunlight.

Would Rosalie and Emmett approve of them? No doubt about it, they would probably get along the moment they saw each other. Gretel would be too busy challenging Emmett to arm-wrestling matches and silly training games in the forest, just to see which one of them was stronger. Rosalie would be poring over books and battle strategies with Evan, but I could also see her training Emily with her horse, just as Murphy usually did. And Reggie would be the balance between them, keeping a watchful eye on all of them just to make sure there weren’t any accidents (or injuries), but being proud of his little family all the same.

No, our little family.

“…Thanks,” my voice was no more than a mumble as I sipped my drink, the taste of wine burning my throat. “I guess I am.”

The seven of us settled back in our seats, sipping our wine and gazing up at the moon between the clouds. Levi’s hand draped across my own on the grass, his warmth sending shivers down my spine. It was tempting to lean over and kiss him right on the mouth, or maybe even his cheek, but I was not going to deal with endless teasing from Hanji and Mike.

“So,” Moblit sighed and lowered his cup, “another year down. You feel any different?”

“Not yet. What am I, twenty-eight already? It’s kinda hard to keep track nowadays…”

Huh, twenty-eight years? Am I really that old right now?

It was nowhere near the age of some of the citizens within the Walls, especially those in the interior and Mitras. But it was an impressive feat for a member of the Survey Corps; most soldiers didn’t live to reach twenty-five. The numbers had been a little better in the last couple of years, but it was still a far cry from the rest of the population within the Walls.

That means Leyna’s twenty-eight, too. I wonder if she feels the same way? …Probably not. It’s so different over there in Wall Sina. She’s probably already planning the next ten years of her life over there.

“Ah, never mind all that stuff!” Hanji had that mischievous twinkle in her eye again, that smug smile that made my stomach flip over on itself. “Time for your presents!”

Wait, presents?! “Hanji, I don’t—”

“Hey, no arguing!” She was already rummaging around in the wagon with Moblit at her side, before giving the two horses nearby a quick pat on their necks. And I was horrified to see Mike and Nanaba, and even Erwin doing the same beside her. “It’s tradition, so you have to grin and bear it! So suck it up and deal with it, alright?”

I knew better than to argue with her on this. Hanji always came out on top in these spats, insisting on the importance of gift giving on one’s special day. I had no problem giving gifts to my fellow soldiers, but it was something entirely different when it came to myself. Especially when it happened to be my birthday.

At least Levi stayed nestled against my side, lacing his fingers through my own against the grass. At least he’s not working against me here. He merely shrugged his shoulders and took another sip of his tea, but not before clanking his cup against my own in a silent toast.

Nanaba was the first to hand me a gift, as she and Mike settled in the grass beside Levi. It was small enough, wrapped up in brown parchment and tied with a thin white string around the top. “From both of us,” she said with a smile, motioning to the smirking man at her side. “Hopefully you’ll be able to get some use out of it.”

I tore at the paper, eager to see what was inside. And when I finally did, I couldn’t help but smile at the two of them. Inside were a pair of gloves, made of rich leather that felt smooth to the touch. And when I slipped them on, I was surprised to see they were a perfect fit; most of the gloves they sold within the inner districts only came in sizes suitable for taller and bulkier soldiers like Mike and Erwin, not for petite ones like myself.

“You could wear them during training, so your hands don’t bleed from the blades.” I glanced up at Mike as he spoke, as he took another swig of his drink. “I have a pair myself and they seem to be working quite well so far.”

“Well, I’ll definitely try them out tomorrow during training. Thank you!”

It was sweet of them to not only get me a gift, but get me something I was sure to use in my everyday routine. Besides, after the lengthy breaks from training I’d taken, what with my injury and the whole mess at Mitras, my hands were no longer used to rigorous training with the ODM gear and the blades. I could use all the help I could get in order to get myself back to where I had been.

Moblit was the next to give me a gift, the tips of his ears burning a bit in the light of the fire. The paper crumpled at my feet as I ripped it apart, and I could feel my chest tighten as I held up the gift. It was a box set of three books from an author I knew all too well. A trilogy that I often caught my mother reading at the kitchen table, back in our little home in Shiganshina; she always told me I would be able to read them when she passed the books down to me and Leyna, and I was convinced they were lost back in the rubble of Wall Maria until we could find a way to reclaim it. But now I was holding it in my hands, all three books (in perfect condition), tracing my fingers across the title: Where Mom Lives.

“Thanks, Moblit. I’ll have to make time to read these later this week; they were some of my mother’s favorite books!” I hugged them to my chest, smiling as I watched his cheeks flush a dark pink color.

“No problem, Mia.”

I didn’t have much time before Erwin passed me his own gift: a brand new leather bridle with silver stitching embroidered in the reins, proudly spelling Edelweiss. My mouth fell open at the gentle leather, the gorgeous stitching, the sight of my horse’s name printed into the surface…

“And there’s a matching saddle in the barn, as well. I hope it’s the right size for him—not too tight or anything.”

“It’s perfect, Commander. Thank you so much!”

Erwin and I were always giving each other little horse-related gifts, for both our birthdays and Christmastime. While his own white horse was the largest one within the Survey Corps, Edel was a close second, which led to us both passing tack and equipment back and forth with each other. From curry brushes to blankets to even special shampoo to wash their manes and tails with—if it had to do with our horses, Erwin and I would be the first in line to know about it.

