albatross

by cerasium

Summary:

Erwin Smith has just started his term as the Beast Titan. Levi, the last male Ackerman, makes that his business.

-

AU where Islanders are Marleyans, and vice versa.

He’s standing against the stone balcony rail in his dress uniform, all white linen and polished black loafers. Red armband. He’s a real warrior, now, although from behind – Levi thinks he doesn’t look so different. There’s no hint he’s hiding the power of a beast within his bones.

“You’ve filled out,” Erwin says to him, with a cursory side-glance.

“Tch,” Levi mutters. He pushes his aviators up his head to take his bangs off his face, knowing he looks like shit, that there are purple bruises beneath his eyes, that his skin is too pale despite the long months in eastern territory. Too much time spent below deck, intercepting radios, buried beneath the ocean. It’s almost enough to make him shudder – all that corrugated metal and the dark of his bunk, it reminds him of being Underground. “Well I have to hit a growth-spurt eventually, right?”

“How was it?” Erwin asks him. He flips open the carton of Reds, offers him a cigarette. “I heard about it over the wireless. The currency is in free-fall.”

Levi accepts, balances it between his teeth. He tilts up his chin, and Erwin lights him up, obligingly. “Yeah,” he agrees, pulling it between two fingers and breathing smoke. He doesn’t need to add anything else. They all know he’s the best at what he does. Erwin won’t ask him about whether the man cried, or pleaded, or whether it was as quick and silent as a black blade, or about the Alliance building, the people inside it.

They stand there in silence for a while, smoking, and watching the ships drift past the harbour. Eventually, Erwin clears his throat.

“Well?” He prompts, flicking ash off the edge of the balcony. “Are you going to ask me?”

“I’m sorry,” Levi admits, sighing. “I mean – “ he corrects, quickly, “ – I’m sorry I missed it, I mean.”

Erwin scoffs. “Don’t be stupid, there’s nothing to miss.”

“Did Flagon go well?”

Erwin considers. “No,” he says, after a time. “But that doesn’t matter, now.”

“So,” Levi asks, trying to distract him. “What are you?”

“Kramer didn’t tell you?”

“Tch,” Levi mutters, “that bastard doesn’t tell me anything.”

Erwin is hiding his smile, now, He looks away, out across the sea. “Go on,” he teases, “guess.”

“Is it good?”

He nods. “Yeah, it’s good,” he says, and Levi thinks he sounds a little proud. “It’s very good. Very useful.”

Levi has thought about this a lot, what beast Erwin would be. He’d thought about it on the ship back, staring at the ceiling, water leaking from the cracks in the metal. A wolf, he had thought. A stag, with mounted antlers. “C’mon,” he tries, “you know I don’t like guessing games.”

Erwin huffs. “Levi, you don’t like any games.”

“Erwin,” he presses, aggravated. “What, you embarrassed? Is it something stupid? A beaver, a cow, a penguin – “

“A penguin?” Erwin interjects, amused.

“Skunk. Giraffe. Some kind of fish. Donkey,” he says, weighing his head, “well, you are an ass.”

Erwin laughs. “You were closer the first time,” he admits.

“Beaver?”

“Penguin.”

Levi raises his brows. “Well shit,” he says, “some kind of bird? Can you fly?”

Erwin nods.

“Shit,” he says again, and then really takes it in. “Well shit,” he mumbles, exhaling.

“Yeah,” Erwin agrees. He takes a long drag on his cigarette, absently flicks ash off the balcony. He stuffs one hand in his pocket, scuffs his loafer against the stone. “It’s a, uh,” he says, scratching his eyebrow with his thumb, “it’s some kind of duck, actually.”

Levi blinks. “Duck,” he says, and bites his lip.

“You think that’s funny?”

Levi shakes his head but doesn’t himself speak. If he speaks, he’ll laugh. Only Erwin makes him laugh.

“Oh alright,” Erwin sighs, waving his hand, “go on. Make fun of me.”

“A duck?” Levi wheezes. “A fuckin’ duck?”

“More like – well. I was being modest. It’s an albatross.”

“But those things are fuckin’ huge.”

“They are,” Erwin agrees, mildly.

“That means – hey, can you swim, too?”

Erwin huffs. “Like a boat,” he says, with that latent pride. “Airborne and waterborne. The brass reckons I’m the biggest strategic advantage since Wilhelm, four generations ago.”

“Goddamn. Congratulations.”

“Yeah,” Erwin agrees, and his smile dies like that, slowly. “Yeah,” he says again, and looks down at his shoes. “You know, all that stuff I said,” he begins, “what my dad told me – “

“Erwin,” Levi warns, checking over his shoulder. They’re still alone but Levi knows what kinds of earpieces they can hide these days, radios hidden in statues, potted plants, gramophones. He knows all about it because he’s hidden a few, listened in on them too, when he’s working missions.

“ – about being able to visualise it, like he read. Like, if I could just – hold it in my head, the whole time, what kind of beast I wanted to be…”

“You shouldn’t talk about him,” Levi tells him.

“I know,” Erwin agrees. “He was a shitty, scummy traitor, but the man had ideas. I shared them with the brass a while ago, don’t you worry.”

Levi relaxes, some. “So did it work?”

“Must’ve,” Erwin shrugs. He lifts the cigarette to his lips. “They’ll try it again next time. They’re already prepping the kids.”

“Shit. That early? You’ve only just got it. You have – thirteen years,” Levi says, and does not think about it, Erwin strung up between those pillars, whether he will go easy, whether he’ll plead.

“I think,” Erwin says, “it’ll be Armin. Little Armin, hmm? Picture that.”

Poor little bastard, Levi thinks. “He would be lucky,” he reminds him, pointedly, forcedly. Erwin should not forget himself, he’s in no position to forget, the way Levi can sometimes do. Levi exhausts himself trying to stop him from saying something he shouldn’t.

Erwin sighs, waves his hand. “Yes, yes,” he agrees, mildly, “it is good and right to repent for the sins of my ancestors.”

Levi snorts. “You telling me,” he mutters, and shuts his eyes when he exhales smoke, head tipped up at the setting sun. It’s good to have the sun on your face. It just means he’s alive. The sweat on his skin has loosened his aviator’s grip on his head, and they slip down his nose. He thinks his suit is too small – Erwin is right, he has filled out, all that good eastern food and climbing atop watchtowers in the middle of the night. Not that he’s ever been weak, obviously.

He sighs, and pushes his glasses back up his head. “What?” He grouses, when he sees Erwin has been staring.

Erwin shrugs. “I didn’t wish you a happy birthday,” he says, looking back out across the pavilion and beyond. All that ocean. What does he see, beyond it? Erwin always sees something.

“Yeah. Well I’d rather you didn’t,” Levi mutters.

