#colt grice x you

[wttcsms]

daylight ; colt grice.

pairing colt grice x f!reader word count 14.3k synopsis colt grice's life has never been easy, and it's about to get a hell of a lot worse. content contains sw!reader, canon discrimination against eldians, depictions of violence, blood, taking care of him when he's injured, slowburn author's note this is part one of four!! / repost bc the first time around, it didn't show up in tags </3

part one: no sharing names

“Are you scared?” 

The teenage girl sitting in front of the cracked vanity mirror is shaking. She’s been jittery all day, and as the sun started its descent, she’s only been growing increasingly more and more anxious. You wish you could tell her that it’s nothing to be scared of, but that would be a lie. 

Your whole line of work is built on lies; the last thing you need to do is let Work You bleed through into Real You.

“It’s okay if you are.” That’s what you settle for, slowly running a brush through the thick, dark layers of her hair. 

“Were you scared?” She’s a tiny thing; it’s no surprise that her voice would sound so small, too. It makes your heart break just a little more. 

“I was.” Seeing that your admission doesn’t make her feel any better, you add on, “Sometimes, I still get scared.” 

“Oh.” And then, “How do you still do it?”

“I don’t have a choice.” You pretend that most of your focus is on the knot in her hair and not the glimpse of the horrified expression on her face. She’s actually a very pretty girl. 

Being pretty is a double-edged sword. The benefit of this is that she’ll never run out of customers; the downside of this is that she’ll never run out of customers. You drag the brush through the knot of hair more aggressively than you intend to. 

She doesn’t say anything, so you elaborate. “It’s just me and Ramzi, you know.” The girl nods in acknowledgement. At the refugee camp, everybody seems to know each other; a side effect of living in cramped spaces and having more communal areas rather than private ones. A tight-knit community, but hardly by choice. When the whole world seems to harbor an unshakable hatred towards you, you learn to cling to the people who don’t. 

“And Ramzi… He can’t make money, and we can’t keep living off the kindness of others. So, if this is how Ramzi gets food in his belly, and clothes that fit, how could I possibly stop doing this?” It’s not as if Marley is a land of opportunity; oppression fits it much better. You set the brush down and start to braid her hair. “This isn’t… This isn’t a job you can retire from very quickly.” 

It’s not a job you can necessarily leave, either. Not just because the money is more than what you could make doing laundry and picking up after people’s dogs, but your work history will always follow behind you, a permanent stain on your record. It’s best that she comes to terms with this sooner rather than later. 

“I don’t know if I can do this.” She sounds broken, defeated. The sentence comes out as a sob, and you’re distinctly aware of how her cries only continue to chip away at your resolve. You wanted to remain cool and impersonal. You wanted to act as if taking the care to do her hair for her wasn’t an attempt to give the poor girl some sense of normalcy — of comfort — before she gets sent to the slaughter. You want — the most dangerous thing a girl like you could possibly ever do.

You’re hugging the girl before you can tell yourself that this is a bad idea. The goal was to wean her off comfort, not coddle her, smother her with affection and comfort and warm words. How will she possibly survive if she’s continuously clinging onto the warmth nobody she services will provide? You certainly weren’t given anything to prepare for your first night; no warnings, no reassurances, no comfort. It was a hard lesson to learn, that no one visiting this establishment would ever care about you. That no one here would ever see you as anything more than something they’ve paid for. 

Three more seconds. That’s how much longer you’ll give her to bury her face in your neck, wetting your exposed skin and probably getting snot in your hair. Three more seconds, and then you will (gently) pull her away from you. Three more seconds, and you will begin to properly prepare her for her condemnation. 

One—

Ramzi is probably getting ready for bed right about now. 

Two—

You reminded him that he needs to take care of himself and to remember to layer the thin blankets so he can try to get as much warmth out of those hand-me-downs. 

Three—

It’s going to be a cold night.

You remove yourself from the embrace, taking in the girl. Her big, brown eyes are still shiny from her tears, lashes slick from them. She’s sniffling, lips quivering, and she looks a mess. 

(You try to ignore that by the end of tonight, she will look even worse.) 

You want to hug her again, but already, you feel like you’ve done both too much and not enough. Yes, it’s nice to know that someone cares, but that won’t do much to help her survive this. You place your hands on her shoulders.

“Look at me.” 

She forces herself to look you in the eyes. The shift in your demeanor makes her cease her sniffling, and she’s finally still.

“You asked me how I’m still doing this. I’ll let you in on a little secret, alright? Can you keep a secret for me, honey?” 

She nods, too afraid to speak. 

“It’s just all a big game. And every game has rules, right?”

 She nods again.

“I’ll tell you the rules to mine. The first one is that they can’t know my name.” 

“Won’t they ask?” 

“They don’t pay me to tell ‘em the truth.” 

That gets a semblance of a smile on her face.

Before you can tell her any more, there’s a loud bang on the door.

“Girls, we’re about to open up shop!” Willa, the Eldian woman running this whole establishment, gives you two this warning. You can hear her loud voice traveling through all the thin walls in this place. She’s making her rounds, visiting the other girls’ rooms to let them know, too.

“Guess our time is up.”

“Wait, but you didn’t tell me any of your other rules! How will I know what to do?” She’s panicking, scrambling for any reason to stay here with you instead of facing whatever nightmare awaits her out there. She’s clinging onto your arms, acting like you’re her lifeline, and how sad it must be, you think, for you to be the person someone looks up to.

“It’s your game, honey. You can make up your own rules, change them as you go, make special exceptions. Whatever you want to do.” You brush back a few strands of her hair that clings to her still-wet cheeks. “Just focus on figuring out all the rules, especially when you’re searching for something to think about.”

The best rules usually come during the times where you want to focus on anything other than what’s presently happening to you. On your second night, there was a man who produced so much saliva, that when his mouth was drunkenly exploring every inch of your skin, you stared up at the peeling paint on the ceiling and decided right then and there that no man was allowed to kiss you on your lips. 

“Why can’t they know your real name?” She asks. “Everyone back home knows your name.”

“Everyone back home knows me.” The men that come here are mostly men who want to break you. To take something from you, everything from you, to leave you with nothing. It makes them feel powerful, knowing that they paid a cheap price for free-rein to destruction. 

That’s how you win the game: by not letting them break you. 

These men, they never stood a chance against the personas you fabricate for them. Different names, different personalities — it’s all make-believe. Those girls, the girls you pretend to be, are the ones that get destroyed every night. 

“Promise me that you will never give them a chance to know you, Nadia.”

She nods, but unlike every other time, this one is fueled with conviction. 

Colt Grice is acutely aware that he has absolutely no business being here. 

The bright yellow armband sticks out like a sore thumb, acting as a flashing arrow that separates him from the other soldiers flanked by his side. Some days, it feels too tight, too restrictive, too heavy of a burden. Tonight, it feels like a blemish. 

Even drunk, Colt knows these thoughts are dangerous. Any Eldian would kill to be a Warrior candidate, and he’s all too aware of the privileges he and his family have been granted because this yellow strip of fabric says he should be granted some respect.

Not too much, though. Show a devil a little reverence, and he’ll probably take you straight down to hell with him — he’s certain that’s how most people here see him. 

Soldiers coming to the red light district of Marley is nothing new. When training gets tough or there’s time to kill, drinking ensues. Where alcohol goes, bad decisions have a tendency to follow. 

Colt likes to think of himself as responsible. Sensible. Even if the Marleyans would deny it, he would even go so far as to think that he is a fairly good person. 

Stumbling down these dark streets, passing by brothels and love hotels, he thinks a good person probably wouldn’t be here right now. 

“It’s fucking freezing out here,” Michael purposely bumps his shoulder against Colt’s. “Are you freezing too, or do devils just not get cold?” 

From anyone else, it would be an insult. From Michael, it’s a joke. Like most of Michael’s jokes, they don’t necessarily land the way he intends them to, but Colt doesn’t bother telling him to work on his comedic timing or delivery; as nice of a guy as Michael is, he could still easily get Colt punished for treason with just one conversation with any of their superiors. 

“Do you ever get tired of slumming it with us devils?” The slur glides off his tongue too easily. Michael makes a face before slinging his arm over Colt’s shoulders as a show of good-natured camaraderie. With the flickering streetlights and the few other souls walking past, there’s really no one to bear witness to it. 

“Nah.” Michael clears his throat and sounds like he almost wants to say something else but decides against it at the last minute. A second later, and he’s belting out an old battlefield victory song taught during their childhood training. With everyone else in the group inebriated, it doesn’t take much to get them to drunkenly sing along. Colt smiles at their antics, but doesn’t join in. He wants to try to shift his armband around, but Michael’s arm is still thrown around him, and Colt decides he could really use another drink right about now. 

Instead of stopping at a bar like he hopes for, the rowdy group makes their way into the infamous “Gentleman’s Club.” The paint is peeling, there’s shattered glass right beneath the boarded up window, and the words on the sign are so faded, the G entle part of it is nearly imperceptible. 

Colt does not think he is getting another drink tonight.

He’s not sure what to expect from a brothel. He’s heard some stories in the barracks, but he usually makes an effort to tune out those type of crude tales. How would his mother feel about him indulging in any of the activities being described by his fellow soldiers? What type of example would he be setting for Falco? 

Eldian soldiers looking for a quick and easy release usually frequent the cheaper brothels. From an outside perspective, it’s hard for Colt to believe that any of these places could possibly be in worse shape than this building. The fact that this one is the nicest is enough to make Colt regret following the crowd tonight. 

The entrance of the Club is sparsely furnished, with a singular light bulb hanging from the ceiling, flickering and casting weird shadows everywhere. There are some pictures in frames hanging on the wall, but the inconsistent lighting makes it hard for Colt to properly make out any specific features of the girls photographed. 

A redheaded woman appears, taking in the group of half a dozen soldiers taking up all the limited space in her entrance. 

“First time?” She asks them. She sounds perfectly calm, but Colt doesn’t miss the way her sharp, green eyes seem to linger on Michael. 

If he runs out of this place right now, would any of these guys remember or are they too drunk to trust their memories? Before he can further debate the merits of hightailing it out of here, Michael pushes Colt forward.

“It’s my friend’s first time here. Mind showin’ him what a good time a couple of coins can get him?” He winks at Colt, obnoxiously mouthing out words that look an awful lot like you owe me one . 

Colt can feel his ears turning pink from embarrassment. 

“Of course.” The woman’s tight-lipped smile indicates that she would much rather be doing anything else. “If you would follow me, sir.” 

He could still make a run for it. Sure, he might have to endure endless teasing and maybe word of this little escapade would reach the ears of the others in the Warrior Unit, to Falco, but the alcohol churning in his system is doing a magic act — look, kids, with just a couple of drinks, watch as I make all my critical thinking skills disappear! —  and Colt is very much aware that he is making a supremely bad decision, but—

—he follows the woman up the stairs, anyway.

“You’ve never been to a brothel before?” The woman asks as she leads him down a dark hallway. There are doors lining the wall, each of them closed. Sometimes, Colt can occasionally hear faint grunts and the sound of skin slapping against skin; the further he follows this woman, the louder the noises get. Or maybe it’s just all in his head. Maybe he’s making up the noises. Maybe they’re sharper, louder, only because he’s accidentally seeking them out.

He hears a scream. 

The woman doesn’t even slow her pace.

“No.” He answers. 

“Well, you chose the right one, at least.” She doesn’t sound like a proud business owner, and considering the circumstances, Colt can’t necessarily fault her for her lack of enthusiasm. “What kind of girls do you like?”

“Huh?” The question catches him off guard. 

“What kind of girls do you like? So that way we can pick the right one for you.” 

Colt doesn’t like the sound of this. He feels dirty, all of a sudden. Like he’s drenched in something filthy, and he needs to go home and shower. The fucking trenches are preferable over this.

She turns around, squinting at him. He can’t tell if it’s because it’s so dark that she can’t see him, or if it’s because she’s scrutinizing him. 

“Nothing coming to mind?” Colt is aware of the clientele that frequents places like these; her clear impatience and almost snappish tone catches him off guard once more. 

“Um, no. I’m not very particular.” An understatement, really. His kind aren’t allowed to be picky. 

She stares at him for a second longer before telling him, “I know a girl for you.” 

She leads him to the last door, knocking three times against it. Nobody answers, but this doesn’t seem to bother her. “Alright, Mr. Not Very Particular. Enter whenever you want, leave whenever you want. Normally, you pay something upfront, and then you stop by the front desk, and depending on how long you stayed, I’ll calculate the rest that you owe, but your friend is covering the cost for you. If I were you, I’d run up his tab.” He thinks she smiles when she says this.

He wants to ask her if Michael gave any particular reason for why he’s paying for a service Colt certainly never asked for, and more importantly, he wants to know why the hell Michael has an open tab at a brothel (freetime off base is usually few and far between, after all). He can’t ask her anything, though, because she’s walking away, probably to go stare into the other soldiers’ souls and ask them what type of women they’re into.

This just leaves Colt, a dark hallway, and the door in front of him. 

Not knowing what waits for him on the other side has never bothered him before. Colt is used to worst-case scenarios — a trait inherited by all Eldians. Optimism is a luxury people like him can’t afford. 

He wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all. He’s a Warrior Candidate — the one set to inherit the Beast Titan after Zeke’s time is up — and he’s being bested by what? A door?

Before he can think too much about it, he straightens his posture, grips the doorknob, and opens the damn door. 

It’s Michael’s money, anyway. 

When Colt was a young boy — so young that Falco couldn’t speak or do much besides staying swaddled in a blanket and pushed around in a stroller — his mother often made him go out for walks.

Keeping all that energy bottled up is no good is what she would tell him, before forcing him to lace up his shoes and walk up and down the cracked sidewalk of their neighborhood for thirty minutes. (It’s not until he’s older that he realizes she really just wanted him out of the house for her own peace and quiet.) 

The internment zone of Liberio could be worse. Even as a child, Colt learns that this is simply the unofficial Eldian motto, the doctrine of their way of life, if you will: it could be worse. 

In school, Colt learns that there are much worse places to be designated, and he should be grateful for the mercy of the Marleyans. The Grice family is at least better off than most; they have their own house, and the Public Security Authorities don’t patrol this area nearly as much as they do other areas in the internment zone. 

Another important lesson he learns young: just because you don’t see that you’re being watched doesn’t mean you aren’t being watched.

Usually, his mom sends him off on errands, especially when he starts to complain that it’s boring just pacing up and down the length of the neighborhood. Today is no different. 

“Go to the market, and get me some tomatoes. I forgot to buy some when we went last week.” Mrs. Grice narrows her eyes at her oldest son. “And no going off course, Colt. Absolutely no detours — to the market and right back home, do you understand?” 

His mom, just like every other Eldian mother, constantly battles with the understanding that their children need to learn how to survive outside the safety of their house and the overwhelming urge to try to shield them from said outside world. There’s always horror stories about what happens to little Eldian boys and girls who stray too far from the safety of their internment zone. 

With one hand shoved in his pocket, fist curled tightly around the money his mother pressed into his palm before sending him off, Colt heads towards the main square where there will be different vendors and stalls selling a variety of goods. Sweets, hardware, clothes, fresh fruit and vegetables; it’s easy to get distracted. The main square is probably the liveliest place in the internment zone, the only other place besides home that Colt assumes nothing bad can happen in. 

The first sign that something is off is when the usual pathway to the main square is eerily quiet. It’s a perfectly beautiful day, with the sun shining and no holiday that would cause the market to be closed down. The further he ventures, the more oddities he takes notice of. 

The blinds are drawn. Laundry that has long dried is still hanging outside, blowing in the wind. There are no children outside playing, and there’s a tiny voice in his head telling him that he should turn around right now. 

The second sign that something is off is when the flutter of curtains pulling back catches his eye. He turns his head and catches sight of an older woman peering at him through the little gap of fabric. She shakes her head slowly — a warning? He tightens his grip on the money in his pocket.

Normally, there are PSA officers patrolling the main square. With so many Eldians gathered in one spot, the officers are taught to think and anticipate the worst. A ruckus, a riot, the seeds of rebellion being planted — anything could happen. Who knows what these monsters are capable of? They couldn’t possibly just be innocently shopping for groceries and treats because there’s nothing innocent about them, period. A tamed dog is still a dog. Dogs bite.

The third sign that something is off is the deserted square. Stalls must have been hastily packed up considering the few remaining items left behind. There are no officers in the square, and Colt knows that something bad has happened. He doesn’t want to believe it at first, but the proof is hanging right in the middle of the square for any passerby to see.

There is a man hanging from the clock tower located in the middle of the square. His head is hanging limp, and Colt almost thinks that he’s dead, that there is a dead body put on display in the town square, but he sees the slight, unmistakable movements of his chest.

It’s even worse — the man is still alive.

He’s horrified. Colt is frozen in fear; somewhere during his assessment of the man, he must’ve gripped the coins in his pocket too hard because when he returns home, there will be an imprint of the currency etched onto the palm of his hand. He inhales, exhales, and is frightened to realize that his breaths are in tandem with the hanging man’s. Will he stop breathing when this man does, too? 

The man’s clothes are dirty, stained with dried blood and tears through the cotton. He’s been beaten before this has happened, no doubt. There’s no other explanation since he’s hanging too high up for anyone to touch him. He’s being held up only by the rope tied against his wrists, wrists with skin that is rubbed raw and red from the roughness of it all. 

There’s writing on the usually pristine brick of the clock tower. Dripping red, too bright to be blood but clearly a derivation of it:

TO LOVE A DEVIL IS TO BE ONE

He examines the man’s entire body, committing it to memory, especially his clothing. Dirty, torn, and tattered. Chunks of fabric ripped and ruined. Trousers, a work shirt, holey socks. The man’s left arm is still covered by the longsleeve of his shirt, but his eyes travel upwards. He blinks, rubs his eyes, and looks again, searching for the gray armband, searching for even a pin in the shape of the nine-pointed star. 

There isn’t any.

Even in death, an Eldian still must wear their armband. With no trace of racial identification, that can only mean one thing:

This man is a Marleyan.

Colt does what he should have done at the first sign of trouble: he runs. He sprints down the empty blocks and refuses to slow down, even as he goes through the neighborhoods closer to his own. There are people outside here, people who don’t know what has happened, and Colt ignores their concerned shouts and sighs of chastisement for running so recklessly down the street. He’s struggling to breathe and his legs burn by the time he barrels through the door of his home, the only safe place for him left, and he heads straight to the bathroom, ignoring his mother’s call of Colt, is that you?  

He throws up in the toilet, and when there is nothing left from breakfast for him to cough up, he starts to dry heave, images of that man, that Marleyan man, constantly flashing through his mind, permanently embedded in his memories. 

He hears the banging on the door, his mother’s worried questions of what’s wrong?, sweetie, are you okay? filtering through the wood of the bathroom door. 

There are fundamental lessons to be learned here. There is no place in Marley that is truly safe. There is nothing anyone living here can do, even if they want to do something. 

There is nothing good that comes from loving an Eldian, from loving someone like him.

“Hi,” there’s a girl in here, wearing a straight white dress — more like a sleeping gown, something long and flowy and a bit transparent — her hair tucked behind her ears and brushed behind her shoulders. She’s looking at him, studying him in a way that makes him subconsciously stand up straighter, like he needs to impress her, and there are a couple thoughts running through his mind right now.

You are a very, very pretty girl. Beautiful, even. He has never seen someone like you before, and he doesn’t think he ever will and,

He is simultaneously too drunk and yet not drunk enough for this encounter.

Another shot and he would have enough drunken confidence to approach you. Right now, he’s had just enough to make his mind go all foggy. What do you say when a beautiful girl tells you hi ? The correct reply is floating somewhere in his head, he knows it, but the answer eludes him at the moment, and all he can really focus on right now is that he is very, very upset with Michael. 

You tilt your head, standing near the bed but not approaching him yet.

“You alright, honey?”

Colt doesn’t normally have trouble speaking to girls. In fact, he’s quite popular back home. His girl cousins always groan during family gatherings, complaining to Colt that it’s so annoying how all their friends want to use them as a means to get closer to him. The attention is flattering, and he’s even flirted with the idea of a romantic relationship once or twice, but he always seems to have something else that he needs to focus on more. 

Focus, Colt. He tries to force himself to come up with something witty and flirtatious. What comes out is a strangled hi. 

He clears his throat, spits out a more coherent hello, and turns redder in the process. 

Smooth. He thinks. Real smooth. 

If you think there’s something seriously wrong with him, you don’t act like it. Instead, you smile at him, something so soft and sweet, and Colt knows for a fact that he’s a dead man. An absolute goner. 

“First time?” You ask, taking in his impossibly straight posture that doesn’t match with his curled hands and flushed cheeks. The uniform gives him away: he’s a soldier. You’re used to soldiers, some of them young and nervous, just wanting to get their first time over with. Those tend to be nice boys. Sometimes, you can even enjoy yourself — not because of their technique (or lack, thereof) — but because kindness is a resource so rarely shared with you, you can’t help but indulge in it when you get it. 

Most of the soldiers that frequent this place are Marleyan. They come here drunk from liquor and look forward to getting intoxicated with power. They’re rougher, meaner, less forgiving. 

You’ve never seen a soldier with a yellow armband before, though. A Warrior Candidate, that’s what he is. You wonder if he’ll be nice. He certainly seems nice. 

“I don’t normally do this stuff.” He blurts out. “Not sex, I’ve had sex.” And then, just for good measure, in case you don’t believe him (you do, of course, believe him; a soldier that looks like him certainly doesn’t have to try hard to find someone to warm his bed), he tells you, “I’m not a virgin, I swear.”

You sure act like one. You find yourself thinking, amused, but not necessarily annoyed. There’s something so earnest about him that you can’t find it in yourself to say something mean. Besides, men who come here aren’t looking for mean women. They’re looking for someone to exert their power over, and they’re looking for a fantasy. You’ve been doing this long enough to know how to fill the role of the woman of their desires. Some men are searching for someone sweet and docile, some are looking for a woman who’s reluctant, someone that they can chase and get to submit. No matter what, though, all of them are looking for prey.

Somehow, the soldier standing in front of you, with his blond hair and perfectly ironed uniform, yellow armband seemingly brightening up this whole room, he doesn’t look like he’s searching for prey. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he’s searching for an exit. 

“I’m not a virgin, either, so I guess that makes two of us.” You take a seat on the bed, patting down the empty space next to you, offering him a seat. He doesn’t take it. You think he’ll come around eventually. 

“I don’t… I don’t go to brothels.” He explains to you, and you nod in understanding. The stressed out soldiers of Marley saying they don’t go to brothels is like listening to an alcoholic tell you that they don’t go to the liquor store. You could try to call him out, but there’s always that little saying: the customer is always right. 

“Well, honey, I think someone must’ve given you the wrong directions because you’re in one right now.” 

“Colt.” He tells you. “My name is Colt.” 

“That’s a nice name.” 

He looks like he’s about to ask for yours, but before he can, you continue talking. “What do you want to do tonight, honey?” 

Honey. He told you his name so you wouldn’t have to call him something so sweet. He’s certain that you already saw his armband, saw him for what he is. The lack of disgust on your end is disarming him. 

“Whatever you want.” 

Idiot. He chastises himself. He’s said so many stupid things, at this point, he can’t even blame it on the alcohol in his system. He’s discovering that he just might actually be stupid. 

You give a little laugh. “You really haven’t been to a brothel before.” You adjust your position on the bed, getting comfortable, angling your body more towards him. “Normally, it’s the other way around. We do whatever you want to do.” 

You don’t sound the least bit upset about it, about the fact that you have to spend every night going through with whatever someone pays for you to do. What must it be like, he wonders. 

“I just want to talk.” 

You smile at him, and he takes a mental image of it, locks it away in his memories. 

“Sure thing, honey. We can talk, but the price remains the same.” 

“My friend has a tab here. He’s, uh, covering it.” 

Great. He inwardly groans. Now she thinks I can’t even afford to be here. 

“Must be a nice friend.”

“He’s not really a friend.” Colt explains. “Coworker is more accurate.”

“So he’s a soldier, too. That makes sense. Not sure where else you could find brothel buddies to go out with.” You don’t normally tease your customers too much. Most of the time, they aren’t here for conversation, and none of them are safe enough to say anything less than forced out praises of yes, you feel so good! to. 

“We’re in different units.”

“So how’d you two meet then?” 

“He’s—” Annoying. Irritating. A pain in the ass. A good guy, when he chooses to be. The nicest Marleyan Colt’s ever met. “—a free spirit. He just roams around, no matter how many times his commanding officer threatens punishment.” 

“He sounds fun.”

“He has his moments.” 

“And what about you? What are some of your shining moments?” 

You can tell a lot about a person by how they present themselves in their stories. If you’re going to ask an arrogant asshole soldier about his shining moments, he’s probably going to spout some nonsense about his (fictional) heroics on the battlefield (he hasn’t even fired a bullet at an enemy soldier before; hasn’t even seen war). Someone insecure struggles to even come up with a story to tell you. The best kind of people, though, tell you—

“On the day my little brother, Falco, got accepted into the Warrior Unit, I cried.” He gives you a sheepish smile and rubs the back of his neck nervously, like he’s embarrassed to admit this. “I was just really proud of him, and I knew how badly he wanted to be there. We had this whole celebration; my mom baked a cake, and my dad splurged on alcohol, and all our neighbors came over, too. It was this whole thing. And, uh, one of our neighbors asked Falco how he feels about being in the Warrior Unit. He announced to the whole party that he felt great about it because all he ever wanted to do was follow in my footsteps. I felt like I was someone for once.” 

—something just like that. 

He seems more relaxed after sharing this with you, and you can see it in the way his brown eyes seem to shine when he mentions his brother, the way he can’t quite seem to contain his pleased smile while reliving the memory, that this soldier isn’t lying to you. 

“What about you?” He suddenly asks. “What’s your shining moment?”

“You think someone like me is capable of having a shining moment?” You play at being coy, but it’s just a means of distracting him. No matter how sweet or nice this golden soldier seems, the last thing you want to do is share your own life with him. There aren’t many things you hold close to your heart, so revealing them makes all the emptiness in you suddenly seem that much more infinite. You don’t want to lie to him, though.

There is enough weakness (kindness) in you to spare to not disrespect his honesty by giving him a false memory. 

“Not only that. I think you star in people’s shining moments, too.” 

Honest. He’s being honest. 

Nobody has ever knocked you off balance like this before. You didn’t even think anyone would ever be capable of doing such a thing. And, the worst part of it all, is the fact that this soldier just throws this out so casually! What kind of person goes to a brothel and starts throwing out genuine compliments to the prostitutes? Someone not right in the head, clearly. 

But the smile on your face is unfairly sincere, and this, you realize with a sense of dread, is going to be one of your shining moments.

“Whoa, what’s the rush, Beast Jr.?” Porco Galliard is sitting on a crate outside the barracks, looking like he has absolutely nowhere to be. Commander Magath always reminds them that there is always something for them to be doing, and if he catches any of them slacking off, he is always willing to give them something to do. Porco received the same warning, same as the rest of the Warrior Unit, but he also thrives on pushing buttons. Colt knows he’s not stupid enough to challenge Commander Magath directly, but he also knows that Porco is arrogant enough to play the dangerous game of trying to see how far he can piss off Magath without getting written up. 

Ever since Colt was given the news of his inheritance of the Beast Titan, he spends more and more time with the current Warriors than the other soldiers, leaving him in a constant struggle to find his footing. The other soldiers already know he’s set up to reach the highest honor an Eldian can ever aspire to achieve, and what’s the point of getting too close to someone who’s only working with a limited lifespan? When he’s with the Warriors, Colt feels even less sure of himself. Zeke occasionally invites him to their meetings, lets him play at having some sort of significance, but Colt isn’t in as deep as the others are. Not yet. 

“What? I’m not rushing,” Colt says, sounding guilty, and exactly like someone who is in a rush. Porco is more observant than people give him credit for, and stubborn (although, people give him credit for being that all the time). 

“No way, you’re definitely in a rush. Where are you running off to?” 

“Don’t you have anything to do? I thought Warriors were supposed to keep busy schedules.” Colt attempts an evasion tactic, dodging Porco’s question and instead, putting the focus on him. Porco doesn’t give in. 

Then again, Colt can’t remember a time where anyone was able to evade the Jaw Titan.

“Now I know for sure that you’re up to something. What could Golden Boy Grice possibly be hiding?” Porco Galliard is dangerous on a good day; a bored Porco Galliard, with nothing but free time on his hands, is downright detrimental. “You startin’ a rebellion?” 

Colt’s eyes widen before he twists his neck, trying to make sure no one is in their vicinity. Even as a passing joke, all it takes is one person to mention this lighthearted jibe, and Colt’s life is over. Not only will he most likely be imprisoned and then publicly executed, but his family will suffer right with him. 

Porco throws his hands up in mock surrender. “Relax. No one’s here. They’re off actually doing their chores.” He seems to consider the situation. “Did you get a girlfriend or something?” 

Does Porco really have nothing better to do? Judging by the wide grin on his face, the answer is a definitive yes.

“Oh, shit! You do have a girlfriend.” He laughs, and Colt isn’t sure if he should be offended. “Look at you go, Grice.”

Porco is still laughing like this is the funniest thing he’s heard all day, but at least he allows Colt to go pass without any more trouble. The only reason he doesn’t bother correcting him, Colt reasons, is because he doesn’t want to explain himself. 

That’s all.

The red light district looks weird in the glow of the afternoon sun. The same dilapidated buildings, with their peeling paint and cracked windows, grimy signs and rusted, metal roofs, don’t look nearly as intimidating as they do in the nighttime. Instead, they just look a bit… sad.  

There are some people outside. Two old men smoking cigarettes outside what Colt assumes is a bar. A drunk man walking in the opposite direction, mumbling something incoherent under his breath, a half empty bottle of clear liquid hanging from his hand. A woman using a broom that’s clearly seen better days to sweep the outside of her own shop. 

The whole area feels like a graveyard for the living.

He feels aware of how he stands out. He stares straight ahead, following the cracked pavement, making his way to the Gentleman’s Club. With his stiff, ironed military uniform, neatly parted hair that’s hidden under his helmet, and hands too clean to have touched anything in this part of town, Colt can’t tell whether he looks like an adversary or a target. His only saving grace, the only thing keeping the half-dead inhabitants of this place away, is the yellow armband twisted tightly around his left bicep. He quickens his pace anyway. 

Already out in the lobby, standing behind a desk, is the same redheaded woman from last night. If she’s surprised to see him here again, she doesn’t show it.

“Back so soon?” She says, forgoing a polite greeting altogether. 

Considering where she is, Colt can’t necessarily fault her for it. Minding his manners (Mrs. Grice did not raise her children in a barn, going against what the Marleyans assume) and military training, Colt removes his helmet. He’s thankful that he has something for his hands to grasp, keeping them occupied. 

“Is—” For as much as he revealed to you, Colt realizes that you didn’t really offer much on yourself . Not even your name. “—the girl I saw last night here?”

“She doesn’t work in the daytime, no.” The woman pulls out a large book, flips through its pages, not bothering to look up at him again until a few more seconds pass. Acting as if she’s shocked to find that he’s still standing there, even though Colt knows she knows that he hasn’t left, she says, “I really don’t think you would be interested in any of our daytime workers, either. Even if you aren’t very particular.” 

“Oh. I see.” Colt, as a matter of fact, does not see. He’s just saying something to fill the awkward silence. 

“As a Warrior Candidate, I assume you have other places to be, Mr. Not Very Particular?” 

Clearly, business is doing well (even though the empty lobby suggests otherwise) since Colt hasn’t met a shop owner who seems quite content with shooing customers out the door. 

“Colt.” He tells her.

“Colt.” She repeats, slowly. “Well, Mr. Colt, my establishment prides itself on its discretion. I’d use an alias next time, if I were you.” 

He doesn’t tell her that he doesn’t plan on there being a “next time.” That would be rude.

“The girl from last night, I wanted to give her this. Would you be willing to hand her these when she comes in?” Digging into his pocket, Colt pulls out a pair of white cotton socks. They’re military issued, and stolen from the inventory warehouse. Colt was put on inventory duty, tasked with handling the shipment of new uniforms and training clothes. For all the heavy lifting he’s had to do, one pair of girl’s socks is a small price to pay. 

The pair you had on last night had been threadbare, at best. Even in the unlikely possibility that Colt gets caught and receives a punishment, knowing you had these for the upcoming winter would have made it well worth the trouble.

“You could always make an appointment and give it to her yourself.” For once, the woman seems like she’s trying to give him a genuine suggestion. 

The thought of doing that sounds nice, and then the feeling of his yellow armband being too tight brings him back down to reality. You didn’t wear an armband. There’s no indication of where you’re from, but you certainly aren’t Eldian. As nice as talking to you was, he’s aware of the fact that you didn’t seem too bothered that he didn’t take a seat next to you. Your reluctance to share anything about yourself speaks volumes. At the end of the day, you’re being paid. You probably only stomached his presence because you needed the money.

Ignoring the twisted, upset feeling in his stomach at these thoughts, Colt tells her,

“I don’t think she would want to see me again.” 

Her eyes linger on his armband, the same piece of fabric tied around herself, too, just a different color. She seems to know what he’s thinking. 

“My girls let me know when they don’t want to see someone again. We wouldn’t be having this conversation if she had an issue with you.” 

“Still, I probably—”

“There’s an opening for tonight at nine. Should I mark you down for that slot, or is there a better time that works for you?” The woman leaves no room for Colt to not make an appointment, and instead, he just lets the woman write down his name in her book. He walks outside with his pockets considerably lighter; the stolen socks are still shoved deep in there, but a majority of his cash now rests in her possession. 

(He had paid her the total amount upfront, as a way to force himself into showing up for the appointment. She had been very adamant that no deposits get returned, and she doesn’t do refunds. Ever.)

“I wish you didn’t have to leave,” Ramzi says, frowning at you as you hold up a handheld mirror, trying to examine your collarbone. There’s a nasty bruise marring your skin, slowly turning into an ugly bluish-purple splotch on your body. There’s no point in trying to apply makeup to conceal it; not only is makeup already too tough to come by, but it would be all for naught. It’ll get rubbed off before the end of your shift, and it’s not like your customers even care.

“I wish I didn’t have to leave, either,” you admit to your little brother, turning to face him. 

“Why do you still have to go when you’re hurt?” 

“It looks worse than it actually is.” You’re not lying. You really only notice the pain when you press down on it.

He’s pouting. A couple of years ago, when you first started, Ramzi used to cry every time you tried to leave. He couldn’t understand why you were gone at night, the only hours where a little brother could really use a sister, someone to protect him from all the scary, imaginary monsters that lurk in the dark. 

He finds out about what you do to ensure he’s taken care of. The first time you get recognized while shopping for food in a public market, Ramzi was clinging to your side, careful not to lose you in the crowd.

“Who’s letting the whores walk out in public?” Someone had shouted. A man. 

You were with that same man two nights ago. 

Someone else in the crowd says, quite loudly, “How shameless! Doesn’t she know there are families trying to enjoy themselves?” 

“Look, the whore has a child herself!” 

Your cheeks had become heated from embarrassment. You couldn’t even look the fruit seller in the eye as you handed him the money to pay. You’re using the money received from the services you gave that man, the one who called you out. 

Only when you two had made it back to the safety of the refugee camp did Ramzi slowly detach himself from your side. He was still just a young child, completely pure, full of innocence, staring at you with his dark eyes wide with wonder.

“Sissy, what’s a whore?”

You want to wash his mouth out with soap. You want to tell him to never say that word ever again. It’s bad enough having to harden your heart and take no offense when men call you it repeatedly, night after night, but you never realized how much it would hurt to have to hear it come out of your little brother’s mouth. 

Instead, you swallow hard, hold back your tears, and pat his head affectionately. “You’ll find out when you’re older, Ramzi. Don’t you waste a single second worrying about that.” 

Ramzi naturally finds out what that word — and all the other degrading insults hurled your way — means. Now that he’s older, he knows better than to repeat any of those words, especially when the two of you are in the safety of your home.

“If I didn’t exist, would you have to do all this?” 

Childhood is nothing more than a pipedream for kids like Ramzi. In a world where only the fittest survive, growing up is imperative. Not only is he old enough to understand, he’s old enough to do his own critical thinking, come to his own conclusions. 

If Ramzi didn’t exist, you would not be doing this. You would be like some of the older women in this camp, the ones who scrape by by doing odd jobs for pitying Eldians and living off the scraps the other refugees provide. You never tell Ramzi this because there’s no point in telling him that. He’s your only real family left. The only person in the world you think you’re capable of loving, completely, honestly, with your entire being. If the universe served you an ultimatum, telling you to be with Ramzi but die a prostitute, or live without him and live a different life altogether, you know you would choose Ramzi, every single time.

“If you didn’t exist, I wouldn’t be here at all.” You tell him. “I wouldn’t have bothered leaving our first home when Marley attacked us. I would have just decided to let the rubble and fire crush me, kill me. And even if I did manage to make it out, I would have died in this refugee camp from loneliness. Don’t ask me something like that again.” You find yourself holding back tears. “You are the reason why I’m alive, Ramzi. Don’t ever assume I regret anything I do in this lifetime, especially if it’s for you.” 

“I’ll pay you back.” He declares, standing up from the pile of blankets he was burrowing himself under. He runs straight to your side, hugging you, burying his face in your shirt. “I’ll find a way to keep us going, and then you won’t have to leave or go back to that place ever again.” 

You hold him tightly, stroking his hair. What a dream that would be. 

Withdrawing from him, taking the walk with the other girls to the brothel, preparing yourself for the night awaiting you — all of it is done with a sad smile on your face as your little brother’s promise plays over and over in your mind the whole time. 

That’s all it is: a dream. 

You think you discover a different plane of existence when you find yourself detaching from the present and use your mind to float yourself to a different time, a different place.

The man’s pace is quick and rushed. He’s just focused on getting off. On the bright side, he’s just here for the sex and not the show. No need to try to get into character, to figure out what personality he wants from you. 

A sex doll would be a good gift for him, you find yourself thinking. A hefty investment, for sure, but think about all the money he’s spending at the brothel. If he calculates his annual payment, the sex doll looks like a steal in comparison.

You ignore his grunts, reducing it to nothing more than white noise. You stare up at the ceiling, wishing you could see the night sky. Stargazing — that’s what you would like to do. If you close your eyes, you can picture the starry night from back home; not Marley, not the refugee camp, but your real home. The one where you grew up. The one destroyed by this man’s people.

You work at night, yes, but you spend all your time stuck in this room, reduced to an object of pleasure. By the time you get off from work and take the long, tiring walk back to the camp, it’s already dawn and the only star in the sky is the rising sun. You miss the little luxuries in life. You miss being able to look up at the night sky freely, counting all those twinkling, shimmery flecks above. You envision a shooting star, and make a childish wish, and somehow, with nothing but stars and silly wishes on your mind, your brain conjures an image of the blond soldier from last night. 

You don’t realize how stiff your body is until you actually find yourself able to relax, to sink into the hard mattress beneath you. With his erratic thrusts, you’re certain that your client is nearly finished. At least he doesn’t have the stamina nor the recovery rate to go for a quick round two. You don’t want to think about the client though, so you take yourself to where you can actually stomach being. To places where you want to go. To see people who you want to see.

The soldier. Why does he keep appearing? It’d be bothersome if you were busy trying to do anything else, but seeing as he’s the only reprieve your mind can come up with, you go with it. 

Besides, there are far worse things and people to think about. At least this one is kind.

Kind, and genuine. And surprisingly soft-spoken. Not in a shy manner of speaking; no, the smooth, deep tone of his voice sounds nice. You can see why he’s in the Warrior Unit. If he really put his mind to it, he could get anyone to do anything with a voice like that alone. A voice of a commander, surely.

Unlike the other soldiers you’ve dealt with, he speaks to you softly. Gently. Like you’re someone to handle softly, gently. 

This is precisely why you try not to coddle the new girls. See what happens when you’re given a little kindness, a little warmth? You start clinging on to it, desperately, hungrily. You crave it, seek it out, search for it everywhere you can, and when you can’t find it anywhere else, you start jumping through hoops, trying to convince yourself that there’s something sweet hiding underneath the cruelty everyone else gives you. 

If one person is capable of being kind, that means everybody in the world is capable of it. And if everyone else chooses to treat you like the scum of the earth, then it’s clear the one person who was nice to you was just an outlier. Or, just a liar. And then you spiral, start to think something is wrong with you, like maybe you’re at fault. Maybe you just didn’t deserve to be treated nicely. Maybe the problem isn’t with other people; the problem is you. 

Before you can drown in your self-loathing any more, the golden memory of the soldier breaks through your thoughts. 

Nothing so bright has ever entered this place until he stepped in your room and stood by the door, a blushing, stammering mess that contradicted his position in this society. 

He just wanted to talk.

Men never want to “just talk.” It always ends up becoming something much more. You think about Malik, who occasionally stops by your tent at the camp to bring you and Ramzi any of the leftovers his family has. Malik, who struggles to be soft because of all his rough edges, a side effect from growing up a child in the middle of a war. Malik, who had tried to kiss you the last time he wanted to talk. He had apologized, even though you found yourself telling him there was nothing to be forgiven for. The kiss could have landed, and you still wouldn’t be able to be upset with him. 

Would that soldier try to kiss you? You think of how he stood by the door the whole night, never leaving his station. He must be a good soldier, you rationalize. He’s probably respected by his peers. Someone his family is proud of. In this line of work, you don’t have to work particularly hard to seduce the men; they all come here out of their own lustful volition. It would honestly be tiring having to lay your charm on the whole time you’re here. 

Did the soldier find you charming? Out of all the personalities you try to emulate for these men, the closest one to your true self had been with him. There wasn’t a need to force out replies you didn’t want to say, no gut feeling arising in your belly, warning you to keep your wits about you because saying the wrong thing in a conversation with a man could be a matter of life and death. No. 