And I know Edel will absolutely love it. The bridle he’s wearing is already so worn out. Besides, he likes looking handsome whenever he goes out for a run!

Hanji was nearly bursting at the seams as she shoved her own gift into my arms, her eyes glimmering in the firelight. “Come on, open it already! Don’t keep me waiting!”

So I did. And just like with her gift for Levi’s birthday a couple years ago, she managed to catch me off guard, but in the best possible way.

She had gotten me a dress—not a heavy one, like the women in Mitras and Wall Sina wore on a daily basis, but not quite as long as the ones the girls in Trost and Shiganshina used to wear, either. It was small and light, reaching down to my knees with little ruffles around the edges. The collar crossed at a V-shape, with one flab of fabric folded over the other, and the sleeves cut off just above the elbow. And to top it off, the dress was a gorgeous light green color, with little bits of lace sewn into the sleeves.

I didn’t make a habit of wearing dresses all that often, especially as of late with all the training I had to make up, but looking at this little outfit made me want to save it for one of my rare days off, to let my hair down and feel the summer breeze blowing through the little ruffled skirt.

“It’s so pretty, Hanji! How did you know green was my favorite color?” I added with a little smirk.

She reached over to flick the collar of my shirt, just above the straps of my ODM gear. “Just a lucky guess. I’m glad you like it! Now you’re gonna have to wear it one of these days, I’m sure you’d look so cute in it!”

I hope so. And by the looks of it, Levi was thinking the same thing, as he unhooked the chest strap of his ODM gear.

Speaking of Levi…

“Alright Shorty, it’s your turn! Where’s your gift to your girlfriend, huh? What’re you planning on giving her?”

He scoffed and sipped his tea once more. “None of your business. That’s between me and her.”

Wait, don’t tell me he got something for me too!

“Aw, come on! Not even a little kiss? For the birthday girl?”

“Hanji, I swear to—”

Something light and warm twisted into my hair, bringing my head to the side. Before I knew it Levi’s lips were pressed against mine, his fingers keeping my head in place, the unbuckled ends of his chest strap brushing against my shoulder.

My cheeks were flushed, the light of the flames bouncing off my eyelids. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me, on Levi, watching us kiss, oh my God Hanji will never let me live this down—

Levi’s fingers were firm against my hair. A silent message: Don’t worry about them. It’s just you and me right now.

I raised my hand, fingers trembling against his cheek, as I eased myself against his body, savoring every bit of his sweet kiss.

He pulled away far too soon, his cheeks glowing in the firelight, his fingers still swirling in my hair. While he looked a bit bashful under the watchful eyes of our friends, he didn’t seem ashamed of what he’d done. Instead he inched closer to me in the grass, draping his arm across my shoulders as I snuggled into his side.

“Fuck off,” he snapped, before Hanji could even open her mouth. But she only leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest, a shit-eating grin plastered on her face.

Great, she’s going to hold this over my head forever…

The rest of the night carried on, with the seven of us making small talk and sipping our drinks. The air was getting cooler as the moon rose to its peak in the sky. I curled my cloak around myself, mindful of Levi’s arm stretched along my shoulders. With the others too busy talking amongst themselves, the two of us snuggled closer to each other and clanked our cups together, before Levi’s lips came to rest on the top of my head.

But the alcohol was starting to wear off, and we were starting to get a little sleepy. Nanaba barely managed to cover her yawn with her palm before she leaned into Mike’s side with a smile. Moblit’s eyelids were beginning to droop as he took another swig, and even Erwin was looking a little tired around the eyes. And before I could even say anything, I was yawning into the crook of Levi’s neck.

Time to go to bed.

Despite our offer to help, Hanji waved us off and assured us that she and the others could take care of the dirty dishes back at the base, as well as the horses that Moblit was starting to hitch up to the wagon.

“We’ll be fine, you guys go get some rest.” But one quick wink from my friend told me that she suspected the two of us were going to do anything but resting once we got back to our room.

But we weren’t about to argue with her. So I tucked the three books Moblit had given me under my arm and slung Edel’s new bridle across my shoulder, and began the short trek back to the castle. Levi followed close behind as he carried the summer dress and leather gloves as well, holding them at bay as I snuck into the barn to hang the bridle on the edge of Edel’s stall. I’ll have to have him try it out tomorrow.

A soft light from the window of the mess hall caught my eye; when I peeked inside, I couldn’t help the warm glow that pooled in the pit of my chest. The kids hadn’t gone to bed at all—instead they were sprawled out across the floor and benches of the mess hall, fast asleep, still in their training uniforms. Reggie and Petra were the only ones sleeping semi-normally, with their heads in their arms as they sat at one of the tables. Eld was leaning against one of the benches with his head slung back, with Evan’s head resting in his lap, and Gretel’s arm stretched across his chest. Murphy was curled up in the center of the floor, his leg sprawled out across Emily’s waist, as she slept peacefully with her arm brushing against Nifa’s. And Gunther and Oluo were lying flat against the floor, with a thin line of drool slipping from Oluo’s open mouth.

I pointed to them, and Levi scoffed. “Dumb brats.”

Silly kids.