“Still,” Erwin perseveres, “eighteen. That makes you a man,” he says, stoutly, as if he’s well-experienced, like an old man sharing wisdom with a boy, as if he’s not just three years older. “I got you something,” he says, like he just remembered, and fishes inside his inner pocket.

“You really shouldn’t have,” Levi warns. “I mean it, Erwin.” It’s not just he knows they don’t pay Erwin enough, or that he hates the obligation of gifts, it’s that he’s not celebrating. He doesn’t want to mark it, the slipping away of the thin protection legal childhood gave him.

“Nah, don’t worry,” Erwin assures, “I didn’t pay,” he frowns, and he’s patting down his pockets, sprinkling ash on all that white linen. Levi sighs, starts brushing it away even before Erwin has stopped his fumbling. He fishes out a small black and white portrait, holds it out. Levi frowns, stares at it.

He quickly shoves it in his pocket, checks over his shoulder, left and right, reaches up to clip Erwin around the ear. “Are you fucking stupid?” He hisses, furious, pulling Erwin down and rattling his head by his lobe. “Do you know what they’ll do to me if they see this? What they’ll do to you if they figure out you stole it? Goddamn,” he spits, releasing him, and because he sometimes forgets his own strength, Erwin stumbles back, a line of blood dripping down his neck.

“Ouch,” he says levelly, pressing his fingers to his ear. “Now I’m going to get blood on my suit. It’s going to stain, Levi.”

“You stupid fucking prick,” Levi snarls. “You think this is a game?” His palms are sweaty, he has to brush them down on his uniform, the back of his neck prickling, as if any second Kramer is going to walk up those steps and see what he has in his pocket.

“She was very beautiful,” Erwin says, “you look like her. And him, too.”

“Give me your light,” Levi demands, holding out his palm.

Erwin’s eyes soften. “Levi,” he starts.

“Give it to me.” He snaps his fingers. “I’m not fucking kiddin’ around, Smith, give it to me, now.”

Erwin relents. He passes him his lighter. Levi checks over his shoulder again, then sets the portrait on the stone balustrade, watches fire eat his mother’s face, burn out his uncle’s eyes. When it’s gone, he blows it off the edge.

“You’ll regret that, one day,” Erwin tells him.

“Do you know,” Levi breathes, inhaling the end of his cigarette. His fingers aren’t shaking, because he is who he is. If he was anyone else, they would be. “What Kramer would do, if he saw me with that?” He asks again.

“You’re eighteen,” Erwin says, softly. “You should remember her face.”

Levi doesn’t want to. “My mother was a traitor,” he recites, “she was a dirty, cowardly whore. My uncle is a traitor. If he isn’t dead, I’ll kill him myself.”

Erwin observes him for a moment more. “Yes,” he says, breezily, “well, when you put it that way.”

Levi is embarrassed by his outburst. He pushes his glasses back down over his eyes, appreciates the anonymity. “Look,” he mutters, stiffly, “I get what you’re trying to do – “

“What am I trying to do?” Erwin interrupts him, calmly.

Save me. “Point is, you shouldn’t – be so fucking obvious, Erwin. Erwin,” he presses, “look at me.”

Erwin does, with that slightly guilty look, like he’s a kid who knows he’s been caught out. “You don’t need to be looking out for me, Levi. I’m more than capable of handling myself.”

Levi probes his tooth with his tongue. It’s a new one, right at the back of his mouth. Wisdom teeth, they call them. “You’re not,” he says, flatly. “You’re a damned idiot.”

“What does that make you?” Erwin teases.

“The idiot’s janitor,” Levi mutters, and Erwin laughs, and their tension is forgotten, and Erwin knows he is forgiven.

“I mean it, though,” Erwin presses. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m the Beast Titan, now. They’re not going to – kill me, Levi.”

They’ve already killed you, Levi thinks, and pushes that thought, along with the gut-lurching twist in chest, down to his sunken place. Dead-man walking, he tells himself, morbidly. For all Erwin’s cleverness, he can be so fucking naïve. “Don’t get cocky,” is all he says.

“Lobov is going to be there, tonight,” Erwin continues.

Levi sniffs. He looks away, takes a long drag on his cigarette. “Oh yeah?” He asks, forcedly casual, leaning forward and tipping ash onto the motorcar below them. “He given you any trouble?”

“No,” Erwin says, “not since I ate Flagon,” he says, like it’s an everyday occurrence.

“But before that,” Levi clarifies. “He didn’t – try for one last – “

“What? Why?” Erwin demands. For obvious reasons, he does not talk about the details. “No, he didn’t. Not since – “ and Erwin clears his throat, scuffs his shoe against the ground, “y’know,” he finishes, head bowed, and it makes Levi’s heart break, remembering.

He does know, of course. Erwin might tell himself Lobov doesn’t go near him because now he’s a shifter, but Levi knows the truth. Those visits don’t stop just because you hold the power of titans. Erwin could be the strongest man alive – could be Levi, in fact – and it wouldn’t matter, because Erwin is Eldian and Lobov is Marleyan, and rich to boot, and so he can touch Erwin when he pleases, and the brass will gladly look the other way for some cash in hand, even if it means one of their assets gets broken down strip by strip. They prefer them broken, is the truth.

But Levi had had a little conversation with him, just before he shipped out. Had explained some things. Yes, he hopes Lobov is there tonight, in fact. He’ll meet his eyes across the floor and remind him of some truths.

“Good,” Levi nods, briskly. “Good. Glad to hear it,” he says, and pulls back, grinding the tip of his cigarette into the stone.

“You want another?”

“I shouldn’t. Kramer’ll be on my ass if I stink like smoke.”

“Suit yourself. You got any meetings lined up tonight?”

Levi clicks his teeth. “Some ambassador or other. I’ll be honest though, I’m fuckin’ wrecked,” he sighs, running his hand through his hair.

Erwin winces in sympathy. “I’m sorry,” he says, “maybe the General will go easy on you.”

Levi snorts. “Not fuckin’ likely,” he mutters. He feels apprehensive about the whole thing, the way he always does. Don’t think of it as, say, being a whore, Levi, Kramer will say to him. Just think of it as business. Even better – like a play. Just like a little puppet show, hmm?

Yeah, and Levi’s the puppet. He rubs his eyes beneath his shades. “Goddamn,” he mumbles. “I need to get on that mission, Erwin.”

Erwin looks at him, sudden, surprised. “What?”

Levi looks up, across the ocean, and tries to see what Erwin sees. “I’m eighteen,” he says, self-explanatory. “They’re not gonna waste a damn second. If I don’t get put on the Paradis expedition – “

“It’s a miracle they waited for you anyway,” Erwin murmurs, as if he’s not talking from experience, as if he’s not thinking about it right now, with Lobov.

“Reiss,” Levi mutters, shaking his head, waving his hand, “he – considers himself noble, I guess. He said, not before I’m a man, well, now I’m a fuckin’ man.” There’s something else on the tip of Levi’s tongue, that he doesn’t know how to say.