He just wanted to talk.

What if you tried to be more charming next time? Maybe you could let your dress ride up more, reveal to him more slivers of skin. He had been respectful the whole entire night; you don’t think he noticed you noticing him. His eyes never left your face, except to occasionally look down at his hands when he thought he said something stupid. 

(For the record, you didn’t think he said a single stupid thing once.)

You come back down to reality as the man is pulling out of you. He tosses the used contraceptive in the trash bin and is zipping up his pants. He doesn’t look you in the eye as he slaps down a few crumpled bills on the nightstand. Willa may take a portion of the total payment, but all tips go directly to you. 

You don’t thank him as he’s on the way out. Does garbage ever show gratitude when you toss it to the side? 

Willa makes a point of trying to schedule appointments in a way that ensures each girl gets at least ten minutes to herself between clients. A brief reprieve, a chance to recollect, to build yourself back up again right before someone else walks in to destroy you. 

In the silence and darkness of the room, you toss aside any what-if scenarios between you and the soldier. He’s likely never going to return. There’s no point in fantasizing about a “next time,” because it’s never going to happen. 

You feel empty, devoid of emotion, cold, when the door opens again. You look up at your newest customer, ready to work out what show to put on for him when you feel life flooding back into your body, shocking your system.

Closing the door gently (as opposed to the carless slams most customers do) is the soldier. The same soldier from last night. His golden hair and his sunny smile and the bright armband flaunting his status. 

“Hi,” he says, standing by the closed door, the same exact spot he was in last time. 

It really is him.

“Hi,” you say back, too stunned to come up with anything clever or fascinating or charming. 

He came back! 

“Conversation must be pretty poor in the military if you’re coming back to little old me for a chat.” You recover quickly, smoothing down your dress, wondering if your hair is a mess. 

He cracks a smile at that. “Well, you’re certainly more fun to talk to than half my bunkmates, I’ll give you that. But no, I actually came here to bring you something.” 

“You brought me a gift?” Sometimes, clients bring their favorite girls gifts. You’ve received things like lacy undergarments, tiny bottles of perfume, things that would make their visit more pleasurable. You don’t see any shopping bags or wrapped boxes in his hand, and you wonder if he’s pulling some cruel joke on you. Like, surprise! You really thought I would get someone like you a present? 

“Wait! Don’t get too excited. It’s not really much, but…” He digs into his pocket before pulling out a pair of bright white socks. He hesitates for a second, as if he’s thinking about what to do, and then he’s making his way to you, standing in front of you. He still has to stretch his arm out to hand you the socks, making sure to leave what he must consider to be a respectful amount of space between you two. 

“Wow.” You breathe out, examining the gift. The cotton is soft, thick. It’s so bright and fresh and clean, you almost cringe at the thought of stepping on these floors with them on. They would be covered in a layer of dirt and grime within seconds. It feels expensive. It feels a lot nicer than any other article of clothes you’ve received since seeking refuge in Marley. It feels too good to be true. 

No one gives you something for free. When you remember this lesson, you look up, only to realize that he’s returned back to his spot by the door. 

“Like I said, it’s not—”

“Thank you.” You suddenly feel shy, holding on tightly to the bundle of cotton. “Thank you, truly. I really don’t know how to repay you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” In the dim light of the room, you can see his face and ears turning a faint shade of pink. There’s a pleased smile on his face, and it makes your face feel warm. 

“So, you spend money just to stand by the door all night and make conversation with me, and then you bring me very nice gifts, too. Honey, I don’t think you understand how brothels work.” 

“Colt.” He says, in that soft, patient manner of his. There’s a hidden request there; not a demand, but a plea. If he asked you for anything else, you would eagerly give it to him. If he took you right then and there, you would be a very willing participant indeed. 

But he’s not asking for sex, he’s asking for something more intimate. 

He wants you to call him by his name. 

You can’t do that. It’s too personal, it’ll blur even more boundaries. 

“Don’t tell me you really think I’d forget.” You say this instead, trying to subtly avoid the situation at hand. “I couldn’t forget even if all the other customers paid me to.” 

“What do you call them? Your other customers.” There’s no malice in his question, no envy; just pure curiosity. Hearing someone want to know more about you is a foreign interaction. You don’t think you’ve ever been asked a genuine, normal question in years. 

Honey. It’s simple. It’s basic. It’s impersonal. Sweetheart, depending on what character you’re trying to perform as. Baby, on occasion. 

“Silly things.” You tell him. It’s the truth. 

“But the same things?” He asks, and you nod.

“I don’t want to call you the same things, though.” The socks feel warm in your hands, and there’s a tiny voice in your head screaming at you for being so damn truthful, for not keeping your mouth shut. Why is it that the things you want to say and the things you should tell him are the exact same thing? It’s oddly nice, being able to speak your mind and have someone actually want to hear what you have to say; even better to have it be the right thing to say. “What do you think, soldier? No more calling you ‘honey.’” 

He opens his mouth, closes it, tries to say something, then thinks better of it. Finally, he lands on, “Whatever you want to do.” 

Whatever you want to do. Last night, he told you whatever you want. 

For the hour he’s here, you can try on a new role. A girl who wants. A girl who is allowed to want. This girl — you — decides that he doesn’t even need to fulfill any wishes. Wanting is enough; for you, it’s enough. 

You get comfortable on the bed, casually pulling back your hair and letting it lay behind your shoulders, against your back. With no hair to block it and the low neckline of your dress, your collarbone is on display. You momentarily forget about the ugly bruise, and you don’t notice the way his eyes flicker downwards, seeing it. Instead, you’re happy to start interrogating him.

“What’s it like, being a soldier? I heard the yellow means you’re a special one, right? A Warrior.” 

“Being a soldier is an opportunity I’m happy to have.” He answers carefully, trying not to sound ungrateful. There’s no way his family would have been able to afford the tuition for medical school so he could be a doctor. He didn’t want to be a shop owner, either. Career options for young Eldian men are limited. Enlist, or starve. “The yellow band means I’m in the Warrior Unit, but I’m not a Warrior yet.” 

“You’re still in training?” 

“Something like that, yes. But I have to wait until the other Warrior’s term is over before I can take his spot.” 

“You’ll be able to shift into a special Titan then?” 

Colt searches for the malice, the fear, the disgust. He only hears your curiosity. 

“I’m set to inherit the Beast Titan.” 

He finds himself standing up straighter, almost puffing out his chest in pride at the way your eyes go wide with awe. 

“That must be the best one.” 

“What makes you say that? The name?” Having the moniker of Beast just makes him feel even more inhumane, but titans aren’t necessarily humans, right? No point in trying to disguise the truth as anything but. 

“No. You just seem like you’re the best soldier, so I assumed they would reserve the best Titan for you.” 

Devil, monster, savage — whatever he is, he finds himself not caring. The warm feeling taking root in his chest, spreading throughout his body as a result of your words, makes him feel incredibly human. 

“Yo, Grice! Isn’t this insane?” Michael slaps Colt on the back, ignoring the way Porco raises an eyebrow at the interaction. 

“Shouldn’t you be with your unit?” Colt asks him. 

“Nah. They don’t really care—” 

“Lieutenant Sells, why the hell are you over there conversing with the Warrior Unit when I know damn well you popped out your mother a full-blooded Marleyan boy!” 

The commanding officer for Michael’s all-Marleyan unit is red in the face with an angry vein protruding from his forehead. Michael seems entirely unfazed by the whole thing.

“I think your CO is calling for you,” Porco says. 

“Huh. Was that him calling, or just the sound of flies buzzing?” Before Michael can look too pleased at his comment, his CO is screaming for him once more.

“Lieutenant Sells, every second it takes you to come back here and get in formation, is one lap you’re doing around the whole damn camp! I am not in the mood for your little games right now, Lieutenant!” 

With his smile wiped off his face, Michael shoots them a look that says something along the lines of save me, before jogging back to his actual unit. The whole entire time, he’s being berated by his commanding officer. 

“You keep interesting company.” Porco comments. “Hope your girlfriend is at least more sane.” 

That’ll be tough, Colt thinks, considering his “girlfriend” doesn’t exist.

When war isn’t active, the Marleyan military grows restless. When Marleyans are bored, things are bound to go from bad to worse for any Eldians in their vicinity. Today’s scheme that they cooked up involves an all-unit showdown. Physical sparring, no weapons, between soldiers from all the different units. 

No weapons, no maiming, no killing. Those are the rules. 

The unspoken rule, of course, is that any serious punch dealt by an Eldian that lands on a Marleyan is sure to result in some awful punishment, ranging from toilet-cleaning duty to having a finger chopped off. Pity. Colt foolishly woke up this morning thinking he was going to have a good day. 

He ends up getting paired with a burly Marleyan boy. He’s around the same height as Colt, but where Colt is lean, this boy is bulky. His muscles practically cause his uniform to burst at the seams. 

The officers are making a whole day out of this, too. Too much free-time. Why let their soldiers rest or train in peace when they can gather them all up and publicly humiliate the Eldians? Yeah, because that schtick never seems to get old.

Commander Magath looks at Colt before sending him off to get his ass beat. It’s the same look Colt imagines a butcher gives a cow before killing it. For an animal, you weren’t too bad. Sorry things had to be like this. Not really, though.

“Whatever you do, don’t take that shit lying down.” Porco had muttered into his ear. 

Colt isn’t like Porco, though. Things will only be worse for him if he does put up a good fight, and, unlike Porco, Colt is capable of possessing rational thought and the ability to put his ego to the side. He only hopes that Falco and Gabi will close their eyes. 

“Shake hands,” the Marleyan commanding officer commands them. It’s a show of camaraderie. That this is just all in good fun. A way for all the units to bond! Colt’s not sure who’s falling for that lip service. 

Like the good sport, the good soldier, he is, Colt extends his hand. The only show of defiance he will allow himself, he decides, is to not wince in pain as the Marleyan soldier crushes his hand. Colt smiles, which seems to only piss the guy off even more. 

Thanks a lot, Porco. I tried not to take this shit lying down, and now you’re going to have to lay me in a grave. Tell Falco I love him. Colt thinks miserably.

“Remember, boys: no weapons, no maiming, and no killing. Try your hardest to follow these rules. First one down for ten seconds, loses. On the sound of the pistol.” 

Once the pistol fires, Colt narrowly dodges the boy’s attack. With his build, it’s easier for Colt to move quickly, more fluidly. If he can just continuously keep dodging the boy’s hulking arms and certain death grip, Colt figures he’ll be safe. If it comes down to a battle of stamina, he knows he’ll win. 

“Come on, Colt! You can do this!” Colt makes the mistake of trying to search for Falco, trying to pinpoint his voice through the crowd. This is the last thing he wanted! Why is Falco watching this? Why did Porco not grant him a small mercy and force his brother to close his eyes. 

One second, he’s looking for Falco. The next, he’s getting punched right on his left cheek. 

Fuck.

He staggers, loses his footing. He reflexively touches his face, already feeling the sting of the punch. He tries to avoid the boy’s next attack but moves too slow.

Fuck.

There goes his right cheek. At least he didn’t lose any teeth.

Colt says a quick prayer to any benevolent god listening. 

Please don’t let him land a punch on my mouth. Please let me keep all my teeth. 

He can feel his training kicking in. He digs his feet into the ground, subconsciously getting back into a proper fighting stance. He feels how naturally his hands ball into a fist. Even with his head ringing, his vision a bit dizzy from getting knocked around, Colt can still calculate the perfect time to go on the offense and throw his own punch.

Don’t take that shit lying down.  

And right before the perfect opportunity to strike comes, Colt thinks of you.

You just seem like you’re the best soldier, so I assumed they would reserve the best Titan for you.

There’s more at risk here than just a banged up face and ruined dignity. He has a good thing going. He’ll be the Beast Titan and pay his reparations for being born by fighting for people who don’t even care about him. No time for a traditional midlife crisis, at least, seeing as how he’s most likely not going to live to see his thirties. 

The fist he makes uncurls. The moment of opportunity passes. The last thing Colt thinks about is the bruise on your skin. He hopes that you make it to your thirties. He hopes you live a nice, long life. If anyone deserves it, it’s you.

When he gets knocked down, he doesn’t bother trying to get up. The ringing in his ears intensifies, and cutting through the noise are Falco’s and Gabi’s screams. Has it been ten seconds yet? Colt looks up at the sky. It’s a cloudless day. Nothing but sunshine and blue skies. 

Yeah. Usually the most beautiful days are the worst for him. 

Blocking his view of the sky is the Marleyan boy, his face contorted with contempt. Colt tries to think of the boy’s name, searches through his mind and looks for a time where they interacted. He comes up blank, and he doesn’t think it’s because of the mild concussion forming, either. They don’t even know each other.

Just knock me out, already. Colt wants to groan out. Hell, take a tooth if it’ll end this thing.

He catches a glimpse of something shiny, reflective. The sun? No. This is silver.

A blade. 

Didn’t they say no weapons? Why isn’t the match over yet? It’s definitely been ten seconds.

He fills the coldness, the sharpness, of a knife’s tip pressed against the flesh of his face. 

He should fight back. He should get up, take the knife for himself, and show this boy what a real fight looks like. 

No. He wouldn’t take the knife. The rules clearly stated “no weapons.” That wouldn’t be fair, it wouldn’t be right. 

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” A voice shouts, and maybe he’s hallucinating because in what world is Commander Magath the one who looks out for him? Then again, it’s probably going to be tough replacing the future Beast Titan. Zeke likes him, too, which has to mean something. 

There’s a lot of murmurs from the crowd, and Colt strains to listen to what they’re saying. He thinks he hears fabric tearing as a blurry Marleyan soldier is being pulled off of him. 

Then, the world goes black.

“Ugh, you.”

When Colt regains consciousness, he realizes he’s been transferred to the infirmary. The cot he’s laying on is cold, and he looks down. He’s shirtless. He doesn’t know why he suddenly feels so shy when he turns his head and sees that the nurse is female.

Most of the nurses assigned to the Warrior Unit are women. This fact has never bothered him before, has never even properly registered in his mind before, but the stark white of their uniforms reminds him too much of the soft white of your dress.

The only nurse present isn’t speaking to him. She has her back turned, hands on her hips, talking to whoever pulled back the curtain. 

“You’re so mean. Geez, I thought nurses were supposed to have empathy.” 

Michael. 

Colt can never seem to catch a break.

“If you want empathy, go get treatment from your own unit’s nurses. People who want proper treatment go to me.”

“Okay, we all know why you took this job in the first place. Don’t start with me, Claire—”

“I know you aren’t taking that tone with me right now. Who do you want me to get: your CO or your mom? Hurry up, and pick before I call them both.” 

“C’mon, Claire!” Michael whines. “Let me in! He’s my friend.” 

Claire turns around, squinting at Colt, who decides to feign sleep at the last minute.

“I know you’re awake.” She says. He opens his eyes. 

At least she’s nicer to him than she is to Michael. “Do you know this boy?” She points to Michael, who looks too cheerful considering his conversation with Claire. 

“‘Course he knows me! That’s my brother! It should be obvious. We look just alike, don’t we?” He knows it’s just a joke, but all things considered, the resemblance is somewhat striking. The same shade of blond, same build; the only difference is the eyes. Michael’s are a dark blue. “I clearly got the good genes, though. Ma says he looks more like the milkman than pa, but don’t tell him I said that.” Michael winks at Colt. 

Nobody laughs.

“Michael, you really shouldn’t be here. This is a Warrior Unit designated area of the base. I’m being serious.” 

“But he’s my friend.” Michael tells her this, but she shoots him a look that says yeah, right. Colt wants to tell Michael to be careful, to not just go around spouting nonsense like that, but the nurse seems used to the meaningless drivel that comes out of Michael’s mouth. 

“Is that thing really your friend?” Colt’s shocked when he realizes she’s speaking to him, pointing at Michael, indicating that it’s Michael that’s “that thing.”

“Yes.” Colt says, realizing with a sinking feeling that it’s the truth. The feeling only gets worse when he sees Michael doing a fist pump.

“Oh my gosh. Your concussion must be even worse than I thought.” Claire gasps. “It’s okay. Whatever’s wrong with you that is making you keep him for company, I’ll fix it. Don’t you worry.” 

“Are you even certified?” Michael snaps. 

The scathing look she gives Michael would be enough to knock out Colt. Michael’s tougher than he looks.

“I need to go to the supply closet and get some more things since someone decided to get cut and made me use all our bandages trying to patch him up.” Claire announces. “You two — behave.”

Colt presses his fingers to his face and feels only one big bandage stuck on his forehead. 

“Finally the Wicked Witch is gone.” Michael mutters, before turning his head sharply, almost as if afraid she’s secretly eavesdropping. He relaxes when she doesn’t jump up behind the curtain to put him in a chokehold. “Anyway, how ya feeling?”

“Like I just got publicly beaten. Oh, wait.” 

Michael laughs. “Yeah? Don’t worry, he’ll get what’s coming to him.” 

Colt doesn’t necessarily like the sound of that, but who is he to get onto Michael? 

Michael tosses two strips of yellow fabric onto Colt’s chest. So, he wasn’t imagining the sound of fabric tearing, then. His armband is ruined. He’ll have to get a new one once he’s released. 

“His knife accidentally nicked your sleeve when we were trying to yank him away from you. Figured you would miss it, so I snatched it up.” 

“Thanks.” 

“No need for all that. You’re gonna make it seem like I’m a good guy, or something. We’re friends, anyway. If you ever need anything, just ask.”

“Bruise ointment.” Recovering from a mild concussion must have caused more brain damage than he thought possible because Colt knows it’s poor manners to start making requests. Especially to someone who doesn’t have to worry about getting his armband ripped off. 

“If you’re worried about your busted up face, don’t. I heard girls go for guys with rugged good looks. The black and blue really brings out the color of your eyes.” 

Before Colt can apologize for his abruptness, though, Michael strolls to the cabinets and starts opening up drawers at random. “But since we’re best friends—” He waits for Colt’s correction that never comes. “—I guess I’ll do you a solid.” 

Colt gets permission to leave the infirmary before dinner is served in the mess hall. He only stops by the Magath’s office to receive a new armband before heading to the front gates to sign out. 

He’s got one hour’s worth of your time in money in his left pocket, and a bottle of bruise ointment in his right. He hopes you’re free.

Three soft taps against the door have you looking up. You don’t dare to hope that the soldier is visiting you, for the third time this week — in a row, no less! — but the more time he spends with you, the stronger the urge to dream gets. 

You smile when you see that it’s him, and it immediately fades when you take a closer look. This time, you’re the one standing up, quick to approach him.

“Oh my— What happened?” Your arm comes up, ready to reach for his face, to examine his bruised face even closer, but you quickly snap it back to your side. He hasn’t tried to touch you in the two times you’ve met. Maybe he has an aversion to being touched. You reluctantly take a step back.

(Colt flinches. You chalk it up to pain; he thinks he must look pretty disgusting right now, horrific even, to have you scared to be near him.)

“Don’t worry. It looks worse than it actually is.”

You frown. It causes the most adorable crease between your brows. Yet another image to store away in his memories. 

“Actually, I just wanted to come by to bring you something.”

“No. You don’t have to buy me gifts. Please—”

“I don’t mind. I enjoy giving them to you.” Not to mention that they’re technically stolen , not bought, but the Marleyan government can afford it. If his face is going to get banged up, one tube of ointment should be fair compensation. He places it in your waiting hands, the tips of his fingers brushing against the palms of your hands.

Electrifying. 

“This is…” You read the label. 

“Helps with bruises. Fades them, strengthens the skin, helps with a quicker recovery. I figured it would be something you would like.” The more he rambles, the more he thinks that maybe this was a mistake. It’s his face, isn’t it? He should have waited for the swelling to go down, for the bruises to heal up on their own, before showing up here. He probably looks more beast than human right now. 

“Come lay down on the bed.” You say, and then, minding your manners, “Please.”

His brain short circuits. The concussion surely doesn’t help. You look up at him, doe-eyed and too pretty to be real, too pretty for his imagination to come up with, and you ask him again. “Please?”

Whatever you want — that’s what he told you.

Like a good soldier, he obeys the order given. He’s too tall — perhaps the bed too small — so he has to awkwardly maneuver his body on the stiff mattress. His feet are dangling on the edge, and there’s barely any room for you to sit on the mattress. Your body is pressed against his own, the two of you swapping warmth with each other. 

You untwist the cap of the tube, applying a small amount of ointment on the tip of your finger before pressing the same finger to the bruised part of his face. 

“Is this okay?” You whisper to him. 

Your touch is gentle, soft, comforting. Far nicer than he deserves. The nicest he’s even been treated, he thinks. This is better than okay, better than great. 

He feels his eyelids drooping before he gives in and shuts his eyes altogether. “Yes.” He breathes out. 

You apply the ointment everywhere, slowly, carefully, trying not to apply too much pressure out of fear of sending a shock of pain to him. His breathing gradually evens out. 

“All done.” You say it so quietly, it’s almost undetectable. He doesn’t do anything in response, and you realize that he must have fallen asleep. 

You take the time to admire his face. He’s got a bandage on his forehead, a tiny, red line peeking out that indicates this cut was much longer than what one bandage could cover up. There are two different bruises forming on each of his cheeks, making your own look like a poor imitation of what a bruise should look like. You don’t know what possesses you to take your hand and run your fingers through his hair. It’s coarser than it looks, remnants of hair gel still stuck on some strands. Your soldier looks worse for wear, and obviously he’s exhausted. 

So why did he go out of his way to bring you this ointment? You touch your own bruise, tracing the shape of it. He must’ve seen it. He didn’t ask questions, and that’s fine, because you probably wouldn’t have given him an answer, anyway. He must have known you wouldn’t say anything. 

You know he walked here, too. It’s not a short trip from the military base to this side of town, nor is it an easy journey, either. 

You continue to play with his hair, feeling your eyes get wet the longer you stare at him. What is the matter with him? Why does he do this? Why do you have to beg him to come to bed? Why does he take the trip to see you, spends money, brings you little things that no one else would think to get you, just to get nothing in return? It would be easier to know what to do with him if he were like any other man. Why won’t he ask you for something, anything? 

“Oh, Colt.” You whisper. Your thumb brushes against the bandage on his forehead. When he wakes up, you wonder if you’ll muster up the courage to ask him what happened. 

His eyes flutter open, looking dazed at first until his vision becomes clear. There’s a small smile on his face. 

“Is this a dream?” He asks, voice sounding scratchy, like the words are scraping against his throat. 

“No, not a dream, soldier. Go back to sleep.” 

“Huh. But I thought I heard my name.” He mutters. He blinks. His body is telling him to go back into his peaceful slumber, but maybe the time he spends with Porco is making his traits rub off onto him. Colt finds enough stubbornness to fight his own body to stay awake. “Prove to me this isn’t a dream.” 

How can someone look so confident, so strong, when they’re lying on a cheap bed, bruised and tired? How can someone look so handsome, despite it all? 

You think you’re going to do something dangerous. You just have to summon the courage to do so. One look at the hopeful expression on your soldier’s bruised face, and you know that if he can brave whatever happened to him, you can finally just give in.

“It’s not a dream, Colt.” 

He has to be dreaming, he decides. His name has never sounded sweeter. 

You lean down, your face just centimeters from his own. Your lips, so close to his ear. He’s dreaming, he’s dreaming, he’s dreaming — he doesn’t ever want to wake up. To whichever higher power is listening, please don’t let him wake up.

“If this was a dream, I wouldn’t be able to tell you this.” 

You whisper your name into his ear, and he is aware that this is not a dream. This is real life. This is you, so close to him, telling him your name. He greedily snatches it up, repeats your name over and over in his mind. Then, with his eyes closing, quickly giving in to his exhaustion, he says your name.

He’s out cold.

a/n: if you made it this far, thank you!!! a like and even just a simple comment would really make my day, but i know colt grice only has 2 fans (me being one of them), so i'm not expecting much. if you read precipice, you will look back on this fic and go "oh my gosh, it's a cameo from one of my favorite characters!!!" bc nothing screams self-indulgent fan fiction more than creating ur own lil universe within canon, with ur equally delusional friend <3

#colt grice x reader #colt grice x you #aot x reader #one shot #drabble #aot fanfiction #snk x reader #smut

[coloredsolos]

Hey :-) I have a request for 16. "I -did- care about you, I just had no other choice." I hope you like it, if not that's absolutely no problem at all ♥ So it's a fem!reader and Colt and they secretly like eachother since forever when suddenly he has to leave for the mid-east war without saying goodbye or even telling her (maybe he was scared, he didn't want to hurt her or he just couldn't). A few days later she meets his parents randomly and when they tell her about it, she is angry of course, disappointed he simply left, thinking he doesn't care about her - apparently not even in a friendly way. But then some time later a letter for her arrives, where he apologizes to her, confesses maybe and whatever you can think of :) Lots of love for you!

SAYING GOODBYE IS SO HARD

pairing: colt grice x fem!reader

prompt: 16. “I -did- care about you, I just had no other choice.”

content: childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, colt is a sweetheart, character death, season 4 spoilers

wc: 0.6k

a/n: hiya!! sorry this took so long! my computer broke and it took a while to fix but i’m back now!! I hope you enjoy and lots of love ♡ not proofread

Running into the Grice family was the last thing you had planned on. In fact, you had planned on avoiding anyone in that family for a while. After Colt disappeared without a trace you swear you felt your heart break in two. He hasn’t even bothered to say goodbye. You just woke up and he was gone. However, after running into his parents, you were now at a loss for words. the air around you felt thin. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. Colt’s parents had informed you, after you mentioned how he seemed to disappear, that he had left to fight in the mid-east war. You knew what that meant. And so with a quick apology, you muttered your condolences to his family, who had now lost Colt and Falco, before excusing yourself. 

He had left. You weren’t stupid. You remember how those devils took out so many of your nation’s soldiers the night they attacked. You had been with Colt’s family that night, since you weren’t a warrior candidate, you were left to see the destruction of Liberio from the internment zone. You were stunned. The Attack Titan’s rampage in Liberio was a surprise for one, and catastrophic as well. The deaths of so many innocent people, the stench of death in the air. You were scared. But Colt came back. He always came back. 

However, weeks passed after the news of the mid-east war. There was nothing. And the day the letter arrived you swear you felt your heart sink. Colt’s mother had hand delivered it to your door, tears in her eyes.

“Thank you for being so good to my son.” She would mumble before taking her leave. 

With shaky hands you opened the crisp, white letter.

“I’m sorry.” It would start out. You felt dread enter the pit of your stomach as you continued to read.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye. I figured if I didn’t say goodbye, then maybe, by some chance, I’d get to come back and see you again. But I should have known better. 

You don’t hate me… do you? I understand if you do. But I beg you to forgive me. I need to know you forgave me for leaving. I had to rescue my brother, avenge our people. 

I had to make you proud of me.

I figured maybe, if I proved my worth to the Marleyans, I could get a better life for mom and dads And you. 

I did care about you. I know you wouldn’t believe me. But I did do care about you. I’ll die caring about you. You are and always will be my best friend of course, but please know to me, you were more than that. I could see a life with you. A happy one. I hoped you could see one with me too.

So please, I ask you one thing, know I did care about you, I just had no other choice.”

Yours forever,

Colt

You watched as a drop of water landed on the letter you held. Was it raining? No, you weren’t outside. Reaching your hand up to touch your face, you were met with a wet sensation. You were crying. He wasn’t coming back, and there was nothing you could do about it. There was so much you had left to say to him that would never come to fruition. He didn’t even know how you felt. How you cherished every minute you spent together, or how you didn’t want to live if your life didn’t have him in it. You knew that saying goodbye was hard, but not getting to say goodbye was a million times worse. 

#julia writes #aot x reader #aot x you #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan x you #aot #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin #snk x reader #snk x you #colt #colt grice #colt grice x reader #colt grice x you #colt grice angst #colt angst #aot angst #attack on titan angst #colt x reader #colt x you #snk angst #colt grice aot #colt aot

[lostinwildflowers]

Summary: A young, naïve princess and a scrappy kid off the streets find themselves at odds, only to form a close connection that could cost the princess's future.

Word Count: 27.5K(...I am so sorry)

Warnings: Slowburn, Enemies to Lovers, Angst, Pining(and a lot of it), Violence, Fighting, Illness(Not Pregnancy), Graphic Description of Death, Blood and Gore, Harsh Language/Swearing, Royalty AU, Happy Ending

A/N: Guys. I have finally finished this fic after it sitting in my drafts for OVER A YEAR! I hope the wait was worth it, please enjoy. Also this isn't beta-ed so if there are any mistakes I apologize😭 -Birch<3

Some Inspirations(full credit to the artists!!!):

Knight Levi (1)

Knight Levi (2)

Knight Levi (3)

It was close to the break of a cool, brisk dawn, and an 18-year-old boy with raven hair was being escorted by the king’s guard. The men of the guard hurriedly ushered him toward the castle gates, hoping to keep the situation quiet.

The boy had just been scooped up from the streets of the small town outside the castle where he had fought against a robbery in the town’s bank. Two large men had been knocked unconscious and tied up outside the front door while he returned the coins to the banker, who was crying uncontrollably, thanking him.

The boy’s name?

Levi Ackerman. He was skimpy, short, and looked like the butt of a joke. Yet from the tallest hill to the deepest valley across the kingdom, he was known as one of the best crime fighters in the nation.

Levi was known for his cunning, stoic nature, as well as his ability to fight with an unnatural quickness on his feet. Never once had he had a run-in with the law, he would send for the guard as soon as he started fighting the criminals. The poor guards men and women would show up to take the criminals away, only getting a quick glance at the small boy saving their town.

That’s why when the royal guard came to find him after the banking skirmish, Levi didn’t resist. He knew he wasn’t in trouble.

As they rode back toward the castle and away from the small village, Levi listened to the guard’s oblivious chatter. They wanted to recruit him to be a part of the royal guard… at the king's request? The thought surprised him, but he didn’t let that show. He knew that if he agreed to be a part of the king’s military force, he would be well taken care of and still be able to serve justice to those who needed it.

The sound of steel horseshoes clicking against the grey and black tiled rocks in the road was barely audible in comparison to the bustle of the town just outside of the castle. Levi was mounted on the back of one of the king's horses, his silver eyes narrow and cautious as he watched everyone hustle around the entourage.

Before he knew it, he was walking away from the life he was accustomed to, and as soon as he made it through the palace gates, his life changed forever. You could say it was almost difficult to keep up, but Levi knew how to quickly adapt.

He's shown the barracks and his sleeping quarters, where he was lucky enough to get a small cot in the corner away from many of the other soldiers. He caught sight of some of the soldiers and their trainees, donning stripes on their armor to show off their rank.

Levi doesn’t quite know what to make of everyone, they are all so happy, so clueless to the outside world, it almost disgusts him. But, he keeps his mouth shut and listens as he gets his tour and settles into his new life.

Bright and early the next morning, he goes to train in the sparring lot with his group of roommates. Several of them had tried to talk to him and learn about his past, but he wasn’t interested in making friends.

He watched several pairs spar without weapons before it was his turn to go. The thing about Levi that surprised all of his opponents was his strength. Despite his smaller size, he could easily surpass and beat his fellow trainees in combat. Between his different styles of movement and his speed, he was untouchable. 

Levi spent the first while at the castle doing what seemed like pointless activities to him. He knew how to unsheath a sword. He knew how to ride a horse. All of the basics were skills he inherently knew from his life on the streets fighting crime.

That's why no one was surprised when he advanced to the group of other guard trainees, who had been at the castle, learning the trade for over a year. It was strange at first, with everyone unsure of the quiet, small boy, but they eventually came to make small chat and he began to fit in.

Time seemed to slide by as fall weather started to set in. Leaves changed from dark, rich greens to playful yellows and tasteful oranges. It’s on one of these fall days, that Levi meets you for the first time. 

You were elegant, graceful, and naive at only 17, out for a walk in one of your many private courtyards. You were out strolling by yourself, as you often did. There were guards littered throughout the palace, so you weren’t too concerned about danger.

You loft around one of your favorite courtyards, the Josephina Garden Hall, blinking through the falling leaves and sighing in happiness at the breeze that floats through, carrying the last of summer’s warmth. In your lackadaisical wandering, you catch sight of a dark-haired boy around the corner.

You stay quiet and you blink in surprise when you realize he is training in your private yard. He's young, you think to yourself as you shift to stand next to some browning thistle bushes. Butterflies erupt in your belly as you take in his shirtless and lean muscular back that is facing you.

Even with his boyish age, Levi is covered in thick, strong muscle, but due to his intense practice routine, he's covered in dirt and some bruises. You could even see the pale gleam of faded scars on his chest and back, and that's when you decided you needed to know who this recruit was.

What kind of guard trainee is this? He looks young, but he seems so experienced, he couldn't have come from one of the lords, you think to yourself as you shakily emerge from your hiding spot.

You roll your shoulders back and down, lifting your chin as you walk as poised as you can. An image of grace, or so you thought. You were youthful and inexperienced, having only just gotten out of a lecture about politics and debate. Your days were spent going to classes, electives, and other menial lessons.

This was your time of day to relax, but the air suddenly changed from inquisitive to tense. Just as you started to approach the dark-haired boy, who was swinging his swords in a practiced sequence, he caught sight of you.

He flips his sword over in his hand, and pivoting on one foot, his blade just grazes your chin to lift it and look deep into your wide (colored) eyes. The slight sting of the blade causes you to jump back, your hands racing to your face to see if he drew blood.

Your heart is pounding in your chest as you pull them back to see just a small droplet on the tip of your fingers, and your breathing is labored as you glare at the raven-haired boy.

Levi holds your stare as well as the stance with his blades and mutters, "Who are you and why are you watching me train?” It's silent for a moment as you process his words, the fading stinging on your chin slowing your brain down. Your mouth parts open, both in offense and shock.

He didn't know who you were.

You swallow thickly as you blink slowly once, trying to regain your composition as you reply, "It doesn't matter. You are training in a private courtyard meant for this kingdom's elite and personal guards."

His silver gaze bores into you for another minute before they roll in annoyance, his swords dropping away from you with an irritated sigh. He takes a small step backward, regaining your gaze without saying a word.

You watch him carefully, slightly nervous before dropping into a shallow curtsy. You look down and murmur, "Excuse me then." Levi takes a step to the side as you walk past him, skirts fluttering as you look straight ahead without a second thought.

Once you're out of earshot, Levi watches you leave and wander into the next garden, disappearing around the corner. Who the hell was that? He thinks to himself but brushes it off and continues with his training.

---

Later that same evening, the other recruits were laughing and chuckling after a hard day of training. Levi walked along behind them, listening to their conversations but never truly taking part in them. 

Everyone was headed back to the barracks, slowly wandering through the outskirts of the castle while trying to not be too loud. He kept one hand on the hilt of his blade, his gaze trailing away from the crowd of trainees in a practiced and calculated manner.

Colt, Porco, and Zeke were leading the group, some of the advanced trainees Levi had come to know. They were cracking jokes and talking about what was for dinner, but Levi didn't care for their conversation. He found more interest in listening to Reiner and Bertholdt who were in front of him.

The two young boys were discussing the upcoming rotations for the guard trainees. Each rotation group was stationed somewhere different around the castle and courtyards, and they rotated every couple of weeks so the guards could defend anywhere they were needed.

Reiner was more worried about who he was going to be stationed to watch, which made Levi roll his eyes, his silver gaze locking onto motion around the upcoming corner.

A split second later, he sees your figure surrounded by a flock of maids on your every side. Then, just a few paces behind them were your two female guards, Pieck and Annie.

His eyes narrow as the pieces click together in his head. He's interrupted when the other male guards he was walking with recognize you. “Good evening, milady,” Colt chirps out, a wide smile on his face as the group comes to a halt.

You had been talking to one of your maids about some kind of fabric for your next dress but were interrupted by the sight of the guards in front of you. You give the men at the front a sweet smile as the group of trainees all drop to one knee in a respectful bow.

All except for one.

The dark-haired boy, you think as he locks eyes with you. You nod silently to the maids, who skirt around all of the men and head toward your quarters. You continue to smile gently as they leave, and you address the trainees with a quiet and pleasant, "At ease soldiers."

Zeke offers you a wide grin and says, “Good evening, princess! Lovely weather we've had today, perhaps we can get some musicians to play in the back courtyard for you after dinner tonight.”

While Zeke is talking, you don't break eye contact with Levi, who is still standing at the back, not kneeling like the rest. You see Reiner elbow Levi in the knee, motioning to kneel in respect, but Levi continues to stare at you.

As Zeke finishes speaking, you shift your gaze to him slowly and agree, "Wonderful idea, Zeke. Please alert some butlers and other maids to gather everyone, especially my family and the lords. Reiner, Porco, join him, please?"

Zeke humbly agrees, as do the others, and you give them a dismissive nod, saying, "Thank you, gentlemen. Make sure to get my favorite violinist!" As the three blondes rise and disappear around the corner you just came from, you are left with Colt and Bertholdt kneeling, and the dark-haired boy still standing.

Levi's eyes are calculating and firm, and you nod to Colt and Bertholdt, relieving them from their bows of respect, heading past you and to the barracks. Colt turns around when he realizes Levi isn't following him but freezes at the showdown playing out in front of him.

You square up with Levi, taking a few steps toward him before he says, “You’re a princess? Makes sense why I caught you so off guard. You were loud, obviously in my line of sight, and an easy target who can’t even protect herself.”

A gasp sounds out as Colt gapes at the harshness of Levi's words, but the dark-haired boy doesn't say anything. And neither do you. You simply stare at where Levi’s head had been moments before as the boy walks past you, brushing past the other trainees. He disappears down the hallway where Colt and Bertholdt had been heading, straight for the barracks. 

Annie and Pieck are still standing behind you, and when you don't move for a second, Pieck rests her hand on your shoulder. "Princess Y/n? Are you alright?"

You don't say anything, but turn to face Annie instead, a snarl now etched onto your usually kind features. There is a fire burning in your (colored) eyes as you give her a cold look and state, "Teach me to fight."

---

The training session with Annie was just coming to an end, with your muscles sore and aching and your chest heaving to catch your long-gone breath. It was a long and brutal session, as Annie wasn't forgiving and it was warm as could be outside despite it being the middle of fall.

It didn't help that you were in your new fitted armor that Pieck helped you choose - it was heavy and there were many layers to keep you protected. There was a well-fitting breastplate that was engraved with your family’s name and emblem, cuffs for your forearms, and even protective plates for your calves, thighs, and biceps.

It was intricate and beautiful, with each piece perfectly tailored to your body. The one downside - it was heavy. With the rays of the autumnal sun beating down and carrying the extra weight you weren't used to, it was tough on your body.

Annie being a deadly threat didn't really help either, but at least her blade was only a wooden practice sword.

Her weapon came down fast and hard in a never-ending wave of attacks that were perfectly timed, accurate, and most of all, deadly.

With a fast nudge from her wooden blade, your sword easily flew to the ground, clattering against the hard-packed dirt. You were out of breath, with your hair all mussed up and grime smudged across your cheek from your hours of practice.

Silver eyes were watching from a distance in the trainee’s practice area, but you were too tired to notice anything. Instead, you were focused on Annie, who was holding her own sword up to your throat, much like Levi did two weeks ago.

"You've got a long way to go," is the only thing she says. You sigh deeply as she takes a step back and drops her sword, turning to walk away.

"I'm going to clean up, Pieck is here to watch you," Annie calls over her shoulder as she sheaths her practice blade back into her belt, and you give her a feint wave as you locate Pieck near the edge of the training field.

You watch as Annie’s blonde head disappears behind some shrubbery before slumping unceremoniously to the ground, a groan falling from your lips.

A few pants escape you as you close your eyes, a wave of exhaustion flooding over you. You try to calm the erratic beating of your heart and slow your breathing down as a light breeze begins to blow through. Leaves stir up on the ground, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

While your eyes are closed, everything somehow seems to get darker, and the breeze seems to stop just a moment later. Your (colored) eyes flutter open and up, leaving you face-to-face with the dark-haired boy.

You groan again and move to get up as Levi glimpses down at you and he states blankly, "You need practice." You shuffle to your feet shakily, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath before opening them and answering him with, “Yes. I know. Thank you, soldier.” 

“It’s Levi,” he cuts you off firmly, "Levi Ackerman.”

You squint at him silently, leaning down to pick up your fallen sword without a word. A small puff of air leaves your mouth as your hand wraps around the hilt of the blade and you mutter, “Well, Levi Ackerman, I’m practicing, and you should be too.”

The dark-haired boy simply scoffs and says “I'm already better than you in all aspects of combat, you need the practice more than anything. I’m not even sure why you’re out here, shouldn’t you be learning how to sew or something?”

Your hand falters on the grip of your sword for a second before your gaze hardens and you snap, “As you said, I need to learn to protect myself, and I'm working toward that goal.”

You don't hesitate a moment after that, choosing to turn away from him and follow Annie to wherever she had disappeared. Levi is left standing behind you as you storm away, quiet as he takes in your retreating appearance.

Pieck had caught sight of your small spat with Levi, and as she followed you out of the practice field, she shot an icy glance toward the dark-haired recruit.

---

Your days were endlessly busy, and you were the most exhausted you had ever been in your entire life, with meetings with potential princes, lords, and suitors, going to your lessons to learn about foreign policy, hosting balls, developing legislature, and more. 

On top of that, you were still determined to train with Annie and Pieck when you had a moment free. Annie focused on teaching you sword techniques and improving your reaction time, while Pieck focused on sequences and how to use them while in a fight.

You were slowly improving with every day you practiced. You were becoming leaner, and building more muscle. You were less quick to tire, you didn’t lose your breath as much, and you were getting to the point where you could occasionally match Annie’s blows. 