On the way to Levi’s room, I made a quick detour into my office, to drop off the gifts in my arms. I placed the trilogy of books from Moblit in the empty space on the top row of the bookshelf, and the leather gloves from Mike and Nanaba next to my father’s journal on the desk. I took one more longing look at the dress Hanji had given me, at the gorgeous floral pattern and soft colors, before dipping it into the laundry basket in the corner of the room. I’d have to wash it later, before I wore it—

Wait, what’s that?

There was another small box resting on the chair of my desk, wrapped up in brown parchment with a note stuck to the top. Two names were written below, and I grimaced as I took off the top to peek inside.

Just a little something for your special night. Hope you like it!

Love, Hanji and Nanaba

I made sure to hide it from Levi’s sight, keeping the box close to my chest. Inside was a lacy set of lingerie—of fucking course Hanji and Nanaba would get me something like that. A pair of panties and a matching bra, both a beautiful shade of light red with bits of lace sewn into the sides. I shivered at the thought of wearing them—it must be so fucking cold…

Oh well, might as well get some use out of it, right?

Levi was already at the door, his hand twisted around the knob. “Ready?”

With a smile, I hid the red set into my cloak and pulled it against my chest. “Whenever you are, captain.”

His fingers were warm against my own, as he led me down the shadowy hall towards his office. The moonlight was soft in the windows, spilling against the floor and bouncing off his midnight hair. The urge to kiss him was bubbling in my throat, flooding from the top of my head all the way down to the tips of my toes. My stomach flipped, my hand squeezed around his own.

Fuck, why does he always have to look so handsome?!

The two of us stepped inside, with Levi locking the door shut behind us. As I slid my cloak off my shoulders (with the red lingerie set wrapped up inside), I began to head for his bedroom—but he was standing there in front of me, his arms outstretched, a leather folder placed delicately in his hands.

“For you,” his voice was no more than a mumble, and I could already see the flush of pink across his cheeks. “For your special day, birthday girl.”

I snickered and took the folder from him, but not before pressing a kiss to his heated cheek. “Thank you, Levi. You didn’t have to do this…but I’m glad you did.” He only shrugged, hands clenching together at his sides, his eyes dropping to the floor below.

I thought back to the last present he’d given me for a special date like this: the sketch of myself and Edel in the snowy lands beyond Utopia District. He’d given it to me as a Christmas present, and from the looks of the folder, I could only assume this was a similar drawing. Maybe that’s why he looks so nervous.

I opened the folder—and all of a sudden, the world froze around me.

Instead of looking at a sketch of myself and my horse, or even myself and Levi…I was looking at my family. All five of them (including myself): my father, my mother, my sister, and my brother.

Dad was sitting in his special chair, the one with the wheels on the bottom, with a brown blanket thrown over his lap. He was looking up with a smile, his hands resting across my mother’s hands over his shoulders. Ma was standing behind him, a sweet smile on her face, with her hair pulled up in her usual messy ponytail. Both of them looked just as how I remembered them: Dad’s little freckles across his face, the little scrunch in Ma’s nose, the wear of my father’s hands, and the softness in my mother’s eyes. For a moment, I thought I was actually looking at them in real life, as though Levi had somehow taken a memory of mine and plastered it on paper.

And my siblings were no different. Leyna was standing beside my parents, her arms crossed over her chest, her long blond braid falling over her left shoulder. She was glancing off to the side, smirking at me and my brother, who was mussing up my hair with a smile. I was startled at how much the drawing looked like Ben; everything about him was on point, from his reddish-brown hair, the quirk of his lips, to the stray piece of hair that always stuck up on the left side of his head. For someone who always liked to tease me about my messy hair, he sure wasn’t that big on keeping up on his own.

But the thing that struck me, besides the beautiful illustrations and vibrant colors, was the fact that Leyna, Ben and I were all the same age. We weren’t kids, we weren’t teenagers. We were adults, happy and smiling with our parents. Our parents, our father, who had never seen us fully grown up like this. Our mother, who had probably never smiled like that since Dad passed away in our little home in Shiganshina. And our brother, my Ben, who had barely scraped twenty-four years of age when he died. Here we were, all happy and content with our lives, and finally together again.

Something small and warm splashed onto the corner of the page. I shrieked and held it away from me, just in time to avoid more droplets from getting onto the parchment.

“Levi,” I was sobbing right now, struggling to smile through the veil of tears in my eyes, “Levi—fuck, how in the… I mean, how did you…?”

I could feel him slip the parchment through my fingers, placing it gently on the desk before taking me into his arms. His lips were gentle against my forehead; even through the sobs, I could feel him smirking against my skin.

“Why do you always burst into tears whenever I give you a drawing?” But there was no malice in his voice, only softness. “It’s starting to mess with my confidence, brat.”

“B-but—” I was blubbering like a child, staining the collar of his shirt with my tears. “…How? I mean—it’s gorgeous!”

How could he create something so beautiful? I knew of his talents as an artist, of the beautiful things he could bring to life with a stroke of his pen. He proved it time and time again with his drawings of myself and Hanji, and even Furlan and Isabel, if he was in the right mindset to draw them. But how could he draw my family so accurately—when he had never met any of them other than my sister?

I peeked over his shoulder at the drawing on the desk. His fingers were tangled in my hair, his lips still lingering on my forehead.

“Your sister helped me out. Told me what they looked like, and all that shit. Kept sending sketches back and forth to make sure they looked how she remembered them. So did Hanji and Erwin; Moblit helped me out with it, too.”