“Maybe it – “ Erwin tries, tentatively, “maybe it won’t be so bad. Most men – “

Levi shakes his head. “No,” he says, flatly.

Erwin looks at him sharply. “You mean – you’re not like most men,” he clarifies.

Levi shakes his head.

“And you’re sure?”

Levi turns his eyes to him, irritated.

“I mean – you’re not like me,” he continues. “You can’t do both.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Levi mutters. “It doesn’t matter. It wouldn’t be easier if they were tellin’ me to fuck men, would it? It would still be…” Levi thinks of all the scientists, the rubber gloves, having to put his body in a place where it shouldn’t belong, all that touch. He does not shudder, because he is him, and he supresses it down into his sunken place.

“It wouldn’t,” Erwin agrees, and he lays his hand next to Levi’s where it’s clenched, knuckles up, on the stone parapet. He doesn’t touch him, because no one ever touches him, but it’s a silent comfort, all the same.

“Anyway,” Levi shivers, even though it’s balmy and the sun is casting them gold. “Doesn’t matter. It’s what need to be done. For Marley.”

“For Marley,” Erwin agrees, stiffly. He flicks his cigarette, still smoking, off the balcony. “Is she going to be there tonight?”

“Who?” Levi asks, playing dumb.

“You know,” Erwin continues, like he hasn’t heard, and he’s picking another cigarette out the carton, with that slightly antagonistic edge to his voice Levi has learnt pre-empts a rant. It gets his back up. It means Erwin’s about to say something Levi has to damage control for. “Do you believe all that crap?” He asks, lighting up. “Really, truly, do you believe it?”

“I believe,” Levi reminds him, behind his teeth, “that Marley’s the best fuckin’ nation on earth – “

“No,” Erwin corrects, “I mean about – about lieges, and obedience. You really think you’re bound to obey the person you end up – bonded to, or whatever?”

Levi recoils, glad for his sunglasses. “I won’t know until it happens, I guess,” he says, tautly.

“How’d you figure they make it happen?”

“Kramer won’t tell me,” he says, and feels almost defensive on his behalf.

“Mmm,” Erwin muses, “that’s because, Levi,” waving his cigarette in the air, “Kramer is full is of shit,” he says, airily.

“Yeah? Who died and made you expert?” He demands.

“I’ve read,” he says.

“Tch,” Levi spits, “you and your shitty books. You think because you’ve read you know more about me and my fuckin’ kin than I do?”

“Well, it’s not just in the books, Levi,” Erwin continues, rationally. “Your uncle ran away – “

“He died,” Levi starts, instinctively.

“ – and your mother killed herself, which Kramer and all those scientists say she shouldn’t be able to do. And you don’t just – mindlessly obey,” Erwin scoffs, “you don’t obey me, for starters, or any other Eldians – “

“You’re right,” Levi sneers, “I don’t obey people like you.”

Erwin looks away. “People like me,” he repeats, flatly. “I see.”

Levi recoils. “That’s not what I meant.”

Perhaps without realising, Erwin straightens the band on his arm. “No, no,” he agrees. “I know. I know what you meant,” he says, and he’s being honest, but Levi thinks he’s still hurt.

“Hey,” Levi demands. “Smith. Look at me. Hey,” he presses, taking his arm and pulling. “I’m a fuckin’ bastard of Ymir, right? Just because they don’t slap a band on my arm doesn’t mean anything. It’s like – giving a dog a bone if it performs tricks – “

Erwin scoffs. “Don’t talk about yourself like that.”

“I mean it. I didn’t mean, because you’re Eldian. I’m just as connected to the paths as you are, just… in a different way,” he drifts off, thinking about the arbitrary unfairness of it all. “We’re both slaves, Erwin, there’s no point – shitting ourselves over semantics.”

Erwin looks at him, gently. The setting sun is reflected in his eyes. “You have choices, Levi,” he says, softly.

Levi looks up at him. “What?” He asks.

“Leeeeevi!” He hears, crying out behind him. He whips his head over his shoulder; Hange is mounting the steps on all fours, the way they do after too long in the Cart Titan. They take a running leap at him, crashing into his back and throwing their arms around his neck. “He’s back!” They laugh over their shoulder, “Nana, Mike, Pet – “

“Goddamn, we heard you,” Nana calls back. “And I saw the autocar. Nice wheels, Levi,” she teases.

“Yeah, well – Kramer,” Levi says, awkwardly, the way he always feels when his obvious favour becomes apparent, like when he’s reminded he doesn’t have to wear the armband, that he can go where he pleases, doesn’t have to bow, and beg, and scrape the way his friends do. He still does, of course. Just in a different way. “Birthday present.”

“When d’you get back, little man?” Mike grins, dozily. He ruffles Levi’s hair, makes him curse, smacking him away and trying to shape it back into something presentable. “Was it you that got that guy? The treasurer?”

“Chancellor,” Petra corrects. She kisses Levi on each cheek, fondly. “That was really smooth work, Levi,” she tells him earnestly.

He rubs at the place her lips had touched. “Tch,” he mutters, hating and craving the embrace of his friends. Mike and Nana have four years left. Petra has six. Hange has ten. The old man, War-Chief Shadis, only has one. Levi has to be careful, as Kramer reminds him. His friends are not friends for life. “How was Paradis?” He asks, for something to say.

“I’ll tell you something, those damn devils have some good air. It’s like being in the country,” Hange says, dreamily.

“How’d you even smell it cooped up in that damn titan for weeks on end?” Mike asks, incredulously.

“I can smell in my titan,” Hange scoffs, like they’re insulted at being asked. “Goddamn, they should really be calling you the Nose Titan, Mike – “

“It was good,” Petra tells him, picking up for them. “We even got to see some of those soldiers they have – the ones with the swords, and the capes. They were dreadful, of course,” she says, carefully. “You almost feel sorry for them. They live like peasants.”

“But you got what you needed?” Levi asks.

Petra nods, firmly. “So long as the brass gives us the go ahead,” she says, and then doesn’t say anything else. So long as. Shadis will break down their outer gate. Nana will crash through the centre. Petra will distract those funny flying soldiers and squash them like bugs.

“Exceptional,” Erwin says, briskly. “Well, we can all toast to that,” he says, lifting an imaginary glass. That makes them laugh, the six of them, as if they are real people, young men and women, standing on a balcony beneath a sun that isn’t setting for them, too.

-

Uri Reiss unsettles him, is the truth. He’s a small man who holds the world under his pinky finger, and has the air of a person who doesn’t seem to realise it. His uncle (curse him, spit on his grave, etc etc.) had been pledged to him for over twenty years before he ran for the hills. Levi can’t imagine what twenty years with Uri Reiss would be like. Potentially better than his frigid niece.