Your mother and father weren’t so sure about you learning to fight, but your elder brothers had all learned, so they accepted that it was something you wanted to do. Your mother thought it was “unladylike”, but your father thought it was a good idea that you knew the basics of protecting yourself if you needed to.

"Slow!” Annie's yell comes at you as she spins and slashes her sword toward your ribcage, her aim constantly perfect. You manage to dodge her attack before you parry your blade against hers, using your body weight to push her back a step.

The two of you were sparring in one of the private courtyards this particular day, while Pieck stood guard not too far off.

The two of you circled each other before Pieck called out, “I think that's enough for today, you two, Annie, it's time for us to go on patrol. Colt and Porco will be on guard while we are gone.”

You were in an intense staring battle with Annie, who breaks her gaze away from yours to nod at Pieck. You groan and whine out, “But Pieck, I'm not tired yet, I can still practice for another hour!”

Quiet footsteps behind you make your head turn, and you suddenly see a blade coming down toward your face. A flash of fear runs through you, and you instantaneously react, bringing your sword up to catch the opposing blade.

You just barely catch it in time, and you realize your heart is pounding in your chest as the initial rush of adrenaline burns off. Shock is evident on your face as your lips part in a gasp and your eyes widen, but you soon frown when you are met with that new yet familiar silver gaze.

"Then let's fight for another hour," the low voice comes. 

Annie and Pieck had both drawn their swords, just to find the dark-haired boy named Levi was the assailant. Dressed in his practice armor, the silver metal covering his body reflected the same color as his eyes. 

One of his swords was drawn, the blade pushing down on your own, leaning toward your face. You could see the concentration in his brow, but you weren’t about to give up and lose. Stalemate it is then, you think to yourself as you brace against Levi.

At that moment, Colt and Porco walk into the yard, suited up in their new armor, their eyes wide when they catch sight of you and Levi. Pieck sighs and walks over to them, briefly giving them the rundown of events before she and Annie leave for their patrol. 

Colt and Porco, each respectively, take a position on either side of the yard, giving you and Levi plenty of room to fight. When your eyes meet Levi’s again, you find him with what could be considered a smirk resting on his lips.

"Let's fight, princess.”

At that, he pushes his blade off of you in a sudden burst of energy, spinning away quickly to avoid any counterattack from you. This gives you time to draw your sword in an effective manner to combat his every blow.

Levi draws his second sword, now dual-wielding in the style that no one seemed to be able to replicate. You grit your teeth and go after him swinging, allowing the metal of your blade to clash against his, your footsteps shuffling in the fine gravel and dirt. Your hair was falling out of the already messy ponytail it had been in, the (colored) locks falling into your eyes.

You felt unkempt, wild, and stronger than you ever had before. And this time when you were fighting, you had the physical strength to show it.

While you were on the muscle and ready to attack at every movement, Levi was at ease, effortlessly matching your blows; twisting and flipping just out of range of your blade.

Eventually, Levi starts to get the upper hand, and without you realizing it, he gets you backed up and pinned to the wall. In an instant, one of his blades flicks yours to the ground before being pointed at your throat, while his other one comes up to point at your belly.

He's panting now though, with sweat running down his forehead and neck, disappearing behind the silver chainmail covering his chest. The sun just barely catches his left eye as he gazes at you, and it glows like a hot ore on a fire.

It's silent between you two, your blade is on the ground so there is no way to defend yourself, and your hands are by your sides. At that moment, you are out of breath, beaten, with nothing to say for yourself.

Levi pauses for a moment before dropping his swords and resheaths them, one on his back and the other at his hip. He takes a deep breath through his nose and gives you a small, shallow bow and a quiet mumble of, “Better.”

He takes a few swift steps back and jogs out of the yard, giving Colt a simple nod before disappearing toward the barracks. You're left standing there, dazed, as you watch his armor glitter and dance in the disappearing rays of sunlight.

You hardly notice it, but a faint flush has covered your face, and as you touch your cheek, you realize it's warm.

---

The sun had sunk below the horizon and the coolness of the full autumn nights was bone-chilling. While you had gotten cleaned after some flower arranging and training exercises that afternoon, there was a part of you that wanted to get messy.

So, you decided to go to the forges and clean your practice gear. The plates had been coated with mud and grass from the numerous times you hit the ground while sparring Annie, and there was no doubt dust caked onto the cloth from the dirt Levi kicked up when he surprised you.

It was late in the evening, several hours after dinner, and one of the times of the day that you were allowed to be alone for just a few minutes. Not wanting to make a scene, you chose to go to one of the smaller forge rooms, one that you knew not many people used.

You took a few moments, setting up a few candles on the workbench and lighting them, stoking the fire in the hearth to warm up the small workshop. There were several tables set up in the room, embroidered cloths carrying the royal insignia, others holding stacks of bent swords and dented plates of armor.

On your workbench, someone had left out a few delicate trinkets and other lightweight tools, and you find yourself smiling at the meaning behind them. A small forged flower? Perhaps for a lover back home, you wonder to yourself as you gently move it to the far side of the table.

You can’t help but sigh in happiness at the quiet sounds of the workshop; the crackle of the small fire burning in the hearth of the forge, the distant sounds of drunk men happy with their work for the day, and even the call of a spotted owl hooting in the distance.

The ability to be alone for a few minutes was much appreciated after the clashing of swords all afternoon, and you quietly start to work on polishing your armor as a warm, orange glow begins to fill the room. The faint smell of wood smoke fills the air, accompanied by the dark and rich aroma of the oil used to clean your armor and blade.

Time seems to tick by slowly, and you don’t even realize there is moonlight shining through the window until the sound of footsteps approaching catches your attention. Your (colored) orbs are snatched away from the rhythmic movement of polishing your thigh plate at the noise and you cease motion as you look to see who it is.

As you turn to face the entrance to the forge, you are met with the shadowed face of Levi, who when he notices you, his eyes widen ever-so-slightly and he bows in recognition and murmurs, “Princess”.

You can feel your eyes narrow in immediate suspicion at the sudden respect he is showing you. He quietly walks past you, moving to sit at the table closest to the forge, the two of you facing each other, yet tables apart.

You notice he is carrying his own gear, and you soften the intensity of your expression and answer him with a short, "Good evening, Levi,” before returning to your thigh plate with the small rag.

It’s quiet for another moment, but the simple silence that had once surrounded you has grown thick and uneasy. You could feel yourself shifting on the bench you were sitting on, realizing you were in a much more casual outfit than you typically wore. It wasn't nearly as extravagant as your day-to-day dresses, but you still felt comfortable enough to be seen by your guards and maids. 

So with it being Levi sitting in the same forge as you, it made you uneasy. You watch him pull a stool out from the corner of your eye, the wooden legs scratching against the ashen ground near the forge’s mouth. What had been a harmonious sound from the forge becomes the sharp hiss of logs burning and the soft zings of metal being wiped clean and sharpened.

You feel the need to say something, anything, and so you mumble carefully, "You fought well today.” You dunk your rag in more oil, (colored) eyes cast down toward your hands. You can feel Levi’s heated gaze snap onto your frame, and the intensity of them is like daggers digging into your sides.

"I fight well every day,” he almost snarls. You feel your heart practically jump to your throat at the harshness of his tone, and you keep your eyes on cleaning a piece of mud off of a shoulder pauldron. Suddenly you feel foolish for saying something, and it's quiet for another moment before he pipes back up.

“But thank you," he murmurs, softer this time, "You are getting better, some of your combinations are pretty good.”

His words are simple, and straight to the point. They show no signs of being impressed or disappointed, it was like he was simply stating your fighting abilities like they were facts. Your cleaning motions completely stop as you process his words, and you can’t stop yourself from looking up to view his lithe figure. 

Levi is working on cleaning his dual blades when your gaze lands on him, and he doesn't look up when your eyes find him. He doesn’t even seem bothered that he gave you what could be taken as a compliment, especially with how he has acted toward you.

But this is the first time you truly get to lay eyes on the scrappy boy, taking in his limber build. He's not large. Everything about him seems to be small, regardless of the obvious muscling on his frame. 

You know he's strong despite his size, and he is lethally fast, which proves to be a deadly combination. The boy sitting across the room from you has something about him that sets him apart, and you just can’t put your finger on what it is.

As you go back to cleaning your armor, you try to piece together a possible backstory for him. You know he didn’t live in the town connected to the castle, no one here knew him. He was around your age, and he knew how to fight, but he wasn’t from a royal or respected family.

You look up from your gear, setting everything off to the side and you state out of nowhere, “Levi, I want you to train me.”

It's quiet again, and you can feel your heart pounding in your chest as you wait anxiously. You then hear his blades hit the wooden table in a sudden clatter, drawing your gaze to the intricately designed swords. 

No one else had swords like him. Custom designed, but embellished with the royal insignia, they were specifically made for his fighting style. You had wondered about them, and why your parents would allow for a random boy to have custom swords if he were just to be joining the guard.

You pause for a moment, thinking about how you made a major mistake asking this of him, and you look up to meet his gaze. And now, he's looking at you.

The expression on his face is one you don't know how to digest. He always seemed to look mad, bored, or sad when you watched him from a distance, but now you had no idea how to get a read on him. If you were to say what he looked like, you thought that he looked excited. 

Levi stands up from his stool, the wood once again scraping against the ash-covered floor. His boots crunched on the thin layer of ash, but he didn’t seem to mind as he secured his blades on the table. 

He moves with a grace you never noticed and he walks around the edge of your table to lean his hands on it directly across from you. 

“No,” he says, his gaze still unreadable. You blink up at him, your fingers nervously weaving together in and out before you plead, “Teach me, there is no way I can get better if I don’t learn.”

You can feel his disbelief when he tuts and pushes off the table to stand up straight, looking down at you. His arms move to cross his chest and he responds again, “No, I’m not going to teach you.”

A wave of frustration washes over you and you stand up and frown before spitting out, “You have to!” Levi rolls his eyes and sighs, “I don’t have to do anything.”

You walk around the edge of the table to get closer to him and you point your finger at his chest and bark out, “You have to listen to me, I am your superior!” Levi smacks your finger away with his hand and is quiet for a moment.

His gaze shifts, and suddenly you can read his expression again. A challenge. His eyes become steely in the light of the forge, and you can see them flicker between your eyes, down your frame to your boots, and back up again.

You suddenly feel too warm standing there, and you uncomfortably shift side to side as you feel him silently judge you. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Here I am in clothes not suitable outside of my quarters, this guy is judging me after beating me today, and I’m begging him to train me. Get it together! The words flood into your mind as you stand there, and you cross your arms over your chest to try to cover up in insecurity.

“What’s in it for me?” he asks coolly, his gaze boring into yours as he awaits a response. You blink in disbelief and stutter, “Uh, uhm, I don’t know. What do you want?”

Levi rolls his eyes and walks back over to his gear, sliding the swords back into their sheaths. He folds up his armor and puts it back into a leather bag that he brought it in. He seemed dismissive and you were racking your brain before an idea caught in your brain.

“Land!” you call out loudly, before covering your mouth. Levi freezes and turns to look at you with one of his brows lifted in question. You take a quick breath and continue, “Land, for your family, here around the castle. That way you can see them whenever you want.”

Levi continues to put his stuff away and replies blankly, “My family is dead. I am alone.” A pit builds in your stomach and you usher out, “I’m sorry, I had no idea.” Levi glances at you and shrugs, “I’ve worked alone since I was a child.”

You are quiet again and let him walk past you toward the mouth of the forge. Just as he’s about to leave you mutter, “Please, Levi. I want to learn.”

He pauses behind you at the door, your backs facing each other. It’s quiet, with just the sound of the fire splitting open another log. You can hear the fluttering of the owl’s wings outside the window, and you turn to face the door, afraid he left.

Instead, you are met with Levi’s gaze watching your dejected figure. You can see he is calculating in his head, thinking, planning, and ready to say something that will destroy your hopes.

“You have no idea what you’re signing up for, princess,” is what falls from his mouth. It’s quiet, so quiet you almost miss it. A flicker of hope blooms in your belly and excitement takes over as you realize the implications of his words.

You take a step toward him, your hands clenching by your sides as you whisper, “Try me.”

Something flashes across his face, another unreadable emotion. He stares into your eyes and replies, “9 o’clock tomorrow night outside the Josephina Garden Hall. Don’t be late.” 

Not a moment later, and he’s gone.

---

It’s just starting to get late, with the moon climbing higher and higher into the sky. You are nervously making your way to the Josephina Garden Hall on the south side of the castle, opposite the barracks. 

You could hardly focus in your classes all day after the interaction with Levi in the forge room the night before. He was going to train you!

The training at night part made you a little nervous though, as you had really only practiced during the day and under heavy supervision. It was a windy night too, so you wore an extra layer underneath your practice gear so that you would stay warm.

A chill runs up your spine as you hurriedly make it inside the grandeur gates of the Josephina Garden Hall, and you take a deep breath as you start scoping the area for Levi. 

You had informed Pieck and Annie of your new training program with Levi, and both of them were hesitant but supportive. They were both standing at the opposite sides of the gates when you entered, and you quickly waved at them in recognition.

Just as they start to wave back at you, there is a sharp and quick blow to your back that knocks you to the ground. Air rushes out of your lungs and your forehead knocks into the grey, rocky tile with a loud crack!

Ow, ow, ow! The pain sets in quickly, and you can tell you’ve cut your forehead, you’ve likely got gravel or dirt in your palms, and there is going to be a bruise in the middle of your back in the morning.

“Lesson 1 - always keep your defenses up,” the low voice comes from above you. You are trying to decipher the words when panic begins to set in. You couldn’t catch your breath.

You don’t think you’ve ever experienced so much breathlessness, and you roll over onto your back, gasping for air. In doing so, the voice, which belonged to Levi, rings out again, “Lesson 2 - don’t give yourself an opening for the enemy to disarm you.”

In a quick motion, his boot flicks your practice sword right out of its sheath on your hip. The wooden blade flips perfectly into his hand, and in an instant, the blade is pointing at your throat.

Blinking rapidly while trying to regain your breath, you take in Levi’s appearance. He was wearing a dark cloak, and his face was shadowed in the light of the moon. He looked… eerie. And for the first time since you had met Levi, you felt scared of him.

“As I said, princess, you’ve got no idea what you’re in for”, he spits out, dropping your sword next to your head. You shuffle into a sitting position, chest still heaving. Your mind was an absolute whirlwind due to the lack of oxygen and the speed and accuracy with which he evaluated your fighting knowledge.

You frown and grab your wooden practice blade, putting it back into your sheath before scrambling to your feet to face him. You pant for a moment and then say, “Then teach me how to be better.”

Levi turns to face you, the moonlight casting him in a silver glow. He cocks his head to the side slightly before he replies, “Your reaction time is slow, you move loudly, and you are uncoordinated.”

You stand still for a moment, taking in his words. You shrug and ask, “So how do I fix all that?” Levi squares up with you and says, “Well with someone of your skill level, you can’t work on it all at once. You need to learn the pieces individually and then start putting them together.”

He motions to a tree where you can just make out the figure of a spotted owl, the one you had seen the night before! Levi starts, “An owl doesn’t start out as a silent flier. It first must learn how to flap its wings to get in the air before it worries about how quiet it is.”

You nod in understanding as the owl turns its head, flaps its wings a few times, and then glides off into the woods outside of the courtyard. A small shift on your heel and you face Levi again and call out, “Let’s go again!”

---

That first training session was the start of a brutal and grueling process to get you in fighting shape. Levi was a good teacher, surprisingly, but he was relentless. For every time you messed up, you had to get it right three times in a row.

The weeks started to slide by, and you were getting stronger, faster, and more deadly. Winter has arrived in its full glory - frigid winds, iced-over paths, and inches of snow every morning. The pines in the forest had started to get weighed down by all the icicles hanging on, and the horses were blanketed every night to keep them warm.

It was hard, practicing in the cold. The dry, cold air made it hard to breathe when you were working to the point of exhaustion, and when the sun shone down just right, you were positive you were going to go blind.

That didn’t deter Levi, though. You had managed to get better with a blade, but Levi insisted you needed to learn how to fight hand-to-hand since you “were so good at losing your sword”.

So that led you to your current predicament - being across from Levi trying to dodge his punches. They were fast, one after the next, after the next. Perfectly timed with an accuracy you didn’t know someone could obtain.

You jump out of the way as fast as you can, but a blow to the rib catches you off-guard and has you keeled over, your breath puffing in the frigid air. The pain is sharp, but you’ve started to learn how to manage it better, so you stand back up and form your fists into balls.

You attempt to throw a weak punch toward Levi’s abdomen, but he catches your hand with ease. He’s strong enough that he pulls your hand up to eye level, looking at the form of your fist.

“Okay, first off, this isn’t how you should make a fist when throwing a punch,” Levi says to you, pointing to the way you had your right thumb in the middle of your fist. He pulls your hand apart and makes it flat before reforming it into a fist, wrapping your thumb around the outside of your middle and pointer fingers.

You feel a wave of heat wash over your face as you realize he’s close to you, touching your hand. You try to pay attention to what he’s telling you, but it’s like you are just now realizing the ashen color of his eyes is flecked with the faintest hint of light blue.

“If you had actually hit me with the fist you had, you would have broken your thumb in an instant,” he explains, dropping your hand and showing you the fist you had made but with his hand instead. You don’t expect to almost miss the warmth of his touch when he moves away, but you shake the thought away as soon as it comes.

You step off to the side, letting out a small breath that billows around your head before throwing a punch in the air with your fist in the correct position. You turn to gauge Levi’s opinion of your punch, and you see what resembles a small, half-smile on his face.

Levi sighs and shakes his head, “Not quite. You’re twisting your arm as you deliver the punch. You want your arm and shoulder to follow directly behind wherever your fist is landing. If you are moving to break someone’s nose, you want it all to be in a straight line.”

He demonstrates a quick punch in front of you, and you can see the line he’s talking about from his fist, through his arm to his shoulder. You take a deep breath, trying to focus as you once again square up with Levi. You hone in on his nose, and in a flash, your fist flies out in front of you.

It surprises both of you when your fist makes contact with his jaw, and there is a clack as Levi’s teeth clamp down together in pain. Your (colored) eyes are wide as Levi takes a step back, one of his hands coming up to cup his cheek.

Your fist is still hanging in the air from where you just punched him in the face and panic sets in as you realize you just punched him. “Oh-oh my gosh, Levi, I’m so sorry!” the words come rushing out of your mouth, and you take a step forward with your hands covering your face.

There is a slight grimace on Levi’s as he works his jaw up and down to dissipate any pain. He lets out a quiet snort and utters, “That’s more like it, even if your aim was a little off.”

Worry is etched across your features as you take in the growing red mark on Levi’s cheek. “Levi, I am so sorry, please let me take care of that,” you plead as you move around the side of him to get a better look at it in the light. Levi just brushes you off, waving his hand dismissively, “It’s alright, I’ve had much worse.”

You sigh and mumble, “I believe that but that doesn’t mean you need to suffer now. Please, Levi, let me at least get some ice for you so it doesn’t bruise as badly.”

He glances at you from the corner of his eye as he unwraps his hands, quiet and calculating. A moment passes but then he gives you a small nod, leaning down to pick up the extra wraps he brought, and motions for you to lead the way.

It’s a quiet walk back to the barracks, with only the snow crunching underfoot. You keep an eye on your surroundings, noting the guards just coming back from patrol in the forest, and the next rotation of trainees leaving to watch the castle walls.

Before you know it, the two of you are sliding into the small medicine room at the entrance to the barracks, and you grab a soft cloth and a stool. You have Levi sit on the stool while you run back outside, scooping up some of the fresher, cleaner-looking snow from outside the building.

Ducking back inside, you press the snow down into a ball inside the cloth, wrapping it until it is softly padded. You give Levi a small smile as you offer the rag to him, and he quietly grunts in thanks, bringing the cooled wrap up to his face and laying it on his cheek.

You rock back and forth on your heels a few times before asking, “So, uh, what are we going to practice next?” Levi looks up at you through his dark lashes, his eyes half-lidded in exhaustion. He’s quiet, which is something you’ve come to notice about him.

Levi never seems to have a lot to say, and only really talks when spoken to. Your thoughts are interrupted when he mutters, “You still need to work on your hand-to-hand combat skills, your aim is off.”

He shuffles the ice on his face a little bit, a soft hiss sliding through his gritted teeth. Your brows furrow and you reach out, moving to pull the ice from his face to see what his cheek looks like.

While you’re busy looking at the slight purple and pink marks blooming on his cheek, Levi is looking at you. He hasn’t spent much time with you in such close proximity, as he typically kept you at arm’s length.

But up close… you were pretty. He should expect that- you are a princess after all. But there’s a certain natural aura that he never noticed before, a sort of kindness written into your features. Maybe it was the way your (colored) orbs flickered from one dark spot on his jaw back to his eyes to see if he was okay.

Maybe it was the gentleness in your touch as you pulled his hand down from his face so you could look at it. It could have been the tenderness and honest sorrow in your voice when you apologized for hurting him.

Your hair, whilst messy from fighting, somehow suited you despite its frazzled appearance. The curve of your mouth when your lips were parted while thinking matched the ferocity you had when mad and the joy in your heart when you laughed.

Levi felt a wave of emotion run through him while you muttered to yourself how you needed to get better and train harder. It was intense, a feeling that shook him right to his core.

Was it… longing?

“When I was living on the street, alone,” he whispered, his voice so low and quiet you thought you were hearing things. You dialed in on Levi and the way his eyes were slightly glazed over as if he was in another world.

He pauses for a moment, swallows thickly, and then continues, “When I lived on the streets, there was this little girl I helped out. She was probably 7, maybe 8 years old. Didn’t have any family, no place to live. But I helped her.”

You are quiet as you listen to him, not wanting to upset him, you nod along. He glances up at you and starts again, “I would get her food, clean water, maybe even a place to sleep at night. In turn, she would find me medicine and bandages.”

Levi looks back down at the ground and his eyes flutter close as he mutters, “I was a sick kid, but she helped me when I needed her. I wonder where she ended up some days, and if she’s still as kind as she was to me.”

You shift your weight slowly, crossing your arms over your chest, and mumble back, “I can imagine she’s helping people, a good heart is a good heart. No amount of wounds and scarring will stop someone’s true nature.”

Suddenly, as if a flip switches in his mind, Levi’s eyes snap open and a hardened look covers his face. He stands up, slamming the snow-filled cloth down on the table and he practically snarls, “You would have no idea, all you’re used to is a protected life within these walls. You’ve never experienced what it’s like to live every day not knowing whether or not you’re going hungry.”

He lunges towards the door, pauses for a second, and spits over his shoulder, “Not everyone is as privileged as you, princess.” The words are as cold as ice, and you feel like your head has just been plunged into a bucket of water.

Hurt washes over you as you watch him disappear deep into the barracks, and you slam the door shut as you collapse onto the stool where he was just sitting. A sob tears itself from your throat before you can stop it, and you wonder why you’re crying.

Is it because his words are true? Is it because he was vulnerable with you? Or was it because you were starting to consider him a friend, and he only saw you as a pawn in the overall game of royal hierarchy?

---

A few days have tensely come and gone, and you and Levi haven’t spoken to each other since his outburst. You had buried yourself deep into studying, you figured that way you could stay out of his way and better yourself while doing so.

You hadn’t bothered practicing while being nose-deep in your books, and Annie and Pieck had started to notice. They had seen the dejected look on your face when you made it back to your room that night and how you shut the door without another word, locking them out.

They didn’t bother asking what was wrong when they saw Levi practicing with the other trainees and not with you. So, instead, they guided you to and from lectures, meetings, and other royal duties without hesitation.

There was one day where the sun seemed to break through the sky a little clearer and Pieck decided you needed to get some fresh air. She was waiting outside of your room, knocking gently before she called, “Princess Y/n, come out! You need some fresh air and out of those books.”

You groan at the distant call of Pieck’s voice, but deep down you knew she was right. You set a small bookmark between the pages of the current novel you were reading and begrudgingly call back, “Give me a moment to change into something more suitable for outside!”

Pieck smiles as she hears you fumble around for a few minutes before she hears your door click unlocked and you appear beside her. Dressed in clothes more appropriate for the winter weather outside, there is a disgruntled look on your face that says you aren’t happy with her interrupting you.

She rolls her eyes and says, “Come on, you know this will do you some good. Annie is already down at the stables getting our horses ready. It’s a nice day out and we thought you might like to go for a ride.”

The strained look on your face shifts to one of easeful thanks as you and Pieck make your way down to the stables. From a distance, you could see Annie’s blonde hair peeking out from underneath her cape, and beside her were three of your favorite horses.

The first was Ramon, a deep cherry bay with a small white star on his forehead. He was an absolute sweetheart and enjoyed going out on the trails. The second was your favorite mare, named Vairon, who was a small white and black spotted Leopard Appaloosa. She was a little on the fiery side, but you really enjoyed her company.

The third was an old, kind stallion named Enfés. He was a dark, seal bay that could almost look black in the middle of winter. While his name literally meant “hell”, the blaze of white hairs on his face showed his older age and the kindness in his eye.

You give each of the horses a quick rub between their eyes before you look to your two guards and ask, “Who wants who?” Annie was already holding Enfés since she tacked him up last and she replies, “I can ride Enfés since I already have him.”

You nod and look to Pieck and she shrugs with a smile saying, “Pick whoever you want!” You smile back with a giggle and mumble, “Alright, I’ll ride Vairon, I haven’t ridden her in a while.” You move to grab the mare, carefully guiding her out of the tacking area and out into the snowy, grass field just outside.

The three of you mount your horses and set off towards the woods. There were hundreds of miles of trails around the castle that you enjoyed riding through. In the summer, you could gallop your horses down the paths and out onto the open moors without hesitation.

But now, in the middle of winter, you were limited in how fast you could travel. While it was a warmer day and the snow was melting, you still had to be cautious of the slick ice underneath the snow that could make your horse slip.

You take a deep breath through your nose, the cool air burning your airways with a slight sting that is refreshing. You let the air slide back out through your lips, the warmth from your breath instantaneously freezing. It momentarily blocks your vision, and when it clears, your stomach drops at the sight in front of you.

Bandits.

There were several hooded figures, too many for you to get an accurate count in the split second you realized they were in front of you. Pieck and Annie had caught sight of them too, motioning to quickly move to the side of the path. There were only three of you, and at least a dozen invaders.

You can feel a wave of nervousness wash over you as you try to draw your sword from your sheath. You glance back and forth between the figures closing in on you and the hilt of your sword, which was caught on your cloak.

Crap, crap, crap! Is all that is racing through your mind as you struggle to get a hold of your only weapon. A cry rips through the air as Annie moves to fend off the first round of attackers. In a desperate motion, you let go of your reins to grip the hilt of your sword with both hands.

With another strong tug, your sword comes loose, and just in time for an arrow to whiz through the air near you. Another pang of fear runs through you, and in a panic, you jump off of Vairon, the mare instantly turning and bolting as the sounds of battle rapidly approach.

You try to steady yourself and in your mind, thinking through your training with both Levi and Annie. Just as you get a grip on your surroundings, a dark figure appears in the corner of your vision with a blade directed at your head. You duck on instinct, sticking your foot out in a way you had seen Levi trip someone many times.

The bandit trips over your extended leg, falling to their knees as you advance behind them, kicking them in the back with your other leg. This seems to knock the air out of them, leaving the bandit out of commission for a moment while you glance to see how Annie and Pieck are doing.

“Pieck?” you call nervously when you don’t see her black locks of hair anywhere. “Pieck?!” you yell more loudly when you don’t get a response. In your moment of distraction, you don’t notice another bandit sneaking up on you, and your attention draws back to the invader you had already knocked to the ground.

Just as you move to attempt to knock the invader out, the second bandit attacks. You’re too slow when you finally realize they are there, and shock rips through your nervous system as a searing hot pain takes over your left arm. You cry out, your voice shredding at the coarseness of your yell, and it’s loud enough to catch Annie’s attention.

“Princess Y/n!” she shouts towards you, parrying blow after blow with three attackers on her at once. You don’t get a chance to respond when you hear a voice exclaim, “A princess? She’ll be worth a lot if we can capture her!”

“It’s a shame that won’t be happening today,” a low voice barks from someplace behind you. The second invader launches at you, holding the blade that had cut you up to your throat. A gasp of pain leaves your lips and the guy who had a hold of you grabs you by the shoulder and yells, “Quiet, princess! Or I will have your head.”

He turns to face the unidentified voice you had heard, and you shuffle along to avoid any more injury. You hear the voice again, and through your pain and blurry vision, you can start making out a figure.

This time you know who the baritone belongs to as it rings out, “I can’t allow that either.” Before you can comprehend it, Levi is off his horse and lunges toward the bandit. You see a slight flick of his sword, and then you feel the pressure of the blade on your neck disappear.

With a shaky glimpse toward the ground, you can see the bandit’s severed hand still holding the sword. A scream splits the air behind you as the harsh pain sets in for the bandit, who steps away from you and tries to run. Levi is faster though, and he spins around, slashing his dual blades again.

You close your eyes as you hear the bandit’s body hit the cold, hard dirt beneath him. Another wave of agony washes over you as you feel warmth start to seep down your arm, and a choked sob breaks through your lips.

Not a moment later, you can feel a hand placed on your non-injured arm, and through tears you didn’t know had, you can make out the shape of Levi’s face. You can see concern on his features as he asks, “Are you alright?”

You are shaking, your whole body quivering as you try to contain your emotions through the pain. You try to nod your head but another cry leaves you with a fresh set of tears streaming down your face.

“H- how did you find us?” you manage to stutter out as Levi drops his hand from your shoulder. He re-draws his secondary blade and replies, “I saw your horse, and then Pieck appeared a minute later and brought our patrol.”

Another screech rings through the air and he sharply looks away from you and calls out, “Wait here, get down and hide somewhere!” Then, he’s gone, heading to where the cry came from. You could see several of the bandits were fleeing, leaving their horses and weapons as they ran for their lives.

Levi and the rest of his patrol were finishing off the few that remained, with Annie and Pieck joining them. You were about to collapse to the ground when you caught sight of something glinting through the trees. After a moment of realization, you recognize it as the royal insignia on a soldier’s breastplate.

You stumble forward as you call out to the fallen soldier, “Hey! Are you okay?” You don’t get a response as you trip through the brush, eyes blurry with tears from the pain coursing through your body.

In an instant, your body seems to come alive as you recognize the soldier. Rico Barht, one of your father’s guards. Rico was gushing blood from his thigh, where a nasty arrowhead had dug itself into the flesh. His upper body was drenched in blood from slash wounds on his chest and arms, oozing onto the soil beneath the two of you.

“Oh my gosh, Rico!” you blurt out in recognition as you lunge forward, your hands coming up to cup his face. He was just barely breathing and his hazel-colored eyes were half-lidded, unfocused.

A sob escapes you and you exclaim again, “Rico, hold on,” you look around for a second and then yell, “I need help over here!” You turn to face Rico again, slightly shaking him as you try to get him to focus on you, “Rico, Rico, hey, it’s me, (Y/n). We’re going to get you all fixed up, okay?”

A weak garble comes from his lips and that’s when you see it - a clean slice through across his throat. You immediately move to put pressure on it, but your hands keep slipping from the blood that is rushing out of his jugular.

“No. No, Rico come on, no no no no,” you rush out as you see his eyes fix and dilate. The blood continues to flow from his neck, and then you feel him take a breath. Then, all is still.

You can hear the fading cries of the bandits, and the forest rustling before it’s silent again. Sobs wrack your body, ripping your throat apart from the inside out. You let the tears fall as you clutch tightly onto the fallen soldier, praying that his soul leaves this cruel and unkind world behind.

You are so distraught you don’t hear your name being called from where Levi had left you. “Princess Y/n?” the call comes, and then again, this time with more intensity, “Y/n?! Y/n, where are you?!” You can hear the panic growing in the voice, but there is no air left in your lungs to reply as another whimper leaves your lips.

The person calling for you hears your cry, rushing down the dirt path that you had taken to find Rico. “Y/n, there you a-”, the voice starts but then abruptly stops. You turn to face the oncomer, who through your fuzzy vision determines is Levi.

He turns back towards the group and orders, “I need medical supplies over here, now!” Levi places his hand on your shoulder, trying to pull you out of the way so he can help, but you don’t budge, “He’s already gone.”

You can’t say anymore, and you bring your hands up to try to wipe the tears away from your eyes. Instead, you end up smearing Rico’s blood all over your cheeks. You don’t seem to notice, but Levi does.

His silver gaze widens as he sees the blood coating your hands and he rushes, “You’re injured, we need to get you medical equipment now.” He turns over his shoulder and shouts again, “Where the hell is that med kit?!” When his eyes meet yours, you simply shake your head.

“It’s not mine,” you whisper, sniffling, “I tried to- I tried to save Rico. But I couldn’t…” your voice trails off as a fresh wave of tears washes over you. Levi doesn’t say anything for a moment, a look of sorrow and realization covering his bloodied features.

You hadn’t ever seen someone die before.

It wasn’t something Levi thought of often. Living on the streets, defending innocent lives, death was so common he didn’t think twice about it. But you? A princess who barely could fight, holding a soldier as he died? He couldn’t imagine what it was like.

The two of you are interrupted as Pieck appears behind Levi and states, “We don’t have any more med kits, the soldiers in critical condition have already been sent back to the palace.” Her gaze flits from Levi to you, to the body of Rico behind you.

She opens her mouth to call for help, but she catches the glint in Levi’s eyes, and she understands. Pieck swallows thickly and then says, “I’ll get some of the other guards to take care of this. You two should get back in case any of the bandits are lurking around.”

Levi nods in thanks before turning toward you and murmuring, “Let’s get you back to the castle.” You don’t say anything, finally quiet after exhausting yourself of tears. Levi offers his hand to you, the digits covered in blood and grime.

You don’t think twice, placing your own hand delicately in his, gripping on tight as you feel Rico’s blood press into Levi’s palm. He pulls you to your feet, steadying you before guiding you out of the brush and to where Annie had gathered your horses.

She was in good condition compared to you, only mildly dirty, and didn’t look injured. Her blue gaze meets Levi’s silver one, and they both give each other a nod of understanding. Without any words, Levi mounts his horse while Annie helps you onto Vairon, the mare slightly antsy from all the commotion.

Annie passes your reins to Levi, who says to you, “Just hold on, alright?” You sit deeper into your saddle, grabbing onto the horn before nodding to him.

The two of you set off for the castle, a harsh silence settling over the ride home. You couldn’t help replaying Rico’s death over and over again in your mind. The feeling of the blood spurting from his neck. The look in his eyes as he died. The way his chest stopped rising and falling and laid eternally still.

You don’t even realize that you’ve made it back to the palace until you see Levi standing next to your left stirrup, offering you a hand to get down. Time and space seem altered as you make your way from the stables back to your room, trying to avoid any and all eyes on you.

You were a sight to see: face and hands covered in blood, your jacket ripped and your arm bleeding, dirt covering your clothes, and a distant look in your eye.

Levi stops you just outside of your door, his gaze trying to peer into your own troubled (colored) one. For the first time, Levi can’t tell what you’re thinking, and in a way… it almost scares him.

“Y/n- ”, he starts but is stopped when you cut him off and robotically state, “Thank you,” and then disappear into your room without another word. The door clicks shut with a small gust of wind, leaving a disheveled Levi outside with a look of surprise on his face.

He stares at the door for a moment, wondering whether or not he should go after you or send someone to help, but then he thinks better of it and heads towards the king’s chambers to inform him of the raid.

---

It was the day following the bandit attack, and you had two guards following you on your heels. Bertholdt and Colt were both on edge, you could tell. You know they weren’t quite as experienced, and that they knew you had seen something… dark, yesterday.

The two of them don’t say a word, though, and follow quietly behind you as you make your way towards one of the sitting gardens within the palace. You had gotten cleaned up, your skin washed from any traces of blood and dirt, but you couldn’t help but feel like Rico’s blood coated your body.

You felt like red was covering you, smothering the fine lace of your light blue dress. But it wasn’t. So you kept quiet and walked, trying to clear the encroaching feelings and thoughts from your mind and body.

You find yourself slowing near a white rose bush, and you gaze upon the seemingly perfect flowers for a moment before muttering, “Isn’t it funny how this flower can grow so perfectly? Can live a life so pure?”

Colt and Bertholt stop behind you, giving each other inquisitive looks but not answering you. You don’t give them a moment to speak as you continue, “These flowers can stay here, in this garden, safe from the freezing temperature of the winter outside. They don’t ever have to die because they are safe, protected here.”

You turn to face your guards, a far-off, distant look in your eye as you mumble, “They don’t ever have to experience death, only the rebirth of new life.” A tear falls quickly from your eye, sliding down your cheek and onto the ground next to your heel-clad shoe.

Without another word, you turn on your heel and continue through the garden, solemn. 

Your day is slow, and you can’t battle the thoughts that seem to torture you every waking moment. The moment you are released from your duties for the day, you set your sights on a glow in the middle of the darkness. The forge.

You hadn’t spent time in the smoked and charred room since Levi had taken you on as an apprentice. Typically you were so exhausted that you would just go to your room to clean up and fix up your armor and blades.

But tonight, you couldn’t stand looking at the walls in your room, or the pages of your favorite book that you could get so easily lost in. No, tonight, you needed to get out and get away from sitting and doing nothing.

So, you find yourself in the corner of the forge near the hearth, quietly stoking the fire, lost in thought. You thought about trying to find a blade to sharpen, or some armor that needed polished, but your feet seemed glued to the dirt floor next to the growing flames.

Deep marigold mixed with tawny and carmine, forming an intricate dance as you scoped the flames, looking for something. Maybe it was so that you could catch a sight of the soft sapphire and indigo licks that seeped in and out of the rusty haze. Maybe it was so that you could leave the thoughts of the bloody bandits out of your mind. Maybe you just wanted to forget the sting on your arm as your heart shattered while Rico’s life slipped away from your fingers.

Or maybe it was to forget the relief you felt when Levi’s gaze found you in your utter panic. The peace that streamlined through your body when you could see concern etched on his features. The comfort you found when he placed his hand on your arm, asking if you were alright.

You shut your eyes as the thoughts berated you, one after the other. You could hardly stand them, all you wanted was one moment of silence from your mind. In the haze of your head, you don’t notice the lithe figure that slips into the forge room behind you.

The figure catches sight of you curled up next to the hearth, sitting on the dirt. You were wearing what he could only imagine was an expensive, imported dress, but here you were, sitting on the floor. Dust and ash lay on your lap and the edge of your hem, but it didn’t seem to bother you one bit.

Levi set his gear down as quietly as he could on the table near the door, mentally battling with himself on whether he should leave or not. Just as he takes a step back, the fire cracks, breaking your train of thought, and the angle of your gaze changes to catch him red-handed.

Levi could curse under his breath, but he stayed silent before dropping into a respectful bow and murmuring, “Princess.” Your (colored) orbs are tinted copper in the light of the forge, but they widen as they recognize who was before you.

In a moment, you try to scramble to your feet, but Levi cuts in, “No, no, please, stay where you are. I was going to clean my gear, but I can find somewhere else.” He straightens up from his bow, his gloved hand reaching for his gear before he hears your voice.

“Please stay,” your voice practically croaks out, “Please?” The pain in your voice immediately catches Levi’s attention, and he can feel his resolve crumbling when he sees the wet glimmer in your eyes. He drops his hand from his gear, instead plucking his leather gloves off and removing the rest of his bulky gear.

Levi makes his way over to you, feeling your searing gaze on his every movement. He chooses to sit on the opposite side of the hearth from you, giving him a good look at your tear-stained cheeks. The clear look of distress tugs on his heartstrings in a way that confuses him.

What was that for? He’s just here to make sure you’re okay. You’re here all alone with no one to protect you. 

At least, that’s what he told himself. He clears his throat, pushing the thoughts away as he asks, “Are you alright, princess?” You roll your eyes and sniffle, uttering, “Please just call me Y/n. And-” you pause, rubbing at your nose before sighing, “I don’t know.”

You can feel Levi’s watchful gaze on you, but you choose to gaze deeper and deeper into the flames. It’s silent between the two of you, and you think that you might have said something wrong. Levi blinks slowly, thoughtfully, and then replies, “It’s okay, you know.”

This catches your attention, and you turn your cheek toward him, catching sight of the meaning of his silver gaze. He continues, “It’s okay, to feel the way you feel. It’s not an easy thing to deal with.”

You want to brush him off and defend the soft and broken part of your heart, but you realize that Levi saw straight through your uncertainty. You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. Levi cocks his head slightly, his gaze burning into you like the heat wafting into your sides from the fire.

You swallow thickly, a dry and humorless chuckle falling from your lips as you manage, “It’s such a natural thing, yet all I can do is replay that moment over and over again, wishing there was something else I could do to save him.” “There wasn’t,” the instant reply comes.

Levi hadn’t taken his eyes off of you once, and you meet his gaze with a furrow in your brow as you fight off an incoming wave of sadness. “There wasn’t,” he repeats, softer this time, “That soldier was lucky to have you in his last moments, Y/n. At his end, he knew nothing else other than someone cared for his life.”

He finally tears his eyes away and he mutters, “And that can mean a lot to someone.” You take in Levi’s appearance at that moment. This… interesting, to say the least, soldier, sitting on the ground with a crying princess, talking about death. It was almost funny, the way it seemed like everything to you, but just another burden to carry for him.

In a bold move, you reach forward, your fingers gently resting on top of his own hand as you question, “How do you deal with death, Levi?” You shuffle your feet ever so slightly to get more comfortable, waiting for him to pull away at any moment.

Instead, he flips his hand over so that your digits rest in his palm, and looking at your hands he replies, “I remember them.” He glances up at you through his darkened lashes and when he sees the confused look on your face he elaborates, “When they were normal, healthy, alive. I remember whenever they smiled or laughed. When they weren’t sick or dying.”