Oh, of course.

Erwin had been a cadet when my father was still active in the Survey Corps, so he knew what his face looked like. Hanji had visited my parents countless times over the years, snickering behind Leyna’s back when she scrutinized us for being a little strange during our time together, and laughing along with Ben as they both teased me about my height and messy hair. And of course Moblit, being the best artist within the Survey Corps, would chip in to help Levi. No doubt he wanted this gift to be absolutely perfect, so he probably wanted all the help he could get.

And to think, he did it all for you, Wolf.

Another tear slid down my cheek. “Did Leyna get to see…did she get to see that before you gave it to me?”

“Not this one—I sent her another one a couple weeks ago, when I finally finished it.”

Knowing my sister, she would be absolutely enamored by the drawing, even if it did come from Levi. While she wasn’t as vocal about it, it was clear she had a deep love for me and the rest of our family. At least she had a similar drawing back in Mitras to look back on whenever she wanted. And Levi was sweet enough to make one for her… Just thinking about it made me want to cry again.

“So,” he cleared his throat, pulling away and tilting my chin up with his fingers, “you like it?”

“I… I absolutely love it.” I leaned up to kiss him, smiling through the salt of my tears on his lips. “Thank you so much, Levi. I’m going to keep it right here—right in that drawer, with Dad’s journal. I just…I can’t thank you enough for making it—”

“Don’t worry about it,” he mumbled against my mouth. “I can spoil you a bit for your special day, sweetheart. I’m just glad you like it.”

The way he said it, with a slight sigh and tired smile, had me wondering if he had been truly scared I wouldn’t love whatever he’d drawn me. As though I would have a problem with him and his artwork, or any of the beautiful sketches he’d created just for me.

“Of course I do. And I’ll always love whatever you draw, no matter what.”

I kissed him again, pressing my palms to his flushed cheeks, sighing as he wrapped his arms around me. His body was warm and firm, so familiar and comforting and suddenly I knew—I knew I was completely safe. I always would be, as long as I had him at my side.

I wiped my sleeves across my face, catching the tears that fell before leaning in for another kiss. This time his hands lingered at my forehead, brushing stray pieces of hair from my face, curling them together at the nape of my neck. A burst of heat exploded in my chest; suddenly I could feel my stomach churning, the tips of my fingers flooding with energy, the rush of adrenaline in my veins.

I wanted him. And I wanted him now.

So I shoved myself into his chest, nearly knocking him into the door of his bedroom. But he caught himself quickly and opened the door, before slamming it behind him with his foot.

There was nothing outside these four walls. No Titans, no humans, not even a world beyond the Walls. It was just me and Levi, lost in our own little world. Our home, the one we had made together, safe and sound from everybody else. Nothing could ever hurt us again, as long as we were in each other’s arms.

“Mia,” my name was a lullaby on his tongue, as he took a seat on the edge of the bed, still pawing at my hips as I propped a knee on the mattress beside him, “are you sure you want this?”

“Of course I do.” I leaned up to kiss his cheek, before pressing my mouth to his ear. “Do you want this?”

He groaned, tugging me into his lap—and already I could feel the outline of his cock pressing against my thigh.

“Shit, sweetheart—fuck, you know I want this.” Another kiss to my lips, his fingers carding through my hair. “Wanna take the lead tonight?”

“For a little bit. Let’s see how it goes first, okay?”

“Fine by me.”

The two of us were relentless, moaning and kissing and ripping at each other’s clothes. I thought back to the lacy red lingerie waiting for me on the chair back in his office, and how much better I would look with it instead of my plain white bra and panties. But I was too desperate to stop and go change. I finally had him in the palm of my hand, a surge of confidence flooding my body, and I wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip through my fingers.

The straps of the harness were always the toughest to get off; my fingers trembled around the buckles, leather slipping through metal with a groan, before the heavy backplate finally clattered against the floor. As Levi kicked off his boots and shoved his harness to the floor, I slid my hand around the back of his head and pulled him in for one more kiss. My face was burning, my thighs quivering as I took a seat on his lap, slowly moving my hips back and forth. He cursed under his breath, panting against my mouth as I felt his cock harden against my thigh.

“Fuck, sweetheart, come here—” Suddenly I was on top of him, cradling his head in my arms as he flopped against the mattress. “I want you to sit on my face. Let me taste that pretty pussy. Think you can do that for me?”

The two of us moaned as I brought my hips down on his again; already I could feel my panties starting to stick to my skin. With one hand propped on the mattress to hold myself up, I slid my other down my pants and into my panties—and I gasped when I felt the slick dribbling from my folds, my clit burning with need.

Fuck, I haven’t been this wet in months.

It was a good sign, at least. I wasn’t shying away from him or inching away from every touch. Instead I relished in the warmth of his body, his skin and sweat and beautiful burning eyes. That had to count for something, right?

“I want you to.” I was panting hard as I slid my hand from my panties, my fingertips coated with slick. And when Levi opened his mouth to taste them, I could feel my head start to spin. “I want to ride your face, captain. I want to cum on your tongue—please, make me cum on your tongue…”

He palmed at my ass through my pants, dragging my hips against his, sweat dotting along his brow. Fingertips ghosted over the hem of my shirt, and without missing a beat I straightened myself up and pulled my shirt up and over my head. His hands were everywhere at once—my stomach, my breasts, and finally the back of my neck, as he pulled me down to nibble on the shell of my ear. I whimpered against the crook of his neck, head spinning and face burning and chest heaving and—fuck, I was loving this.