“Levi,” Uri says, fixing his lapels. “This is Kenny’s nephew,” he says to the girl by his side. “Don’t you think he has his look?”

Levi observes her, dully, and she observes him. “Levi,” she says, unhappily. Yeah, don’t worry sweetheart, he thinks antagonistically, this isn’t my choice either.

“Mr Reiss,” Levi nods, flatly. “And you must be Frieda, of course.” He takes her hand and kisses her knuckles and she looks about as repulsed as he feels.

But Uri is smiling blandly, like he hasn’t noticed his niece wants to sick up on the ballroom floor. “You have his eyes,” Uri continues.

“We’re Ackerman,” Levi says bluntly, “we all have the same eyes, that’s the point.”

Uri takes in a sigh he doesn’t release. “And his charm,” he says, brightly. “Kenny was also so terribly literal, sometimes. He did make me laugh.”

“I’m glad he entertained you,” Levi says, “that’s what we’re here for, after all,” and it’s out of his mouth before he can stop himself. He has the distinctive feeling of overstepping; it feels like missing a step on the stairs. He swallows. “I mean – ” he starts, the back of his nape prickling, aware that with one word to Kramer, Uri could have him facing fairly severe discipline.

“Oh, he did,” Uri says instead, like Levi’s words weren’t desperately inappropriate. “And such a hero,” he adds, dreamily, “giving his life like that.”

Levi straightens his shoulders. Uri knows the truth, Levi knows the truth, pretty much everyone in this entire city knows the truth: Kenny ran. But you’re not allowed to admit that, see, because Ackermen don’t run. There’s a word, in fact, for what Kenny did:

Escape.

He’d dropped his hat on Levi’s head. See, boy, he’d said, they’re sendin’ me away. Very important mission, he’d told him, tapped his nose twice. But you’re a strong little kid, ain’t you? You’ve got to remember, he’d said, taking Levi’s shoulders, you’re worth more than your loss. Remember that, Levi.

Levi hadn’t known what he’d meant, then. But after, he’d understood. The only way you keep people with titan-blood in check is through their family. They’d interrogated him. They couldn’t kill him, but they hurt him bad. Kramer put him Underground so long he forgot his own name. When he came out, they told him the story: your uncle died serving his country. But if you ever see him again...

“It’s a good thing,” Levi agrees. “’Cause you know, Lord Reiss, if I ever figured he was alive, I’d kill him myself.”

Uri seems to stiffen, slightly. “Ah,” he says. “Yes. That is understandable, perhaps.”

Levi lets his eyes drift to Frieda, his supposed liege. He wonders how much Uri had to pay for him. He wonders if a life as a bodyguard is better or worse than a spy on a tight leash, if Frieda could put an end to their plans for him. He looks at her, all that cold passivity. “If you’ll excuse me,” he mutters, “I’m supposed to have a meeting with an ambassador.”

As he crosses the hall, he spots Erwin, charming some foreign dignitaries. Oh, he can just imagine them saying, he’s one of the good ones, they’ll think, and then the women will enquire on the sly about whether he’s purchasable for an evening, and some of men try to take without even asking, because that’s what Eldians are there for, really. He meets Levi’s eyes over the rim of his drink. He’s trying to get drunk, Levi knows. He wishes he wouldn’t. But he nods at him, all the same, and feels something sick and scared in his stomach, looking at him. Like he’s seeing vulnerability in action, even though he doesn’t know why.

He waits in the hallway outside the allotted room, lights up with one of the smokes he poached from Erwin earlier. He still has his lighter. He’ll need to remember to return it. He hears clipped footsteps rattling down the tiles. He shuts his eyes.

“Did you talk with Frieda?” The footsteps ask him, parking in front of him. They don’t bother with pleasantries.

Levi sucks on the end of his cigarette. He makes Kramer wait for it. “Yes,” he exhales, along with his smoke.

“Good. And?” Kramer prompts.

“And what,” Levi replies. “You asking if I got down on one knee? Felt butterflies? Saw her eyes and felt undying devotion spark in my – “

“Stop,” Kramer orders. Levi stops. “She’s a Reiss, Levi. She’s the Reiss. You could do with a touch of gratitude.”

“Gratitude,” Levi muses. “Of course. Remind me again, my friends out there – they’re Eldian scum, right? But Reiss is different, because – “

“Because they have heroes’ blood. Like I say, Levi,” and Kramer says his name like it’s a curse, “you could do with a touch of gratitude. It’s only through their generosity that you don’t wear an armband, too.”

Generosity, Levi thinks. The generosity to make slaves of his family going back generations. Levi takes another drag, leans back against the wall. Tiny Uri Reiss and his cold niece. Maybe he and her will make a good pair.

Kramer blocks the door. “Levi,” he says. “Cigarette.”

Levi rolls his eyes and stubs it out on the oak panelling, flicks the butt onto the black and white tiles.

“Better,” Kramer tells him. Levi moves to push past him, and Kramer lays his palm against his chest, looms over him like one of those psycho puppets from the Yule fair. “As we discussed,” he reminds him.

“No backchat,” Levi recounts, dutifully. “No eye rolls. I am silent. I am still. I am a sexy, sexy potted fern,” he says, flatly.

Kramer exhales through his nose, slowly, like Levi is testing his patience. “Obey,” he impresses upon him, pointedly.

“Alright, old man,” Levi mutters, feeling antsy, “when have I ever not?”

Kramer’s hand moves fast. He pinches Levi’s cheeks in his grip, chin in his palm. “My name,” he reminds him, patiently, fist like iron, “is General Kramer, or Sir. Do you understand, Levi?”

It’s an order. “I understand,” he says, behind his teeth.

Kramer digs his nails into his skin.

“Sir,” he spits.

Kramer releases him. Levi brushes down his clothes, fixes his collar and rubs his cheeks. “Goddamn,” he murmurs, “now they’re gonna wonder why I look like I’ve been sucking cock.”

“Shut up, Levi,” Kramer orders. Levi’s mouth shuts.

He has Levi stand behind the couch while he does the talking. “The Ackerman,” Kramer is saying. “He’s our last male though, you understand. Precious commodity.”

“And it’s true what they say?” The ambassador asks.

“Very true. Levi,” Kramer demands. He snaps his fingers. “Ashtray.”

Levi obeys, taking the crystal tray off of the sideboard and holding it between his hands for Kramer to use, absently. He briefly fantasises about breaking it against his skull.

“And it’s a natural inclination?” The ambassador asks, eyeing Levi dubiously. His associate whispers something in his ear that makes him smirk.

Kramer shrugs. “They’re simply born that way. All of them are.”

“Born that way,” the ambassador muses. He accepts another flute of champagne from the server. “Of course – that’s not all I’ve heard.”

Kramer sniffs, slightly, distracted. He flicks ash in Levi’s direction, has him move to catch it in the bowl. “Well go on then,” he says, impatiently, like he’s ready to get this over with. “Say it. What you’ve heard.”