You nod delicately, taking in the deep timbre of his voice and the emotion that it carries. You reply, “But what if I don’t have those memories? I only saw Rico in passing a handful of times, I barely knew his name.”

Levi squeezes your hand and states, “You carry on with your life, living for him. Enjoying each moment so that his life doesn’t go to waste.” You give the dark-haired male a saddened smile and nod, squeezing his hand back when your voice seems to fail.

Thank you.

---

The chill of winter slides away with the onset of a warming spring, and things have been becoming more normal. You and Levi finally resumed training once you seemed to cope with the loss of Rico.

You were behind, yes, but doing everything in your power to catch up but with one major caveat. Your 18th birthday was just around the corner. Your days were full of meetings, ballroom preparations, lessons, training, and sword practice. There had hardly been any downtime to relax or breathe, and everything was slowly becoming overwhelming,

Levi was accommodating though, with practices starting later and later in the evening. You had started to learn and understand this raven-haired boy better, with his insomniac-like tendencies, and his peculiar and dry sense of humor.

You liked spending time with him.

To your benefit, Levi was a surprisingly good teacher, and even though most nights you were tired and fed up, Levi could handle your banter. He had a sharp tongue, which kept your focus on getting better, but he was never too harsh.

Whenever he was unable to help you, Annie or Pieck picked up the slack to be your punching bag or let you try out a new combination on them. But with months of training under your belt, you were becoming an increasingly lethal opponent.

One evening you were getting ready to head down to the training yard to practice with Levi, fixing your gauntlets and securing your sword as you rushed to get ready. It was the night before your 18th birthday, and your mother insisted on planning a huge ball for your coming of age.

Just as you were putting the finishing touches on your outfit, there was a knock on your door. Latching onto the handle, you open it to see Levi, who always comes by your room before practice. There was one glaring difference that caught your eye, shock covering your features as your gaze took him in. 

He typically donned his plain, smooth metal practice gear when training with you, but instead, Levi was covered in new, glimmering plates of intricate armor. The smooth breastplate that once was blank and had no symbol, was now textured metal lined with gold and donned the royal insignia on it. His expression was no different than normal, he just wore his usual, stoic frown.

Your eyes widen at the realization of his upgraded armor and you can’t help the words that burst from your mouth, “You’ve made it into the guard?!” It comes out as an almost-shout, which catches Levi’s attention.

His silvery gaze widens ever-so-slightly at your realization, and he shuffles on his feet before he gives you a slow nod. He straightens up for a moment before motioning to the hallway outside of your room and replies, “Let’s go for a walk, princess.”

Your mouth is still parted open in surprise, and your hands have come to interlock in front of your chest, but you do as he requests and move to walk side-by-side with him down the hallway. Your footsteps fall in sync out of habit and you gasp at him again and say, “I didn’t know you were getting knighted today, you should have told me!”

The new knight just shrugs as if it made no difference to him, folding his arms behind his back in thought. He briefly looked to the ground and his black locks moved to fall over his angled cheekbones.

You playfully hip-bump him lightly, trying to reinforce your point. On the rare occasion he wasn’t paying attention, or he was just letting you think that, he stumbles forward a little bit. His arms come down to rest at his sides again and he looks over at you, slightly offended.

Giggles fall from your lips at his reaction and you chuckle out, “I’m serious! That's such a huge deal and you've only been here for a few months.” A soft, barely noticeable flush covers Levi’s cheeks, and he’s thankful that you don’t seem to see it.

He looks directly in front of you two and replies, “I’m doing my best to protect the kingdom.” You scoff and roll your eyes before retorting, “Puh-lease, you do your own thing without regard for anyone. That’s how you are, Levi.”

Levi’s eyes narrow as he turns to face you and just as he opens his mouth to respond you cut in, “I don’t even know if I can count your friends on the one hand.” You give him a look that says, “You know I’m right,” and he just rolls his eyes and groans, “It’s not like you’re much better, you only hang out with your guards and your maids.”

The playful banter between the two of you continues as you walk the cascading hallways of the castle. The intricate paintings hanging on the walls start to catch the rays of the glowing candlelight and the setting sun.

Before you know it, Levi is steering you into one of the courtyards - Josephina’s Garden Hall. You smile softly at the fond memory of your first-ever training session in this very garden. As you look around, there is not a single person around.

The thought crosses your mind that people are preparing for your birthday, which is just around the corner. Your mother was practically bursting at the seams to host a ball in the largest ballroom of the castle, so all energy was put towards the festivities.

Of course, there were still guards and knights littering the perimeter, but there were fewer stationed around unoccupied areas to focus on decorating or protecting the exterior of the castle.

Levi pulls ahead of you by just a stride, heading toward one of the walls that is adjacent to one of your favorite rose gardens. One of the bushes is coated in giant red blooms, and just as you are about to say how beautiful they are, Levi reaches for something behind one of the flowers.

“What are you-” you start but are interrupted when you catch sight of what he was grabbing. It was a brand new, dark leather sheath with a sword in it. A sheath with your initials on it.

You quickly glance from Levi to the sheathed blade and back again. He returns your gaze with a strange intensity you’ve only ever seen once from him, and it makes you want to almost squirm. It felt like he was seeing through and into you, and it made your heart flutter in your chest in a way you never experienced.

“Happy birthday, princess,” Levi whispers, handing you the darkened leather. Your lips are parted in complete surprise as you accept it from him, your eyes raking over the intricacy of the stitching of your initials.

You don’t waste another moment before grabbing onto the hilt of the sword, drawing it firmly out of the sheath. The last of the sun’s rays catch the unmarked length of the blade, making it glow like an ember burning in the hottest of fires.

Your mouth had fallen open in true admiration and shock at this point, and you turned to Levi in complete wonder and appreciation. You swallow thickly and stutter out, “I, I can’t accept this, Levi,” dropping the sword back into the sheath and offering it back to him.

The dark-haired man simply shakes his head and states, “You deserve that blade, princess. You’ve worked very hard, and while you still have a lot to learn, you need more than a wooden practice sword or dull blade to protect yourself.”

You can’t help the huge smile that rushes to your face, and a wave of excitement takes over you. In a split second, you lunge forward toward Levi, crushing him into a huge hug.

He once again isn’t fast enough to react, and he’d never admit it, but he was enraptured at the sight of you: your hair falling perfectly around your face, the light of the sun reflecting the pure joy in your eyes, the strength you exuded as you held your new blade… you were stunning.

Levi struggles against you for a second, afraid someone would think he was taking advantage of you, alone like this, but after a moment, softens into your embrace and slowly pats you on the back.

You pull away from the hug as a stray tear runs down your cheek. You sniffle as you let out an embarrassed laugh, wiping at the tear as you gush, “I apologize, I didn’t mean to get so emotional. This is such a beautiful gift, Levi. I don’t even know how to properly thank you.”

Levi lets a hint of a smile rest on his lips, and his eyebrows softening ever so slightly as he murmurs, “You don’t need to thank me for anything. I should be thanking you for giving me a place here at the palace, and I apologize for being so rude when I first arrived.”

You wave your hand dismissively at him before laughing, “It’s alright, you were the first and only person to openly challenge me like that, and I needed that reality check.”

The two of you stand in silence for a moment, close to one another but not quite touching. You shuffle and glance at your feet and at your hand holding your new blade. You mumble, “There’s something I want to ask you, Levi.”

He quirks an eyebrow in interest at your sudden shift in tone but he motions for you to go on with a gentle nod. You sigh before a saddened smile covers your face, the dying rays of the sun just catching the last of your drying tears.

“Annie is leaving the guard after my birthday celebration is over,” you explain, “She wants to live a life with her father in the country, and the king has arranged for her to leave. That leaves a gap in my defense, and while I’m much more capable of defending myself, I’m missing a knight-” “I’ll do it.”

Levi’s voice comes out soft and low, and it catches you off guard at how much emotion it seems to hold. “I’ll join your personal guard if that is what you wish, princess. Just say the word and that will be my next mission in life.”

You blink up at him, your smile shifting from one of sadness to one of thanks, “Please, would you join my personal guard?” Levi bows to you and utters quietly under his breath, so quiet you don’t hear him, “As you wish.”

When he stands up straight, you give him a slight bow and the two of you stop for a moment, silently regarding the other. A moment passes and you give him an almost cheeky smile before turning away, and without hesitation, Levi follows you.

---

You see, that was the start of a beautiful friendship between you and the dark-haired man. It was built on long days of sparring, bickering, and slowly but surely, tolerating each other. On the day of your 18th birthday, Levi was appointed to your guard and soon began taking his patrols with Pieck, swapping in and out with Porco, Reiner, and the other guards who had also recently been knighted.

Now officially a knight, it was harder to get training practices in, but whenever it was his shift to watch over you, the two of you found yourselves in the training grounds. The training sessions continued for months, your sword skills becoming more and more refined.

Before you knew it, a year or two seemed to slip by like the finest silk, and your friendship with Levi bloomed into something tried, true, and trustworthy. He was always there when you needed him to be, a reliable soldier and a trusted friend.

You weren’t blind to how the two of you grew up, Levi got slightly taller and thicker with muscle. No matter the day, he always, always, always got stronger. You, on the other hand, became more elegant and stronger in your own ways. You became physically stronger, yes, but you found your voice and learned how to rule and talk to your subjects while remaining kind as you always had been.

Over time, Levi had learned your ways rather quickly. The time you woke up. How long it took you to roll out of bed. Just how you liked your morning coffee or tea. It seemed so domestic every morning whenever he’d knock on your door to see if you were awake or not. 

A fondness developed between the two of you for those easy morning conversations, not that either of you would admit it. While the two of you constantly bickered and playfully argued, Levi saw through the facade and to the sweet and tender side of you.

It was moments when you would kindly thank your maids, or encourage your younger siblings. He saw the way you treated the guests who would visit from overseas, and he found a deep respect for you.

And although you had many personal guards, Levi ended up being the one that stuck by you the most often, often by your parent's wishes. With Levi in the guard and not out protecting the towns surrounding the palace, crime rates had increased. And so, the king and queen wanted you to be the safest you could, with the best protection around.

---

On a cool winter morning, with snow glistening on the windowsill, you had just gotten dressed and were preparing for a meeting with your parents. They had found someone they thought would be a lovely suitor for you, as you were now old enough to be betrothed to someone of equally high status.

A soft knock on your door catches your attention, and you fumble with your earrings as you call, “Just a moment!” But the door opens anyway, and in comes Levi, a scowl covering his face.

Yet when his eyes land on you, fixing your earring in a slight panic, his eyes soften and he mutters, “It’s just me, relax.”

His silvery eyes seem to linger, though. They take in the gentle curve of your cheek dusted with blush, then fixate on the necklace hanging around your neck.

Levi is no fool. He has come to know you over the years, and he knows you are one of the most beautiful women he has ever seen. Of course you were, you’re a princess.

He has to shake his head slightly to clear his thoughts before he coughs once to clear his throat. Levi glances up at you and states, “It’s almost time for your meeting with the king and queen, Y/n.”

You give him a warm smile and ask, “Walk with me?” Levi offers you his arm in his classic fashion, and you take hold of his arm like you always did.

Levi guides you out of your room and down the familiar hallway. The arches were cast in a soft, ethereal glow, the snow from the courtyard reflecting the light brightly. Your steps land in sync and quietly echo as the two of you silently move toward the meeting halls.

You sigh and glance down at the floor as you mumble, “I don’t know if I’m ready for this, Levi. My parents have spent so long trying to find me a suitor, but I’ve disliked all of them. I’m afraid they’re running out of patience, or that I’m not worthy to be a good wife.”

Levi stops in his tracks at your words, a bored and stern look on his face. He pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand before running it through his black locks and saying, “Are you kidding me, Y/n? You are a beautiful, strong, and intelligent princess. You are practically the epitome of a queen and wife, and if anything, I think you scare a lot of your suitors off because of that.”

Surprise floods over you, and the words of praise coming from Levi seem to float around in your mind. Beautiful? Strong? Smart? He thinks I’m beautiful?

But Levi doesn’t give you any more time to think. He continues walking, dragging you along as he finishes, “Just because you haven’t found the right man for you yet, doesn’t mean that you won’t find him. He might be the most surprising person you’ll ever meet.”

You stay quiet at that, walking silently next to your knight and trying to process his words. And before you know it, you have made it to the meeting room where you knew your parents and a suitor would be waiting.

Levi slowly releases your grip, letting his hand slide down your arm before grasping your palm. He gives your hand a gentle and encouraging squeeze before releasing it, and walking up to the large door.

He hits the knocker three times to signal your arrival, and just a moment later two butlers open the door from the inside, ushering the two of you in.

Just as you expected, your mother and father were sitting at the head of the table, and at your entrance into the room, all eyes were set on you and Levi. You are dressed to perfection, regarding the room with elegance and grace, taking in the setup and the profile of the room and the suitor.

The tall, blonde gentleman stands up and bows before you can speak and states, “Good morning, princess.”

You swallow deeply and smile as you curtesy and reply, “Good morning, sir.” You take your seat next to your mother, and you can feel Levi’s steps stiffen as he walks behind you, pulls your chair out for you, and gets you settled in.

He ends up standing a chair or two down in the corner of the room, watching and waiting as he was trained. Your eyes flash towards your parents in a sweet greeting before you take in the appearance of the suitor.

The man was tall. Very tall. He had longer blonde hair and just a small bit of facial hair. He wore very fine clothing, embroidered with intricate details, and obviously fitted by a professional tailor.

The potential suitor bows again and states, “I appreciate your time this morning, Princess Y/n, my name is Viscount Miche Zacharius.”

At the sound of his name, you could hear Levi’s blade scraping against the wall ever so slightly. You shoot him a concerned glance, but all you can see is a hardened look on Levi’s face.

He looked… mad?

You turn back to Miche, and with a practiced smile you reply, “It’s wonderful to meet with you this morning, my lord.” The blonde smiles in response, and before he can speak again, the king cuts in, “Tell us about your kingdom, Miche. Y/n would love to hear about your homeland.”

Your teeth grit together as your father speaks for you, but you keep the practiced smile plastered on your face as you watch Miche chuckle slightly nervously, but he nods. 

Seconds fade into minutes, and minutes lead onto an hour as Miche, your father, mother, and occasionally you, make conversation. You could tell Miche was a nice man with good morals, but there was something lacking in the conversation that kept you jumping for joy.

However, your mother and father thought the two of you kicked things off well, even considering the fact they hardly let you talk to the man. Your mother was so enthralled with the idea of you and Miche that she suggested a ball to be hosted for the two of you to get to know one another better - an offer your father couldn’t refuse. And neither could you.

“What a grand idea!” Miche exclaims, standing up to shake your father’s hand, “Do let me know of the details as soon as you get it planned.” He then turns to you, excitedly and says, softer, “I do hope you’ll save me some spaces on your dance card, princess.”

You giggle uncertainly and reply, “Of course, my lord.” At that, Miche takes your hand, gently, and presses a chaste kiss to your knuckles before giving you a bow and leaving the room, your father a pace behind him.

Your mother is practically swooning at how sweet the man seems to be, but you are quite taken aback by his forwardness. You hear metal scrape against the wall again, and out of the corner of your eye, you can see a firm frown etched on Levi’s features.

He was pissed.

The walk back to your room is quiet and tense, with no words passing between the two of you. You could have practically screamed in frustration when your door finally latched closed and it was just you and Levi on the other side.

“Who does he think he is?!” you immediately lament, whipping around the face of Levi, who’s already rubbing at his face in frustration. In response, he just groans, “I think he’s the most bold one yet. You have to dance with that guy?”

You pause and look Levi in the eye before groaning, flopping down onto your bed like a little girl. Levi folds his arms across his chest and shrugs, “At least he’s polite?” You harshly look over at him, a pout on your lips. 

“He’s like talking to a tree that never became a book. He just kept growing,” you manage to mumble around the sheets of your bed. Levi scoffs at your words before leaning back against the door and snaps back, “The guy sure is full of himself. No wonder it’s taken him this long to find a wife.”

You feel a pang run through you and you sit up from your bed, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “I’ve been looking for a suitor for a while too, Levi. Hopefully, I’m not full of myself. Or not too picky.” Your hands find themselves carding together as you look down at them, and you miss the dark-haired knight’s expression change.

The furrow in his brow softens and he pushes off the wall to stand in front of you. He takes a breath as he stops in front of you and starts, “Y/n, I-” But you beat him to it, “What if I never find love, Levi?” You look up to meet his silver gaze at that moment, tears darkening your lashes.

Levi sighs, letting the air flow freely out of his nose as he sits down next to you on your bed, quiet. Then, he meets your gaze once again and he murmurs, “You will, Y/n/n. You will.”

You smile sadly at him, and he reaches his hand toward your face to tuck an unruly piece of hair out of your face. Just before his hand can make contact with your skin, there is a knock at the door. 

The moment is gone in a flash, and Levi quickly moves to stand post by the doors to your balcony and you wipe under your eyes. You guiltily look at Levi, who has gone back to his classic stoic look, staring straight ahead.

Another pang of guilt runs through you as you tear your eyes away from his frame, instead focusing on the person on the other side of your door. You take a breath and then call, “Come in!” Then, a head of blonde hair appears and you recognize the guard as Reiner.

“I was told I might find you here,” he says with a bow, “I was sent to relieve Levi from duty for a little while.” Reiner props the door open a little further before stepping into the room, and Levi turns to regard his fellow soldier with a respectful nod.

Before he leaves the room, the dark-haired man faces you and gives you a bow with a simple, “Good day, princess.” Before you know it, he’s gone, and it’s just you and Reiner left in the silence of the room.

---

Over the next couple of days, you didn’t see much of Levi. You thought it slightly odd, but you figured he was on a personal quest for your father or taking some personal days. Eventually, when you were trying to find him so you could spar a little, he couldn’t be found anywhere.

You stopped a maid who had brought fresh linens for your bed and asked, “Have you seen a short, dark-haired knight recently? He goes by the name Levi, I haven’t seen him in a while.” The maid pauses in thought and then replies, “I do think I recall a dark-haired soldier turning up in the infirmary a few days ago. I can check to see if that is who you are talking about.”

You shake your head and quip, “There will be no need for that, I will make my way there now.” Without another moment’s notice, you turn and slide out of your room, (colored) gaze set on finding the infirmary.

Typically, you didn’t spend much time in the infirmary because you were royalty and you had your own personal staff. However, you occasionally would pick up small supplies after training if you had a small cut or brush burn from the grass.

It was fairly quiet as you slipped into the entrance of the sick bay, with no doctors or nurses in sight. You take a deep breath as you peer around the few rooms that make up the infirmary, making your way as silently as you can so as to not disturb anyone resting.

Just as you make it to the last room, you can hear coughing on the other side. You just barely peer through the door when you catch sight of a familiar black head of hair. Levi.

You push the door open and remark, “I wondered where you disappeared to, soldier.” Levi’s head immediately snaps up to take in your frame entering his small room. He opens his mouth to answer you, but another coughing fit overtakes him.

You rush next to his side, finding a small cup of water on his bedside table. You offer him the cup, watching him soothe his irritated throat with a frown before handing the water back to you.

“It’s not what it looks like,” he grumbles out lowly, trying to avoid sputtering again. A giggle slides through your lips before you can stop it, and you bring a hand up to cover your smile when you catch sight of Levi’s annoyed gaze. It only makes you giggle harder, and you can see his displeased look ease a little at your laughter.

As you calm down, you manage to take a breath and smirk, “It looks like you’re sick to me, Levi.” The dark-haired knight just rolls his eyes, his hands fiddling with the blanket on his lap to pull it up higher on his waist.

“It’s nothing,” he grumbles out again, “The king and queen forced me to come down here so I can “recover as fast as possible” or something.” You nod knowingly with a gentle smile on your face, saying, “I can imagine they only had the best intentions and wanted to see you well before the suitor’s ball tonight.”

He groans and rubs at his flushed face with one hand and mumbles through his night shirt’s sleeve, “Don’t remind me about that. I think standing there watching everyone dance and act so cheerful would kill me faster than any blade would.”

You scoff and roll your eyes at your best friend replying, “You are so dramatic!” But then a moment passes and you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear saying, “Actually, you’re probably right. My mother is going to have me hanging on every man’s arm within a thousand miles tonight.”

This time, Levi is the one to just barely crack a smile and he shrugs, “Who knows, you might actually enjoy the ball. There will be no lack of eligible suitors, and I can’t imagine all of them are complete imbeciles.”

His words get you to giggle again, and you nod along in agreement, your eyes trailing toward the clock on the wall. As the time on the clock registers in your mind, panic starts to set in and you scramble to your feet muttering, “Crap, crap, crap!”

Levi’s gaze follows yours and he realizes it too: you’re late for getting ready! You glance apologetically at Levi, who goes to swallow and then starts sputtering with more coughs.

He waves you off and manages to squawk out, “Go have fun, tell me all about it later.” You give him a grateful smile and over your shoulder you call out, “I will! Please try to feel better and get some rest!”

With one last glance over your shoulder, you set off toward your room to get ready for the ball. Your maids about mauled you when they finally managed to wrangle you into your ballgown and start to get you presentable for the public.

Since Levi was out sick, Reiner and Porco were assigned to watch over you for the evening. They follow closely as you make your way to the ballroom, greeting guests pleasantly and making your way to the heart of the festivities.

While the ballroom was decorated magnificently, the entire atmosphere felt slightly disappointing and moderate. There were many suitors around, none of which seemed to interest you. In the distance, you could see Miche talking with another tall blonde male, but you ducked behind a waiter to make your move toward the king and queen.

Your parents were talking with lords about their investments and businesses, and all you managed to understand was that they wanted money from the royals. You have to refrain from rolling your eyes, but you stand quietly and listen to the conversation come to a close.

Your mother turns to you, excitement written on her features as she hands you a piece of paper saying, “Here is your dancing card, dear! I’ve already done you the liberty of picking out which suitors to dance with based on their resumes. Have fun!”

She wraps the filled-out dancing card around your wrist, tying it neatly before giving you a giddy smile and pushing you toward the man whose name is first on the list. Miche Zacharius.

You groan internally as you make your way over to the tall man, who grows visibly interested as you break into his peripheral. He excuses himself from his conversation, bowing in front of you when he sees you stop in from of him.

“Princess Y/n,” he says, straightening up and catching the lustrious light in your eyes. You give him a shallow curtsey and reply, “Lord Miche, how lovely to see you this evening.” In the back of your head, you couldn’t help but wish you were anywhere else at this very moment.

Miche tips his head toward you and shrugs, “I think it is I who am the lucky one to be in your presence.” And as if on cue, the orchestra starts playing the next song, a waltz, to which Miche offers you his hand with a, “May I have this dance?” 

You give him a tight-lipped smile and place your gloved hand in his own, allowing the tall blonde to escort you to the empty dance floor. He begins to move the two of you around the dance floor, carefully swinging you through the other couples who start dancing around you.

Miche smiles down at you and asks, “If I may ask, princess, how many children would you like to have one day?” It feels like the air is sucked out of your lungs as you give him a polite smile and respond, “Sorry, I’m trying to count my steps, perhaps we can discuss this later?”

He has the liberty to keep his mouth shut during the first dance, but once the two of you take a break and you look at your dance card, you can see your mother has booked him for the next four dances.

During those dances, Miche asks you too many questions, to which you politely respond. You tried to sound not too interested but also not too dry, simply polite. You were praying for when the fifth song would end, and you don’t think it could come soon enough.

The whole point of the ball was aggravating to you, and you couldn’t help but hate the evening as you were twirled from lord to lord. You wanted to slip out unnoticed, find a pint of wine or something of the like, and complain about all of it to Levi.

However, you manage to stick it out through the night, engaging in pointless conversation and dancing until you are about to roll your ankles. As the night wrapped up and your dancing card was completed, you scanned the crowd, your eyes landing on Porco and Reiner, who seemed to be arguing about which lady in waiting was the prettiest.

You scoff at the two knights, but with them distracted, it gives you the perfect opportunity to slip away. You take one more scan of the room before slowly backing out of one of the doorways. With no one’s eyes on you, you disappear from the ball without a trace.

You had your eyes set on one thing - go check on Levi and tell him about your endeavors that night. You weren’t able to find a bottle of wine to easily sneak out, but you did find a small plate of cheese that you grabbed on your way to the infirmary.

As you make your way back to Levi’s sick room, you can hear the sound of metal scraping. You raise an eyebrow at the noise, and as you poke your head into the small room, you can see the source.

There’s Levi, sharpening his blade in the middle of the night. You sigh and bring your hand up to knock on the wall to alert him of your arrival. His head snaps up quickly from his sword to your figure at his door, his body going tense in a moment.

When he realizes it's you, you can see him relax, but his gaze remains on you, fixed. You can’t quite place the look on his face, his eyes are wide and locked onto you, completely frozen. You duck under the sudden intensity in his gaze, murmuring, “I brought you some cheese from the ball.”

You walk into the room, the ruffles on the edge of your skirt rustling as you place the plate next to his water on the nightstand by his bed. Levi’s silver gaze follows your every movement, no words escaping him. You sit down in the chair next to his bed, grab a small piece of cheese, and pop it into your mouth with a huff.

You glance over to see Levi still staring at you while you chew, and suddenly you feel hot under his watchful gaze. You look down for a second and swallow before asking, “Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

A moment passes as you wait for his response, and it gives you a second to take in his condition. His usually pale cheeks were painted pink with a gentle flush and his skin was slightly shiny from sweat. He must have a bit of a fever, you think to yourself.

Levi swallows thickly as he looks at you, his mouth opening and closing once or twice with no words leaving them. Mistakenly, you think he can’t answer because his throat hurts and he needs water, so you burst out, “Let me get you something to drink!”

Your hand reaches to grab his cup of water, which seems to be empty. In a flash, Levi’s hand has wrapped around your wrist, his silver eyes never leaving your face. The quick movement startles you, which makes you drop the cup, a small amount of water falling onto the floor.

Levi’s sword clatters to the ground, which makes you flinch in surprise. You glance from the water pooling near your feet to the sword that landed on the opposite side of the bed and back to Levi. 

Your mouth parts open in a stammer as you start, “Sorry, let me, uhm… let me grab a towel to clean this-” “You look beautiful,” he cuts in lowly. You raise your eyebrows in surprise at his comment, the words slowly registering in your head.

Once they do, you can feel butterflies erupt in your belly and you glance away from the dark-haired knight and roll your eyes playfully. “Oh hush, you’re just seeing things with your sickness.”

This seems to snap Levi out of his daze and he releases your wrist with a playful scoff of his own, “You wish, princess.” You smile at him, one that he knows is of thanks to his compliment. He clears his throat and questions, “How was the ball? It must not have been great if you are down here all ready.”

You lean down to pick up his cup off the wooden floor, a groan falling from your lips, “It was all crap, Levi. It was men who wanted money, men who wanted the crown, and men who wanted to dance. It was so annoying. ”

You straighten back up, placing the cup back on the table and skirting around the water on the ground. Levi chuckles at that, and he motions to the edge of his bed with his chin and says, “Tell me all about it.” A giggle falls from your lips as you move to sit near his feet and you reply, “As long as you’ll listen to me complain about how terrible of a dancer Miche is!” 

The rest of the evening is peaceful compared to the stress of the ball, the two of you making fun of the suitors and princes from across the countryside. You don’t even realize how late the evening runs, but you do know that you aren’t ready for bed just quite yet.

---

A couple of days had passed since the suitor’s ball and Levi had been put down with his illness. Thankfully, after another day or two of rest, he seemed to turn for the better and was ready to get back to the service.

Just around 8 o'clock in the morning, just as he always would, Levi makes his way toward your bedroom, feeling energetic and recovered from being sick. He stops in front of the familiar and grandiose door, pausing in thought before knocking on the dark wood.

He waits for a minute or so, but he doesn’t hear any noise from the other side of the door. The dark-haired knight sighs in slight annoyance, it’s his first day back, after all, and you aren’t responding. Levi knocks again on the door, this time a little harder and with more urgency.

When he is once again met with silence, he takes it upon himself to call out, “Princess Y/n? Are you alright?” To anyone else, it may have sounded like he was just calling out to you, but between you and him, he knew there was worry in his voice.

His impatience seems to take over him, and Levi finds his fingers wrapping around the door handle and pushing it open. As he steps into your room, one he had been in many times, his steely gaze rakes across every detail he sees.

Your bed was empty and remade, so you weren’t asleep. The loveseat in the corner of your room where you typically sat and read was also void of your presence. Levi turned toward the bathroom that was connected to your room, but there was no sign of candlelight or movement.

A sigh falls from Levi’s parted lips in frustration, and he shuts your bedroom door behind him before stepping deeper into your personal space. He opens his mouth, about to call out for you again before he sees a figure moving in the walk-in closet behind your desk.

It’s you, thankfully, and Levi’s figure relaxes as he takes in the… interesting sight of you. You were shuffling out into the main space of your bedroom, your hands grabbing at the bodice of the dress, with a slightly irritable look on your face.

He almost cracks a smile as he watches you fumble and almost trip as you make your way up to him, but instead, he murmurs, “Well good morning to you, princess.” You give him a playful scowl and mutter, “Shut up, …and help me zip this please?”

At the end of your sentence, you swivel 180 degrees, showing him your half-exposed back, where you couldn’t quite finish zipping the dress up. You wait a moment and then rush out, “I don’t know where my maids are and I couldn’t find anyone else to help-”

“It’s alright,” Levi’s voice cuts in lowly, and you can hear him take a step toward you. This makes you relax, shuffling your hands to pick the dress up to the correct height to be comfortable. 

However, with your back to Levi, you miss the complete and utter look of nervousness and awe on his face as his hands make contact with the soft skin on your back. His typically stoic resolve crumbles when his hands just barely begin to quiver as he grabs a hold of the fabric and begins to pull it taut.

Levi is silently cursing the heat that is rushing to his face, swirling in his chest, and giving him butterflies in his stomach. With pink dusting his nose and the close proximity to you, his magnificent best friend, he wasn’t sure what to feel. But, he pushes through, his hands grabbing onto your waist so the zipper would slide up the fabric with more ease.

You aren’t in much better condition than Levi, and you’re glad he can’t see your face. Heat is coursing through your veins, but his warm touch has chills running up and down your spine. A shuddery breath escapes you as you feel his palm flatten against your waist, and you have to will yourself to be calm as he works on zipping you in.

His fingers work in good time, making sure the intricacies of the dress are not damaged or pulled on as he zips the dress up closer to your neck. At the top of the zipper, there is a small clasp to keep it from pulling apart, and he brings both hands up to clasp it.

You feel his warm breath on your neck, and you can feel goosebumps rising on your skin from the small distance between the two of you. It’s completely silent between the two of you as he takes a minute step backward, but it’s enough for you to feel like you can breathe.

The air is thick, heavy almost. There was tension, and you aren’t quite sure where it originated from. You can’t help but be disappointed when his warm hands leave your waist, and you try to fight down the butterflies in your belly as your brain processes his touch.

You liked it. No, you needed more of it. 

What? How could you think that? Levi was your… what was Levi?

As you turn around to face him, you give him an uncertain and slightly shy smile and whisper, “Thank you.” Levi holds your (colored) gaze, looking deeply into what could almost be his favorite color, and gives you a subtle nod.

He was just your personal knight, right? He was your best friend, right? …You had no idea. 

You take a shuddery breath and start, “Levi, there’s something I-” but you are interrupted by a flock of maids bursting into your room. You jump away from Levi, who also takes a few steps backward and moves to stand near the door.

“We are so sorry, Princess Y/n, for being late! We knocked on the door several times but we did not hear an answer,” one of the older maids says, curtsying low in front of you. You turn to face her and you give her a tight-lipped smile and reply, “It is quite alright, Marie.”

The maid stands up and urges, “You must not be late for your foreign policies lecture, the queen will have my head if you are not on time!” You give her a nod and looking over her shoulder to Levi, you ask, “Walk with me?”

The maids clear out of the way, dispersing as quickly as they came. Levi clears the doorway for you, letting you lead the way down the hall. It was quiet for a moment before the dark-haired knight cleared his throat and murmured, “You were saying?”

“It was nothing,” you rush out, wringing your hands together in a nervous fashion. Silence falls between the two of you again, and you direct your vision to the many doors and paintings you pass on the way to the lecture hall.

It’s an uncomfortable silence, so you try to break it with a joke, “I was surprised you weren’t earlier than you were this morning, seeing as it is your first day back since your illness.” Levi scoffs at your remark and refutes, “I do believe it was you who was up earlier than normal, I knocked on your door precisely at 8 o’clock.”

You giggle at this, your hands still fiddling with one another as the pair of you glide down the hallway. The banter picks up between the two of you as normal, but Levi couldn’t help but feel like there was something you may have been hiding from him.

However, he brushes it off and tries to think nothing of it while he stands guard outside of your lecture hall. He tries to focus on getting back into work and pushes the feeling of your skin and body out of his mind.

---

It had been a few days since the zipper incident and the king and queen announced that they wanted to host a festival in the town square with the spring season ending and merging into a beautiful, warm summer. 

For you, it was one of your favorite times of the year, since you got the chance to meet with the children of the town. You loved playing with the children, encouraging their interests, and not letting them give up on their hopes and dreams.

You adored events like this, so it was only natural that you were getting dolled up to meet with the people of your home. The festival typically hosted live music from the best musicians around, food brought from all over the country, and the town square decorated to the top for the best area to go dancing.

You spent most of the morning getting ready for the festival. You had to make sure your dress was absolutely perfect - not too extravagant, but still dressy enough for everyone to recognize you as the princess. Then, you put the finishing touches to your makeup before Levi came knocking on your door around noon. 

“Are you ready?” he asks as he guides you through the castle and out through the gates. You sigh dreamily before answering, “I believe so. This is one of my favorite times of the year, after all.”

The two of you made your way down to the town just outside the palace, where people were bustling about, trying to finalize the touches to their stalls. Children were laughing and playing, running around with yellow and red streamers in their hands.

Levi guides you around them, leading you toward the heart of the festival, and your favorite place to be: the dance floor. There were even more children here, and the orchestra was just set off the to side of the tiled area, a joyful tune bouncing off of their strings.

You leave Levi’s side to join them, falling in with the children to dance and let loose. The daytime was made for the children during the festival, and then when the stars would come out and the sun sank below the horizon, the parents would enjoy themselves.

You sing and dance with the children for what seems like hours to Levi, but he doesn’t mind as he stands guard on the edge of the town square. He could easily see you but also maintain a visual around the dance area, his silver gaze on the lookout for any potential intruders.

The songs seem to blend together until a small brown-haired boy grabs onto your right hand. He tugged on your fingers for a moment and asked, “May I dance with you, Princess Y/n?” Your heart feels like it’s about to burst with the sweetness from the young boy, and you give him a sweet smile and a nod.

“Lead the way, good sir!” you chuckle out as you motion to the opening dance floor. Your sage green and dark brown colored skirts ruffle as you are led onto the floor by the bouncing young boy, and you can’t help but giggle as other young girls and boys join you in the middle of the town square.

You can hear the live orchestra count off, and the little boy offers you his other hand to dance, and with a genuine smile, you accept. Since the boy was maybe 8 years old, you had to lean down to hold both of his hands, but he didn’t seem to mind as he began to spin and twirl you around to the music.

While slightly clumsy and uncoordinated in his movements, you didn’t mind the boy's antics, giggling and laughing as the boy spun you, and you spun him. The other children were no different, gleefully dancing the night away.

You didn’t seem to notice Levi’s silver gaze watching you sharply, noting how you giggled each time the boy spun you or the way your eyes lit up when you got mixed up in all of the children dancing. To the dark-haired knight, you looked perfect at that moment.

With the afternoon sun’s warm rays casting down on you, you were simply golden. The festival's market stalls with red and yellow banners donning the kingdom’s insignia were paled in comparison to you. Although you were wearing a more simple gown for the festivities, you shone brighter than any of the lanterns or rays from the sun.

Levi couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. To put it simply, you looked gorgeous. Not just in the way that you were dressed and styled, but in the way that true joy brings out the best in someone. He could feel how raw your emotions were as you danced, and he couldn’t help but wish he was the one swinging you around instead.

Just as the upbeat song ended, Levi felt a passive tap on his side. He instinctively reached for the hilt of his sword, but when he looked to see what had bumped him, he immediately stopped.

There, looking up at him, was a little girl no older than 3 or 4 years old. She had dark, black curls falling around her face, and her bright blue eyes were wide as she stared up at the knight. The little girl taps again on his hand, slightly bouncing as she giggles, “Dance, dance!”

Little did Levi know, you had stopped dancing to catch your breath and talk to him, but you ceased your movements when you saw the little girl next to him. You can’t help but hold your breath as Levi turns to face her, and you can just barely make out the words he says.

“I’m sorry, miss,” he starts, moving to kneel down so he is at eye level with the girl. A frown starts to crease between her eyebrows and she repeats, “Dance! Dance!” She stomps her small feet against the ground in protest, and Levi says as he tries to explain, “I’m working right now, I’m not allowed to dance.”

Tears begin to well up in the little girl’s big blue eyes, threatening to spill down her smooth cheeks. Levi glances around for a second, eyes scoping to see if anyone watched him make this child cry. 

From the corner of his periphery, he catches sight of you watching the interaction. He groans internally, but then he sees you motion to the little girl, and he turns to face her again. She reached across to where his arm was resting on his knee, gently grabbing his fingers.

“Dance?” She repeats softer this time, the tears sliding from the edge of her eyes and down her cheeks. Levi’s heart can’t help but melt a little at the touching sight and he lets out a sigh of defeat.

“Just one dance,” he manages as he stands up straight, offering the girl his gloved hand. Instantly, the little girl starts smiling and giggling, “Dance! Dance, dance!” before launching onto Levi’s thigh.

He’s caught off guard for a second, stumbling back a few steps before regaining his balance. The little girl just laughs the entire time, and once again, Levi glances around for help. Unsure of what to do, he reaches down and picks the little girl up by her small waist, hoisting her up to his side opposite his blade.

Just then, the music started to pick back up and more people were making their way to the dance floor, and Levi begrudgingly followed, much to the little girl’s enjoyment. As he shuffles toward the edge of the dance floor, he catches sight of Zeke and Porco, who are standing guard on the other side of the tiled area.

He could see the two blondes snickering to themselves, pointing to the little girl and back to Levi. He can feel a moment of rage well up inside of him, but he pushes it down as he turns to face the little girl and says, “May I have this dance, miss?” 

The little girl throws her arms around Levi’s neck and giggles, “Dance, now, now!” Not a moment passes by before the crowd on the dance floor begins to move in sync with the music. Levi starts to copy everyone’s movements to the best he could holding a toddler, but she doesn’t seem to care about his mistakes.

He twirled and spun the two of them around, slowly but surely letting his guard down as he danced around with the girl. You on the other hand, sat watching the two of them from the sidelines, and your heart was swelling in your chest at the adorable scene in front of you.

I had no idea Levi could be so good with children, you think to yourself, Nor did I know he could dance! 

As the two of them passed by every few seconds, you could hear the little girl laughing away, and occasionally you could pick up the word “dance”. The music eventually slows to a finish, and you once again see Levi get down on one knee in front of the little girl.

He reaches under his short cloak and pulls out a small clutch of white daisies, offering them to the little girl. She smiles brightly at him as he says, “I would gladly dance with you again, miss.” The little girl launches at him again, wrapping him in an awkward hug before grabbing the flowers and running off.

Levi watches her small figure run up to a woman with two children next to her and another one in her arms. A minute smile makes its way across his lips as he sees the little girl reach up and give her mom the flowers, turning to point back at the dark-haired knight.

The woman gives him a grateful smile, and he pushes off his knees to stand straight and gives her a nod. Just then, he hears someone clear their throat behind him, and when he looks over his shoulder, he sees you standing there.

The sun was just starting to set behind you, illuminating your frame in its golden glow. Levi’s breath catches in his throat as he turns to face you, noting the sly smile on your lips. You rock back and forth on your feet before saying coyly, “I saw you dancing with that little girl, soldier.”

Levi feels a wave of heat wash over him in embarrassment, his cheeks slightly tinging pink at your comment. He glances to the ground with a shrug and mumbles, “It was nothing.” You scoff at him and playfully hip-bump him with a giggle of, “C’mon, that was absolutely adorable!”

You can see a smile start to crack through his faux facade and you nudge him again, and he finally caves in with a chuckle of, “What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t just hurt her feelings and leave her to cry.” 

You laugh along with him, grabbing his arm as he starts to guide you toward the food stalls, “And the flowers? That was a bit over the top!” He just rolls his eyes, a pleasant smile on his face as he sighs out, “Let’s go get you some food before nightfall.”

He guides the two of you through the market stalls, and you pick and choose which snacks and foods intrigue you the most. Just as you finish off a small glass of cherry wine, Levi pulls you behind one of the market stalls without a word.

You don’t question his movements, simply following in his footsteps until you see where he’s brought you. It’s just one street down from where all of the festivities are taking place, and it’s much quieter without the hustle of everyone and the harshness of the music.

The fresh air and light breeze swirl around you, making you take a deep breath through your nose that you slowly sigh out through your mouth, (colored) orbs fluttering closed. Levi watches you in that moment, noting the way your hair was coming slightly undone from a small clip that pinned away (colored) locks behind your ear.

Then you open your eyes and turn to him, a sweet smile on your lips as you say, “Thanks for getting me out of there for a bit, it was starting to get a little overwhelming.” He nods under your watchful gaze, motioning to a small bench just down the street.

The two of you sit down for a moment, eyes fixed on the sun setting in front of you. The once golden color was now bleeding shades of carmine and lavender, swirled with rusts and peaches. It was silent except for the sound of the festival on the other side of the stone wall behind your bench, not that you minded.

A few minutes of silence pass between you and Levi before he starts to shift, catching your attention. He once again reaches under his cloak, hand fumbling for a second before reappearing with one lone daisy.