“Get rid of these pants, sweetheart,” he murmured, tugging the waistband of my pants down ever so slightly, “and you can ride my face as long as you want. As hard as you want.”

So I did. Within moments my pants and panties were strewn across the floor, and Levi was bringing me down to sit on his face. My fingers quivered against the wooden bars of the headboard; my clit was practically throbbing, begging to be touched and toyed with. But Levi was a tease—he only brushed his nose over it, before sliding his tongue through my soaked folds.

A mewl danced off my tongue at the first lick. Soft and light, I thought I’d imagined it at first. I rocked my hips back and forth on his face, searching for any bit of friction I could find, just to ease the burning ache in my clit.

But then he was pushing me back down, keeping my thighs locked around his head, lapping at my sex like a starved man.

I was gasping for breath, leaning over the headboard, clawing at the wood with all my might. Eyes squeezed shut, heart pounding hard, I moaned out his name into the darkness, completely helpless to the way he was rocking me on his face.

“Levi!” My fingers fisted into his hair, and he groaned against my clit. When he wrapped his lips around it I could’ve sworn I saw stars. “Levi! Please, I can’t—ah!”

That familiar coil I knew all too well was starting to spiral in my stomach. With every lick, every suck, every light nibble on my clit, he was driving me closer and closer to my peak. And all I could do was sit there and take it.

Suddenly he was lifting me off his face, his lips stained with my juices, his eyes as dark as the night sky above. I fought to catch my breath as I smoothed out his hair on the pillow below.

“Tastes so good, sweetheart.” He pressed a kiss to my clit and smirked when I let out a whine. “Fucking beautiful. You like that, huh? You like when I play with your pussy?”

He reached up, dipping the pads of his fingers into the slick, moaning at the way I clenched above his face.

“What would you say if I did this?”

Suddenly his middle finger was inside of me—I could feel myself clenching around it, throbbing lightly at the stretch. At first I winced—I forgot how long and thick his fingers actually are—but it only took me a few seconds to ease up. And once I did, I was rocking myself back and forth on his finger, whimpering and whining and begging for more.

“Again,” my voice was borderline raspy as I clutched at his hair, “again. Another one, please—”

“Tch, so fucking greedy, aren’t you?”

But he obliged, sliding a second finger inside me, followed closely by a third. My hips were frantic at this point, nails digging into his scalp as he sucked at my clit, letting me ride his fingers and face until I was screaming his name so loud I was sure everyone in the Walls could hear me.

“Fuck! Captain, I wanna—please, I wanna cum! Make me cum!” Tears were leaking out of my eyes as the coil wound itself tighter and tighter. “Levi! I want you to make me cum!”

He flicked his wrist hard and fast, curling his fingers into me as he kept his lips around my clit. Once or twice he would pull away, tongue darting out to lick at my clit.

“Good girl, cum for me.” His other hand grasped my ass, keeping me balanced while also bringing me down hard on his fingers and face. “Such a good girl. Ride me all you want, sweetheart—I’m all yours.”

I tore at his hair, clenched my eyes shut, and suddenly I was screaming his name into the darkness, gushing all around his fingers and down his face. He was quick to lap up the remains, his tongue catching every last drop I could offer. It was only when I whimpered from his nose against my oversensitive clit that he began to lift me off his face, settling me down against the mattress below.

I’m all yours. All yours.

The words kept spiraling around in my head as I laid there on the bed, with Levi panting beside me. It was a simple phrase, commonly uttered in the heat of the moment. Plenty of women had heard it from men in their lives, especially those they had dedicated their hearts and souls to.

But this was Levi, who wouldn’t say anything unless he was absolutely sure he meant it, even during sex.

He’s mine. And I’m his, forever and ever.

“Until the day we die.”

“What?” He cocked his head in my direction, the back of his hand splayed out along his forehead. “What’re you talking about, kid?”

I glanced up at him—and suddenly, I knew. Even with the scent of sex in the air between us, the messy bedsheets beneath us and the crumpled clothes strewn along the floor, it all became so clear to me.

He was the one I wanted to die with. He was the one I wanted to grow old with, to settle down with and have children with. He was the one I wanted to slide a pretty ring on my finger when this war was over. He was the one I pledged my heart to, my body and soul, my entire life to. And in return, I knew he would do the same to me.

Not anyone else. Not Mike or Moblit, or Erwin or Blaise, or any of the other men I knew in my life. The only one I wanted was him, and for better or worse, the two of us were stuck together for the rest of our lives.

His eyes went wide as I climbed back over him, straddling his lap and fiddling with the buckle of his belt. My thighs were already aching, but I didn’t care. My attention was focused on Levi, who was still fully dressed, save for the cravat that was currently resting on the nightstand beside the bed. I can fix that in no time.

“Mia.”

His voice held a warning in it, although he didn’t stop me as I dragged his pants and boxers down to his ankles. Not even when I wrapped my fingers around his aching cock, thumbing over the flushed tip.

“Are you sure you want this?”

It was like I was a virgin all over again.