“You had another male,” the ambassador says, regretfully. “You lost him.”

“He died. Tragically. In service to the empire.”

“On Paradis,” the ambassador says, pointedly.

“Yes,” Kramer agrees, “on Paradis. What are you suggesting?”

Bastard, Levi thinks viscerally. Fucking piece of shit, who left him, who ran away and left him to them, knowing what they would do to him. How can anyone be so selfish? How can anyone flee, knowing a child is going to take your whip? Bastard, he thinks, hot and vicious, I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him myself, with my bare hands.

“… then, there’s the culling,” the ambassador continues. “Almost your entire stock, all at once.”

“Terrorism,” Kramer answers, and some of the others shake their heads, play-acting at mourning. “I raised most of them myself, as you know. They’re a valuable resource, and our enemies knew that, of course. They’ll do anything to cut them off from us, from our good friends, such as yourselves. Luckily, we still have a healthy male, and a young female who shows much promise.”

“Mmm,” the ambassador says, and it’s not an agreement. He casts his eye over Levi. “This one is small, though.”

“He wasn’t from the prime line,” Kramer admits. “But he’s more than capable. The best I’ve ever seen, a natural. It’s like the power decides to compensate for the lack of the rest of them.”

“The sire?”

“His mother was the carrier.”

But the ambassador looks unconvinced. Levi feels the back of his neck prickle with sweat. If he doesn’t like that look of him – that’s not his fault, but Goddamn, Kramer will take it out on his hide.

“And what happened to her?”

She had killed herself. An impossibility, for an Ackerman, Levi has been assured. But he knows it happened, he’s sat in the room with her feet dangling above the floor, the chair kicked on its side. They told him the new truth, after: she was killed. It was terrorism. You don’t come from damaged stock, a faulty line. Your mother did not kill herself. She was as obedient as the rest.

“Died, along with the others.”

“A pity,” the ambassador says, without much feeling. “Boy,” he addresses Levi directly, “that was you, wasn’t it? On the eastern front. The business with the chancellor for the treasury?”

Levi nods. “Sir,” he agrees. “All in a day’s work.”

Kramer shoots him a glare. Perhaps that was too cocky. Levi should be both omnipotent and subservient – the strongest man alive, but pretending he’s not aware of it.

“Huh,” the ambassador says, sucking on the end of his cigar. “Who would have thought.”

“You understand,” Kramer continues, “that he is far, far more powerful than he looks. To put it in terms we all understand – right now, he has the strength of three men. When he’s in his battle mode, it’s more like ten. I’ve seen him hold open the jaws of the Jaw titan. He has the scars to prove it, and we have the evidence to back it up, of course, facts and figures. Years of data, if you needed more convincing.”

“Impossible,” another man scoffs. “I could beat him in an arm-wrestle.”

“You’re welcome to try,” Kramer offers; they’ve done this before. Other ambassadors. Other businessmen. It’s a good party-trick. Except for the one time Levi broke the man’s arm. Kramer snaps his fingers in Levi’s direction. “Put down the ashtray,” he tells him.

Levi’s stomach twists. Goddamn, he thinks. He knows where this is going. This is another one of their acts.

“Roll up your sleeve,” Kramer announces, like he’s performing a parlour trick, like he’s in the ring up the world’s most fucked up circus. “Hold out your arm,” he orders.

Levi slings his dress jacket over the back of the couch, neatly. He rolls up his sleeve, slowly, and knows that Kramer is glaring eyes into his skin, willing him not to be tardy about it. He takes his little victories where he can, of course.

He holds out his arm.

Kramer takes his wrist, turns it palm-side up towards him, so the men can’t see the small circular burn, left from countless little shows like this, always the same. “Watch,” he advises the gathered crowd, “and tell me after if you think he isn’t the strongest.”

Levi sends himself away, down into the sunken place. He feels the pain, the tip of cigarette against the soft skin of his pale inner arm, but it’s someone else’s pain so long as he’s down here. The smell is harder to ignore. So are the cries, some of disgust, others of fascination. It’s very important he does not flinch, not even a twitch – that’s the whole point of this. Look at what he can do. Look at what he can take. Look at how he lets his masters treat him.

When Kramer is done, he releases Levi’s wrist. He lets it hang limply at his side. He’s slightly too sunken to be paying close attention to the conversation. He’s thinking, suddenly, of the portrait Erwin had given him. He had been right; he does look like his mother. He had forgotten, although that was probably for the best. He shouldn’t pry at those memories. Someone had ordered him, once, to forget them. And so he had. Although right now, he’s thinking about a metal tub, the kind you might wash clothes in, except he was sitting in it, filled with bubbles. Someone had held his nape and brushed cold water over his face and it had made him fuss, but she’d just chided him, gently. Kramer told him, your mother was the worst kind of whore, Levi. She was the kind who lies, to herself, to others. She killed herself, Levi. That’s how little thought she gave you.

But now he remembers her face. And he remembers other things, too. And he thinks – my mother gave me thought, she must have, otherwise she would not have taken so much care when she cut my hair.

“And the bond,” he hears the ambassador demands. “With the master, or whatever it is you call it. How do you generate it?”

Kramer pats Levi’s shoulder. “We have a process,” he says, “that’s near fool-proof. We start training them young, you understand – our scientists have written some fascinating papers, if you wanted to read them yourselves. Instil a fear-response to a specific stimuli from birth and you can trigger their responses with 100% accuracy. When the time comes to bond him, we take that fear, and mix it with a command to obey from a suitable host.”

“And then he’s ours?” The ambassador asks, and he sounds – greedy.

“Him? No. But one of his descendants,” Kramer assures, squeezing Levi’s shoulder. “Levi just had his eighteenth birthday, you understand,” and some of the men laugh, and Levi doesn’t think anything at all.

“Lucky boy,” someone says.

“Quite,” Kramer agrees.

The men are still talking. How many children do you anticipate he’ll be able to produce? A numbers-man asks.

Well, every day for six months of a year, Kramer says lazily, you do the math.

And if he doesn’t want to? The ambassador asks, like it matters.

Then he’s obedient, Kramer continues. “Levi,” he says.

Levi pulls himself back up from the sunken place. “Yes,” he replies, distracted.

Kramer raises his brows. “Sir,” he corrects him.

“Just ‘Levi’ is fine,” he says, before he realises he’s said it.

The ambassador laughs, but he’s laughing at Kramer. Levi breathes in, slowly. Breathes out. Kramer’s eyes harden. “And he even has a sense of humour,” he says, turning back to the men, “pay us extra and we’ll teach them how to dance, too.” He snaps his fingers as they laugh about it, counts each head, “nine glasses, Levi. You know how to count, don’t you?”