The small white flower was still in good condition, only the stalk of the plant slightly bent from where it resided on his belt. You glance from the flower back to Levi, whose cheeks are once again slightly flushed, and he offers the flower to you.

Your (colored) gaze widens as you take it from him, admiring the pureness of the petals and the beautiful golden color of its core. You move to place it in your hair saying, “Thank you, Levi! This will be a lovely addition to my outfit tonight.”

You struggle for a moment, trying to push the stem through your unruly locks of hair that were tangled from dancing. Levi’s voice distracts you as he asks lowly, “May I help?” You give him a thin smile and a nod, handing the flower back to him.

Levi pulls the leather glove off of his left hand, setting it on his lap before taking the flower from you. His thin digits reach up slowly, so as to not scare you, before pushing the stem of the daisy through your (colored) tresses. He then brushes a small piece of hair behind your ear, securing the flower and then dropping his hand back to his lap.

It’s tense for a moment, the air thick with emotion, but Levi coughs once and then starts, “Y/n, I’ve been meaning to ask-” “This is my favorite song!” you burst out, your attention turning toward the music coming from the other street.

The tune was loud and unmistakably your favorite, and you stood up in a hurry, calling, “We must discuss this later! I cannot miss my favorite song!” And with that, you disappeared around the corner, with Levi sighing from where he was on the bench, his stomach dropping.

But, he takes a deep breath, stands up, and follows you back into the festival.

---

Night had fallen. The sky was a deep, midnight blue, flecked with stars that glimmered in the lantern light of the festival. The crowd was livelier now than it had been before dusk, with all the children tucked into bed and the parents out on the town.

For you, however, you were done with dancing and playing. Now, you had to act like the royalty you were supposed to be representing. And that meant dealing with your father and mother who wouldn’t stop talking about Miche and other suitors.

“Honestly, Y/n, I don’t see why you aren’t getting excited about this time in your life,” your mother chastises, motioning to you up and down with a look of slight disappointment on her face. You want to groan internally at her comment, but you just reply tightly, “I would be excited if I found someone worth marrying, mother!”

Your father clears his throat and insists, “Well I do have another fine set of suitors coming in for you to try out. I even believe one of them is a prince!” Instead of being excited by the thought of more suitors, it simply enraged you.

You rise to your feet quickly, rushing out, “I can’t do this.” You take off through the crowd of lords and ladies in waiting, weaving in and out of the people until you disappear from eyesight. You blocked out the calls of your parents as you made haste, tears starting to burn at the edge of your vision.

Levi witnessed the whole encounter from a few yards away, still standing guard for the evening. He immediately takes off after you without saying a word, skirting around the edge of the crowd while tracking your movements.

You don’t notice Levi following you, too enraptured with the thoughts racing in and out of your mind. Tears are blurring your vision, and you are fighting back sobs as you pick up speed, now running toward the edge of the town.

You clumsily find your way onto the roof of a house near the edge of town, the small building far from the center of the festivities. You clamber to the top of the roof, facing the rising moon, which casts a pale glow that makes it so you can see where you are stepping.

Your mind, however, was at war. More suitors? Can’t my parents tell I don’t like their choice of men for me? Have they not seen how I can’t stand any of them? Why don’t they understand I need someone who knows me…. Who likes to be around me, and I like to be around them?

Someone like Levi, the words ring out in your head. A gasp bursts from your chest and you aren’t sure if you’re crying or trying to catch your breath.

Levi?

His name makes you stop for a second, and as the tears slide down your face and you gaze up at the waxing moon, it clicks in your head. 

Your heart….  Yearned for someone like Levi. Your hands itched to grasp more than just his arm walking to and from a lecture. Your soul hungered for the conversations of intellect and familiarity. Your lips thirsted for his landing on yours.

The last thought makes your eyes widen in realization, but you don’t have any time to process it when someone sits down next to you. The familiar baritone sighs out, “There you are,” making you turn to face the dark-haired knight.

You give him a tight-lipped smile, one that is holding back tears and the few words circling your mind like a mantra. Levi’s silver gaze flits between your tearful eyes, and his features soften as he watches the teardrops stream down your cheeks.

“Hey, hey,” he almost coos, hunkering down a little to look up at your face as your chin dropped to your chest, attempting to stifle another sob. His brows furrow in thought before he asks quietly, “Are you alright, Y/n?”

There is a tenderness to his voice that almost makes you want to vomit, but you manage to strangle a deep breath in and let a shaky one out. You toss your head from side to side and stutter, “N-no, Levi. I- I’m, uh, not alright.”

You glance back down at your hands and stay silent. Levi stays still, deep in thought before gently imploring, “Would you like to talk about it? I am here to listen.” 

This time, when you look back up, Levi can see the moon and stars reflected in your eyes. They were still wet with tears, but your (colored) orbs seemed to hold the entire night sky in them for one second.

And in that one second, a calm peace seemed to wash over the two of you just as you started to speak, “My parents are bringing in more suitors for me to get to know. They don’t think I’m trying hard enough with my royal duties.”

You sniffle, glancing over at Levi and then continuing, “I just feel as if I don’t ever get to do what I want. Or maybe it’s that I’m frustrated they don’t understand what I want.” Levi nods in understanding when you finish talking, shuffling for a moment before murmuring, “Well, they did let you learn to fight, which is something you wanted to do.”

You sway side to side, swinging your head ever so slightly as if to contemplate his words before muttering, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Levi could tell that wasn’t the response you were hoping for, but he was never one to sugarcoat things.

“You need to stand up for yourself, Y/n/n,” he murmurs, softer this time. “They don’t take you seriously because they still see you as a child, following their every order. You need to make them realize you aren’t their precious little girl anymore,” and his gaze locks onto yours with a fiery intensity.

“You’re a woman now, and a strong and independent one at that,” he finishes passionately, moving to stand back up. His words echo in your head, and each time you hear the truths behind them, you can’t help but focus on the tone of his voice.

You open your mouth to reply, but he cuts you off, “Let’s get you back to the festival. We can’t have them thinking their princess ran off in the middle of the night.” At the end of his words, he offers you his hand to take, which you accept. He pulls you to your feet and steadies you before motioning back toward the glow of the festival and says, “After you, princess.”

---

It takes a few days for you to build up the courage to confront your parents about the whole suitor debacle. You knew it was something you couldn’t take lightly, but you knew you needed to tell them sooner rather than later.

And before you know it, you are standing in front of them, heart pounding in your chest as the words that your father just said pound in your head like a hammer.

Your mother and I are in agreement. You haven’t made sufficient effort in courting a suitor, so we have chosen one for you. You’re getting married tomorrow.

It feels like the floor dropped out from underneath you, falling into a nothingness that made your stomach whirl. Married? Tomorrow? You can’t deny their wishes even though your entire body is screaming at you to fight, argue, yell. But you can’t.

So instead, you numbly are whisked away to get fitted for a white gown that you didn’t want. You are run through the order of the wedding and the reception, what you are to do, what you are to say, how you are to act.

You didn’t have the guts to face Levi and tell him of the new development in your life, but you knew he was no fool. He heard the rumors, he saw the preparations. And when he was assigned to stand guard at the main hall the following day, he knew.

You hated everything.

You hated the yellowish tone of the white dress, you always wanted one that was more blush-toned. You hated the way your hair was pinned up off of your neck and out of your face. You didn’t want everyone to see your blank stare and emotionless eyes.

You didn’t want any of this. And neither did the dark-haired knight.

The two of you could only follow orders though, and so uneasily, you survived the night. The following morning comes and you are immediately fawned over by your maids and the wedding planners.

First - your makeup. Second, your hair. Finally, the dress. It was a routine that you had dreamed of being ecstatic about, completely in love with the man you were going to marry. But you weren’t.

There is a knock on your door precisely at noon. Three short taps in a row, followed by two shorter ones. Levi. Just thinking about him makes your heart ache with a pain you never knew you could experience.

A maid rushes to open the door, and just before her hand makes it to the golden handle, you call out, “Wait! Let the guard in and please leave. I require a moment alone.” The maid nods to you, opening the door with a smile and curtsy, sliding out of your room before a familiar figure makes his way in.

You were sitting on a short stool a few feet away from your vanity, staring at your reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall. Your whole image was one of grace and elegance, everything a princess should be.

But the light in your eyes was one of a grounded bird. The emotion in your eyes was reminiscent of a beached whale. The frown on your face with the light of a dying deer, hunted by a mountain lion.

Levi stops in his tracks when he catches sight of you, his mouth parting as he takes in your appearance. To put it simply, you were beautiful. He coughs once to clear his throat, a tight line forming his lips before he states, “I am here to guide you to the main hall, Princess Y/n.”

You turn to face him at the sound of his voice, tears threatening to spill down your powdered cheeks. You can’t fight the wobble in your lip as you utter, “Levi…” You can’t see his brow furrow just a smudge more at the pain in your voice, and you feel terrible for not telling him.

“Levi, I- I-...” and you take a breath, your vision blurring over for a second before you continue, “I am so sorry for not telling you about this plan. My parents-” “I know,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

You sniffle and stand up, wiping tears away and reaching for a small towel to pat your face dry. He watches every movement, in awe that he could be near someone so ethereal, so heavenly. Levi finds words on the tip of his tongue again, dancing through his mind, coursing through his blood.

But he knows he can’t say anything, it’s your wedding day, after all. He bites his tongue to keep them from spilling out of his mouth, instead giving you a moment to steel your nerves. You walk toward him once you have cleaned up your appearance, and you open your arms with a sad smile.

“Can I please have a hug? I think it might be the only thing to get me through the day,” you croak out with a subtle shrug. Levi’s heart is pounding in his chest, bursting at the thought and meaning of your words.

He nods though, and takes a step forward, opening his arms to wrap around your waist. Your arms come to rest around his neck, pulling the dark-haired knight closer. His hands are warm on your waist, a feeling you know you will miss when he pulls away.

You don’t mind the hard feel of his armor or the feeling of his breath on your neck. You wished the moment would never end so that you didn’t have to marry a man you didn’t love. It’s ruined when the bells outside your window start to ring, and Levi forces himself to slowly pull away from you, looking deep into your (colored) gaze.

You sniffle again saying, “Thank you, Levi. For everything.” He bows and murmurs, “As you wish, Y/n.” As I wish? I wish… I wish to live in this moment forever, Levi. With you.

Levi clears his throat again, and you can see his stoic mask go back on. You feel a pang of guilt wash over you, even though you know it's not your fault. He offers you his arm, and for what could be the last time, you take it.

He guides you down the familiar halls of the castle you grew up in. There are people fluttering about, finalizing the touches to the reception to be held after the ceremony, but you do your best to block them out.

Instead, you try to focus on the feeling of your hand on Levi’s shoulder pauldron, the chill of the silver metal keeping your attention on the knight. In step, the two of you make it outside the doors of the ceremony, where you will walk down the aisle, alone.

Levi reaches across with his second hand, the gloved fingers grabbing your own digits. He squeezes them slowly in a way you know is meant to calm you down. It’ll be okay. I’ll be in there. You can do this.

You give him a tight-lipped and watery-eyed smile before gushing, “I’ll see you on the other side, right?” He squeezes your hand again and then steps away with a nod and says, “I doubt you could get rid of me if you tried.”

A dry giggle escapes you, making you breathe deeply for the first time that day. You are handed a bouquet of flowers, and as you turn to thank the maid, Levi disappears. Not a moment later, music starts to play from the other side of the doors right before they open.

You are met with the faces of hundreds of lords and ladies, people from the town, and the face of the priest and the man you were marrying standing on the altar. You take a deep breath before marching like a soldier down the aisle decorated with flower petals and large arrangements.

Everyone is standing, staring. But you try to ignore them, focusing on the feeling of your feet landing flat on the ground, the softness of the ribbon holding your bouquet together. The way your heart beat for another man, but was about to be given away to a stranger.

While it seemed like a mile long, you eventually make it to the altar, and you are met with the face of the man you were set to marry. You knew he was probably a good man. He probably had goals for his career, wanted to father a gaggle of children, wanted a wife he could count on and love.

And you knew you couldn’t do that for him.

Mindless words echo out as you repeat the vows from the priest, loveless and cold. You manage to make it through each line, but just as the priest asks, “Princess Y/n, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

I…. the thought reverberates in your head, I, I don’t love this man, I can’t marry him. 

“Y/n?” a voice calls to you, and it shakes you out of your head. Your (colored) gaze snaps from the priest, who looks concerned, to the man you are about to marry, around to the gathered congregation. In your heart, you knew you were searching for one person. One man you knew your heart burned for.

You turn back to the priest, withdrawing your hands from your betrothed, and you utter, “I, I can’t do this. My heart belongs to another.” At that, you grab your skirts, rush down the few steps, and run up the aisle, leaving the man at the altar.

The crowd gasps in shock at the scandal playing out in front of them, and you see people reaching for you, grabbing at you as you make your way out of the main hall. You don’t hear your father’s call after you, lost in the destruction your heart created.

“Ackerman, find her!” your father’s voice booms out, but the dark-haired knight is already on the move. The knight immediately takes off, running as he tries to keep your frame in sight. He knew you were strong from all of your training, but evidently, your stamina was still intact despite wearing a heavy gown.

You find yourself running blindly, passing maids, butlers, and gardeners finishing up the last touches of flowers for the reception. Your lungs were burning like the red-hot flames from the forge you passed in desperation. You push past all of them, tears blurring your vision as you run as fast as you can away from everything.

You can hear footsteps following you, but you don’t really care who it is or what they want. “Leave me alone, please!” you wail as you tear through bushes, your eyes closed as you burst into an open garden. Unknowing to you, you ran the entire way to the Josephina Garden where you first encountered a certain dark-haired knight.

Not a moment later, a warm hand closes on your wrist, and you are quickly spun around to face the assailant. You blink through the tears as you make out the figure of Levi, concern written all over his face. Your chest is heaving from your run in the heavy white dress, but Levi seems rather unphased.

He takes a deep breath before stuttering out, “W-why did you say that, Y/n? You know you shouldn’t lie about stuff like that, especially in front of your family and, and the kingdom.” You can see the emotion on his face plain as day, like reading a book that you know word for word.

You could see the way his brow creased, like the gaps between paragraphs when the words seemed to stop flowing. You could see the confusion in his grey, steel eyes, that reminded you of the words you had to reread over and over again just to understand their meaning.

Every feature of his face, you knew, though. Levi was like the dog-eared fold in your favorite book, the paper worn smooth from how many times you flipped it open. He was like your favorite line when the girl finally let the guy take her out on the town on their first date.

Levi was memorizable, you knew every piece about him, and every thought and feeling as he stood in front of you, grasping your arm. Yet he was blind, and couldn’t read the book that he was himself.

“I am in love with someone else!” you shout again, moving to pull your wrist away from the grasp Levi had on it. He doesn’t budge though, holding you firm as you try to pull away from him.

He pulls you closer, his second hand coming up to grasp your shoulder as he barks, “Who?! Who on this goddamn earth would you be in love with?!” Levi pauses, looking deeper into your (colored) eyes before his voice cracks and he murmurs, “I’m your best friend, Y/n, you would have told me if there was someone else you loved.”

You take a deep breath and close your eyes, willing the tears to stop flowing and your heart to stop pounding as loudly as it was. You could feel it rattling your ribcage, attempting to crawl up your throat and make a fool of yourself.

And it betrays you in an instant.

“It’s you!” you exclaim, ripping your arms away from him in a moment of strength, throwing them into the air. The words ring out loudly, the silence that followed them almost deafening. You peek your eyes open as you look up from the ground to meet Levi’s hardened and confused gaze.

“It’s you, Levi,” you whisper as you lock eyes with him. He turns his head in bewilderment, and then he starts shaking it in denial, “No. No, it’s not. It’s not me, Y/n. Don’t joke with me about this.”

You laugh dryly as you throw your hands in the air again and scoff, “I wouldn’t lie or joke about something like this, Levi.” You meet his intense gaze again and gesture to him with a softer, “You know I wouldn’t.”

You can see him swallow thickly, his hands clenching by his sides. You can see the words forming on his lips, and you can just barely hear them when he whispers, “You can’t…” Levi doesn’t say anything after that, so you take the moment to fill in every question you know is racing around his mind.

“It’s… it’s always been you, Levi. It’s been you since the very first training session when you knocked me to the ground,” you start, your right hand coming up to caress your left bicep in shyness. “It’s been you since that night in the forge when you helped me cope with Rico’s death,” you whisper.

You shrug as you smile fondly and state, “It’s been you since you let that little girl dance with you at the festival. It’s been you since you sat on the roof with me, giving me a taste of normalcy.” You sniffle as fresh tears stream down your cheeks, “It’s always been you.”

Levi is mute. Not a sound escapes him as his mouth parts, unsaid words and questions hanging on the tip of his tongue. You don’t say anything, letting him process each and every moment, reliving them as you did in your own mind.

Finally, he speaks, “You’re lying. You can’t possibly love someone like me.” The words are harsh and cut right to your core. Lying? He thinks you’re lying? The look on his face shows that he is completely dumbfounded, flabbergasted, amazed. 

Emotion and frustration builds up inside you as he denies you again. And then, you’ve had enough and you can’t handle it anymore.

“Believe me!” you shout, your voice ripping at the heightened volume. You pause as you feel your throat tighten and clench. Then, “Bel-believe me, when I say this to you, Levi,” and you straighten your shoulders to match his stance.

You meet his gaze and then your voice rings out, “Believe me when I say I love you.” A sob wracks your body and then you finish, “Because I do. I do love you, Levi, with my entire being.”

Passion overcomes Levi and he lunges forward, grabbing onto your waist as if you would disappear under his touch. He holds onto you for the first time without ever asking, pulling you close to him as he urges, “Repeat that, please.”

You look deep into his eyes as your hands come up to cup his angled cheekbones and you whisper, “I said I love you.” A smile cracks through Levi’s lips as he watches your lips move and as tears well up in his grey eyes he rushes out, “Again!” 

A slight giggle falls from your lips as you repeat, “I love you, Levi.” The dark-haired knight just grips you tighter, pulling you closer and more flush to his chestplate. A moment passes between the two of you, and with Levi looking deep into your (colored) eyes he murmurs, “I love you, Y/n.”

You feel butterflies erupt in your belly, the feeling completely washing over you in mere seconds. Levi moves one hand from your waist to slowly close his palm on your cheek, his head tilting to the side ever so slightly.

“... may I?” his voice comes out so soft you almost miss what he says, but the meaning behind his silver gaze is undeniable. With such an intensity, his eyes flicker from your own (colored) ones to your parted lips, and there is no doubt in your mind.

Not trusting your voice, you nod, leaning into his touch without another thought. His nose bumps yours in a way that could be seen as clumsy and inexperienced, but it’s endearing the way he pauses, allowing himself to enjoy the smallest touches.

He nuzzles you for just a moment before his lips land on yours, soft and warm. He’s slow as his mouth meets yours for the first time. Levi is nothing but gentle as he kisses you, holding you with such a tenderness that it makes your knees weak. You clutch onto him as you let your mouth move against his, enjoying every second of his love.

You can’t bear to open your eyes when you feel him pull away, wanting to savor every fleeting memory of Levi kissing you. When you do allow your eyes to flutter open, you find Levi staring at you, cheeks pink and an embarrassed look on his face.

“Was that not to your liking?” you ask quietly, scared that you had somehow messed up your first kiss with the knight. Levi shakes his head from side to side, and with a small smile, he replies, “No, not at all. I just can’t believe there was something so perfect out there and I never knew it until this moment.”

You feel heat wash over you at his comment, eyes tipped toward the ground. The hand that was caressing your cheek stops your movement, pulling your chin up to face him. Levi’s gaze is so intense it feels like knives are splitting you open and he says, “You are so beautiful, Y/n. I would lay down my life for you if you asked.”

You smile at him and lean into his touch before whispering, “Let us hope it never comes to that, Levi. I don’t think I could live without you.” Levi smiles and murmurs back, “As you wish, princess, as you wish.”

–The End–

Tags: @anlian-aishang @xyumemi @xxdragonwriterxx @starstruckkittensweets @darlingheichou

#levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x y/n #levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi x you #levi x y/n #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #annie leonhart #pieck finger #erwin smith #miche zacharias #reiner braun #porco galliard #colt grice #zeke yeager #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan x you #levi attack on titan #attack on titan x y/n #shingeki no kyojin x you #shingeki no kyojin x reader #shingeki no kyoujin levi #shingeki no kyoujin

[shikiii-skadi]

Attack on Titan Love language Season 4ver.

part 1 (eren jäger, mikasa ackermann, armin arlert, levi ackermann, christa lenz)

includes: eren jäger, reiner braun. pieck finger, porco galliard, colt grice

warnings: mentioning of insecurity

Eren Jäger:

How they love you: Physical Touch

Over the years, he has become expressionless. After all he has seen and done, he feels most comfortable when you touch each other, since he is no longer able to express his love for you with words.

How they want to be loved: Words of Affirmation

Even if he would not admit it but there are times when he doubts himself or the things, he believes in. At these times he wants to hear nothing but your soothing words filled with so much love for him. He himself can't understand why you still want to be by his side.

Reiner Braun:

How they love you: Acts of Service

Reiner thinks he doesn't deserve you. He thinks it's more tolerable to be by your side if he is of use to you. If you need something, you don't even have to say something. He is already on his way to get it for you. Reiner is doing the little things as well. Always checking if you have enough water with you while training or if you seat in a meeting is close enough to the front so you can hear and see everything.

How they want to be loved: Words of Affirmation

As said before, Reiner is really insecure. He thinks he doesn't deserve you and that you deserve someone better than a broken man like him, with whom you will never have the life you dreamed of, because of his position as a warrior and Ymir's curse. But if you, someone so wonderful and important to him, tells him how much you love and appreciate him, he feels a bit better about himself.

Pieck Finger:

How they love you: Physical Touch

Pieck likes to touch you. She likes the feeling of your soft skin and how warm it feels. There is nothing is better than to cuddle with you after a long and stressful day. Pieck also likes to give small gestures of affection, for example fixing the collar of your jacket, while slightly brushing against your neck with her fingertips.

How they want to be loved: Quality Time

Pieck knows that you two can't spend your entire lives together, as much as she wishes it. That's why she wants to spend as much time as she possibly can together with you. You don't have to do anything special every time you have a free day. It's enough for her to just cook together or sort out old clothes. The only thing that's important is that you do it together.

Porco Galliard:

How they love you: Quality Time

Whenever you are together, you have his undivided attention. He will always set aside time just for you. Even if it sometimes doesn't look like it, but Porco always listens to you very closely and remembers what you told him weeks later. You have his full attention even if you are on the other side of the room or something like that.

How they want to be loved: Physical Touch

Porco always tries to maintain his tough guy image, even if it's just the two of you. That's why he often can't bring himself to admit that he really likes it when you two cuddle. Therefore, he is more than happy when you make the first move.

Colt Grice:

How they love you: Acts of Service

Colt will do anything for you to make your life a little easier. No matter what it is, Colt is immediately at your side ready to help. Even when it comes to easy things, he always asks you if you need his help.

How they want to be loved: Receiving Gifts

Colt can't think of anything nicer than the thought of you spending your free time figuring out what the perfect gift for him would be. All the time and effort you put into this just to make him happy warms his heart. He also doesn't care what it is or if it's valuable. Because the fact that you gave it to him makes it valuable enough.

#attack on titan #attack on titan headcanons #aot headcanons #shingeki no kyoujin headcanons #snk headcanons #eren yeager #reiner braun #pieck finger #porco galliard #colt grice #eren x reader #eren headcanons #eren x you #pieck headcanons #pieck x reader #pieck x you #porco x reader #porco headcanons #porco x you #reiner x reader #reiner headcanons #reiner x you #colt grice x reader #attack on titan x reader #aot x you #snk x reader #snk x you #aot fluff #eren x y/n #porco x y/n

[reinersprozacbottle]

Unpopular opinion (???) but Colt and Jean would make the best boyfriends out of the Aot boys

Let’s not even talk about how f*cking fun flirting with Colt’s inexperienced ass would be oop

But like seriously the fluster, the confusion and shyness in his eyes but you can still see the longing in them??? Walk with me for a sec lol lemme stop

#colt being the sweet caring boy that he is??? #jean being that and more??? #like sweet and caring but also with a great sense of humor AAAHH #you just either get it or ya don’t #aot fandom #attack on titan #aot #aot headcanons #snk #aot fanfiction #shingeki no kyoujin #jean kristen #jean krischtein #colt grice #colt aot #aot boys #aot boyfriend #jean x black reader #aot canonverse #aot modern au #aot imagines #aot x black reader #aot x poc!reader

[vainilla-milk]

Flufftober Day 7 - Combined clothing

feat. Reiner, Porco, Colt, Zeke

tags: modern au, moodboard

matching reiner

Sporty and comfortable

matching porco

Streetwise but harmonious

matching colt

Lightweight and pastel

matching zeke

Elegant and vintage

#attack on titan #attack on titan imagines #aot fanfiction #aot imagines #reiner braun x reader #porco x reader #aot x reader #aot warriors #reiner x reader #reiner braun x you #porco galliard x reader #aot moodboard #colt grice #colt grice x reader #zeke jeager x you #zeke jeager x reader

[tender-hearteddd]

bertholdt x oc longfic plot summary kinda??

aot spoilers (basically all seasons ://)

it’s kinda long but I would appreciate it if you read it all and gave me some much needed feedback, the storyline isn’t really laid out so beware 🙁

no one asked but I’m writing this bertholdt x oc longfic where my oc is from a fictional country based on my two cultures (north african and south asian) and her name is nazanin and shes apart of this secret organization of all women spies and they basically control governments behind the scenes and she joins the warrior candidates to gain back her homelands titan from marley and she makes friends with the warriors candidates but she’s best friends with bertholdt and blah blah blah they’re besties and she eventually gains back her homelands titan and this secret government organization is like ‘good now our homeland can return back to its greatness’ and marley is like ‘uhhh noooo we can’t lose any geopolitical power whatsoever so we’re going to intentionally send this little young brown girl to an island that has no one of her race living there I’m sure this will have no consequences at all’ they do this intentionally because they don’t want her homeland gaining back any power so she’s sent to paradis, her job in the breaching of wall maria is to go straight to the kings castle and kidnap the supposed founding titan and when she goes and grabs the king, she realizes he’s not the founding titan!! and she’s just kinda standing their awkwardly not knowing what to do and she looks around and there’s all these kings maids and workers and it turns out she’s not the only brown person there but there’s a whole race of her people living in the underground and they work as maids for the people in the inner wall!!! but they’re all oppressed because 1. classism 2. racism lol and she has like an existential crisis because of it and also her people praise her titan as their god/savior but they think it’s a god, not a person turning into a titan and rod reiss knows that abt these peoples belief and he knows that this thing isn’t a god but a titan shifter so he suspects that the maids and all the other workers have the titan and they attacked the king bc they know abt the founding titan but it was nazanin the whole time so all the kings workers are basically being tested to see if theyre titan shifters (they’re not) by rod reiss and the MPs VIOLENTLY assaulting them, they’re having body parts being cut off, majority are being killed, they’re mental health just becomes extremely worse; and that’s also apart of her existential crisis; anyways she goes crazy on this island, the 104th think she’s some type of crazed lunatic, she never sleeps, she never eats, she takes too long in the shower, she talks to nothing but really she’s talking to the person who held her titan before her (her father), she has vivid hallucinations, all she sees is blood on her hands, she sees people as Titans, and she could’ve swore she’s seen something glow out of Ymir’s wounds that one time she just loses her head on this island but it’s also apart of her training to be a spy for the secret government org she was kinda forced to be apart of and I’m not saying that all these people in the org have powers but they do have a higher level of consciousness and mental well being (nothing like telekinesis though or anything like superhero like) and in order to reach this level, you have to overcome the challenges of your mind and stuff like that anyways I’m sorry this is soooo long omg sorry I talked abt this on my Twitter account and people were just being really gross and racist bc my oc was a woc and it was an oc fic and that’s why I switched to tumblr lol I needed an outlet to express my thoughts so but I think I may have bertholdt be a prisoner for the survey corps and they use him whenever they need him and than he’s sent back to his cell or I may have him go back to marley and have him and OC be enemies and make it a friends to lovers to enemies fic or I may have eren be captured by the warriors but he’s turned into a warrior kinda but I’m leaning towards the first option and the second option

#aot spoilers #AHHHH IM SORRY ITS SO LONG #YOU DONT HAVE TO READ IT ALL #BUT I’D REALLY APPRECIATE IT IF YOU FID #attack on titan #aot ocs #bertholdt hoover #reiner braun #annie leonhart #bertholdt x reader #reiner x reader #annie x reader #porco galliard #pieck finger #zeke jaeger #colt grice #porco x reader #pieck x reader #zeke x reader #colt x reader #warrior candidates #RBA #aot fanfiction #IM SORRY IM SORRY

[salaciousdoll]

✩˚｡⋆ ⋆ ⋆ Shawty Want The Whole Team ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡✩

･˳ . ⋆ Team Starring Reiner Braun, Eren Yeager, Armin Arlert, Jean Kirstein, Porco Galliard, Colt Grice, Connie Springer, And Floch Forster x Fem!reader ･˳ . ⋆

Synopsis: you and Reiner make your desires merge into one on this special night

୨୧ ⁺⁎˚ ⋆━━ Be advised to the warnings of smut, Gangbang/group sex, 8some, bodily fluids( squirting, cum, spit, etc.), dark content!!!, dubcon!!!, Somnophilia( just a little bit, it’s consensual), marking body with marker , knife play but minor, cam recording, picture taking, reader is an gothic Bimbo who loves leopard( I heard that’s one characteristics goth bimbos have, may be incorrect though), pet names( nymph, pretty angel, strawberry whore, strawberry, bunny, doll, Bambi, etc.), dirty talking, deep throating, face fuck, getting used and you love it, all them wear ski mask which mask kink, voice kink, lipstick/lipliner meshed with lipgloss kink, triple penetration, double penetration( one or both holes), anal play( butt plugs, anal, etc.), creampies, breeding kink implied, messy face fuck( I mean it), nipple play, eren is obsessed with your boobs( small or big, doesn’t matter), let me know if I missed something!!! Wc: 7k

Minors do not interact, 18+

ෆ ‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ ෆ ̟ ̇ ┈•ﾟNote from Salaciousdoll: Happy No Nut November everyone. I hope you all been lasting so far because I’m hoping to break it with this fic, I hope you all have a great time reading this long waited fic and I want to apologize to the people who were really looking forward to the aot Veterans fic like this one, but I plan on doing something else for them. Anyways I’m talking too much, so thank you all for tuning in and reading my kinktober/nnn fics, much love and this is the end <33

ﾟ•┈୨ Salaciousber Masterlist ୧┈•ﾟ｡

Staying to yourself has always been your memo. It keeps people away from you, or so you thought. You always walked throughout the hallways of your apartment with your head held high, black/brown lip liner or black lipstick on your lips with a salacious shadow attached to you. Salacious to Armin that is. Armin thought you were fucking perfect as he stared at you walking past him to get to your apartment door opposite side of his.

He stood right there with his door open for a minute as he eyed you up and down. You had your headphones on your head, listening to your music. Despite your appearance, you listened to all kinds of music. Normally people expected you to listen to only rock, metal, or alternative music. Armin smiled to himself when he heard your keys drop. He hurried to pick them up and hand them to you.

You smiled and took off your headphones, greeting him, “ Hi Armin, didn’t know you were right there, I thought you were with the others at Eren’s house for game night.”

He watched your plump lips move and nothing you said registered in his mind. He tried so hard not to lower his eyes to your pushed up boobs in your choice of clothing with black as the main color of the outfit. You had a splash of a leopard print pattern with your outfit as well. His eyes stayed on the little knife necklace in between your boobs— he noticed the knife had a vial of red liquid in the middle of it and was fascinated by it, more like making himself fascinated just so he could stare a little longer. He gave up on trying and decided to trail his eyes further down to your pudgy stomach showing through your outfit.

You were still talking and not even noticing his big blue eyes tracing your body curves/ lumps in your leopard and black outfit with a bullet belt over your lower tummy and across your hips—slanted. Your legs were covered in fishnets with stars covered over them and you had on black platform boots. You looked gorgeous in his eyes, if only Reiner hadn't gotten to you first.

You cleared your throat once you noticed him looking and giggled in your hand, “ Oh Armin, you’re gonna get in trouble with Eren for missing his game night ~” the way you stretched the word night should be considered a sinful purr. Your voice went straight to his dick and at the point in time he needed you especially as he watched you walk inside your apartment— outfit hugging your voluptuous frame. Your hips or love handles were on his mind as he imagined squeezing them into his slender fingers . He didn’t like to think of women like this, but the temptation was taking over him. He shook his head and walked ahead with nothing but you on his mind. His thoughts lasted a long time even while he was at the game night with his boys.

A few hours later, Reiner was sitting on the couch sipping his beer between his pretty ring-filled hands. He was watching Jean, Floch, and Eren argue with one another over who lost in MK1. Reiner soon felt a vibration in his pants pocket due to his phone. He took it out and looked at it— instantly turning it over on his lap and looking around to see if anyone noticed his actions and someone did: Colt.

“ What’s wrong Reiner?”, Colt said on the stool at the bar where the snacks and drinks were. Reiner looked at him and debated inside of his head if he wanted to tell him what’s actually up or make an excuse.

Reiner sighs and rubs his big, veiny hand down his face, “ Just my girl, she’s been fussing at me more than usual”.

Colt took that excuse but Porco didn’t, “ He’s lying to you, see how his ears are twitching, he’s lying. Can’t believe I know this excuse of a human better than you, Colt.” Porco had a love and hate relationship with Reiner. He thinks Reiner is tolerable sometimes and that’s enough for him to still be friends with the man.

“ Can we just drop it.”, Reiner says, unknowingly picking up his phone again to unlock and see the picture. He kept his eyes trained on the way your body sat on the bed in a doll-like position with your knees placed on the bed, legs folded behind you, and your feet connected to the fat of your ass. The lingerie you had on was totally different from what you always wear. You just had on satin black bikini underwear with a leopard-print bow on the front, your pussy outline was visible and he was thirsty for it. Gosh, he loved how fat your pussy was.

You then had on a leopard print see-through robe with black fur on the outline and as he lifted his eyes on the phone, he placed a hand over his growing bulge. Your boobs were out and your nipples were pierced as usual but this time the nipple ring was different, it was his favorite color.

Reiner was too busy admiring the picture that he didn’t hear or feel any of the men behind him. They were looking at the photo as well, instantly getting hard, each for different reasons.

Eren because of your pierced nipples and how beautiful your boobs look. Jean for how full and lucious your lips looked. The other wanted to know what they were looking at, so Armin spoke up, “ What are you guys staring at?”

Reiner suddenly snapped his head up and shut off his phone to look behind him, gasping at Eren and Jean standing behind him with Connie trying to see from behind the two.

Eren was the first to speak between the three, “ So when are you gonna share? I’ve been wanting a piece of her since lik—”

“ She’s not meat, Eren. Have some decency for once.”, Jean says, rolling his eyes with a shake of his head following.

“ Let me see dammit.”, Connie declares with a flow of desperation seeping through his voice. He wanted to see you so badly since he had a crush on you way before Reiner even got with you. Connie looked at Eren and Jean, “ one word… Selfish”.

Jean turned back to him and they started arguing with Eren joining in to say that he knows you’re not meat and how he didn’t mean it that way.

Reiner didn’t pay their bickering no mind as he thought about the conversation you had last night courtesy of Eren asking that question.

Reiner was rubbing the middle of your back as you two laid naked against each other, “ Darkest desire I have, hmm… seeing you get pounded by my friends. Every last one of us uses you, of course still pleasuring you”.

You took in a sharp inhale before looking up at him since your head was on his meaty chest, “ same desire I have but with a few kinks involved, you’re down to hear them?” Reiner looked down at you and smirked with a nod of his head in sequence.

Reiner stood up and looked around at his boys, “ Anyone know where to get a ski mask from?” The men either tilted their heads in confusion or had a glow in their eyes signifying curiosity dancing her way in the pools of color each of their eyes held.

This only led to you sleeping as you get split open in your dream. Your dream was so beautiful and hot that you wanted to sleep longer, courtesy of Reiner bullying his cock into your wet pussy in missionary style as you whisper sweet words to each other inside of your dream. You two were making love in your dream and you never wanted it to end.

Yet it ended as soon as you felt a sharp thrust inside of your already hot cunt making you scream into the cloth covering your mouth. Your eyes snapped open and you saw gold irises swimming with the intensity of salacious intent as he bullied his cock past your tight slit, “ Mmmf, ahhhn.” Your moans were muffled and Reiner loved it, but he loved the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his thick cock even more.

He bit his lips as the ski mask was starting to soak into his skin because of the sweat clouding up as he fucked you and been fucking you for 15 minutes already, more like edging himself for 15 minutes, “ oh fuck! Such a good little pussy you have. Always need you whenever I come home.”

Your eyes widened once you recognized that voice, it was your man. Reiner. Big and buff with a ski masked on his face. This was your biggest desire, too bad you couldn’t get your other desire, or so you thought.

You felt the bed dip beside you and looked around to find two other masked men, one with deep green-blue eyes and another one with big blue eyes. You started to squirm around when Reiner thrusts became more powerful, “ Mmmph. I cwnttt. Pleishhh.” Every word you tried to say came out muffled and they all loved the feeling they got. The feeling of PDI: Power, Dominance, and Imbalance.

The man with the green-blue eyes grabbed your hand and placed your long acrylic nails on his dick wrapping his hand around to guide your hand up and down his cock. Eren couldn’t believe he was finally getting a taste or feeling of you, “ Her fuckhole is taking you so well, can’t say I’m impressed though since this is what all whores do right?” Eren lips formed into a pretty smile as you looked at him with squinted eyes. “ Take cocks like this.” Eren snapped his fingers to appoint the end of his statement.

You recognized that voice and you got wetter and tightened around Reiner to which you got a slap on your pussy, “ She’s indeed a slut… tightin’ around me at the sound of - ghahh Fuck!- your v-voice”. Your clit was shaking because of that action and you were pretty sure if his big hand slapped your pussy again you were gonna squirt on this man.

Armin trailed his hands down your arm to your hand to lace his fingers with them and lifted your hand to his cock, so now there were two hands on his pulsing cock with a girth that seemed even wider than Reiner’s. He had length, but his girth was a monster.

Your panties wasn’t even torn off so that’s how you knew Reiner stood on business because he usually slides your panties off, hell he usually wakes you up as well. Hated that feeling but you loved this one. Waking up to his cock already inside of you was a dream and reality now.

Armin threw his head back as he let out a low moan, “ Fuck pretty girl, y-your hands feels so good around my cock.” You were about to cum because Armin’s words cut through you like you were a tomato. Calling you a pretty girl was your weakness.

Your pussy quivered and another guy came beside Armin with light brown eyes with gold specks in them, at least that’s what it seemed when you peered at him as you kept stroking Armin and Eren dicks with different paces for each. Eren’s cock stroked in a fast pace; straight and up and down as in comparison to Armin’s cock being stroked in a slow-twist combo.

The guy put his thumb on your clit as Reiner kissed your cervix with his cock deep inside of you. The guy rubbed in slow circles causing you to try to squeeze your legs around Reiner’s hips but two other pairs of hands snatched each leg back and out of Reiner’s reach. Your moans were louder now as you try to move up and off Reiner’s dick so your pussy can catch a break. Your pussy was so fucking wet and you heard the pussy squelching noises along with his balls slapping against your other hole. The hole you now noticed has something attached to it. It was a butt plug, specifically a bunny tail butt plug inside of you, warming you up to take their cocks in your ass. You fucking loved this feeling so damn much. The feeling of being filled in both holes.

“ Cum f’me, Baby. Let Reiner feel your first orgasm for this night. Let us hear the sweet muffled moans spilling from you like a good little slut. Tonight you’re our performer so keep us entertained baby.”, The guy with specks of gold in his light brown eyes says as he leaned over to look you directly in the eye while still thumbing your clit.

“ Fuck that! Take the blindfold off her mouth so we can really hear her. Need to hear our pretty girl moan like a brain fucked bitch in heat”., Another man holding your thighs says in a matter of fact tone. You noticed that voice as well, Porco Galliard. A man you didn’t get along with but you secretly wanted to destroy or he destroyed you. Either way, you get something out of him.

A fifth man came to plant his knees on both sides of your head, slowly taking the blind fold off. He watched your eyes closed in bliss and your mouth open in a small o. Beautiful Melodies flew out of your mouth as he stared at you with his brown eyes and face covered with a ski mask just like the rest, “ She’s a true beauty, how the fuck did Reiner score with her?”

Porco's voice was heard next as you moaned at Reiner now drilling into your pussy, “ We all ask the same question, ginger. It’s confusing but from the way he’s fucking her, you could see why.”

Colt laughed as he peered over Reiner’s shoulder to watch you just like Porco was doing, “ I never thought there will be a day you compliment Reiner, Poc.”

Reiner couldn’t listen to them when his eyes were zoomed in on the way your whimpers were growing more rapidly and the way your body shook as he was still plunging into your sobbing pussy. “ Shit, I could feel myself cumming but I need you to cum before I do baby, so cum for me. Cum for us.”

“ Ahhn, I think I’m gonn- I think I’m gonna cum. Fuck!”, Your moans were beautiful to all of their ears and as some of them watch you lift your upper body up while Reiner fucked you through your orgasm, they realize that you were perfect for Reiner, one of his types.

Connie was holding off on jerking his cock because of how in awe he was at your body and how your hands, after dropping them from stroking Eren and Armin off, were trying to push reiner away because of the overstimulation you were getting.