I smiled and gave him a kiss on his forehead. “Absolutely. What about you?”

His hands came to rest on either side of my face, nose brushing against mine, lips dancing over my own.

“Absolutely.”

He made quick work of his shirt, practically tearing the buttons apart before throwing it off to the side of the room. Now the two of us were completely bare, holding each other in our arms. I dragged my fingers along the planes of his chest, just as he began to massage the skin of my hips.

His hands were there, ready to catch me if I fell too far, to keep me safe and bring me back to him. I reached over to kiss his lips again, taking his cock in my hand. Little droplets of precum were already sliding down the tip; he groaned when I smeared it along the head and gave it a few slow strokes.

Fuck, I’ve missed his cock. I’ve missed holding it in my hands like this.

Another kiss, a silent nod, and his fingers were laced through mine, as I sank myself down on his cock.

I shuddered at the stretch, at the burn between my thighs as I clenched around his cock, struggling to adjust to his size. But before I could reach down to play with my clit, Levi was already reaching for it, stroking his thumb across the little bundle of nerves. I gave him a lazy smile, already too far gone for words.

He didn’t make a sound as I stayed there, his cock buried to the hilt inside of me, as I tried to ease up around him. No teasing, no begs to go faster—he was just staring up at me, his silver eyes tinted with lust. Lust and love.

I love you. Fuck, I love you so much, captain… You’re mine, as much as I’m yours. And I’ll love you until I take my last breath in this hellish world.

I took his hands in mine, pressing them to the mattress beside his head, as I lifted myself off his cock. As steadily as I could, I began to ride him, savoring every inch he had to offer—every bit of warmth his body gave me. My mouth fell open, my fingers tightened around his, and suddenly that coil returned to the pit of my stomach, begging me to go faster, to ride him and make him feel good, to make up for lost time.

“I missed having you inside of me.” My voice was no more than a whine, strained and desperate in my throat. I could see his jaw clenching, his chest heaving as I began to pick up the pace. “Levi—captain, oh fuck… I missed this so fucking much…”

How many nights had I gone to bed unsatisfied, too afraid to take that next step with him? How many nights had I belittled myself for acting like such a whiny little virgin, even though I told myself to just get over it already? How many nights had I laid beside Levi as he slept, fisting my shirt into my mouth, driving my fingers into myself, hoping that the scent of his clothes and shampoo would somehow be enough to get me off? How many nights had he offered to guide me through a round of sex, only for me to brush him off with a nervous laugh?

The last few months had been torturous, for both myself and for Levi. Too many tears, too many nights screaming ourselves awake at memories that grew foggier with every passing day. Too many scars that held terrifying stories, both on our bodies and in our minds.

But we’d picked up the pieces and carried on. We took care of each other, just as we always had. We held each other and kissed each other, let one another cry on our shoulders or into our chests, nestled into each other’s sides as we tried to sleep the nights away. We were slowly getting better. Slowly, but surely.

And now I could hold myself over him like this, fully aware that I was with someone I loved with all my heart. I could trust him with my body and my heart and never regret giving them to him in the first place. I could trust him to keep me safe, even in the darkest of times—and in return, he could trust me to keep him safe, as well.

I gasped when his cock brushed against that special spot deep inside of me—the one that made my vision blacken with stars and my fingertips tingle with pleasure. My jaw dropped, my head fell back as I scooped my hips into his again, and I moaned a little louder when I felt him hit that spot again.

“Mia,” Levi’s voice was husky, his fingers dancing along the underside of my breast, “I want you to ride me. Give me everything you’ve got.”

My eyes shot open. “E-everything?”

“Yes. Now ride me.”

I didn’t waste a single moment. My captain had given me an order, and I did my damned hardest to follow it.

I was gasping for breath, moaning his name over and over as I slid myself up and down on his cock. Every thrust of my hips sent another bolt of bliss coursing through my veins. Every moan from his lips, every hiss between his teeth gave me another reason to pick up the pace. And suddenly I was bouncing myself on his cock as hard as I could, moaning and whining and drunk on him—his scent, his touch, his kiss, and everything in between.

Levi, my precious captain, the one who holds my heart—

“C-captain!” My nails sank into the planes of his chest, keeping me grounded as I rocked myself back and forth on his cock as hard as I could. “Levi! Levi, Levi—”

You are my one and only, the one I want to live with. The one I want to marry. The one I want to have kids with. The one I want to die with.

“Mine!” The word was out of my mouth before I could stop it—but I was too lightheaded and drunk on pleasure to correct myself. “You’re mine! My Levi, mine…”

My hips stuttered against his; I was getting tired, still worn out from coming on his face earlier, from riding his tongue and fingers as though my life depended on it. But just as I started to slow down, Levi’s hands were grasping at my hips, lifting me up and down on his cock at his own pace, and suddenly I was screaming out his name again.

“Yours, huh? Fucking right,” he growled deep in his throat, and a shiver trickled down my spine. “I’m yours—and you’re mine. My Mia. You’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

I called out his name as he punctuated each of his words with a thrust, hard and deep inside of me.

“Yeah, you are. My good—fucking—girl.”

I couldn’t get enough air, my chest felt as though it were about to burst. I leaned down to Levi, brushing his sweaty bangs out of his eyes, smiling lazily at him as he pounded into me with everything he had.

“Tired…take over, please?”