“So long as you taught me right, Sir,” Levi says, like he’s stupidly earnest, or just plain stupid, and can feel Kramer watching the back of his head. He’s going to pay for it, he knows, now, or later, or tomorrow. Kramer never lets bad behaviour go unpunished. He sets the glasses on a tray, sets the tray on the coffee table. Kramer pours out nine generous fingers.

He picks up the final glass. He tips in the mess from the ashtray. The men, laughing, taper off. “Levi,” he says, earnestly. “You’re a man now. Men drink.”

He holds out the glass. Levi does not take it.

Kramer leans forward and spits inside, swills it around, absently, then holds it out again. “Drink it,” he says.

You have choices, Levi, Erwin had said. What did that mean? Levi stares at the glass, the spit floating along the top like scum, the ash settled at the bottom like sediment. You have choices. What’s his choice? Drink it, or Kramer will send him Underground. Then, what’s his choice? Go Underground, or kill Kramer. Then what’s his choice? Run, or let them lock him Underground for the rest of his life, only taking him when they need more of his fucking progeny. Then what’s his choice? Run, and run, and run, like Kenny did. They’ll torture Mikasa for it. They’ll torture Erwin, in their own way.

He drinks it.

“Good,” Kramer says, dismissively. He tosses the rest of his drink at Levi’s face. “You can go, boy.”

Levi stumbles out of the doors. War-Chief Shadis has his arms folded behind his back, expectantly. “Well?” He asks him.

Levi blinks. “I – Sir,” he croaks. “I need a new shirt, Sir.”

Shadis eyes him, up and down. “No,” he says, “no, I think you’re done for the night.”

“Sir,” Levi says, gratefully. He lets his feet carry him, and doesn’t think of anything at all. If he hurries, maybe – maybe he can catch Erwin. He asks the valet, and he tells him he’s already left. “Alone?” He asks, and the valet frowns at him.

“With the tall shaggy one and the dyke,” the valet says, and Levi ignores the slight, if only because he wants to escape.

“Just give me my keys,” he tells him, and the valet doesn’t ask questions. There. See? Levi does have some power. He can commandeer a motorcar. The streets are busy tonight, normal people, living normal lives. Children stuck swung in the air, holding the hands of their parents. Women with strollers, groups of young men, laughing girls. Levi wants to mount the pavement and mow down all of them. Let them feel it, for once, the aching despair, the hopelessness. He does this for them, doesn’t he?

I don’t do this for anyone. There’s no pride in his work. He was bred to kill, and that’s all there is to it.

He keeps one hand drumming restlessly against the wheel, smoking with the other. He should roll down the window, but he doesn’t want to hear them all, all that happiness. He feels nothing but sick inside himself. Humiliated and pathetic and weak. He knows, instinctively then, that no matter what Kramer might say, this isn’t in his nature. Maybe it was for other Ackerman’s, the ones Kramer raised and trained, but Levi must come from a faulty line. Erwin must be right. His uncle, who ran, his mother, who escaped too, in her own way.

Erwin, he thinks. He pulls up outside the gates to Liberio. He doesn’t need to show his papers to the guards, they just wave him through with a deferential smile. After Kenny, Kramer had him moved here to better oversee his training. It’s been his home ever since, although he’s had people on his back about getting an apartment in the city. It’s perverse, but the walls make him feel safe. They make him feel like he’s a part of something, if it’s a something most people would give their right arm not to claim.

He pulls up beneath a street lamp and presses his head against the wheel. Breathes, in and out. Where is he? Liberio. It’s summer. It’s warm. His shirt smells like whiskey. “Suck it up,” he tells himself. “Suck it up, Levi. You stupid fuckin’ prick. Just suck it up.” He slaps his hands against the leather. He slaps them until they sting, red raw. He knocks his head against the wheel, activating the horn, again and again and again, and he feels blood slipping down his temples.

Only then does he sit back, exhale, slowly. He realises there are three boys, standing outside his window. Without looking at them, he rolls it down. “Fuck off,” he tells them.

“Are you alright, Mister?” One of them asks. They realise he isn’t wearing an armband, and take a step back. Levi kicks open the door, and they scatter.

“You,” he demands, putting on his best imperious voice, the way Kramer talks to him, the way he hears the brass talk to Erwin and the others. He clicks his fingers. “What’s that?”

The boy – too young to be drinking – stares at the bottle in his hand. “It’s – it’s – “ he tries to lie, “Mister, I can explain – “

Levi beckons, draws himself up to his full height, which is only just level with the kid. “You want to go to Paradis, boy?” He demands. It’s funny. He finds it funny. The kid stares at him like he’s going to piss his pants, and Levi feels sick inside himself, but this is funny. This is good. This must be why Kramer likes it so much. “It’s against the law to drink at your age. And your past curfew.”

“Please, Mister,” one of the boy’s friends begs, “we promise we’ll got straight home. We didn’t mean anything by it, we just thought you were hurt – “

Levi holds out his hand. “I will be requisitioning your liquor,” he says, arrogantly. This is funny, he thinks, this is fun, isn’t it? His hair is sticky with blood, he stinks like whiskey, he has Kramer’s spit in his belly. “You will go straight home, and thank your lucky stars it was me you met and not someone else.”

“Sir,” the boy says, gratefully, placing the bottle on floor by his feet and backing away.

“Go,” Levi tells them, and then, bending over to pick up the liquor, “run!” He orders, screaming. “Run! Faster!”

The strength of his own voice surprises him. He squeezes his throat, turns back to his autocar and slams the door, locks it with his key. He trails the rest of the way to the headquarters where Erwin lives. Orphan perks, of course. It had just been Erwin who lived there, when they were kids, but Mike and Hange and the rest have joined him, over time. Only Petra has family. That’s dangerous, he thinks, drinking straight from the bottle. If you don’t have family, they have nothing to use against you.

He mounts the steps to Erwin’s room on automatic, leans against his doorframe and knocks, once, twice, three times. He hears his bedsheets rustling, his feet padding against the floor. “Levi?” He blinks at him, sleepily. He’s only wearing his dress shirt, draped down to his thighs, top buttons popped and tie still loose around his neck. His hair is rucked up and messy around his brow, like he’s slept on it at an angle and the wax he uses to flatten it has moulded it into an awkward position.

Levi drops the empty bottle of vodka at his door with a ‘thunk’. “Erwin,” he says, and now that he’s here, he doesn’t know what to say. “Could I…” he trails off. “I wanted…”

Erwin pulls open the door a little wider. “Come in,” he says, hushed. As soon as Levi steps inside, he shuts it, carefully. “Shh,” he says, putting a finger against his lips. “We don’t want them to hear.”