Reiner wanted to stop fucking you so badly so he could hold off his orgasm but he couldn’t, not when your pussy is milking his cock as she sucked him in a vice grip. You were hungry for his dick. Reiner looked down at where the two of you were connected and saw your pussy was squirting a bit on his cock whilst also creaming on his dick, still having his ski mask on with sweat overlapping on his hair and face.

“ Reiner pl-please, s’ too much for me. Ahhnnn.”, Your moans were almost pornograhic and that pushed Reiner over the edge as he snapped his hips one more time with his balls landing on the fur ball attached to your butt plug.

His dick pumped inside of you as you felt your cervix get filled with his cum. “ Shit baby! So fucking good. S’ fucking good. She’s, ughhh!” They couldn’t even make fun of him as he tried to cradle all of your body inside of his big arms with his body sweat rolling onto your body because of him holding you— pumping you full. It’s like the others were watching a porn video from the way you two were fucking each other.

Reiner was seeing stars even as he laid his head on your chest. Your hand made its way into his hair calming him down from his orgasm. You knew he was probably at his limit since average men could only cum once, but you needed more.

So, you lifted your hips up with his cock still inside of you— fucking him back to full on hard since he was beginning to get semi soft inside of your pussy. “ Need more, Rei. Need you.” You looked around at the men staring in shock and mewled out, “ need all of you.”

Reiner lifted his head up and kissed you on your lips, “ Whatever my strawberry wants, she gets. Use her how she wants guys.” He slowly pulled out of you with a full hard on now and moved out of the way for the other men to surround you now.

“ what a pretty pair of tits you have, can’t wait to suck on em’, doll.”, Eren says as he twisted your right nipple making you whimper. Most would know that Eren is a tits man. He loved boobs of all sizes and colors—yours were no different from those he loved. In fact, he would have to say they’re more beautiful to stare at instead of fucking or sucking, so he brought his phone out of his pocket and you panicked, well your eyes showed slight panic. Eren looked at Reiner, “ you wouldn’t mind if I captured her essence for later right?”

Reiner looked at you before looking back at Eren, “ Ask her, it’s her body.” It was the bare minimum but Reiner always gave you butterflies when he said anything like that. Eren clicked, “ You are so right, how could I forget that you can speak for yourself right. So I ask you, may I capture these pretty tits for later, doll?”

You gulped and slowly nodded your head. Eren smiled and whispered a sweet to himself before taking a photo of your tits but as he was doing that your eyes connected with bright hazel eyes that belonged to Connie Springer. Connie leaned down to smash his lips onto yours, tasting your spit so lovingly. His tongue inserted inside of your mouth and you moaned from that feeling alone. You reached to pump his red flushed cock causing him to hiss into your kiss, “ fuck, pretty Angel.”

You heard other belt buckles and pants unzip and knew you were about to be fucked into oblivion. Some of them kept their cargo pants on and some didn’t. Eren, Porco, and Jean kept their cargo pants or jeans on and the rest took their style of pants off, leaving them in nothing but their tattoos or piercings.

You soon felt Connie’s lips detach from yours and another pair was placed on your lips, these ones were more rougher and somehow you loved how rough they kissed you. Floch needed to see how your lips tasted and felt but it didn’t last long because Jean snatched him back to lift you up and your legs and arms wrapped around his waist and neck so tightly in fear of him dropping up.

No matter how much you weighed Jean was gonna fuck you in the air or on the wall, he didn’t care he needed to bounce you on his dick, “ You’re such a bunny. A pretty bunny. A fuck bunny so I need you to bounce on me like one, okay.” You would’ve thought it was corny if you weren’t so horny. Jean’s eyes were on you as he pushed his cock inside of your warm pussy.

You couldn’t take how long his cock was so you squeezed your eyes shut. It’s like you could feel every vein on his cock sliding inside your pussy and it felt too good, so good that tears were beginning to develop in your eyes. Jean's eyes widened and he instantly stopped himself from going in further, “ What’s wrong? Did I hurt you? Do you wanna st-”

“ No.” you interrupt as he bombard you with questions of concern. “ It’s just so good, please fuck me, Jeanyy. I promise I can take it. Please.” You felt another pair of hands from behind you as they helped you take all of Jean’s cock into your wet cunt by placing hands on your shoulders to guide you down.

“ Come on, strawberry, is that all you can take, I feel like your hole is wet enough to take Jean boy. I would’ve thought a slut like you would do better than this, I’m disappointed in you, princess?”, Porco says as he wiggles the bunny tail around making you moan with your head thrown back against his body.

“ Fuck off, Porco. You’re gonna help or what?, if not get the hell out of our space.”, Jean says as he grabs your ass in between his fingers, some of the fat spilling over his fingers. Jean hated when people called him his mother’s nickname, it’s annoying when she says it even as he’s a grown adult so it was double annoying when his friends say it, especially in front of his crush he’s about to pound in a moment.

Porco knew Jean was irritated, so he smirked at him and put his head in between your shoulders to stare at Jean, “ Let me show you how to properly fuck a slut like her. You too Reiner.” Reiner scoffed and rolled his eyes at his friend.

Porco slowly took out the butt plug as he watched how your body wiggled against Jean’s dick causing him to still himself inside of your pussy in fear of cumming before you. Once the plug was out of you, Porco stroked his cock a solid two times before lining his tip against the opening of your ass. Your ass puckered in desperation of emptiness and you needed something to fill it up after being plugged up for you don’t know how long.

Porco pushed himself inside of your hole causing you to cry with more tears pouring down your eyes, your mascara falling down your eyes. You knew you should’ve taken off the remaining of your makeup but you fell asleep right after masturbating to Reiner because of his reaction to the picture you sent.

Once Porco got himself past the tight ring of muscle, he slowly felt you relax as he gave you time to adjust to him and Jean being inside of you at the same time.

You whined as your hands were placed on Jean’s chest, “ Wan’ more. Please treat me like a slut, fuck me like a whore.” Jean smashed his lips onto yours as both him and Porco began to move in sync. Both hissing at the feeling of your pussy and ass welcoming them in like it’s a home for them.

“ Fuck princess, you’re sucking my dick into this precious little hole of yours, wish we can- fuck!- take as long as we want but we can’t when you have other wolves to feed as well.”, Porco says as he slides more of himself inside of you as he was still fucking into you, getting you to take all of his thick dick inside of your ass.

When Jean moved in, Porco moved out and you were in heaven because the feeling of being stuffed in both ends was a beautiful feeling to you, so beautiful that you couldn’t help but to babble, “ mmph, mmm, keep fucking me like this.” They both sped up with Louis pants and groans following. The sound of balls slapping against your skin and their each other balls were heard as they quickened their pace.

“ Shit bunny, you’re bouncing on my cock so well, fuck! Such a good little bunny for me.”, Jean moans into your neck prior to sucking on it as he rolls his hips into your pelvis. The loud smacks from their bodies were addictive to the rest of the men who stroked themselves to the scene in front of them.

Crazily enough, Porco liked the feeling of being inside of your ass, especially when his cock rubbed against Jean’s adding more pleasure to his fuck. Jean felt the same, only a wall stopping them from being in the same hole.

“ M’gonna, Uhhnnn, Je-annnn. Por-coooo.” The moans that came out of your mouth set them ablaze and so they fucked your even harder chasing their own orgasms not knowing that you already came onto their dicks with no hesitation, “ Yesssss, fuck me. Fuck me. You're fuc-ckingg me sooo goodd.” Your legs were tightly gripping onto jeans waist causing him to stiffen himself and cum deep into your pussy with a loud moan of your name. Reiner watched the whole thing with envy and lust. Specifically envy when Jean came inside of you and Porco followed after with a loud groan of your name.

When your body went limp inside of their arms, they both pant before sliding out of you with their cum dripping out of you and onto the floor. The others watched and whispered different things.

Porco slapped your ass and kissed your ear, “ Thank you for the ride, slut. Gotta use that mouth next time since that’s what you’re best at running.”

Your legs were still shaking and you couldn’t even register his words, but you felt the slap on your ass and you moaned. Jean had to take the ski mask off because he was sweating nonstop, he threw it behind him and took your mouth against his in hunger. In between the kisses he muttered a thank you prior to walking you to the bed with his arms around your body. Jean turned you around to place you on a body laying on the bed already, “ You took them like a champ, doll. And you looked so pretty while they took you, so will you be able to handle me, Armin, and Connie as well?”

Your pussy visibly clenched in Armin’s view as he stood behind you and when you did it, a little cum dripped down your pussy to land on Eren’s pants. Armin let out a shaken breath and placed his hands on your ass to spread you apart. You were about to look back to see who it was, but Connie took your hair and yanked back on whatever hairstyle you had making you wince, “ Ah ah Ah, nope, nuh uh, focus only on me, pretty Angel. Need all of your attention on me as I fuck your pretty face. Couldn’t wait to have you like this so I’m not gonna waste any more.” Connie slammed his cock inside of your mouth making you take all of his cock in his mouth, “ Shit! time.” He finished off his sentence at the same time your choking was heard.

Your black lip liner meshed into your lipgloss or black lipstick was starting to have marks on Connie’s dick and he loved the little black rings forming on his cock as he drove his dick back and forth in your mouth. Eren sucked on one of your boobs swinging in his face at the same time he felt Armin grab his dick to help him inside of your tight and warm pussy. Eren let out a moan with your nipple in his mouth and the vibrations went straight to your core allowing him to push himself more inside because of you opening up to him just a little bit.

Once Armin slid inside of your pussy, he let out a loud whimper shocking himself and everyone around him. Colt patted his back as he stood on the side of him wanting to feel you wrapped around his dick as well.

Feeling both of their cocks inside of the same hole was too much for you but it felt good, a weird good. “ mmmpfff, mmmm!” Your moans were vibrating on Connie’s cock which now just sat inside of your mouth, he was giving you time to adjust to both Armin and Eren inside of you at once.

Tears were escaping your eyes even more due to the pain of the stretch happening by Armin’s cock slowly moving in and out of your pussy. He finally had the chance to move more when you started to get wetter and a bit loose for him and Eren. Doesn’t mean your pussy didn’t still take the shape of his and his best friend's cocks. “ You’re doing so well, Pretty Bambi. So well for me and Eren. Now will you allow one more?”

You squirmed in anticipation at the feeling of being filled by four cocks whether they were in the same hole or not. You felt feet positioned themselves on the side of your body as you desperately heard Eren slurping sounds on your tits just as much as you felt his warm saliva covering your nipples like icing on a cake. It was like he was trying to suck some milk out of them from how hard the sucking sounds were heard.

“ Not being nice with her like you three are, so take this you pretty nymph.”, Floch says with his dick moving inside of your asshole, making you take all of his dick which was surprisingly big enough to fill your greedy hole. Once they saw your head snap back after popping Connie’s dick out of your mouth with a moan following they knew they were gonna have so much fun.

Connie looked down at you as he tried to balance himself on the moving bed that was moving back and forth. He looked at your face and his eyes brightened up at the image of you taking dicks after dicks inside of you, so bad he needed to capture this moment forever, “ Reiner, give me your camera. Need everyone to know this pretty succubus name.”

Reiner stood up with the camera that always sat on the book shelf and handed it to Connie before kissing your cheek, “ Having fun, strawberry?” You couldn’t form words at the moment because you were too fucked out. Nothing but small cries and they’re groaning and moans synced into one were heard. Some grunts were heard around the room.

Reiner chuckled as Connie angled the camera at your face with his ski mask still on, in fact all of them except Jean had theirs still on. Connie pressed record and recorded your moans as you looked down into Eren’s eyes, “ Fuck she’s taking all three of them so fucking well, a true Nymph.”

Jean chimed in, “ Slut.”

Porco next, “ Whore.”

And finally Colt was next, “ She’s incredible, insatiable.”

“ Dude can’t you be mean for once in your life, you’re fucking up the video.”, Connie says as he looks at Colt off the video. You could hear Reiner chuckling at the comment.

“ Leave Colt alone, Connie. He’s a sweetheart. A lover boy.”, Reiner says as he tweaked your nipples while he had one knee on the bed studying you as you took three cocks inside of you at the same time.

“ nnghhh, I don’t think.. hahh. I don’t think I’m gonna hold awnnn.”, You moaned as Armin’s and Eren’s cocks synced into you with rhythm, as Eren moved in, Armin swirled his hips to move out and this repeated. You had no idea Armin could fuck like this but he’s fucking you with much more rhythm than you expect.

Meanwhile Floch was on top of you and Eren drilling into your ass until he had to cum and he pulled out before that to get down, “ Fuck, she’s so fucking… ughhh I was about to cum but that’s not where I want to cum.”

Once Floch moved out the way Armin could move how he wanted. He held your hips and started to speed his thrusting up, fluently and rapidly. His thrust was matching Eren’s. “ Shit, Bambi, I can’t hold on either. Wanna cum deep inside of you. Hahhh!” Armin’s nickname and moans were getting to you and you needed to put something in your mouth before you suddenly start babbling out things you don’t mean.

Eren told Armin to stop for a second and positioned both of you down a bit off the bed and after that, he signaled Armin to go. They both started to thrust inside of your now stretched out hole and you latched your lips around Connie’s tip making him shudder and stagger a bit, he was caught off guard and anyone who watched the video back would see how he was caught off guard due to the shaking of the camera.

Eren’s balls were slapping against Armins and it added onto him pounding into your soft spot over and over “Fuck, doll. Fuck! Fuck! I swear to God I’m gonna cum inside of her Reiner, I don’t care about anything but cumming inside of this amazing pussy. How does she feels Armin? I know you’re close as well, I can feel you pumping against me.”

Armin couldn’t even think or talk, your pussy was too good to even form sentences so he let out a low moan followed by a yeah. Eren knew his friend was pussy drunk, hell he was too if he’s talking about practically putting a baby in her.

The squelching sounds became louder and soon they both felt liquid squirting on their cocks as you tried so desperately to get away from everyone because the pleasure was becoming too much but at the same time you didn’t want it to end.

“ She’s fucking squirting on us, fuck it. M’cummin.”, Eren says as he pushes more of himself into you to cum inside of your pussy. Your eyes were rolled to the back of your head as Connie recorded your mouth swallowing his dick all the way down your throat with loud gags following.

Armin was next and he came a bit inside of you by accident before pulling out and finishing on your ass with sweat covering his body just as much as sweat was covering Eren’s. “ Shit. I can- I can’t Bambi, you are taking us so well and allowing me to finish on this perfect ass of yours like a good girl.”

Connie's head snapped up since his head was thrown back because of the head you were giving him. He suddenly snatched your head down to the base of his dick with your nose pressed into his semi-shaved grey hair. He tried to ignore the sounds of you choking and sucking on his dick so good and pointed the camera to Armin, “ Woah, little Armi…” Connie got sidetracked, “ hahhh~ fuck pretty Angel, your throat is amazing. Can’t believe you kept this all to yourself Reiner. Anyways, back to you Armin, you grew up.” Your hands came up to Connie’s thighs to tap him so you could breathe since you have been swallowing his dick so long, “ Oh sorry, pretty Angel, let me let you breathe.” He snatched your hair back to let you breathe again and you let out a loud sigh, coughs were in sequence.

Spit dripped down his cock, your chin, and tits. Eren thankfully moved his head to the right when he saw spit was dripping down your body and was about to move to his ski mask. You felt so messy and full as Eren slid out of you with his cum dripping down your pussy. “ Mmmgh, I feel so full.”

“ Good, you’re about to be even fuller and messier.”, Floch says as he grabs you off Eren to drag you by the arm to the couch in the room. He pushed you down and ripped the remaining of your clothes off and you swore you were never turned on by Floch before, but you are now. He snatched half of your body off the small couch and turned to Connie and then turned to Colt, “ You two are gonna fuck her or should I?”

Reiner wanted to say that you had enough but the way you were staring at Connie’s dick told him to shut the hell up. It’s your desire and his desire coming together as one in this night so of course both of you are gonna enjoy it even more.

Connie stalked over to you like a predator, he needed to feel your pussy around his cock, so he positioned himself in between your legs and tapped his now moist dick on your cream filled pussy, “ Fuck, you’re such a pretty slut man, it’s scary to know that I won’t find someone like you. A dedicated slut. Let me give you a reward for swallowing my dick. That’s cool with you right?”

You whimpered as you sat up on your elbows, “ fuck me, con’. Want you to make me a mess, messier than I already am. All three of you.” As you end that last sentence, you stare at the other two men standing around you. You then stared at the camera, licking your messy lips, your lipstick or lipgloss was over the area your lips were and your mascara ran down your face. You actually looked like a whore, a pretty and classic whore.

Connie had enough and shoved the camera in Reiner’s hands before properly laying you down on the couch, “ Let’s give the pretty slut what she wants. You two could take anything but her pussy. That’s all mine for now.”

Reiner recorded all three of you whilst stroking his dick just like the rest. They watched as Floch got on top of you to grab your tits to fuck them with his cock, something Eren would gladly do if they got this opportunity again. One of their phones was ringing but they could care less because all of their focus was on you being used like a slut. Colt had put his body a little bit up toward your neck to fuck into your mouth, so he wasn’t that far from Floch as he lifted your tits up and down on his cock.

“ Shit, this bitch tits are fucking amazing. Fuck!”, Floch moaned as his spit coated his cock and in between your tits so wonderfully. It caused him to move with speed.

Connie gripped your hips and thrusted into your pussy like you were his flesh light. He was in love with your pussy because it was still tight around his dick, “ shit, her pussy is amazing. Tits as well but her pussy is- uughnn- even more amazing. It’s still so tight after taking so much cock. It’s not too tight but it’s just- mmmph- right.”

You were too busy getting your throat fucked by Colt to say thank you. His cock was so long and a bit skinny but it was still long. So when he thrusted in your mouth you automatically choke because it’s too much for your throat. You were in love with how gentle he was fucking your throat, “ Ahhn, she’s swirling her tongue under my cock e-e-everytime it goes in. It feels so fucking good. So this and her prettiness and personality is amazing.”

“ Relax Colt, it seems like you’re tryna take my girl.”, Reiner says behind the camera, getting chuckles and laughs from the guys.

Colt panicked and you saw he was about to apologize, so you locked your jaws around his cock causing him to throw his head back. He now started to thrust in your mouth like there’s no tomorrow. Spit was forming around his dick and around the base of his cock. Snot was beginning form when your tears poured down your eyes from how his dick was going in and out of your throat creating throat bulges he couldn’t see, but you could feel them.

You squirm when you feel something cold and pointy near your stomach. You felt another presence and heard Reiner’s voice, “ My strawberry loves the thought of being used by men in ski masks. She liked to be fucked senseless and treated like a flashlight by men in ski mask.. tsk.. tsk… tsk, what a dirty slut you are. She especially likes when you threaten her with a good time and her special tools. Isn’t that right, my little strawberry whore?” You tried to lift your head to talk but Colt wasn’t letting up as he wiped the sweat off your forehead as an apology.

You didn’t mind but Reiner still wanted to taunt you as he circled the sharp silver knife he got from the table next to the couch around your navel, “ My bad, I forgot you couldn’t speak.”

You moaned against Colts cock when you felt the knife lowering to your vagina but not touching it at all. Connie didn’t know how to take this new information, yet he knew one thing, he was turned on. So Connie placed a thumb over your clit and as soon as he did one rub, you squirted on him which made him cum inside you unintentionally, or was it?

Connie grunted out his moans, “ fucking shit, this fucking ahahhhhh.” He couldn’t form a sentence and he never couldn’t form a sentence, not even when he was inside of his ex-girlfriend's pussy. You were what he wanted and needed, he’s sure all of them felt the same.

Floch was now fucking roughly into your tits and he soon came on your chest and neck since he was a long cum shooter. “ Perfect. Fucking perfect!”

Reiner recorded everything and came on the open space on your tummy with a loud groan. “ Such a pretty baby doll you are, letting my friends use you and get off to you. Ohhhh.” He stroked his cock even more to free himself of all the cum that needed to come out.

Colt was last and when he came inside of your mouth your tears and snot was running down your face. Colt didn’t even mind that, if anything he thinks you looked more beautiful because in his mind he caused this and he was a proud man, “ So- Aah- so pretty.”

Reiner captured everything and when Colt pulled out he positioned the camera in your face at the same time Eren gave him the marker he picked up from your dresser. Reiner let Colt get up and positioned the camera on your body and then your face. He took the cap off the marker with his mouth and threw it behind him. He then wrote “ Pretty Bambi”, “ Angel face”, “ Strawberry whore”, “ Pretty girl”, “ Whore”, and “ Doll” on your upper body.

Once he was done writing it, you finally calmed down from your high and looked at the camera. Reiner wiped the snot off your nose and onto a towel they brought out the bathroom to wipe you down, “ Tell the camera who the pretty slut of the night is.”

You smiled and gargled around Colt’s cum into your mouth before finally swallowing it and letting out a loud breath, “ I’m { reader’s name}, nice to meet ya.”

Reiner smiled and pecked your lips, “ Let’s get you cleaned up, baby.”

ෆ ̟ ̇ ┈•ﾟ Tagging: @chosoist @honeybleed @simpingfor-wakasa @angelshub @bleach-your-panties @savagemickey30 and anyone else who would like to be tagged <33 ( please let me know if any of you don’t want to be tagged in my fics like that anymore, it’s not gonna stir up no hard feelings<33)

ﾟ•┈© all right reserved to salaciousdoll, she does not give permission to steal, plagiarize, and translate.

#aot smut #aot x reader #reiner braun smut #reiner braun x reader #eren yeager smut #armin arlert smut #jean kirstein smut #attack on titan smut #connie springer smut #floch forster smut #porco galliard smut #chubby reader #x black reader #smut #anime smut #anime x reader #angelshubnetwork #plus size reader #colt grice smut

[animestsstuff2]

Hey I saw you were asking for aot recommendations, so I wanted ask if you could write maybe a Zeke one? There's not much about him

Attack on Titan

Zeke x reader.

I haven’t watched attack on Titan since it finished so I hope this is okay I didn’t really know how to write Zeke

Content warning: established relationship, trauma, fluff, before Erens invasion period, kinda angsty

——————————————————

You sat waiting for Zeke to come home from one of his meetings, humming as you stood over the stove making dinner. You and him would be together two years as of tonight and you made all his favourite foods.

You perked up upon hearing the door opening and shutting, turning to greet him only to see him glance in at you from the hallway and head immediately upstairs. Your brows furrowing as you moved the pots off the stove to colder rings and followed him.

“Zeke? How was the meeting?” You called as you slowly ascended upstairs. You wondered if something had happened, sometimes when the meetings don’t go how he likes he likes to he left alone.

You headed down to his small study, knocking as you entered and seen him at his desk. A glass of whiskey on the desk as he ran his hand through his hair before glancing at you again.

“I’ll be down shortly Y/N” he told you, you over to him ignoring his hint that he wanted to be alone as you smoothed your hands up his shoulders, leaning down to rest your chin atop his head.

“What happened at the meeting?” You hummed, rubbing his shoulders through his shirt feeling him relax slightly as he sighed.

“Nothing important just the usual discussions” he mumbled, he never really did tell you what they spoke about.

“Clearly something, why are you so sad. You know what today is don’t you?” You asked, moving to kiss his cheek as he swivelled in his chair to move so now you stood between his legs.

“I do remember love and I can’t wait to eat the delicious food you’ve prepared” he gave a small smile as he picked your hands up with his.

“Well the sooner you tell me the sooner we can go eat” you chimed a grin forming as you thought about the sweet apple pie downstairs.

“Not now. I dont want to ruin today” he mumbled, his smile falling as you thought about what could ruin today, did he have to leave? Are Paradis making a move.

“Ruin today? Zeke what happened at that meeting” you pressed firmly as you squeezed his hands.

“Y/N don’t push you won’t lik-“

“Tell me Zeke. You always feel better after we talk things out” you told him, it was true he has always been secretive but with you he felt at peace and could tell you anything. He sat for a moment.

“They chose my successor today” he told you and your heart stalled. You hated Titan stuff, Zeke was nearing his thirteenth year as the Beast Titan.

“Oh..who is it?” You asked softly, not wanting to think of your boyfriends inevitable death.

“Colt Grice. A young warrior” he told you, looking up to see your saddened eyes.

“I told you Y/N you wouldn’t like it. I-..I thought about this on the way home, it would be better if we, we went our separate ways now instead of down the line” he told you, you pulled your hands from his and his head snapped back up to yours.

“Not this again Zeke. I won’t hear it.” You told him, trying not to let your eyes water.

“Y/N its only reasonable. I don’t want to hurt you more than I will. I don’t unde-“

“I love you Zeke! I know you’re going to die and that I will be alone but right now I want to spend that time together with you!” You told him, eyes watering as some tears dripped. His heart ached as he stood.

He reached for you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pulled you into him, resting his chin on your head. He pulled away wiping the tear from your eye as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your pouty lips.

“Im sorry for bringing it up my love. I just think too rationally sometimes. I don’t ever want to be without you but knowing I will have to leave you alone pains me so much” he whispered and you nodded accepting his reasoning. He pressed another kiss which you returned, wrapping your arms around his neck as he pulled you in closer.

You both pulled away as he gave you a small smile which you returned.

“Now, im pretty sure I smelled apple pie downstairs” he mumbled and you giggled nodding as you pulled him with you.

The dinner and desert were amazing. Zeke continuously complimenting your cooking throughout till now where you both sat in the living room, fire lit and cuddled up with a glass of wine he brought back. It was a special wine he was gifted.

#zeke yeager #attack on titan #colt grice #aot #shingeki no kyojin #zeke x reader #fluff #beast titan #levi #eren #mikasa ackerman #eren yeager

[koiishyy]

The death of peace of mind (time is a thief)

ღ summary : Your keen sense for imminent threats and disaster's goes haywire during an otherwise once in a lifetime festival, and if you were given one more minute, then everything might have been different. pairing : porco galliard x braun! reader tags/content warnings : graphic depictions of violence, swearing, depictions of a panic attack and survivors guilt. pre-established relationship, hurt/comfort. a/n: this is the first reader fic i've uploaded to tumblr since i was fourteen, be gentle with my soul pls. enjoy!

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There’s a taste lingering on the tip of your tongue.

It’s sickeningly sweet and accompanied by an icy chill that sends goosebumps pricking across your biceps. Dribbling down the side of your hand, it trickles across your skin towards your sleeve. At this rate, it’ll stain the cream-colored uniform. With another lick, you quell the racing liquid.

Strawberries.

It tastes like well-ripened strawberries.

Ice cream isn’t a luxury you’re often afforded within the Liberio internment camp. It’s one of many foods that is solely attainable past the gates. A delicacy that the Marleyans decided to withhold from the spawns of devils. You can stain your hands with the blood of their enemies and do their dirty work, but they can’t even allow the simple, regular pleasure of ice cream.

Today is a different tale, however. Today is a celebration. The war against the Allied Forces took longer than predicted, but even with the countless setbacks, Marley’s victory reigns true.

All thanks to the race they despise so much, of course.

Now, there’s vendors packed, lining the streets of Liberio. Exotic foods and little knick-knacks sit front and present at every booth. It’s supposed to put the foreign guests at ease and make them feel happy that they signed a peace treaty with the country that proceeded to massacre them. There’s supposed to be a play about what you have no idea—at some point in the debrief you had tuned out Zeke’s voice.

The younger candidate’s run amok before you, weaving through the crowd with excitement gleaming in their eyes. Every sweet treat entices them, and every savory dish catches their wonder-filled eyes. Of course, your sister is among them; in fact, Gabi is the most vocal of them. Her brown eyes ogle fascinated over a monstrosity of a chocolate drizzled crepe, the desire to stuff her belly full of the unique pastries setting her up for stomach-aching punishment later.

She’s babbling to Reiner, whom, for once, you’re grateful for, over the treat. He’s been graciously paying for the food, even at your protests.

Over the years of your youth, you’ve butted heads more times than you’d like to admit with your cousin. His arrogance over being a half-blooded Marleyan being the biggest argument starter. Now, after he returned from Paradis, he’s different. Different in a way you can’t quite put your finger on. Whatever he went through with the island devils changed him. You don’t argue anymore, not like you used to.

Pieck has also been keeping up well with the candidates, trailing after them and engaging in conversation. You watch as money exchanges hands and Gabi receives her crepe. Pieck laughs as she practically inhales it after the first bite. You even manage to capture the faint crack of a smile from Reiner.

Udo and Zofia stand off to the side. Udo does most of the talking you notice. The kid has the innate ability to chatter on about any topic. Zofia listens, never once interrupting him or telling him to quiet down.

A little ways away, you spot the Grice brothers, who have ventured just a tad bit further than the group. Colt ruffles Falco’s hair, which earns him annoyed swats from Falco. You’re surprised that Falco isn’t glued to Gabi’s side.

Everyone’s having a fantastic time. Plenty of laughter is being had, and delicious food is being consumed and enjoyed. It’s good company. It’s a beautiful day. Most of the veteran warriors have even let their guards down.

Everyone is happy. So why can’t you be?

“Your ice cream’s melting.”

The words jolt you violently from your endless thoughts. Physically, your head recoils, jerking upwards in the direction of the familiar voice. In the midst of staring off into space, Porco has retreated to your side. He looks at you with a hint of concern and a wealth of curiosity written across his features.

Your eyes trail towards the half-eaten ice cream cone tucked in your grasp. It threatens to become a watery soup. The pink-tinted liquid trails in multiple lines down your hands, sticky and warm now.

“Shit,” You hiss softly, transferring the cone between your hands. You shake the hand covered in liquid, flinging droplets of ice cream against the ground. You’re not even sure why you’re still holding onto it—your appetite has long gone. Porco sighs, pulling a brown napkin from his jacket pocket. He extends it in your direction and you gladly take it. “Thanks.”

“What’s on your mind?” He asks.

“What?” You blink, tossing the ice cream into a nearby garbage bin. Shaking your head, you wipe your hands clean. “Nothing.”

Porco gives you a knowing look—a look you despise. A frown tugs at your lips. He never misses the slightest change in your behavior. You hate it.

“You always finish your food.” Porco points out. “Lying to me is stupid; why don’t you just tell me?”

He’s right; you hate that he’s right. Lying to him is stupid, considering you’re more honest with Porco than anyone else. You’re being difficult for no reason.

Well, you do have a reason, just not a particularly good one.

“I just have a bad feeling.”

Porco’s eyebrows furrow. “About this and the play?” He inquires, and you nod in response. “The allied forces have already signed the treaty. The war is over. No one would be dumb enough to plan an attack in Liberio anyhow.”

“Treaties are broken all the time.” You remind him.

Enchanting hazel eyes trail over your face, and your heart skips a beat. “It’s your gut, isn’t it?” Porco asks.

Instinctively, your hand grazes against your abdomen, a nauseating feeling building in your stomach. “My gut’s never wrong.” You say. “You should know, it’s saved your ass more times than I can count.”

“Not every time.” Porco argues. “Also, I save my own ass and everyone else's—and yours too.”

You roll your eyes. “Name one time I’ve been wrong.”

Porco’s lips part, the resemblance of a word forming on them, only for no sound to come out. They bob open and closed, and you can almost visibly see the gears turning in his brain. He looks stumped. He struggles for a moment, too stubborn to accept the truth, before finally relenting to the glaring reality.

Your gut has never been wrong.

This keen sense for imminent disaster was one of the reasons you earned your warrior candidacy. Gabi calls it your sixth sense. You could sense a threat from a mile away. No one could ever pull a stealth attack on you because your gut was never - and has never been wrong.

Porco’s eyes comb the crowd before wrapping one of his large hands around your wrist. He gently tugs you to an abrupt stop, redirecting your course to a secluded portion of the street—in an alleyway between two nearby buildings. The group continues onward, temporarily oblivious to the loss of two of its members.

Porco turns to you, serious as ever. His intense gaze causes butterflies to awaken and flutter about in your stomach. “Say your gut’s right; do you think we’d need to be worried about it?” He asks, his hand falling from your wrist to your hand and curling his fingers around your own. “It’d have to be one hell of a sneak attack.”

An exhausted, tense sigh falls from your lips. “Of course it would, but you saw how badly Reiner’s armored titan was destroyed by the artillery.”

“That’s because Reiner’s useless.” He grumbles under his breath.

You scowl, continuing with your train of thought. “And Pieck’s equipment takes precious time to transport and set up—time we won’t have.”

Apprehension lingers in him, but you can tell he believes you—or at the very least in you. Your eyes flicker across his face, knowing that he trusts you and that this pointless questioning is only for his peace of mind. He knows you would never be this worked up over something if you didn’t believe it. He knows you. He knows you.

So, he relents.

“I’ll let Pieck know.” Porco says, his hand trailing up to your cheek. He cups the side of your face, sighing. You lean into his touch—his soft, gentle touch. It’s a side of Porco that only you see regularly. “No one will trust just a gut feeling—especially not from us. So stay alert, okay? Stay near me until this is over.”

Relief floods through you instantaneously, and you nod. “I’ve got your back.”

“And I’ve got yours.” Porco smirks. He gazes at you for a moment, his cheeks growing a pinkish hue to them. His usual cool confidence falters. Shyly, he murmurs, “You look pretty today; did I tell you that?”

“No, you didn’t.” You grin. “But I’m only pretty today, though?” You tease.

“What? Well, no, of course not.” Porco flusteredly stammers out. A giggle breaks through your lips. “You look pretty every day; just today you—ah, goddammit, nevermind—forget it.”

It’s rare that you get moments like these. Moments where you are not warriors or dirt-blooded Eldians. Moments where your lives are simple and you get to act like every normal couple.

Embarrassed by your teasing, Porco grumpily attempts to depart. Softly laughing, you tug him back to you. “C’mon, I’m kidding, Pock.” You say, pulling him in by his jacket. “Stay with me. Just for another minute, please?”

He can never resist those puppy-dog eyes of yours. Porco sighs and obliges. “One more minute.”

The two of you lock eyes, and the world dissolves around you. Porco leans down, pressing his lips to yours. One kiss, two kisses, three. His lips envelope yours, gentle but a little sloppily. His hand slides up the small of your back, keeping your body pressed into his.

It’s bliss. Loving Porco is a private affair; these moments that bear the threat of the public eye are few and far between. You cherish them, silently wishing to scream your love from the rooftops. A wish that will never come to fruition—not with your positions.

Coming up for air, you pull back. Still not wanting to break the bubble just yet, Porco leans to press his forehead against yours. The tip of your nose kisses his, and a small smile tugs at your lips. Your eyes lull shut once more, savoring every moment of this temporary peace.

Until you hear the distinct sound of someone calling for you, Gabi’s voice rings across the streets. Your eyes spring open, and you catch a glimpse of her on the main road, Reiner in tow. You still, watching as they disappear down the street.

“Minute over.” You murmur.

Porco hums in response. “Minute over.” He echoes, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Let’s go.”

---

One more minute.

Clawing at your throat, bile threatens to spill over from you. There’s an aching in your chest, a hammering against your ribcage. Your heart threatens to crack the very ribs that protect it. Your footsteps feel heavy, weighted by cement. There’s a dull pain thudding behind your dry, bloodshot eyes, the capillaries in them threatening to burst at the seams.

You wish you would have stayed in that alleyway for just one more minute.

Corpses would still litter the streets of the place you call home, crimson blood pooling against the concrete and staining the pavement. The hospitals would still be overfilled—maximized to their capacity—and even then, with patients scattered across the hallways. Smoke would still billow, flames roaring in the midst of building debris. The crisp, icy water of the sea would still hold the remnants of Marley’s naval fleet—pieces of their vessels floating aimlessly across the ocean.

A minute wouldn’t have prevented this. A minute wouldn’t have fixed this.

But for a minute, the vile image of Zofia’s pulverized upper body wouldn’t be on repeat in your mind—the mental image of her limp legs connected to nothing haunting you whenever you squeezed your eyes shut. A minute would have spared you the feeling of Udo’s arm slipping from your grasp in the midst of the panic. A minute would have given you the opportunity to hold your sister close, keeping Gabi by your side and never letting her go. Another would have prevented her from boarding that airship and taking Falco with her.

Breathe.

You have to order yourself to take deep breaths, lest you claw at your skin and tear the feeling of guilt out of your muscles. The miserable feeling clutches your chest like a vise, constricting your lungs. Tears threaten to spill from the corners of your eyes. You blink them back—you don’t get to cry, not yet.

Breathe.

Forcing out another sputtering breath is like swallowing a hot coal. The acidic burn in your throat is only reinforced by the action. You keep swallowing, attempting to provide some sort of aid to no avail.

The Paradis devils. Eren Yeager. They’ve destroyed your home and killed innocent civilians who had nothing to do with the Warriors actions. And now they have Falco and your sister—your baby sister.

Through the shroud of grief, there is only panic.

Is she a prisoner of war? Is she dead? Are they going to torture her for information? Will they use the same methods that Marley does? You don’t even want to think about it.

Your gut tells you she’s alive.

And it’s so hard to breathe.

Breathe.

You failed them.

It’s clear as day, plain and simple. You should have spoken up and told someone with a higher ranking about your gut feeling. Instead, you doubted your judgment. General Magath might have listened, though the rest really would have never believed something as silly as a gut feeling.

But you did fail them: Zofia, Udo, Gabi, Falco, Pieck, Reiner, Colt...

Porco.

Oh god, Porco.

You finally reach his bedside, unsteady and five seconds away from completely unraveling. The feeling of breaking completely only intensifies as your eyes roam Porco’s unconscious body. The Warriors took a brutal assault from Eren Yeager, one that not even your gut could have predicted.

Temporarily, relief floods you. Porco is alive; his body is regenerating. It’s clear the doctors have done all they can for him, the only course of action to allow the titan’s power to complete the rest.

It’s the worst shape you’ve ever seen him in after a battle.

You practically collapse into a nearby chair, unable to stand on the two feet that have been carrying you throughout Liberio tonight. All you can do for a moment is stare at him, watching as his chest slowly rises and deflates. He’s alive. He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive...

And Udo and Zofia are not.

Shakily, your hand reaches out for Porco’s, his fingers clammy and cold to the touch as you clasp your hand around his. Thousands of emotions rush through your veins, and your mind fights tooth and nail to make sense of all of them. You cling to him, the relief of him being alive and the guilt of being glad that he is alive swirling within you all at once. How are you going to be glad he’s alive when your sister is gone and people are dead? How are you going to feel glad he’s alive when you should have been by his side in the first place?

You don’t know.

You break.

The tears come pouring out in rapid succession. “I’m sorry.” You say this through gritted teeth, lowering your head against Porco’s arm. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left your side.”

You fall asleep curled over his bedside, his hand in yours, clinging on for dear life.

---

Porco doesn’t wake for a while, even after his body has recuperated.

Over the span of his unconsciousness, you’ve been flip-flopping between the hospital and your home in what little free time you’re offered, checking on your parents and giving your aunt updates on Reiner.

Your parents are wrought with grief, convinced that Gabi has been killed. The crying is incessant from your mother, while your father is stone-cold and quiet. But you know better—Gabi is not dead. You don’t tell them that, though; the fate of her being alive in the hands of the island devils might be worse than her being dead.

When Porco does wake up, you’re there.

You barely register the subtle flex of his fingers against yours; he is far too busy spacing off. Porco stirs to life, a pained grunt erupting from his lips. His eyes flutter open, adjusting to the haze of his newfound surroundings and trying to come to terms with what he remembered before blacking out. By the time you notice, he’s already speaking.

“You're going to squeeze my fingers off.” Porco’s raspy voice grumbles from beneath you. Dazed, his tired eyes peer up at you from beneath heavy lids.

His first words to you almost want to make you laugh—or cry—solely because of the fact that he’s speaking. Porco’s always been terrible with words. When he confessed his love to you, it took you a good ten minutes to actually understand what he was saying. It’s one of the most endearing things about him.

But you can’t muster a laugh, and you’ve almost cried your body's weight in water. There’s nothing left for you to do besides softly gasp, “You’re awake.”

"Yeah, and I hurt like hell.” Porco murmurs, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard. You turn and reach for the water at his bedside as he props himself up. He squeezes your hand as he takes it. “What happened?”

Your body stills, reforming itself into something statue-like. One wrong move, and you're certain your limbs will crumble into dust. Regardless of what you believe, you have to tell him everything, much like you had to fill in Pieck when she awoke.

So you do. You tell Porco everything that has happened or did happen as a result of Paradis’s raid on Liberio. You recount the death toll as you know it, including Zofia and Udo. You assure him that his parents are okay. You tell him the effort to rebuild the destruction and scrub the city clean is already under way. You tell him about Pieck and Reiner, you tell him about Zeke.

Much like you did, Porco goes through a range of emotions. The prevalent one is anger; you can see it bubble and dwell beneath his skin. A fierce look glints in his eye, and you let him break into a tangent, surprised that he managed to keep his anger controlled this long. Deep down, you know he blames himself, much like you do.

Once he cools, he looks at you. “How’s Gabi?” He asks.

Your mouth runs dry. You had been purposefully pushing that part of the story until the bitter end. “Gabi’s….Gabi’s gone.” You strain out.

“Gabi’s dead?” Porco’s eyes grow wide. He leans forward, all attention on you.

You shake your head. “Gabi’s not dead.” What little tears you can produce struggle their way out, burning white-hot at the corners of your eyes. “S-she’s gone. They took her. She boarded that damn airship, and Falco went with her.”

It becomes a struggle to breathe again. The all-consuming panic crashes over you like a tidal wave. You wish you could be stronger about it, like you have been, but in the presence of Porco, you shatter all over again.

“Hey," Porco coaxes, tugging at you. “C’mere.”

You crawl into the creaky hospital cot with him, careful about where you put pressure. You don’t care what your position is or who sees it; you need him. Porco seems to have the same sentiment as he guides you. You rest your head against his chest, thankful for the slow, steady beat of his heart that thuds in your ears.