He flipped us over on the mattress in the blink of an eye, sliding his hand against my thigh, wrapping my leg around his waist. I could only lean back and watch as he began to thrust into me, and the coil in my stomach only wound tighter and tighter.

I arched my back off the mattress, fists curling into the sheets below, as Levi peppered my breasts with sloppy kisses. He was relentless with his thrusts, set on making me scream his name over and over until everyone in the castle knew that Captain Levi was the one fucking me, the only one who could ever hope to make me feel this fucking good.

His name danced along my tongue, between moans and breathless whines, against the salt of his skin and the warmth of his tongue. He moaned into my mouth, whispering the word “Mia” over and over again, his cock brushing against that special spot deep inside of me.

My hands curled around his shoulders, nails digging into the muscles of his back. At the same time he stretched his arms toward the headboard, nipping at my bottom lip as he gave a particularly harsh thrust.

I gasped his name—“Levi!”—and suddenly my whole body was on fire.

Snap!

My nails dug into Levi’s shoulders, raking down the soft planes of skin below, just as the headboard fell apart in his hands. Some of the wood fell onto the pillow beside me, but Levi was quick to sweep it off with a wave of his hand. A part of me wanted to stop and check his palms for any splinters, but his weight kept me pinned to the mattress, his hips slamming into mine at a ruthless pace.

I was babbling at this point, kissing every inch of his face I could reach, pulling him closer as he drove me to my peak. And from the looks of his face—his sweaty brow, slack jaw and glazed eyes—his own release was close behind.

“Levi—oh fuck, Levi! Levi!”

I screamed his name into his mouth as I tumbled over the edge, clenching my thighs around his hips, locking my ankles around his lower back. Fuck finishing on my stomach—I want him inside of me.

Levi groaned, gritting his teeth, throwing his head back as he continued to thrust into me. Soft moans were slipping through his lips; he was breathing hard through his nose, cursing under his breath with every thrust. He was getting sloppy with his pace, desperate and needy as he leaned over me and cradled my head in his arms.

“Mia—I want you—fuck, so bad—” Another moan, and I could feel his cock twitching inside of me. My nails scraped against his shoulders once more, and suddenly his hips still against my own. “S-shit, oh fuck—Mia!”

He growled into the crook of my neck as he spilled himself inside of me. I held his trembling body against mine, carding my fingers through his sweaty hair, tasting every bit of salt on his skin. I winced as he started thrusting into me again, at a much slower pace this time, and he was quick to give me a soft kiss on my mouth.

“Mia,” he moaned against my lips, as his cum trickled out of me, “I fucking missed this.”

I smiled at him, wrapping my hands around the back of his neck. “I missed this, too.”

The two of us held each other, skin slick with sweat and grime, as he lazily thrusted into me. I kept my ankles around his lower back, keeping him in place as he moved against my body. And although I knew I was up to date with all my pills—Lina had made sure I had been kept on my regular schedule over the past year or so—a part of me wished I wasn’t.

A part of me wished for a different life, where the two of us could be safe and happy and blissfully in love, as my stomach grew swollen with our child.

“Levi, I want—” The words were already pouring out of my mouth. “I want a baby…”

I winced as soon as I realized what I’d said. What a way to ruin the mood. And while he’s still fucking you, no less. Nice going, Wolf—you fucking idiot.

But he only smirked at me, chest rumbling with a soft chuckle, as he brushed my hair away from my face. Perhaps it was the post-sex hormones, or the lingering bliss of being together, but he didn’t seem worried about what I’d said in the slightest.

“Not now, but someday.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead just as he scooped his hips, and suddenly I was clawing at his back again. “Fuck—I’ll get you pregnant someday, I promise. Would you like that, sweetheart?”

The thought of carrying his child within me, our child, and feeling his arms around my swollen stomach as he leaned down to kiss it and whisper sweet nothings to our unborn baby—it was enough to drive me wild. I was nodding frantically, panting his name over and over again as he brought me to the edge one more time.

“Yes! I want your baby, Levi—I want our baby—”

And suddenly I was whining again, throwing my head against the pillow as I reached my peak once more. My clit was throbbing at this point, painful but oh so pleasurable all the same.

Levi kissed me again, and one, two, three more thrusts and he was filling me up again. His hands were warm beneath my thighs, his cum hot and sticky as it dribbled onto the sheets below.

The heavy weight of exhaustion was starting to settle in my bones; even as Levi began to untangle us from each other, I found myself fighting to keep my eyes open. Something warm and pleasant pressed against my forehead, and the soft scent of mint brushed along my nose.

“Shower first,” he reminded me in a raspy voice. “Then sleep.”

So I forced my eyes open and sat up on the bed. I glanced over my shoulder at the ruined headboard and—holy fucking shit. He had fucking obliterated that poor headboard, tearing a chunk of wood right from the bars. A few splinters were gathered at the top of the pillow, and even more were starting to spill onto the floorboards.

“W-what did you do?” I glanced at his palms, searching for any open wounds in the skin. Luckily I found none—just a few bruises from the wood.

“You should talk, brat. My back hurts like a fucking bitch.”

He turned his body halfway, and my mouth fell open at the sight of bright red marks embedded in his skin. Thin trails of blood were starting to well, stretching from his shoulders all the way down to his back. Immediately I grabbed a corner of the sheets and began dabbing at the scratches as gently as I could.