“Hear?” Levi questions. He doesn’t know why he’s done this. He doesn’t know what he wants. Erwin’s room is unchanged since he was a child. The same books on the bookshelf, the same desk – too low for him, now, with his big long legs. Same childish drawings still pinned to the wall, although they’re yellow and faded from where the sun hits them, day in and day out. Levi settles for them. Maybe that’s what he came for. He paces across the room and traces them with his fingers. A big fat yellow duck, standing next to a crudely drawn skyscraper, the Lance, nearly 400-metres. Erwin had been obsessed with it, as a child, the sheer scale of it. My Titan, Erwin has printed, in neat letters. Erwin Gregory Smith aged 7 ½.

“He had just been taken to Paradis,” Erwin murmurs, “when I drew that.” He’s standing at Levi’s back. He’s close enough that Levi can feel his breath on the back of his neck.

Those fucking ducks. Erwin father must have told him: this is what you need to do. This is what you need to be. “For the good of Eldia,” Levi announces, slurred, “you must be a duck, Erwin. And so it is written.”

“You’re drunk,” Erwin says, but he sounds more fond than angry.

Levi twists. His back is against the wall. Erwin isn’t looming over him, not really. You have to be threatening to loom. Erwin could never be threatening to him. He looks up at him. “You ever think your old man was kinda a dick?”

Erwin’s eyes give away nothing. “Well,” he says, levelly, “he was a traitor.”

Levi shakes his head. “You know what I mean.”

“I don’t.”

“You will be dead,” Levi enunciates, speaks it into existence, the flat fact between them, “in thirteen years. Less, now. Every day, it’s less.”

“Yes,” Erwin agrees.

“You could have been a normal man,” Levi says, achingly. “I never had a fuckin’ chance, but you, Erwin.” He digs his finger into his chest. “You could have been normal. No titans. No Lobov,” and he ignores Erwin’s shudder, “no ducks. No training. You could have – “ he hiccups, “ – a wife and three kids. You could be a teacher, like your old man.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Levi,” Erwin says, “I’d probably still be using the classroom to hold seditious meetings.”

Levi shivers. “Don’t say that. Don’t joke about it.”

“Says you,” Erwin scoffs. The light from the orange streetlamp outside his window cuts a slice across the floor.

“No, Erwin, don’t – “ Levi looks away. “Don’t joke about it,” he pleads, imagining what they would do to Erwin. He tries to picture Erwin Underground, in the cold, in the dark, those long limbs pressed up against metal. Lobov’s hands leaving marks on his body. “Please,” he grips Erwin’s arms, above the elbows, “please, Erwin.”

Erwin stares at him. “Levi,” he asks, softly, “what did Kramer do?”

Levi pushes past him. He tugs the curtains closed, quickly, furtively. The orange slice disappears. “Nothing,” he lies, “I was just thinking.”

“Thinking what?”

Levi doesn’t know. “You remember when we were kids?” He asks, sitting on the edge of Erwin’s bed. “Goddamn,” he mutters, rubbing his face, “I was one scared brat, huh?”

“That’s not how I remember it,” Erwin says. He does something strange; he gets on his knees in front of Levi, on the rug by his bed. Levi is too drunk to question it, though, Erwin looking up at him like that.

He scrunches his eyes shut and blinks to clear them. “Really?”

“I always figured you were the scariest kid I knew, Levi. I never saw you cry, not even once.”

“No,” Levi murmurs, agreeing, “you get in trouble if you cry.”

Erwin takes his hand. He frowns at him, watching him face it palm-up at the ceiling, gently pick at the buttons at the end of his sleeve, push it up his arm. The burn is fresh and raw, weeping slightly. “Oh, Levi,” he sighs.

Levi takes back his hand, holds it to his chest. “That’s nothing,” he tells him. “That’s just pain. We all feel pain.”

“Yes,” Erwin agrees, but he seems to be holding something back. “You know, after you moved here – “

“Don’t,” Levi warns.

“You probably don’t remember,” Erwin half-laughs, slightly sheepish, “but you used sleep in my bed. I’d wake up, and you’d be curled at my feet – “

“I was too old,” Levi mutters, cheeks flushing, “I should have known better.”

“No,” Erwin says, softly. He presses his hand to his cheek. “You shouldn’t have. I was a traitor’s son. But you didn’t care about all that, Levi.”

“I just wanted somewhere warm to sleep,” he lies.

“Maybe,” Erwin seems to decide to indulge him. “Hey, d’you ever know what happened to that stuffed animal you had? The little rabbit, with the soft ear.”

Levi shakes his head, uncaring. “Kramer probably had it incinerated.”

“Probably,” Erwin sighs. He drops his hand to Levi’s thigh.

Levi’s mouth is dry. The room is spinning, slightly, even though he’s sitting perfectly still. Erwin doesn’t move his hand, not for a long while. And then his thumb slides, slightly, so it’s pressed to the inside of his thigh.

“Erwin,” Levi whispers. He watches his nose, his mouth. He meets his eyes. Erwin tips his chin up; Levi leans down. He tastes like cigarettes and champagne. It’s the first kiss Levi has ever had. It’s probably the only one that will ever mean a damn.

The door is not knocked open. It swings slowly, creaking, in a slow arc. Levi blinks, pulling back to stare with horror; the shadow in the doorway, tall and thin, while they both stand, quickly.

“Tsk,” Kramer sighs, “and here I was, bringing you champagne to toast a job well done.”

Erwin steps in front of him, his arm wrapped back against Levi’s hip. “I’m drunk,” he says, “that’s all. I’m just drunk. I made him. I ordered him. He obeyed.”

Kramer is eyeing him, absently, like he doesn’t know what to make of it. “Oh? He obeyed you, did he?” His eyes drift to Levi. “What a good boy he is, then.”

“Kramer – ” Levi starts.

Kramer lifts his brows. “Kramer?” He repeats. “Have you forgotten your place, boy? You think because you don’t wear one of those damn armbands you get to speak to me like you’re an equal?”

Levi shakes his head. Don’t speak unless spoken to, it’s the first damn thing they taught him. He grips the end of Erwin’s sleeve, the hand that’s pressed protectively against Levi’s hip, as if he can pull himself into him, crawl into his skin. Kramer watches it. Levi sees his eyes track it.

“Oh dear,” he says, heavily.

“Sir,” Levi tries again, “permission to speak, Sir,” he demands. If he can just head this off before –

“Denied,” Kramer tells him. He stalks forward. He’s tall, taller than Erwin, even, regarding him from the end of his thin nose. “Do you have words to explain yourself, Smith?”

Levi can feel Erwin unflinching. “I made him,” he repeats. “I’m drunk. He’s drunk. It was my order.”

Kramer is silent, as if processing Erwin’s words. “You don’t deny it, then,” he says, heavily. “Are you corrupting him, Smith?”

“More than you have already?” Erwin replies, calmly.

Kramer strikes him. Erwin’s cheek whips to the side, he stumbles back against his bed. It will sting, yes, but it will humiliate him more. The thought enrages Levi, fills him with something thick and hot and putrid, from the tip of toes all the way to his head, filling him up like a poisoned, mulchy soup. You don’t humiliate Erwin Smith. He watches Erwin frown, slightly, press his fingers to his bleeding lip. He sucks the blood off his thumb.