“She’s gone, Pock. They took her and Falco, and they killed Zofia, and it’s all my fault.” You whimper against his chest, once again fighting back the trickling downpour on your cheeks. Absent-mindedly, Porco’s fingers comb through your hair.

“Don’t say that.” Porco firmly commands. “This isn’t your fault. This isn’t anyone’s fault but those fucking island devils'. I swear-“

“Porco.”

He sharply inhales, running his free hand along his mouth. “What?”

“I should have had your back.” You say, curling into his body. “I’m - I'm really glad you’re alive.”

Porco’s fingers grow still in your hair. You hear the quick skip of his heartbeat, and your eyes flicker to his face. A faint smirk pulls at his lips. “They can’t kill me that easily, not when I have you to come back to.” He tells you. Porco pulls you as close as he can, mushing your bodies together. “Don’t worry,” he whispers. “We’ll get Gabi back, I promise. Whatever it takes.”

You believe him, body and soul, because you know him. Nodding at his words, face brushing against the rough fabric of his shirt, you mold yourself against the shape of his frame. You clutch to the only thing that makes sense in the world at the moment—tired and weary.

“I love you.” You murmur.

A quick second passes, and you begin to believe he hadn’t heard you, until he murmurs back a soft "I love you, too.”

And in that minute, you wish you could stay in his arms forever.

#aot #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #marley warriors #porco galliard #porco galliard x reader #x reader #aot x reader

[wttcsms]

daylight, masterlist ; colt grice

rules serve as a means to keep everyone safe, but colt knows that if that were true, marleyans would be intermingling with eldians, he wouldn't have had to enlist in the army at fourteen, armband sales would be significantly lower (if not nonexistent), falco would have a normal childhood, and colt's life wouldn't be constantly spiraling downwards. sometimes rules do work, though. you've long since established your own set, and they've been keeping you safe for as long as you can remember.

until colt grice finds himself in your bedroom, and you slowly start to break every single rule you've kept in place.

pairing colt grice x f!reader word count 55k+ content contains/will contain sw!reader, canon discrimination against eldians, depictions of violence, blood, taking care of him when he's injured, slowburn, eventual smut

updates on ao3 first!

⊹ 💖  ࣪ ˖   RULE 1   ​​​​ ›     NO SHARING NAMES     ⊹ 💖  ࣪ ˖   RULE 2   ​​​​›     NO KISSING     ⊹ 💖  ࣪ ˖   RULE 3   ​​​​›     NO FALLING IN LOVE [I, II, III] ⊹ 💖  ࣪ ˖   RULE 4   ​​​​›     IF ANY RULES ARE BROKEN, RUN (AND DON'T LOOK BACK)  

#colt grice x reader #colt grice x you #snk x reader #aot x reader #fluff #angst #smut #series: daylight #colt grice

[ellalalala]

Masterlist

All of these works are on my AO3. Please be respectful. Do not copy or steal my works, as I, just like all other writers, put a lot of time and effort into writing my fics, no matter how small or simple they are.

PS. If some of the ships below are not to your liking, just look away. Any needless negativity won't be tolerated and I'm sure someone else could offer you exactly what you want.

(Bear in mind that some of these are years old so the writing may be... subpar)

Genshin Impact:

the icarus to your certainty - Dainsleif Reader || Complete

By your name (all the stars, rivers, cities) - Il Dottore x Reader || Complete (also on AO3)

lover, be good to me - Il Dottore x Reader || Complete (also on AO3)

Who We Are - Il Dottore x Reader || Multi-chapter, in progress

strangers in the night - Zhongli x Reader || Complete

don't ever tell me to go away (from you) - Childe x Scaramouche || Complete

on the common tongue (of your loving me) - Childe x Scaramouche || Complete, NSFW

burning it down - Childe x Scaramouche || Complete, NSFW

you and you - Alhaitham x Kaveh || Complete

don't wanna keep secrets (just to keep you) - Alhaitham x Kaveh || Complete, implied NSFW

everything good in life (seems to lead back to you) - Childe x Scaramouche || Complete

the sun and the moon - Childe x Reader || Complete

Arcane:

pure as the driven snow - Silco x Vander || Complete

I can't escape (the rain in my heart) - Silco x Vander || Complete

Bungo Stray Dogs:

two worlds apart - Nikolai Gogol x Sigma || Complete

I've got in my mind (all the things we could do) - Nakahara Chuuya x Reader || Complete

we should just kiss (like real people do) - Nikolai Gogol x Sigma || Complete

the more that you say, the less I know - Nikolai Gogol x Sigma || Complete

dumb and dumber - Nakahara Chuuya x Reader || Complete

the autumn breeze - Nakahara Chuuya x Reader || Complete

dancing with the devil - Fyodor Dostoevsky x Reader || Complete

Attack on Titan:

flowers for a ghost - Colt Grice x Reader || Complete

#some of these are so old and i am so not proud of them but it is what it is #fun fact... i wrote the first ever colt grice x reader fic on ao3 lolol #also i don't even like chuuya that much so idk why i've written so much about him #strange. #masterlist

[roseofdarknessblog]

Enemies to Enemies (Colt Grice x Reader + the Warriors)

I was battling a pretty bad writer's block once again... why do they happen so often lately? But anyways, I managed to come up with something. So here, enjoy some silly moments with our lovely Warriors.

♡ @chaotic-on-main ♡

„Are you sure this is a good idea?“ Colt asked, handing you a bottle of vine, while you were adjusting the roses in the wase for like the millionth time. Every detail had to be perfect. Otherwise, all of this would simply go to waste. „I think you’ll just make the whole thing worse.“

„Oh, please. What could be worse than their constant bickering? I’m getting tired of them both, but mostly Galliard.“

„Want me to remind you something?“ he teased you.

You furrowed your brows. „No, don’t! Otherwise, I’ll tell Zeke about how you lost his favorite baseball bat,“ you threatened the blond boy, adjusting the nicely polished cutlery before taking a step back to look at the table as a whole.

Everything looked even more perfect than you previously envisioned. Yes, it was a dumb idea and a complete waste of money and time, but... hey, miracles sometimes do happen, right?

„I didn’t lose it,“ Colt mumbled under his breath, averting his gaze.

„Then where is it?“ Zeke’s missing baseball bat was all the smoke between the Warriors for the last couple of days. Everyone knew about it. Well, except for Zeke.

„In the sewer.“

For a second you thought you hear him wrong. „Excuse me... what?“

„I have nothing to do with it!“ he exclaimed immediately, while his cheeks started to get a little red. „Ask Gabi and Falco. I’m sure they’ll be more than excited to tell you. At least Gabi, Falco is scared to even look at Zeke since then.“

„That’s why he’s avoiding him, now it makes sense. Or... no, it doesn’t but who cares?“ You waved your hand at him, hugged his right arm, and dragged him to stand next to you. „So, what do you think? Do we need anything else?“

The little round table in your family’s garden looked perfect. A white tablecloth, two lit candles, vine glasses and vine, plates, cutlery, and even some pink and purple confetti you had left from the time you were in charge of organizing a birthday party for Zofia earlier that year. If somebody looked at this arrangement, a romantic dinner would be the first thing to come to their mind.

But surely not a dinner for two people who couldn’t stand each other. Or at least one of them had to constantly bully the other one.

„I still think it’s a stupid idea and I really don’t know why I’m even helping you.“

„Because you love me,“ you said and kissed his cheek.

The very special „romantic“ dinner the two of you planned, was meant for Porco and Reiner. It was you, who came up with the idea, because getting shot at the nearest battlefield started to sound more appealing than listening to their constant stupid fights and taunts. While Reiner was the one, who held back most of the time and never started a fight first, Porco looked for an opportunity every chance he got. Yes, he had his reasons, you understood that, but if nobody did anything, those two would end up arguing right during your next military operation.

Good thing neither of their Titans could talk.

„Now... did you tell them to be here at seven?“ you asked, leaning your head against his shoulder.

„Yep.“

„Okay, so I guess we’ll just wait for them.“

Colt nodded, looking at you skeptically. He had every right to worry about how this evening would play out. But he surely didn’t think about Zofia and Udo rushing over and hurry both of you over to his house, because Falco and Gabi got stuck down in the sewer while they were trying to retrieve Zeke’s baseball bat.

At first, you wanted to stay at your place and wait for Reiner and Porco, but when you saw the panic on Colt’s face, you joined them.

When you arrived at the place, the guards from the Internment zone gate, who the kids befriended fairly easily, were already there, laughing their asses off, while Gabi was screaming at them angrily from down below. The two of them got stuck there after half of the old rusty ladder, they used to climb down, simply fell off and the remaining part was too high for them to reach.

„Are you sure you got it?“ you asked Colt, while he was throwing them a rope and was about to climb down to grab that stupid bat from Gabi, before helping them both up.

He mumbled something about not needing you to watch his every step, while he simultaneously cursed his little brother and Reiner’s cousin. Maybe that’s why he almost fell down as well when another step from the ladder broke off. All in all, it took you almost half an hour, until the incident was over.

Only then you realized, that your little rescue mission became an interesting comedy for some of the Eldian people passing by or looking out the windows of their homes. The only one, who was happy about it, was Gabi. She grabbed the baseball bat again, hoisted it into the air, and then bowed for everyone as if she just finished a theatre performance.

She and Falco smelled more than horribly but were still in a better condition than Zeke’s bat. Returning it to him in this condition would equal a war crime.

„I still want to hear how that bat got down to the sewer, alright?“ you asked Gabi, while all of you made your way back to your house. They both needed a shower and a set of fresh clothes Zofia and Udo agreed to borrow them. It was better than letting them go home in such a horrible state. This way the parents didn’t need to know anything. „I’m sure it’s a very interesting story.“

„Definitely!“ she shouted in excitement and started walking backward, just to look right at you, while she started talking again. However, she was cut short, when you arrived at your house. Going around, you peeked over the fence into the garden, almost forgetting how to breathe for a second.

„Look!“ you said to Colt excitedly and smiled so wide, your cheeks started hurting.

Right there, at the table, you so nicely set up sat Reiner and Porco. They were talking about something, while their vine glasses were half empty. If you didn’t know better, you would say this was truly a typical romantic dinner.

„I knew it! I knew it would work and you didn’t believe me!“ you teased Colt, jumping a little with joy. Only that your joy was short-lived, when you looked over at the boys again, as you heard a quiet sob and a roar of laughter right afterward.

„Ehm... are you sure they’re having the time of their life?“ Colt asked, trying to suppress a smile. Right next to him, the Warrior candidates were complaining that the fence was too high and they didn’t see anything. „Because I think Reiner...“

Only when you looked really closely, you saw the truth. While Porco was grinning and drinking the vine with a very satisfied look, Reiner was shaking his head and wiping away tears, while probably contemplating every single decision of his life, which lead him there.

And no, it really didn't help when he noticed you and Colt peering from behind the fence with apologetic looks on your faces. Embarrassed and probably red even behind your ears, you waved at him.

„Do you think serving the food we prepared for them would help?“ you asked Colt in a hushed voice, still waving at Reiner and now Porco as well.

„About that... I guess I forgot to turn the oven on when you told me. Otherwise, your house would be already a pile of ash, since we rushed off without thinking about anything else.“

„Oh...“

There really didn’t seem to be a way to save the whole night. Definitely not, when you suddenly heard Zeke’s voice from behind you. While he was walking up the street to your house with Pieck by his side, and already shouting something to both you and Colt, Zofia quickly pushed Gabi and Falco into the nearby bushes, hiding the baseball bat there as well.

It was better not to try your luck anymore.

#cringelord69 #23cringefest #colt grice x reader #colt grice #reiner braun #porco galliard #gabi braun #falco grice #zeke jaeger #pieck finger #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan

[shikiii-skadi]

.•° ✿ °•. Annie Leonhardt .•° ✿ °•.

Headcanons:

➳How Annie looks at you

➳How Annie would react if you get injured

Imagines/Scenarios:

➳none

.•° ✿ °•. Bertholdt Hoover .•° ✿ °•.

Headcanons:

➳What it would be like when Bertholdt is jealous

➳How Bertholdts look at you

➳How Bertholdt would react if you get injured

➳You call him handsome

Imagines/Scenarios:

➳none

.•° ✿ °•. Colt Grice .•° ✿ °•.

Headcanons:

➳Colts Love Language

Imagines/Scenarios:

➳none

.•° ✿ °•. Pieck Finger .•° ✿ °•.

Headcanons:

➳Pieck is missing you

➳Piecks Love Language

Imagines/Scenarios:

➳none

.•° ✿ °•. Porco Galliard .•° ✿ °•.

Headcanons:

➳Porco is missing you

➳Porcos Love Language

Imagines/Scenarios:

➳none

.•° ✿ °•.Reiner Braun .•° ✿ °•.

Headcanons:

➳What it would be like if Reiner had a crush on you

➳What it would be like to train with Reiner

➳How Reiner looks at you

➳Reiners Love Language (Season 4)

Imagines/Scenarios:

➳none

.•° ✿ °•. Zeke Jäger .•° ✿ °•.

Headcanons:

➳none

Imagines/Scenarios:

➳none

#masterlist #attack on titan #attack on titan headcanons #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan imagine #attack on titan scenarios #aot x y/n #aot x you #aot hcs #snk x reader #snk x you #snk headcanons #zeke yeager #annie leonhart #bertholdt hoover #porco galliard #pieck finger #colt grice

[gobblinggojo]

Hi :) I'd like to request Colt x female reader and their first kiss + confessing when he's back after the four-years long Marley mideast war? Thank you ♥

<3: Let's ignore the fact that I've been off of Tumblr for such a long time, but I'm finally back to writing. So, I decided to make my come-back with this lovely request!

Warnings: Brief mention of death, fluff, reader uses she/her pronouns.

"Last Kiss"

A Colt Grice x Reader Short Story

Four years. 1,460 Tragedy filled days that you had spent waiting. Waiting for a man whom you had hopelessly fallen in-love with throughout your years of being close friends. To you it was hard to believe that today would be the day that he would finally be back in your arms. It almost seemed too good, too lucky for you, that the man you loved oh so much would be back safe and sound.

Colt Grice. He was the man who had stolen your heart and left with it just like that. The man that you had harbored an attraction for far too long. You still remembered the day that you had met. You had lost your father whilst shopping in the plaza in town; you had been crying, searching everywhere for him when a boy who was just a few years older than you were grabbed your hand, whisking you away to help your troubled self.

That little interaction led to a beautiful friendship blooming; one that would last forever in eternity. You realized you had loved Colt when you were twelve, almost thirteen. Colt had just turned fourteen. You had been asked on a date by a boy in town, whom you had said yes to. Long story short, you were stood up and were left bawling in your friend's arms. Colt's embrace was so warm, almost like a comforting fire. You still remember the feeling of your heart rate picking up as Colt's hand rubbed gentle circles in your lower back.

"It's okay, Y/N. He's just a jerk who doesn't know that he's missed out." He muttered quietly in the crown of your head.

Colt. Just the thought of seeing him again today made you feel so ecstatic. You felt giddy as you stood on the sidewalk by the train tracks. Your E/C eyes were wide open with excitement, hands shaking slightly from the rising bubble of anxiety that was overcoming your body as you watched the train that held the Marlean soldiers inside pulling up.

You made sure to wear your prettiest dress today. It was a soft brown color with faint floral patterns on the bottom. It reached just past your knees. Your foot tapped against the pavement impatiently, the sole of your boot made the tapping sound louder than it would have been without them on. The few people that were around you separated away from you. In a way they felt your anxiety just pouring off of your body, which they probably would rather stay away from during this moment.

Hopelessly you stood and watched. Watching as so many people you had grown up around got off of the train and were instantly enveloped in hugs by their awaiting family members. So many tears were spilled and with each soldier that stepped off of the train your heart rate quickened.

Where was he? He should have gotten off by now.

You were beginning to worry. Tears filled your eyes before a sigh of relief left your lips. Falco had run off of the train, being enveloped in the arms of his mother, not a second had passed before Colt stepped off of the train, arms carrying both his and Falco's luggage, which was quickly dropped as his mother also threw her arms around her older son. Your heart melted at the sight, watching as Colt wrapped his arms so gently around his mother, as if she would break if he applied too much pressure.

The urge to run and interrupt Colt's time with his family was strong, but they needed it more than you ever did. You stood there, watching the scene as it drawn on until finally, Colt had pulled away.

His gaze flew right towards you. "I'll be back," he seemed to mouth to his mother as he began to move through the crowd of onlookers. He kept moving, taking long strides before he finally stood in front of you, head craning down in order to look you right in the eyes.

"Y/N-" he began before he was ultimately interrupted by you flinging your much smaller form into him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck as you let out a relieved sob. "I was so worried about you." You breathlessly spoke as you gazed up into the males' beautiful brown eyes. His gaze itself made you want to just pepper kisses all over Colt's face.

God, he was so beautiful. How could someone so beautiful exist in a world filled with so much death?

Colt didn't say a word. He just stared down into your gaze, nothing was said between the two of you. It was as if you guys had a conversation with just your eyes. A mutual agreement was shared as you both began to lean in, lips pressing against one another's.

It felt electrical in a sense. Your heart rate had picked up, and you were almost certain Colt's had as well as your lips molded perfectly to fit the others.

Colt was the first to pull away, though he didn't stay away long as he almost instantly leaned back in, pressing another chaste kiss to your lips.

"I love you, so much." He muttered against your lips.

You wanted to cry right then and there. Not tears of anger, sadness, or betrayal. But tears of pure happiness. And you did. You cried in Colt's arms, sobbing about how much you missed and loved him beyond measure.

He cried in yours too, for he knew now that you would forever be his, and he would forever be yours.

#colt grice #attack on titan x reader #colt grice x reader #snk #aot #colt x reader #x reader #snk x reader #aot x reader #colt #aot fluff #colt grice fluff #shingeki no kyojin #snk fluff #attack on titan fluff #x reader fluff

[kriz-fics]

The Sword’s Legacy

Series Summary: As the heir of your father's lands, you have grown up knowing that one day you must wed to your House's advantage, and there's no better catch than the younger son of the Magister himself. Meanwhile tensions within the king's court are set to come to a head at any moment - it just needs that spark to send everything ablaze. Now in a court more dangerous than the one you entered, you find distraction and joy in the company of the beautiful boy with the beautiful eyes. You can only hope to weather the storm you can sense brewing in the horizon.

Masterlist

Chapter Seventeen: Tales and Caves

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x Female Reader

Genre: Royalty AU, Historical Fantasy AU, Romance, Politics, Warfare, Eventual Smut (future chapters), Slow Burn

Length: 14K

CW: Some misogynistic narration, read between the lines and you'll see marital rape

The boy nocks, draws, and sights down his mark. For a while, he holds the draw, arms trembling from the pull of bow and string.

Weak, still weak. This one has a ways to go, Zeke thinks the very moment the lad lets loose. The shaft misses a hundred leagues and sails past the target. “That wasn’t too bad,” Zeke tells the shattered boy, who is beside himself with disappointment. “You hit a mark at least. Not the mark you were aiming for, to be sure, but I find, with a lot of things, that something is better than nothing.” The Grice boy’s arrow had embedded itself deep into the trunk of the tree some ways behind the target, quivering.

The boy sighs, looking gutted. “Bows are always so hard…” He frowns down at the weapon in his hand. The sight is so reminiscent of his little brother that Zeke has to smile. Young Colt Grice stares up at him, determined and unyielding as steel. “I’m not as strong as you, my lord, but I hope to be. Someday.”

“Best bring about someday sooner rather than later. Strength. Build up strength.” What has Hartlieb been teaching the boy? Squires his age should not be trembling like a leaf in a squall while holding a draw, no matter his primary choice of weapon. Eren is a middling archer himself, more accomplished as he is with sword and lance, yet even he can bend a bow with absolute ease.

That look of iron determination on the Grice heir’s face is Zeke’s relentless little brother’s as well, yet that is where the similarities end between the knight and the squire. Colt Grice, at fifteen, is a year Eren’s junior and does not have half the build nor the prowess the younger Jaeger had at his age. Young Colt has been squiring Oscar Hartlieb for five years, surely all that training should have produced some sort of visible fruit by now. Surely the boy would have filled out more, shown more power, more confidence when handling a weapon as manageable as a longbow. Alas, it does not look to be the case.

Zeke takes up an arrow from the three stabbed through the dirt ground beside him. “The strength in your arms isn’t the only thing that’s vital in a draw,” he tells the squire as he prepares to take his shot. “Your whole upper body should be working with you. The muscles on your back are there to relieve your arms of the strain.” He nocks, bends his bow and draws until the goose feathers brush against his cheek. The motions come easy as instinct, smooth as silk; the weapon's weight is as nothing, not to a bowman of his experience. 

The mark is fifty paces away. Hitting it dead center should be child’s play, and easy as falling off a log. “Keep your arms straight, your form relaxed,” he continues his instruction, sighting down the target. “Take your aim…” He holds the draw for a couple of heartbeats, steady as the squire had not been, and lets fly. The arrow slams dead center, right into the heart of the mark.

“Amazing, sir!” Colt pipes in admiration.

Zeke lowers his bow, feeling himself puffing up at the praise, despite himself. Praise is always good, wherever it comes from. “Strength,” he reiterates, and the boy nods stoutly. “Might be I’ll have a word with your master when next I see him, see if he can’t step up his tuition. What he thinks he’s accomplishing with you I’ll never know.” He smiles to balm the sting he has clearly given the squire with his remark. “I meant no offense, young master. That was no criticism of your prowess. That you are lacking in martial aptitude is no fault of yours.”

A great cheer rents the air of the barracks’ sparring grounds, the sound carrying over the clash of practice swords and the cries and grunts of training men. “Isn’t your brother riding at quintain today?” Zeke asks his young companion, who nods. “What do you say to watching little Falco try his hand at the tilts, as a bit of a breather? There are only so many times a bowman can miss his mark without growing tired.” He chuckles at Colt’s bright flush and ruffles his fair hair. “I do thank you for giving me the chance to practice for the day. My skills are less like to turn to rust, due in no small part to your goodwill.”

They had set up the quintain at the lower level of the barracks grounds, in the expansive stable yard. Some intrepid squire is charging down the lists even as Zeke and his young tail approach. The men sitting on the steps to the yard hastily spring up to make way as their succeeding lord and their honored guest pass through.

The armored rider seems a clumsy one, and entirely inept, as only new-made squires can be. He sits his horse like a lumpy bag of tubers and struggles to keep his grip on the long, unwieldy lance. Still, he rides on manfully, until he strikes the shield on the quintain’s spinning crossbeam a glancing blow. It comes as no surprise to Zeke to see him fly out of his saddle when the padded mace on the other end of the beam swings around to club him over the head. A loud groan followed by a gale of laughter erupts from the men about them as the hapless warrior rolls onto his back and attempts to unlatch his visor.

“Falco!” Colt dashes toward his younger brother, leaving Zeke to trail behind at a more sedate pace. A couple of the older squires have come up to assist.

“I-I’m all right, nothing’s broken, I don’t think,” the younger Grice is saying as he sits up, looking shaken and patting himself all over. He lifts his gaze, sees Zeke, and instantly scrambles to his feet with much clanking and clattering. “M-my lord!” He bows as low as his armor would allow.

Zeke chuckles. “You’re all right, then? No broken bones, no twisted limbs?”

“N-no, my lord. Nothing’s hurt. Just-”

“Your pride.” Zeke chuckles again at the boy’s flustered flush. “Tell me, Falco, was that the first you’ve ridden a tilt?”

“Yes, sir,” the younger Grice answers, eyes on the dirt beneath his feet, shamefaced. His likeness to his lord uncle truly is an astounding thing. Yet Zeke can never recall Cosimo Grice looking quite so abashed. You can see how truly young his nephew is then, despite the bulk of plate; little Falco has never seemed more little as he shrinks in on himself in his discomfort.

The sight of the shrinking violet before him is enough to melt the hardest of hearts. Ten, he’s only ten. It had not been too long ago when Eren was ten, riding this very same yard, falling and rising and falling again to the quintain until one day he rose and kept his seat and stayed aloft. Nowadays, there are no falls. Eren had learned long ago what all seasoned knights learned in the quintain’s yard: to charge on, to hit and move swiftly onward and onward before he can be hit back. The mace’s blows have never landed since.

“You did well for your first tilt, I’ll grant you. It’s no easy feat to ride the quintain, especially with a borrowed horse. He was borrowed, was he not, that fine mount of yours?” At the boy’s nod, Zeke continues, “No matter. My brother will make a fine knight of you yet, have no doubt.”

“I’ll make him a good squire, my lord, I promise,” Falco says suddenly, staunch and steadfast as much as a boy of ten can be. “I promised him, I did. Sir Eren, I mean. I will make him a good squire. True knights are always true to their word, and I want to be. A true knight, I mean. Someday.”

A true knight, huh… Their exploits make the heart of Eren’s most beloved tales. Here is another aspiring Destrier, I’d wager, another of Gerald Kirschtein’s many devotees. The squire and the knight will complement each other well. Like truly calls to like. Zeke ruffles the boy’s hair, amused. “I’m looking forward to the day, young master.”

“As am I. There are thousands of knights in the realm, but only a handful of those are true. Gods know we’re all better off with more men of honor.” Sir Tom Ksaver strides up to them and bows, coming up smiling his warm, fatherly smile. “My lords.”

“Sir.” Zeke takes his ward for the day by his armored shoulders and shakes him lightly at the knight. “What do you think, Sir Master-at-Arms? Is this one made of the stuff of knightly gallantry?”

“I don’t doubt that he is, my lord Heir Apparent. A few years with Sir Young Master Eren and he’ll be one for the history books.”

Zeke shakes the flushing Falco once more, grinning. “Did you hear that, your little lordship? We expect much and more from you.” He casts about for the elder brother and brings him to the fold, throwing an arm about his slight shoulders. “Don’t think we forgot about you, Young Master Colt. As an heir apparent yourself, the onus goes double for you to bring honor to your House. But I think we need not fear on that account. House Grice is in good hands with lads as fine as these.”

“Hear, hear!” Sir Tom puts in good-naturedly, further contributing to the boys’ bashfulness, yet they take it in good stride in the end, laughing as they stammer out their thanks and courtesies.

“A cheery diversion you’ve set here,” Zeke tells the bespectacled knight, leaving the Grices to themselves to watch the rest of the men try their own hands at the quintain.

“I’m glad your lordship thinks so.” Sir Tom glances about the cavorting garrison, looking almost doting. “The lads need their entertainment. Keeps them active and practicing and distracted from the hunt that I’m sure they’d rather be part of at the moment.”

Cosimo Grice is a most restless man. The Lord of Braudorf had but just arrived yesterday, bringing with him his household and retainers and various hangers-on, yet he was up in the saddle again where another man would be resting the weariness from the journey away. That is most surprising for one who is four-and-forty and nearing his sunset years. Lord Grisha is of his age - or near enough as makes no matter - yet the Lord of Shiganshina is nowhere near as hale or hearty as his vassal. But then, he’s spent the better part of his life sitting chairs instead of horses; it is only too natural for the erstwhile Knight of Highridge to go to seed eventually. The well-rested Magister will return from their sojourn more spent than his new-traveled lord, like as not. The thought is utterly comic.

“They ride the woods out there, we ride the quintain in here.” The next man to tilt fares much better than little Falco Grice. This one, at least, manages to score a solid hit on the shield and is already galloping far out of reach of the indomitable mace as it swings about from the force of his blow. The yard erupts into cheers and hurrahs.

“A most excellent hit.” A new rider is being armed by his squire at the edge of the yard. “So, I suppose congratulations are in order,” Sir Tom remarks, voice light and mild, as the upcoming contender swings up his horse. “May the gods grant you and the lady a healthy babe.”

The day grows cooler in an instant. “Mmm,” Zeke grunts, watching as the rider thunders down the yard, making the most impressive figure. His lance strikes the shield, a decent hit, and the mace whips about, ready to throw him off his mount. It succeeds most spectacularly, and all at once, he is the most unimpressive figure. The man crashes to the ground as his courser charges blithely past him. His armor makes the most frightful racket as he rolls to a stop, rattling like a sack of old pots. His fellows hoot more derision.

“Begging your lord’s pardon, forgive me if I have given offense,” murmurs the old, portly knight, guessing correctly the cause of his liege’s stony bearing. “Whatever you may… feel about her ladyship, new life is still something to take joy in, I do believe.”

That makes Zeke sigh and ease up a margin. “Yes, well, your good wishes are much appreciated, thank you, Sir.” That news had certainly put him off. For the most part, he stays well away from his wife’s bed, unable to bear her stunted, loveless caresses. Except when he is drunk. He’d had one too many cups that one time not too long ago, he now recalls, celebrating young Ben Too’s yearday. He must’ve stumbled into her rooms in a drunken haze, his blood up and looking for sport.

It is good news, he supposes, all things considered. The bint had as well make herself useful, do her duty by him at last and give him his proper heir. Not that Ymir is ineligible, but bloodlines are made much the stronger with a male head than with a female one. The Old Way may not care a whit but the Old Way is exactly that. Old, outdated, and outworn. Even the ruling women of the Old Blood seem to be pulling away from their conventions. They may as well be mere figureheads, ruling in name only as they pander to their councils that they insist on filling solely with men.

His little brother’s little lady’s own council is entirely male, if he recalls correctly. Most like the pretty poppet will end up a pretty puppet, dancing on the strings of her servants when she comes to take her eventual seat, despite all her lord father’s careful instruction. Instruction can only take one so far. It will all come to naught if one does not have steel in his spine, and of steel he finds the little lady lacking. Sweet you are and polite, charming, witty, and all the things that a good courtier makes. A proper golden girl. And like gold, you are pretty to look at, of the highest value, but still so soft and pliable in the end. Nobody fights battles with gold swords. For that, you need good hard steel.

The sound of a hunting horn echoes in the distance, near drowned out by the explosive shouts of acclaim as the man-at-arms now riding the lists breaks the shield clean from the quintain. “It seems the hunting party has returned,” he observes to his mentor, who hums in agreement. Zeke turns to his wards for the day, who are adding their voices to the merriment about them. “Come, my little lordlings, we had best be on hand to greet your lord uncle.”

Across the broader realm, only lords with the most pressing matters trouble themselves to make the journey to their liegelord’s seat during the reprieve. It is a reprieve, after all - hard to unwind and let loose from the bustle of the court when you are expected to make yet another trek for statecraft. Lord Grisha is a more exacting master than most, however; he is one of the two Lords Paramount that still insist on his vassals' personal appearance when they make their seasonal reports.

Forster, Tavitian, and Shultz had already made their journeys. Now comes Grice. As always, business comes last. First, they must fete their honored guests and afford them sacred hospitality.

Sweet, girlish giggling drifts through the partly open door atop the small flight of steps across from him. Zeke looks up at the room thoughtfully, having come forth from his own rooms into the privy chambers’ anteroom, dressed in his best yet again for yet another feast for the Grices. That is another thing to be said for these visits. They never eat half so well during the reprieve as they do during these days.

The giggles chip away at his sentimentality and so he strides onward and upward, his fatherly affection well and truly awoken. Not even the sight of her can put a damper on his love, yet he tenses up all the same as he enters his daughter’s chambers.

“Povar!”

The woman is forgotten in a trice. Zeke grins wide and opens his arms, and little Ymir crashes into him, laughing as he sweeps her up into the air and spins her about. He holds her against his hip, smiling down at the little face, which is such a mirror to his. Big blue eyes and hair like beaten gold. Another golden Jaeger. He feels the weight of her in his arms, notes her height, and feels a pang of melancholy. It will not be long until their spinning days are done.

“Are you ready for the feast, my little falke?” he asks the fledgling.

“Yes,” she giggles, squeezing her arms about his neck. “I have a new gown, would you like to see it?”

“Nothing would please me more.” He sets his girl back down on the smooth stone floor, where she proceeds to twirl, proud as a peachick. Her girl’s gown of gold with its olive green underskirt swirls out around her.

“Husband,” says that dreaded voice. It takes everything in Zeke not to close his eyes in irritation as he eyes his dear beloved wife, who is standing by one of the gray velvet divans arrayed around a circular table in the center of the room. Wed they have been for near a decade and yet he can count on one hand the times her face had thawed in his presence. This is not one of those times.

Elva Jaeger smiles at him, tight-lipped, and with her eyes like ice. They are beautiful, those eyes, that he can admit. Blue they are, and of such an unusual shade that they seem more purple than blue in certain lights. She is a beautiful woman, that he can also admit. With her purple-blue eyes and soft dark ringlets, she makes for a cool beauty indeed. She is beautiful as winter is beautiful: cold, harsh, and bitter. Not for the first time, he sorrows for what could have been between them had the gods been kinder to their lot.

Erwin Dietrich has a deal to answer for. It is the smallest of solaces to know he is as unhappy in his marriage as Zeke is in his.

Elva turns to their daughter, and her expression softens. Whatever else she is, she is a loving mother still. It is perhaps her only redeeming quality, aside from her beauty. And of those, time will leave her only the one. “Pretty, did I not say? I suppose we should be thankful your lord father did not wrinkle the gown.”

Bloody peevish bitch. Whatever magnanimity he had summoned forth to make this visit more bearable flies out of Ymir’s balcony door. Elva has always been like this, this should not have caught him out. She never passes on the chance to be pettish, even in matters as inane as a fucking gown.

His smile freezes on his face. “Yes, very pretty. My falke is truly the prettiest girl in the kingdom.” 

Ymir smiles at him, sweet as spring, and that thaws the winter in his being. “My slippers are gold, too. See?” She sticks out a little foot, which is indeed wrapped in the finest golden silk.

“You’re all of gold tonight, I see. You will shine so very brightly out there, my little star.” His expression cools once more as he turns to his lady wife. “My lady, shall we?” he says, polite as pie. They both always are, in front of the child. They can do that much for her, at least. Elva returns his smile and gives him her hand. Fingertips linked, the lord and lady lead the way out of their daughter’s chambers.

A servant emerges from the door to their rooms as they proceed to leave the living quarters. The familiar flash of fiery red hair heralds the servant’s identity. Lorelei, Elva’s new-hired chief maidservant, dips into a bow as they pass through, laden down with a bundle of her mistress’s sheets. Elva’s gaze slips right through her as though she never was, and so it is for Zeke to acknowledge the girl with an incline of his head.

Brown meets blue as she raises her head a little from her bow. Zeke allows himself a small smile as he beholds that gaze. Unbreaking, unflinching, uncowed. Almost insolent. Bold, for a servant.

But that is what he likes about her. That and that red hair. His smirk widens. A good time is in his cards tonight, it will seem.

It stays with him until the morrow, that good time.

Zeke fights back the urge to yawn as the council moves along around him. Lorelei had tired him out, the feisty wench. The girl was as wet and willing as she always was, and wild as a wildcat in bed. He takes a drink of his cider to occupy himself. It is fine stuff, this cider - the Grices had brought casks of it from Braudorf, along with the choicest bounty of their harvest. They had been enjoying those bounties the past couple of days at feast.

Midday had been the agreed-upon time for the Grice audience, and so they had more of that fine Braudorfish bounty to lunch. The Jaeger solar had been made over for the autumn audiences, as it always was every year. The change is never permanent yet the room’s arrangement remains the same without fail come autumn. Every year, they will move aside the emerald velvet divans clustered in the heart of the chamber and replace them with a round table big enough to seat five. Today, the well-worn board is well-stocked with bread and cheese and capon, along with a platter of fruit: pears, apricots, and assorted berries, including those northern delicacies, blaeberries.

“Hartlieb will broach the matter, no doubt, when he comes up- has he come up already?” Lord Cosimo queries as he tears apart his heel of bread. At his liege’s negation, he goes on, “We would discuss particulars once we have your consent, of course. But we think it a good match, we hawks have always been cordial with the harts, I don’t see why we should not have them wed. Colt will make young Becca a fine husband.”

A child and a woman grown. Zeke takes another sip of his cider to hide his smile. To be sure, the girl just turned seventeen and is fresh from childhood herself. A difference of two years isn’t so bad, he grants. Colt has not long to reach his own manhood. She need not wait too long to make a man of him. Unless some harlot does the job first. Perhaps some harlot already had, at that. Somehow, he doubts that very much.

“Do you hear that, young Luca? You’re to have a brother by marriage,” Lord Grisha laughs as he gestures his cupbearer forward. The boy strides forward with his flagon, looking nonplussed as he refills his lord’s empty goblet. “You have my consent, my good lord,” he addresses Cosimo, who bites into his bread, pleased as a peach. “It would also strengthen the bonds between our own Houses. In the most roundabout, convoluted way, I suppose, as my son is half-Hartlieb himself… there’s a connection there, at least, yes?”

That is true enough. The late Lady Carla Jaeger was born a Hartlieb of Zursingen, cousin to the current Lord Hartlieb, father to this girl Becca and little Luca, who is Lord Grisha’s ward. Zeke has fond memories of the woman. She was more a mother to him, in truth, than his blood mother, Dina. Carla never pushed either of her sons to heights they never wanted to reach, at any rate. The familiar wisp of sad sentimentality tickles at the edges of his being at the thought of her. Gone too soon. She only lives on now in the person of the son of her body. Eren is Lady Carla writ male as Zeke is Lord Grisha in gold.

The talk turns to the Month of Storing’s primary business: storing. For a long while, they speak of naught but grains and meat and portions. Lord Cosimo is planning to set aside only a fifth of his Province’s harvest for the upcoming winter. Lord Grisha declares that insufficient and tells him to set aside a quarter. 

Zeke pops a chunk of capon into his mouth as Cosimo accedes to his liege. These are the matters he least wants to get into, so tedious are they. Tedious matters yet necessary to address, he allows. Ruling a State, indeed, ruling as a whole, is not all power and glamor and glory. To lead, one must be ready to deal with the dull, everyday affairs that, while dreary, are also the lifeblood of the community. Grisha had taught him that much, in any event.

“Konicaj’s made for a very enthusiastic trade partner this year. We have them to thank for these dainties,” Grice informs them as he plucks a blaeberry from the fruit platter and bites into it. “Tart yet so moreish,” he says, fingers, lips, and tongue now stained a deep purple-blue. Braudorf lies to the northeast of Shiganshina, cheek by jowl with Konicaj, and so enjoys a great deal of commerce and relations with the northmen.

“The recent windfall the past season is cause enough to lift the spirits. That added to the enthusiasm, no doubt.” Zeke leans back against his chair as old Prior Deion, seated to Cosimo’s right, murmurs agreement.

“These tasty blaeberries aren’t the only worthwhile things these Konicar have dropped upon our laps.” The blond lord leans forward, brown eyes gleaming. “I have it on some authority - good or bad, I have yet to know, but rest assured, my lord, I will know - that our runaway outlaws have been holing up in Kolozniki, near the Avisir border.”

Kolozniki… Kostrokan’s northeastern Province, seat of House Nasonov, which borders the stronghold of the Brzenskas of Karanes, Avisir, as the Grice lord noted. “Kolozniki and Avisir, huh…” Zeke addresses the rest of the council, “Did we not hear something of the sort from Ackerman? Something about the Brzenskas and general unrest in their borders.”

“That we did, my lord,” puts in Sir Hannes from his seat at Lord Grisha’s left, looking up from his scribbling of the audience’s finer points. “It’s not only Avisir that’s been rife with such tidings. I do believe Lord Ledovskoy came to tell his lord in person of his own troubles. Seems like northern Karanes is astir. That authority of yours is looking to be a good one, my lord,” the castellan tells their lordly guest, who chuckles as he tosses a piece of oaten bread down his mouth and chews.

Lord Grisha sighs, wearied as he always is by news from the North. They are a wearisome lot, these northmen. As they always have been and always will be. “What of Maganezh, Analavat, and Volgoshov? Any tidings to be had from the rest of the far North?” He wets his throat with cider and continues, “We need something more concrete than mere mutterings and general unrest. We know our merry bands have fled as far North as they could, but where?” He lowers his goblet with a slight frown. “This is a start, at least. I can bring it up in Conclave once the court returns to session.” The king should be well-pleased by this. Those who had escaped his justice will soon have their comeuppance. With this, he is a step closer to equity as he sees it.

“Speak of Conclave…” Grice eyes his liege seated across from him as though choosing his next words with care. “Our friends in Konicaj would have us believe that the garrison in Ishvelune is near to mutiny.”

Prior Deion clears his throat uncomfortably. “That… seems to be the case, my lord. We had a bird from Sir Lobov requesting aid and counsel. The garrison is at war with itself, poor man is at his wits’ end as to how to manage the men.”

A rumble of thunder, faint and faraway, comes to greet this rather ominous statement. Zeke turns his head to look out the floor-to-ceiling windows, flanked by their beloved falconers in bronze, at the world beyond. The gray skies that form the backdrop to the city’s buildings have turned a darker pewter. Storm’s coming. “And half the Ishvelune garrison is made up of northmen, as it happens.” With the isle so close to their northern shores, it was deemed practical to conscript men who lived nearby. For as long as Lovaya had been united, Ishvelune had been held largely by northmen, stiffened by the occasional ranks of men from the rest of the realm. “Some of these northerners, like as not, are Zhelevic, who have quite the history with their new governor. That whole mess last season doesn’t help matters either.” Lord Grisha and Prior Deion grimace as one at the reminder of that unfortunate fact.

“Lord Tybur’s appointment was… consequential,” Sir Hannes sniffs, scratching at his nose with the end of his quill before continuing with his notes, lips pressed together tightly.

“He’ll put his own men in when he comes into his seat, no doubt. So, I take it we are to expect another northern purge. A less lethal one, to be sure,” Lord Grice says, munching at another blaeberry musingly. “Fear and rage are driving the unrest ever onward, I see. They always do.” He turns to his liege, smiling a little. “Interesting that Lobov wrote you as well. You’d think his new superior isn’t enough to handle all this.”