“I’ll wash them off when we get in the shower. Fuck, Levi, I’m so sorry—I didn’t realize—”

“It’s fine,” he mumbled, a smug smile on his face. “It’s just that strange power you told me about back then, right?”

Suddenly I remembered: the warm spring night before the first expedition I’d ever attended with my brand new squad. Levi and I had spent the night training with our ODM gear, as he instructed me on how to effectively use my speed and newfound strength to my advantage to bring down a slew of wooden Titans in the forest.

I’d mentioned my weird adrenaline rush to him after some prompting, when he pointed out the similarities between our fighting styles in the fields. The raw and choppy movements, the wild look in our eyes, the sudden understanding of everything around us, and knowing exactly what had to be done and how to do it. The two of us had experienced similar rushes, despite coming from completely different parts of the Walls.

That had been the last time we’d mentioned it out loud. I can’t believe he still remembers that…

“Then that means yours must’ve kicked in, too.” I nodded over to the ruined headboard with a laugh. “So I guess I’m not the only one with a strange power, huh?”

“…No, I guess not.”

Whatever it was, it was beyond our comprehension. At least, for now. But we could worry about that all in the morning; right now, the two of us were in dire need of a shower, a fresh set of sheets, and some well-earned sleep.

With shaky legs, I followed Levi to the bathroom and settled into the tub with him. I slid myself behind him and began to wash out the cuts on his back. I couldn’t help but wince at the angry red marks on his skin, a clear sign of the rough, almost primal sex the two of us had just experienced.

“Quit staring at them, sweetheart.” He gave me a tiny smile from over his shoulder as I rinsed them out with water. “If I didn’t like it, I wouldn’t have let you do it in the first place.”

Yeah, maybe you’re right…

Once the wounds had been cleaned out, the two of us began to wash each other. His fingers were light and soft against my hair, down my breasts and finally between my thighs. In return I smoothed some soap over the marks on his neck, against the planes of his chest, before leaning in to kiss him on the lips.

It wasn’t until we were out of the tub, all rinsed off and drying ourselves with a pair of towels, that I finally found the courage to speak again:

“…Did you mean it, out there? About…having a baby with me?”

Perhaps it was just something spewed out in the moment. Perhaps it was what men promised their lovers in the spur of sex, hot and blissful and almost mind-numbing. Perhaps Levi was regretting it now, as he glanced down at the floor rather than my eyes.

The two of us had never discussed the subject of children with each other, especially concerning this little relationship of ours. The topic had always been forbidden, what with our lives as soldiers and the promise of death lingering over our heads. This was no place to raise a child, not with the Titans currently scratching at the stone of Wall Rose. Not with the weight of our soldiers’ lives on our shoulders, both past and present.

For the last few years, I’d told myself that bearing children of my own wasn’t an option. At least, not until the Titans could be eradicated from this world altogether. But they were always hiding in the deepest, darkest corners of my mind, waiting for me to think about them once again. My own children, a son or a daughter, looking like myself or maybe Ben and Leyna, or even my future husband.

I still wanted them so fucking badly—and I wanted them to look like myself and Levi.

He cleared his throat, swiping the towel through his messy wet hair. Finally his eyes were on my own, as he wrapped the towel around his shoulders and began to make his way towards me.

“Someday. If you want a baby, we’ll have a baby. But…not right now.”

His hands came to rest against my cheeks, his lips ghosting over my forehead as he spoke. I quivered beneath his touch, swallowing hard before wrapping my arms around his waist in a tight hug.

“Someday,” I agreed, burying my face in his chest. “It doesn’t have to be now. But someday.”

“Right, brat. Someday.”

That was enough to tie me over for the time being. Besides, the two of us weren’t ready for such a heavy conversation like that. Not with everything else going on in our lives.

I could wait until he was ready. Until we were both ready to talk about it.

As I brushed out my hair, I watched Levi change the sheets on the bed, and I giggled as he grimaced at the broken headboard above. The wood splinters had been scooped up and tossed away, with the huge chunk of wood thrown on top of the pile in the wastebasket. But just to be safe, Levi propped an extra pillow against the headboard, to prevent any stray splinters from falling on us in the middle of the night.

“I’ll mention a replacement to Erwin in the morning.”

“You think he’ll be wondering how you managed to break it in the first place?”

He glared at me, and I only shrugged my shoulders with a smile. “As if I give a fuck. Bed was fucking old, anyway.”

Uh-huh, sure it was. “Maybe we should invest in a metal headboard, just to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

He huffed in agreement as the two of us climbed beneath the covers. I tucked my head under his chin at once, sighing in relief as I felt his arms coil around my waist.

“Although I have to admit…it was kinda hot seeing you break it like that.”

He scoffed as I snuggled deeper into his chest, drumming my fingers along his shoulders. “Don’t get used to it; it was a one-time thing. I’ll get us a new one as soon as I can. Now go to sleep.”

“…Next time, we should try breaking the whole bed.”

“Tch, be careful what you wish for, brat.”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my lips, soft and sweet and warm. And finally, with my limbs heavy from exhaustion and my face pressed against Levi’s chest, I closed my eyes and allowed myself to relax against his body.

But before I dozed off, I could hear his voice against the shell of my ear: “Sleep well, birthday girl.”