“Father’s the Magister, he’s supposed to stick his nose in everyone’s business,” Zeke rejoins, making Cosimo laugh and drawing a conceding smile from Grisha.

“Still, by and large, rule should fall to our Lord Consul. Should he ever require assistance, by all means, he’s free to ask it of me whenever he likes.” The Magister pushes his lenses further up his nose and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m always here to lighten the load, whatever our differences. We can set those aside for the good of the realm. The realm comes first, we must never forget that.”

“I am thanking you again, sweet lady, for the time and the fare. Give your lord father Captain Lycus Thanakis’ best.”

“Of course, Captain Lycus. May the gods bless and keep you on your next voyage,” you smile graciously and make to stand from your seat.

“I am blessing you as well, my lady. And you, Sir, we are meeting well,” the weathered sailor returns as he mirrors your movements and sweeps you and your betrothed a bow. “Now, if you are not minding my saying so, Sir, you had best be taking care of this sweet lady of yours. A rare jewel is this one, and gods help you if you will be tarnishing such goodness.”

“Har, I done be tellin’ the lad that, too, Cap’n!” intrudes Rasvan the barkeep, glancing up from the tankard he is wiping behind his tavern’s counter. “I says to him, I says, ‘Don’t you be doin’ the ‘lil lady dirty now, or the whole State’ll be howlin’ for your blood!’ Says he won’t, good lad, ‘n I expect nuthin’ less from a ‘noited knight. Them knights supposed to be all honorable ‘n truthful-like, you know.”

“That they are being. Or so I am hearing.” Captain Lycus bows again. “Until we are meeting again, sweet lady and good Sir.”

“If I had a cap for every time someone tells me not to ‘do you dirty,’ I’ll be richer than the Fritzes,” Eren mutters a little peevishly as he and you exit the Blue Pearl several moments later with much waving and smiling.

You laugh at his churlish face. “You’ve been hearing it that much? That’s certainly saying something.” Anyone who can match the Fritzes coin for coin, and then some, has your utmost admiration. “At least I’m assured the whole State has my interests at heart should you break mine.”

Eren turns to you, reaches up, and squashes your cheeks between his large hands until your lips pout. “And if I had a cap for every time I had to assure you I will never hurt you, I will be richer than the Fritzes and your family combined.”

“Awright, I heaw you,” you utter and pry his hands off you. “I only tease. I know my Falcon Knight won’t give me cause to cry.” You beam at the crooked smile he gives you at that and loop an arm around his to steer him along.

“Qaxan next?” you ask, then blink in surprise as he takes the reins from you and steers you along, toward the arched steps that lead down to the market arcades. “Market day today? No qaxan?”

“Not today.” You had taken him to the parlor days past, as promised, and had quite the time watching him win and lose matches against the place’s patrons. Many had been Sevirosi sailors, more than accustomed to this homegrown game of theirs and formidable players in their own rights, yet Eren held up relatively well enough (you managed to scrape a decent-sized bag of silvers, at least, to Eren’s satisfaction). You had tried your hand at a few games yourself, lost some and won others, and pronounced yourself content; it is nice to know you can take on locals in their own field and come out the better.

The greatest shock of the day came not from Eren’s prowess with the game but from his prowess with the Traders’ Tongue. “You can speak the Traders’ Tongue?” you had whispered to him, incredulous, during the lull between games as you waited for his next opponent.

He grinned, pleased as punch and so complacent. “Just one of the many things that commend me. I learned as a boy. I’m a bit rustier now ‘cause it’s been some time since I’ve last spoken it but it’s all coming back.” His foreign foemen were most amused to hear him speak thus and spoke in kind, happy to have the barrier of tongues so abolished. It amused you as well to hear how he strongarmed his Prior to teaching him and Armin the language. It was just something that Eren would do.

“You’ve become a true local at last, I see,” you comment as you descend the stone steps to the markets, passing the Forsaken Warrior’s plinth where he holds aloft the head of Iskra the Inborn, and alighting at the foot of the stairway by one of the sphinxes that flank the structure. Cityfolk pass you by, going about their business.

“I should have something to do other than read and spar and explore the castle while you’re off Lady-ing. What better way to fill my time than exploring the city?” Eren leads you along, through the wynds and lanes of the inner city as though he has lived there his whole life. The fact strikes a chord in you, in some strange, indescribable way. Some part of you finds his familiarity rather attractive.

“Besides,” he directs your course to the crafts arcade. There is something in his voice that makes you look at him and makes curiosity rear its cattish head. “This’ll be my home, too. Someday.”

The lightest of flushes pinks his cheeks, and he stares resolutely ahead at your destination, plainly trying to avoid your eyes. You blink up at him, heart picking up pace in your chest. Home. Yours alone now, yours both to rule together in future. You rest your head against his shoulder and smile as he holds your arm closer to his side. He is so warm. Like home. He feels like home.

He leads you up the steps of the crafts arcade, turning to wave over to some bearded dark-haired man manning a stall right beside the stairway. He waves back and dips his head in deference as you turn to look over at him, curious. You acknowledge his gesture with an incline of the head.

“Who’s he?” you question your betrothed as you step into the arcade proper.

“Pietro, Taras’s boy. Well, he’s not a boy, as you just saw, but I suppose sons are always boys to their fathers if you think about it.” At your uncomprehending look, Eren adds, “That woodcarver we met during the Alyfeis, remember him? Old Taras, whose stall we upended.”

A toothless smile, a face wrinkled and leathery, a pair of striking pale blue eyes. You remember him now, the kindly man. The Lovers’ carving you had bought from him is sitting upon a box on your desk in your bedchamber, this one filled with the letters Eren had sent you during the winter reprieve almost a year ago now. “You’ve been meeting with Povik Taras and his son? What for?”

It is a slow market day today. Only a handful of other patrons join you in your perusal, going down one aisle or another in search of good wares. Your footsteps echo off the vaulted stone dome above you. It is a magnificent thing, that dome. Above you cavort heroes and figures of the Old Blood. The Forsaken Warrior and Iskra battle beside Luka the Demi-God and Viktor the Valiant, while fair Rosina looks on, a hand upon her heart and worry upon her face. Scenes of tender love and romance play out beside the battles and bloodshed, to soften the violence. The marriage of Zlatica the Golden and Rumen the Red is depicted in its full glory, framed on one side by Alena of Makan’s hawthorn tree where she sits charming Rodion the Prince of Dreams with words and smiles. Love and death. War and romance. Things the old tales make.

Eren glances down one aisle and then another and proceeds down the righthand one, the aisle of pottery.

“Father wrote me something about pottery and if I can ‘please acquire a couple of tasteful pieces as a token of my stay,’” he says, affecting the airy, genteel court tones of the Magister of Lovaya. “He’s probably going to redecorate the solar. Finally. He’s been going on about it for months…”

Foreign traders are much in evidence hereabouts. There is a considerable demand for Arsechkalan pottery the world over, a fact to take great pride in, you’ve always thought. There is much to laud your crockery for; its durability, its fine craftsmanship, the sheer artistry of the figures painted on the glazed clay - all these combined draw tradesmen of every nation to your shores so they may have a piece of such a lucrative product. Thus do you all grow wealthy together, one way or another.

You and Eren walk past a dark-skinned man clad in opulent robes of blue and gold brocade, bartering with a potter in his shop. One of the Goldveins of the island of Rabari in the Gleaming Isles, you know at once, from the beads and clips of gold woven through the thick, tight coils of his black hair. Another shop is entertaining a couple of sailors, these ones dressed in the elaborate vests and wide-brimmed hats of those of the south of Seviros. Perhaps from the Magistrate of Amacillas or the Kingdom of Huanuras.

“To answer your earlier question, I still need instruction. With my woodcarving.” A little noise of interest escapes Eren’s mouth as a shop catches his eye, and he guides your steps thence. “Who better to teach me than actual masters of the craft?”

“Wise words.”

The plump, bald shopkeep looks up from where he is arranging the largest of his wares. His eyes widen at the sight of you approaching his shop; at once, he stoops into a bow. “M-m’lady,” he mumbles into his ample stomach. “Pleasure to ‘ave you in me shop.” He stands from his bow only to dip back down again. “M’lord,” he directs at Eren, who he seems to have just but noticed when first he’d straightened up a couple of seconds ago.

“Well met, goodman,” you smile at the man, before bidding him rise. “We’d like to have a look at your wares, if it please you.”

“Oh, it does, m’lady, that it does,” the shopkeep says, looking fit to burst into eager giggles at this most rewarding transaction. “Please, ‘ave a look-see, see whatcha like.”

“Do you have something to… remake?”

You turn to your betrothed, confused. The shopkeep in front of you does likewise. The stares make Eren blush and cast about awkwardly, his face screwed up as he thinks long and hard on something.

The shopkeep catches sight of your pearl necklaces, and his expression clears at once. “Ah, aye, they did say, didn’t they, some Midland lordlin’…” he mutters to himself, before addressing the lordling, “No need to struggle, m’lord, most o’ us Arsechkai know ‘ow to speak your Belin. We ‘ave to, don’t we, for you northern lot, them as ‘ave no lick of Rakiva in ‘em,” he states amiably in heavily accented Belin.

Eren laughs a little and rubs a hand up his nape. “Yes, well, I know that. It’s just I want to get better at it. Rakiva, I mean. And I can’t do that if I don’t practice,” he answers in the language most liquid on his tongue.

The shopkeep grins. “That’s the spirit, m’lord, if I do say so meself. Good way to go ‘bout learnin’.” He hooks his thumbs through the worn rope belt that cinches his homespun tunic around his pot belly. “Now, whatcha be meanin’ with that ‘remake’ business?” he asks the young knight, slowly in Rakiva.

Eren returns his grin, encouraged to try once more. “Um… oh, I can’t find the word for it. Customize,” he speaks the term in Belin. “Do you customize your wares to order?”

“Ah, customize. The word you be lookin’ for is usontsy,” the bald man laughs. “But, aye, we do be customizin’ our stuff for order. Whatcha be wantin’ then?”

You examine the earthenware about you as your betrothed and the shopkeep discuss particulars. Eren has a good eye - the pottery is exquisite. It is the artwork that extolls it more than anything else. The artist’s style is distinct, quite unlike any you have yet seen in such work. A yen to offer patronage to this shop rises in you. Perhaps the family business can benefit from having this store beneath its wings. You always are open to great talent. Great talent means great profit to all involved, of course.

“Done ‘n done ‘n done, m’lord! I thankee for your business,” beams the shopkeep, clapping his huge, meaty hands together in utter glee. “You’ll ‘ave your pots next week sure as sunup. This Fat Ivan be so swearin’.” He is wringing his hands the next moment, fingers plump as sausages squeezing the knuckles, the back of the pudgy hands. “Meanin’ no disrespect, m’lady, but it- only if it be pleasin’ you, o’ course- mayhap you be seein’ in your kindly heart to give patronage- only if it please-!”

“It does, you’ll be pleased to know. You beat me to the post, goodman,” you cut through the man’s nervous rambling, smiling at the look of surprise on the round face. “I was just thinking the very same thing. The artistry in these is exquisite.” You reach for a good-sized vase with two ornate handles, one on each side of the vessel, but pause. “May I?” 

You pick the container up at the shopkeep’s assent, making sure your grip is secure lest it slips from your grasp and breaks. The figure painted on the glazed clay is one you know well. The King of the Cave sits upon his stone throne in a field of goldenglow, rendered in the black and gold and red paints so characteristic of this style of stonework. “You have a masterly hand with the brush, goodman,” you compliment Fat Ivan, who instantly demurs.

“‘Tis me wife, m’lady, she’s the mistress of paints, that one. I do the shapin’ and the firin’ and all them dirty work, she does all them artsy stuff. I always says, I do, we be makin’ a fine team, if I do say so meself.”

“A very fine team, indeed.” It is only then that you notice the marriage rune inscribed across the back of his sizable left hand. Your corresponding limb begins to tingle, and you look away. “Since we seem to be in agreement, I’d love to extend patronage to your business. I’m sure Father would agree once he sees your work.”

“M-m’lady is most kind, most kind. For true,” Ivan grins, and thereafter you spend a good while arranging the next course of your burgeoning partnership. 

“Again, I thankee, m’lady, for the honor,” the shopkeep utters as he bows you and Eren out of his premises. “‘M excited, I am, I swear, the world’ll ‘ave no finer pots than those Fat Ivan be makin’.” He turns to Eren with further promises of fine work for his order, then hesitates, his dark eyes flickering toward the golden pearl pendant around the younger man’s neck. “Beg pardon, m’lord, but you best be takin’ care o’ this lady o’ ours. You can ‘ave no more honest woman than this one, I’ll ‘ave you know. You be weddin’ the old way, too, I take it?” he directs at you this time, and you nod. “Good, good. Now, don’t be thinkin’ ‘m one o’ those old crusty sorts, thems that piss on the new way, no. But the Old Blood’s the Old Blood, gots to keep the old ways alive, too. ‘Specially for the future lady, gots to make an example.” You take your leave soon after further pleasantries.

“Richer than the Fritzes,” Eren announces in Belin to the sky above as you leave the markets for the rest of the city. “That was more colloquial than I’m used to, but I know enough of your tongue to understand that much. Where’s my windfall, I ask you?”

You titter at his disgruntled expression. “The gods seem to be determined to remind you to have a care with my most precious person.”

“Aye, well, I don’t need reminding of something that I have taken to the deepest part of my heart and soul and being.”

For all he shuns and affects ignorance of the ways of romance, this betrothed of yours has a most romantic mouth.

A crowd of people outside a building catches your attention. A temple of the Lovers, you see, recognizing Ryneas and Elios ensconced side by side within two elaborate pillared alcoves cut into the adjacent wall. It looks to be the end of a ceremony. The double doors of the temple swing open, as if to give credence to your thoughts. Out comes the Curate in his lilac and gold robes and his winged staff entwined by two serpents, which he flourishes about as he gesticulates to his rapt audience, the kith and kin of man and bride.

Faraway you may have been, yet you know the words he is speaking. Once there were two. Now two are as one. Let them be joined both, from this day to the end of their days. I give you the Lovers! The priest stands aside to expose the Lovers to a hail of roses. Petals and whole blossoms of red and gold rain down the happy couple, handfast and handbound by the lilac and gold ribbons so vital to the Creed’s rite. Of lilac and gold their humble raiment is not, for that they are, humble. Such as these will never be able to afford the expensive dyed bride’s gown of lilac and the equally expensive bridegroom’s cloth-of-gold. For the common folk are the common colors, dun for the bridegroom and white for the bride.

You had come across a wedding, indeed, multiple weddings in Reicona about this time last year, you recall suddenly. Insensible, unromantic Eren had never looked forward to the Day of Lovers and so the fact of the matter slipped his mind when he had invited you out for your customary stroll around his city. You, being of the Old Blood, never truly kept track of the holy day yourself and so made for a poor prompter.

It was amusing to the highest degree to see him fluster to silence once the realization hit, even more so to see him weather the good wishes various cityfolk heaped upon the both of you as you went about your business. He did not suggest retreat, to his credit. He was never one for that sort of flight, after all - it was always onward and upward for him, ever and always. You had not brought further attention to the day’s revels about you as you continued your adventure; he looked uncomfortable enough as was, which roused your sympathies.

The memory is a pleasant one, and evocative. Has it been truly a year since then? You have come so far from the new trothed striplings still taking the measure of the other, still trying to lay down the foundations of a friendship. It is no simple thing to be friends with someone you have such a loaded relationship with, much less someone you are meant to wed and bed; there is just so much anticipation behind your circumstances.

Both of you managed, in the end. Nowadays, that load and anticipation have grown to encompass a great deal more.

You smile and squeeze his hand in yours. “Poet.”

“How was that poetic? I only speak the truth.” His face is pink yet he looks pleased all the same.

“The deepest part of my heart and soul and being, hmm? Sounds like something straight out of the Lay of Lovers,” you grin, then bat his hand away as he reaches up to pinch your nose.

“Since when were you this mouthy, love?” Eren mutters, pink and pleased still for all his pretensions to annoyance. The crooked smile takes pride of place upon his lips once more. “Anyway, where to next? Lead on, milady, I’m done for the day.”

You pass a group of children playing Block and Catch at the base of a looming sandstone mount of a set of statues of the Sentinels, who were the glory of the elder days of Arsechkala. Eren steers your course aside as an urchin near runs into your path, yelling up a storm of fury at being tagged out of the game.

The sight brings back the summer, one of laughter and laurels and red flags. The children have no red flags and no laurels will be handed out, yet the game’s workings and the fun are the same. It is a most merry thought to know you had made as much of a spectacle then as these mites are now. “No more errands?”

“For now. Why finish all of them in one day? I still have a little over a month left here, I’d rather space them out.” Your wanderings take you to the quainter part of the riverside, where the city’s clocktower straddles the Goldtide. Fisherfolk’s paddle boats share the waters with barges carrying crates of goods and skiffs with sails of half a hundred colors. All of these slip beneath one arch or another of the three-arched structure that spans the waterway. 

A particolored sail catches your eye. A mummers’ boat, you know, feeling elated at the sight. These will drop by the palace sure as rain after they have entertained their common audiences. A pleasant thing to look forward to. It is always nice to have jolly entertainment of a night.

“Lucrative day for everyone, isn’t it? I found an excellent potter for Father’s vases, said potter gets your family’s patronage, and your family adds another artist to your business’s collection,” Eren comments, watching a skiff glide past upstream, laden with crates of various sizes. This one has a crimson sail emblazoned with the golden Rhyzkov orb, marking it as one in the private employ of the ruling family.

“As Father said, best keep an eye out for any and all opportunities. And talents.” A thriving business can never have enough of those, after all, your enterprising forebears knew the way of that well. Seaside settlements such as yours often see the wealth pour in through trade, and never is a settlement so well-placed. Sandpiper Bay leaves the city open to sailors of no less than three continents: Seviros, Kayigari, and Anderven. Galleys from the eastern lands of Mi An, Agankaya, and even Lakpathar to the southeast make the journey as well, though the sight of their distinctive sails plying the Cobalt Sea is rare, situated as you are on opposing sides of the world. At any rate, the Rhyzkovs had long since taken advantage of this outpouring of bounty.

That bounty had made you the richest House in the Lovayan continent. Once. That estimable distinction now belongs to the Fritzes, them with their equally as profitable port and their even more profitable mines rich with gold and silver and opals, Lovaya’s most precious commodity. The Greatshield, while itself abundant, has never been as productive as the Dragon Horde, the State of Stohess’s own range of mountains. Which is more the pity.

“Captain Lycus, how’d you come across him?” Eren asks, most interested.

“He was one of the sailors who answered my lady grandmother’s call for men to crew our new fleet of merchanters. He’s one of our best.” Men of Ithasa, one of the northern seaside kingdoms of Seviros, have always been renowned the world over as being the best seamen. Ithasin born and bred he might have been yet he is all but Arsechkai now, the sailor loves to claim. His speech is still flavored with the liquid inflections of his motherland, but he had married an Arsechkalan woman and sired Arsechkalan children and lived in Arsechkalan soil in his days off duty. Ithasa has become a place to trade with and leave at the next tide, a mere stop in the trader’s sea road, one of many.

“They love you well, your people.”

The Arsechkai are all about you, sailing, strolling, living their daily lives. Once again, you are reminded of how important their love is to you and your family’s lot. It is so easy to take their love for granted, and the realization is a grounding one. Your House has subsisted in common favor for so long that attention to it has begun to fade in the background of the consciousness like an old, worn tapestry, part of the castle’s furnishings, something you have seen a thousand times your whole life. There are days when it catches the eye but more times than not, the eye will pass it over because it is always there. And always will be.

“They do. Love you well.” Eren smiles down at your silent face. “The constant threats to my person in favor of your happiness should’ve made that clear.”

Perhaps it is time to remember that the commons’ love is something worth paying more heed to. It is not for nothing that the tales make much of men of the people. Perhaps you can be one. A true woman of your people, that great ruler your knight had touted you as being. Someday.

The clocktower soaring above you tolls, marking the coming of another hour. The hour of the lynx.

“Does the most beloved lady want to sit down a while and rest?” Your knight squeezes your hand, prepared to accommodate your wishes whatever they may be.

You glance once more at the clocktower, at the murals that embellish the three triangular roofs of the already lavishly appointed structure. The King of the Cave sits on his throne on the righthand summit, gazing out at his field of goldenglow.

He is everywhere today, this king.

“I think-” your hand tightens around Eren’s, “-the most beloved lady wants to show you something.”

“What-”

“Shhh, quickly!”

You splash across one of the Goldtide’s many inlets, this one wending its way past the corner of the city walls to vanish into the undergrowth. Eren bites his tongue and bites the harder as he and his betrothed near a chasm sunk deep into the ground, bordered by vines and deadfall and wild vegetation. His sense of baffled apprehension grows as you begin to descend what he knows now to be the entrance to an underground cave.

He digs his heels in and brings you to a stop. “Just what on the gods’ green earth-”

“My lady!”

All at once, you are on the move again, plunging deeper and deeper into pitch blackness. “Just trust me, you’ll see,” comes your voice ahead of him, and so he has no choice. Your grip is tight around his hand, surprising in its strength. He lets you lead on, curiosity growing despite his better judgement.

“We should’ve at least brought a torch,” he says at length, after what feels like a decade’s worth of jogging in the still darkness.

“No torches necessary once we get further in,” is the most mysterious reply.

This whole escapade is one mysterious venture. One moment you were winding your way through the streets, the next you were running, and running towards one of the city gates, the westernmost one. A river gate, though you boarded no boat to flee the confines of the city. You joined the thin trickle of people slipping in and out of the adjacent postern and were soon hurrying down the side of the sandstone wall, tracing some path only you seemed to be privy to. All the while, cries of, “My lady!” hounded your headlong dash, from the poor chap who had the misfortune to be your tail for the day. Eren wonders if he caught your descent.

Hopefully not, he suddenly finds himself thinking.

You have slowed to a walk at some point, and your footfalls seem almost deafening in this quiet seclusion. He is alive in all his senses but for sight, and all of them are honed in on the maid leading him onward, ever onward.

Your hand is warm, your grip firm and tight. The cave is dry; the scent of stone and earth and dead leaves’ musk dominate all. Mold and mud and must are absent. Not even the cave bats roost here - the smell characteristic of their presence is notable for its lack. Your footsteps scrape lightly on stone. Another sound comes softer still, yet he hears it all the same. The sound of your breathing gradually eases down, from quick pants to steady respiration. The sound brushes against his ear, slow and gentle. Mesmerizing.

“Will you tell me now what this is all about? What is this place?”

“Not far to go. All will be revealed, good Sir.”

“My lady loves her mysteries, I see.” Quiet laughter gives him answer.

The further you walk, the more he notes. The ground underfoot is smooth, and though you turn and turn and turn again, the going is easy. Too easy. Nature is a most accomplished architect with the most distinctive style; no cave made by her should be this easy to traverse. Where are the dips, the hills, the stalagmites and the stalactites? All the caves he had explored as a boy had them in abundance. The lack of them is almost… eerie.

“Do you know the tale of Khandimir?”

“The Underground Kingdom.” He knows the tale well. He and Armin have been trying, every year the progress took them to Arsechkala, to find the entrance to that fabled realm. Their endeavors have always ended in defeat and disappointment. Slow and sure, the dawn begins to rise. “Is this-?”

You turn another bend and are immediately bathed in a faint light coming from a gap some feet ahead of you. You squeeze his hand, smiling up at him. Pale blue light washes over your face. Your blue lesos is draped over your shoulders where it had fallen, thrown back during the race across the city; the cloth is made bluer by the illumination.

“Thousands and thousands and thousands of years ago, at the dawn of time long before the Great Heat reduced these lands to sand and sere, there lived a king. He was fair and just and strong, and ruled wisely and well. Thus did his kingdom prosper.

“But prosperity drew enemies, and the king drew scores. Such was their hate that they conspired to strike at his very heart itself. The king had a son, his only one, and he was the delight of his father’s eyes and the hope of his line.

“All hope vanished the day their foes laid hands on the boy. They tore him limb from limb and sent him back to his father piece by piece. His delight turned into despair and a terrible, terrible rage. All think of rage as a fire. Yet his was not so. As a lake freezes over in winter, so did the king. He hid his hatred deep and bid his sons’ killers to feast, as a token of goodwill. His heart was broken yet a good ruler knew that peace must come before the personal, so he claimed to his foemen. They came by the score, then, utterly reassured and utterly unwitting.

“More fool they, they found to their grievous sorrow. The king slaughtered them all in his hall, one by one, until they were no more. The gods saw and they raged. The king had been the one wronged in the most brutal of ways yet that mattered not to the high powers. They sealed him and his people away into the depths of the Deep Realm, never to see the light of day again. For he did not kill with honor. It was not for the act of murder that he and his were punished. The gods would leave well enough alone had he met them outside the walls of his home. They understood well the need for vengeance. A man had a right to vengeance, this had always been so. But he slaughtered guests beneath his roof and that the gods can never forgive.

“Years passed in eternal night for the king and his people. But hope was not lost. The gods were yet merciful and gave them promise of the godborn, one born of man and god. Only one such as this could pass through the barrier that kept the king and his folk imprisoned in the Deep Realm. Only one such as this could free the Deep Dwellers from their bondage. Still, this seemed to them an impossible hope for such beings came rare, if they ever came at all. So the king and his folk languished in darkness, resigned to their dark fate.

“It came to pass that the impossible was merely unthinkable. A girl born of man and god came upon their hidden abode, and the Deep Dwellers rejoiced. At last, here was their savior, the long-awaited godborn, come to free them from the night. They feted her and gave her gifts and made her love them until she was prevailed upon to lead them home. The king and his people gathered their belongings and uprooted. At last, at last, they will come home across the darkness.

“The gods’ mercy, in the end, was a spurious thing. The barrier was broken, freedom was within reach. The Deep Dwellers emerged into an alien world, a world of sand and heat and dryness. They had not long to feel much of anything for this new world, for they would soon be part of it in ways most unexpected. Time flows differently in the Deep Realm, that abode of the fae. A year in the dark was equal to a decade, perhaps a score, perhaps a century, in the mortal world, and they had lived underfoot so long… One by one, every man, woman, and child of the Deep crumbled away into dust. Last to pass was the king, the King of the Cave, forced to watch as his hopes and dreams blew away into the dry wind before he, too, went the way of his people.

“Spurious they might have been yet it cannot be said that the gods were entirely false. The Deep Dwellers were freed from their bondage, when all was said and done. They are still here among us to this day, roaming free where they always have been and always will be. Underfoot and everywhere, scattered amongst the southron sands.”

Silence falls for a time between you, time enough for Eren to examine your surroundings. The more he looks, the more gooseflesh spreads up his body as the enormity of this place - its scale, its history - slowly sinks in.

You had passed through the gap as you ended your tale and came out into an enormous cavern. Shimmerwood, is his immediate thought. Perhaps he isn’t too far off the mark in thinking so, he feels. Rivers and waterfalls are everywhere, winding through the space and splashing down the walls. Each and every one glows a bright azure, in much the same way the sand haven’s motes glowed. No motes fly in the underground, though their lack is offset by the flowers, which glow as bright a blue as any drifting orb.

“Whispers,” you say, watching him brush a hand across one such bloom. You pick one and hold it to his ear. A soft susurration tickles his senses as the blossom speaks to him in the language of flowers. It is a tongue most incomprehensible to him yet, for all that, whatever this bloom has to say seems… pleasant. 

They are everywhere, the Whispers, filling the air with their idle musings and their endless tales, tales of the Deep Realm, of the fae, of the King of the Cave.

“I never truly realized how depressing that tale is,” Eren says, voice quiet as you walk over a wooden bridge - miraculously intact despite its ages-long lifespan. A shiver runs down his spine. Legend or not, it cannot be denied that this place was once the heart of some civilization lost to time. The bridge is not the only evidence of their presence. Wooden steps and planks and yet more bridges are everywhere, channels to cross the twisting path of the glowing rivers that wind about you. “But that wasn’t how I remembered it. It ended the same but the details were different.”

“Oh? I’d love to hear this version. Perhaps it’s one I haven’t heard myself.”

Wood creaks beneath your feet as you go down a short flight of steps. The grass that grows thereabouts comes no higher than your insteps, as though a team of ghostly gardeners have been keeping the turf well-shorn ever since the departure of the Deep Dwellers. In this light, the sward looks black. That it is, perhaps; but in this light, it can be any color.

“It was the king’s arrogance that threw him down, the way I remember it. Prosperity breeds arrogance, and the more the kingdom prospered, the bigger its king’s pride grew until one day he spoke out of turn. They had grown so great no being, mortal or immortal, could ever throw them down, he boasted. You could imagine how well the gods took that,” he can’t resist adding, drawing that sweet, tinkling laughter out of his betrothed’s mouth. He smiles himself and continues his tale, “They were sealed away, as in your tale, also bound to wait for the impossible godborn. She came of course, and fell in love with the king, and he with her. Something that was left vague in your version.”

“Perhaps they did, who knows?”

He hums, agreeing. “Who knows. Then, as I said, it ended the same way, with them ascending, only to blow away into sand, leaving the godborn girl heartbroken and devastated.”

“It seems, in all the tellings, the Deep Dwellers were meant for a tragic fate.” You lead him on, to a new part of the cavern, leaving behind the fresh and clear coolness of the streams. 

The cavern becomes a hall, with a high ceiling sparkling with crystals. Stars in the night. Had he known better, he would’ve thought so in truth. Luminescent mushrooms sprout here in place of the Whispers, filling the passage with the same gentle blue glow that lights the rest of the cave. Unlike the rest of the cave, the air here is damp, musty, and a tad moldy, chillier than by the waterways.

“Oh.” You let go of his hand to stride toward what looks like a statue sitting by the side of the path. “He’s being rained on now, poor thing.”

The steady drip, drip, drip of water falling on stone is the only sound in this part of the cave. The rain had done a number on the poor thing. He had a face once. Wiped away now by his misfortune to be caught beneath this perpetual deluge. Eren can guess who this poor thing is. Damned unlucky bastard, in life and in stone.

“Gods, but he is the most unfortunate figure, isn’t he?” you sigh, staring down at the miserable likeness of the King of the Cave himself.

“I’ve always thought the gods, new and old, have twisted senses of humor.” The rest of the passage is bone-dry but for the king’s little corner. Eren laughs, wry and dry.

“Always the blasphemer,” you shake your head at him but smile all the same. “Hvalimir Vaida. Hvalimir of the Cave. That was what they called him.” You stare about the cavern, as though to search for something. You find what you are looking for in a moment.

Eren follows, curious, only to find you attempting to twist off a stalk of what looks like a giant clover. He strides forward, drawing the dirk that hangs at his right hip, and proceeds to cut an offshoot for you.

“What d’you need that for?” he asks, and is answered almost at once as he watches you place the stalk with its wide canopy-like leaf on the king’s lap, propping it up against the stone body in such a way that it won't fall over.

“There, he is shielded,” you say, looking down at the king and his rainshade of clover.

“It’ll probably get knocked off someday, though, if the water doesn’t stop,” Eren feels compelled to point out.

“It might,” you agree. “But I gave him a respite until then. Now he has time to savor the dry, until that most unhappy day. Who knows? The rain might stop before that wretched day and he’ll keep dry ‘til the end of time.”

You leave the king there holding his empty court. The steady sound of water dripping on his rainshade sees you out.

Drip, drip, drip.

It is not long before you turn a corner and the sound fades. The blue of the mushrooms fade as well to be replaced by a light more… golden. Like sunlight.

You release his hand once more and continue on ahead of him.

Eren calls out for you but you are slipping through a gap between two boulders and do not seem to hear him. A little mystified, he starts after you.

Gold. A whole field of it, he sees once his eyes adapt to the sudden light. Goldenglow, he realizes as the flowers’ familiar scent assails his senses. He looks about, mouth parting in wonder. The King of the Cave’s throne room. All in ruins now. Much of the high vaulted ceiling had cracked and fallen away, exposing the hall to the elements and the skies above. What walls are left standing are festooned with lichen, ivy, and other flowering vines of red and pink and purple. There is no stone floor. There never had been, if the tales can be believed. It seems, in this case, the tales can be believed. Only goldenglow covers the ground, as every singer and storyteller claims.

In the middle of all this golden wonder is you, his betrothed, with your back to him, taking in this hall of legend.

The sight of you drives legend and fancy and history out of his mind.

A memory comes back to him then, the memory of you in the sanctum in Goldhaven, you with the flowers in your hair, the soft sunlight on your face, with Yelena’s fount splashing away at your back, and the wind in your hair. This fae maid is in her element once more.

He comes to you slowly, mesmerized. You have dropped your lesos; the blue and gold garment lies in swathes amidst the flowers, a welcome burst of color against all that gold.

You move forward before he can reach you and so he moves on, trailing your path.

“His throne,” are the only things you say when he stops to stand beside you. The wild had taken it over as it had the rest of the room. The stone seat is strangled by the vines; no one would have seen it had they not known it was there.

You turn away at length; Eren watches as you return to the spot where you had dropped your lesos and plop down, lying half-buried amongst the flowers.

“Conked out?” he asks, looking down at you with an eyebrow raised.

You giggle and reach out for him. “Come here.”

He laces his fingers through yours and allows himself to be pulled down. Your heads rest next to each others’ so closely. Your hands lie between you, fingers tightly clasped together.

“How’d you come by this place?”

You huff out a soft laugh. “One of my bids for freedom. I stumbled into this place, literally, crashed through the vines and rolled down that opening passage and everything.” His chuckle draws yours out before you continue, “I was so disoriented that I couldn’t tell where the entrance was so I kept on going, hoping to find it again. Curiosity won out when I saw the waterways, so I went on and on, found Hvalimir - he was snug and dry then, I’ll have you know - and came out here in the end. There’s a way out here, we’ll leave through there.”

“You sound a handful.”

“The raven calls the crow black.”

He laughs. “Spare me the cutting wit, my lady, I yield, I yield.” He lifts both your entwined hands off the ground and brings them to his lips so he can kiss the back of yours. “D’you think your poor tail is still looking for us?”

“Perhaps. I’ll take the fall, when it comes to it.” A mild touch of guilt colors your voice. “I’ll blame it all on the madness of adventure.”

Eren smiles up at the blue sky above you, then props himself up on his elbow to stare down at you. “You are the most spirited thing.”

You return his smile, then reach up to twine your fingers around the leather cord of his mother’s key.

His heart stops when you pull.

“There’s another version of Hvalimir’s tale, did you know?”

Eren swallows around the lump in his throat as your face takes on that most alluring cast of invitation. When had he gotten so close? He is suddenly and painfully aware of how alone you are. Hidden away from the rest of the world, stuck in a place of fancy and memory.

“N-no, I didn’t,” he says, hoarsely.

Your smile widens. “It was love that brought the king down in this telling. He fell in love with a fae woman, a child of the old gods, as the Old Blood believe. In her turn, the fae maid pledged her life and love to him and swore to take him to husband. The gods were devastated when she gave herself to him on the night of their wedding. By lying with a mortal, she had doomed herself to a mortal life and thus to a mortal death, and this was no fate no loving parent could suffer for a most beloved child. Their despair turned to deadly rage, and so they banished the newly wedded couple, here in this very place. They want to be together so desperately. And so they shall be, together forever in this dark hell. They can never leave, but so long as they have each other, does anything else matter?”

Yet again, he is drowning in dark pools. The cadence of your voice will put sirens to shame. You open your mouth, that luscious mouth now so close to his own, and murmur, “They’re still here, the maid and the king, forever wondering about their dark and wet kingdom. Never knowing the touch of sun and fresh wind and freedom, but those have ceased to matter. What are those compared to love as true as theirs?”

“We must have missed them. Pity. It’s not every day I get to meet figures of legend.” Your breath is warm against his lips. Closer. Closer, and he will feel your heat and that silken softness and taste the sweetness of your tongue.

Clack!

“Ketse!”

Your head snaps up and he freezes at the sound of the interloper’s voice. For a thousand years, he feels nothing.

“Gods be damned.”

The sound of your voice draws him out of the void. Somehow, someway, he finds that so absurdly funny that he has to laugh. “Who’s the blasphemer now?”

“You’re the most terrible influence, Sir.”

Eren chuckles some more at that and stares down at the lovely face framed with flowers. A golden girl among golden blooms. He bends down close and watches your mouth part. “Careful, my lady, the gods may trap us down here forever for that impiety,” he says, voice low, and gently flicks his nose against yours. Eren smiles wide as your eyes widen at the gesture.

He lets out a playful groan and presses his face by the crook of your neck. “Your tail has the most inconvenient timing.”

You let out a groan of your own and sigh. “He does, damn him. He’s bloody persistent, I’ll give him that.” You are silent for a time, before you speak again. “Maybe it won’t be so bad, to be trapped down here forevermore. We could slip back inside, become Deep Dwellers and bask in the king and queen’s love. It won’t be so bad to be trapped in darkness. With you. I could bear the darkness with you.”

Your voice is the most comforting thing. It seeps into his skin, his bones, his very being. “When you put it that way… entrapment doesn’t sound so bad. Not if it’s with you. I wouldn’t want to be trapped down here with anyone else.”

He nestles closer against you, wanting more of you that he is allowed. Apples and winter roses and goldenglow overwhelm his senses, along with the headier scent of you, that inimitable scent that was yours and yours alone. His nose brushes lightly against the side of your neck.

Your small intake of breath makes him pause. A tense couple of heartbeats pass, but you do not push him away. Encouraged, he presses closer, taking in another deep whiff of your scent. The fog in his mind grows thicker with each breath. He must have more. Eren presses closer, closer, until his lips feather over your skin.

At once, you stiffen beneath him, and it is as if he has fallen through thin ice. Elation and terror war within him.

Gods, why did I do that?

Gods, let me have more, don’t push me away.

Your fingers thread through the hair at the back of his head and bears down, pressing him closer to your skin.

Elation wins out and he is kissing you, running his lips down the column of your throat and reveling in you. Your breaths come out quicker with every press of his mouth, and you reach up, clutching at his shoulder with the hand not buried in his hair and pulling him closer, closer. Suddenly, kisses are not enough, he must have a taste.

The gasp that escapes your mouth goes through him the very moment the tip of his tongue touches your skin. All at once, you are tilting your face back, burying your head further into the blossoms as you bare more of your throat for him to ravage. You are the most intoxicating thing he has ever imbibed; no wine, no ale, no mead and beer and rum can ever compare to the substance that is you. His tongue licks across your skin hungrily, savoring the taste of you. You are salt and you are sweet and you are the best thing he has ever tasted.

His hands feel useless and empty, and so he fills them with your thighs. They are cradling his hips, those thighs, soft as satin and smooth as silk under his fingertips. The whole span of him presses down the whole span of you, and you are soft there, too, the whole of you, soft and yielding and warm.

You are panting into his ear, breathless and eager, as he licks and kisses up your throat and caresses your supple skin, each brush of his hands moving higher, and still higher until he was tracing the edges of the split skirt of your vevda, that blessed garment… It will be the easiest thing in the world for his hands to slip beneath, and so they do. You are warmer there beneath your skirt, and the heat of you spills into his fingers and palm as he caresses higher, higher still…

“Eren.”

It is his name, only his name, yet the power that single word has over him is absolute. Suddenly, your flesh is between his teeth and he is biting down.

“My lady-!”

There is a horrified gasp and before he quite knows it, he is sitting up. Eren blinks like an owl, dazed. You are seated before him, closing your legs as you turn to speak reassurances to some armored lout with devastation writ clear across his galling face.

Hot, boiling fury rushes in. All about him, the gold has turned to red. The lout has no fucking right to look that devastated. The urge to wipe the rocky cave walls down with the loutish face rises in Eren in the most vicious yen. That will clear up that stupid look on that stupid face in a brilliant flash.

“Eren.”

It is the only thing in the world that could’ve calmed him down at the moment. You smile at him. “We should get going. We’ve stayed in here long enough. At this rate, we’ll probably crumble to dust once we set foot outside.”

That draws a chuckle from him yet only in brief. Smiling you are, with all the appearance of soft tenderness, yet your eyes seem shuttered. You are looking at him as though you are seeing him, truly seeing him for the first time, and he does not know what to make of that. Something in his chest squeezes at the sight.

His eyes drop down to your neck, at the space where it meets the slope of your shoulder. A large round bite mark ornaments your skin, imprinted deep into the flesh. He had bitten down harder than he thought. It will take days for it to fade, if not longer, by the look of it. Something in his chest swells at the sight.

It is the most disappointing thing to see you cover yourself up with your lesos, yet he can bear that. The look of closed-off wariness on your face had vanished when you twine your fingers through his, and your smile comes sweet and tender and true. That is worth more than a mark of his claim.

The late afternoon sunshine comes to greet you the moment you emerge from the King of the Cave’s throne room. You do not, in the end, crumble to dust.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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A/N:

Povar = Father (Belin)

Translation notes:

Falke = Falcon (German/Fristuhl)

Povik = Grandfather (Rakiva)

Ketse = Shit (Rakiva)

Another of my favorite scenes. Eren's POV, that is. And it came out a lot friskier than my original draft, which pleases me immensely. SO immensely! They are finally getting more physical and I just. Can't. Wait. For them to go. Further. (As if I don't have full control of the story. But nowadays these guys like to take the reins so... you know!)

More trouble in the North. Cause it ain't quite over yet, these northmen are a troublesome lot. A bit of darkness tainting Zeke's POV, he's been largely pleasant so far but he has IssuesTM. Market day for the happier couple and the importance of common love. And we get a tale and all its different versions because stories change with the telling as stories always do. And of course, hormones overflow and I had to send in the pesky guard so they won't go any further because the Greater Will says it's not yet time for that. But I can let them have a taste as a treat.

See you next time for the next update! <3

Tagging: @princess-okkotsu @lukepattersin​ @tojis-discord-kitten

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