It’s a threat, or a reminder. Kramer raises his palm again.

Levi doesn’t remember moving. By the time he realises what he’s done, his knuckles are bloody. Kramer is bent double, clutching his face against Erwin’s wall, sneering up at Levi with rage, pure and simple. “No!” Erwin cries. “Levi – “

Levi stares at his bloody knuckles, and back at Kramer. No. No, he did not – he couldn’t have – not Kramer, is he mad, does he have a death wish –

He takes a step back, just as Kramer takes a lurching one forward. “You sick little fuck,” he says, and he’s not talking to Levi. He spits blood on the floorboards. “What, Lobov wasn’t enough for you, hmm? You decided you’re going to flex yourself on him, now? Bring out the devil in him? Do you understand,” Kramer snarls, “how much of my reputation is staked on this brat? The last thing I need is some rich man’s whore – “

Levi sparks, again, he can’t help it. He puts himself between Kramer and Erwin, his arms splayed out protectively, putting himself between Kramer’s advance. The stupidity of it, protecting a shifter against one old man. “Don’t,” he warns him, snarls it. You don’t say those things to Erwin, as if that’s all he is. He’ll tear out the tongue of anyone who dares.

Kramer’s eyes fix on him like he’s seeing him for the first time. “You little shit,” he spits again, “you’ve broken my nose.” He lurches forward once more, and straightens his back, looming over them both. It almost triggers some kind of primordial fear in Levi, but his priority is Erwin, and then himself, in that order.  “Well, like uncle like nephew, hmm?” Kramer sneers, and Levi doesn’t know if he means the nose-breaking, disobedience, or the fraternizing.

“Levi,” Erwin is saying, urgently. Not now, Erwin, Levi thinks, frustrated. Just shut up and sit down and let me handle it.

Kramer laughs. He dabs his hand beneath his nose. “Enough,” he says. “Levi. Do you want to go Underground?”

Levi freezes. And then he remembers. He is not a human. He does not get to lie in bed with someone who’s hands are warm and whose jokes make him laugh inside himself and who doesn’t mind that he doesn’t smile to show it, who smiles enough for the both of them. He shakes his head, rapidly, desperately.

Kramer dips his hand to ground, picks up the bottle of champagne by its neck. “Levi,” he orders, “stand against the wall. Face outwards.”

Levi obeys.

“General Kramer,” Erwin starts, beseeching. “Please. He didn’t mean anything by it, you know he didn’t. It was me that did it. He’s probably just – tired, from his mission, overworked. He probably doesn’t even know what he did.”

Erwin should not be lying for me, he thinks, it’s me that lies for Erwin. Back flat against the wall, palms against the peeling paint. He thinks Kramer might beat him. That is preferable. He can take a beating, easy. It’s a relief. He wants Erwin to stop protesting it, so he can just get this over with.

“He probably doesn’t,” Kramer agrees. “You’re right. He doesn’t even know what he’s done.” And he lifts the bottle, spins, and cracks it against the side of Erwin’s head.

Levi rocks forwards. “No!” Erwin cries out, even as he crunches against the floor, eyes watering. He stares up at Levi. “Don’t,” he orders, “Levi, do not touch him. Don’t give him any more reason to – “

“Underground,” Kramer warns, snarling. Levi is rooted back against the wall.

Erwin curls into a ball automatically, instinctively. Kramer beats him, with his fists, with his feet. “Keep your eyes open,” he warns, “watch.”

He watches, but doesn’t see. He covers his ears with his hands so he doesn’t have to hear. Erwin’s blood sprays across the floor. Kramer beats him until he’s more pulp than human. Levi is the strongest human alive. Levi stands there, and does nothing. Don’t, he hears, and, Underground.

When he’s finished, Kramer smoothes his hair back against his head, hucks a glob of spit Erwin’s face. Erwin inches himself across the floor, smearing blood on the tile. Kramer has crushed his face beyond recognition. Levi stares at it, unblinking, and thinks it’s relief that Erwin’s eyes have been obliterated, so he won’t have to see him, the coward that he is.

“Levi,” Kramer says, and his voice is calm, even as he scuffs some of Erwin’s insides off his shoe. “You are going to walk down to booking and tell them that you’re being interred until further notice. Then,” he says, “you’re going to crawl into your hole and stay there until I decide otherwise. Do you understand?”

Erwin is making a strange noise, like a gurgling.

They’re going to put him underground. They’re going to do it again. They’re already going to hurt him, why does it matter if he doesn’t fight? He should fight. He could kill Kramer, easily, can see it in his mind’s eye right now. He will grip his head and smash it into the wall again and again until it bursts. They can’t punish him any worse than they’re about to, so why doesn’t he just fight –

“Get up,” Kramer orders, disgusted. “I think you’ve embarrassed yourself enough for one night, don’t you?”

Levi is numb. Kramer does not follow him. He does not send guards with him. There is no part of him which doubts, for even a second, that Levi will obey. And he’s right. Levi will obey. He doesn’t know if what Erwin says is true – he doesn’t know if it’s his blood which carries him down to the old training centre, or if they’ve just broken him beyond belief, but he obeys regardless. Hange and Nana are standing outside the dorm, sharing Nana’s shawl and laughing at something, anything. “Levi!” They call, and when he walks past them, out into the night, one foot in front of the other and covered in blood, they must realise.

What will they do to Erwin? He thinks, dumbly. They wouldn’t terminate him, not so soon, not over such a little mistake, would they? It would be Levi’s fault. Levi’s selfishness. He’d just wanted to feel like a real person, for once. He pushes open the door to the training centre. He can hear sneakers squeaking against the floor of the indoor court. It’s Nile, one of the night soldiers, who is seated at the desk, reading a porn magazine with a cigarette between his lips. He startles when he sees him, tries to hide it. “Levi,” he splutters, “you shouldn’t sneak up on a guy like that.”

Erwin’s blood is crusted on his face, he thinks, absently. Blood and tissue. He won’t be able to wash now, not until his discipline is finished. “I am being interred until further notice,” he says, numbly.

He stands there and waits. He hears Nile on the telephone in the back office, talking tersely with someone down the line. Levi does not move. He hears those squeaking sneakers. “Mr Levi?” Someone says, a child. Just little Eren, armband displayed proudly on his arm, wearing bright red gym-shorts. “Are you going to watch us play, Mr Levi?” He asks.

Levi blinks at him. “No,” he says, and watches him slurp thirstily from the water fountain. “Is Mikasa with you?”

“Nuh uh. She has to go with Dad, because of the party. All the adults are at the party, so War-Chief Shadis said we could play ball here until it’s finished.”

Levi’s stomach sinks. Of course. She would have been paraded tonight, although she’ll be too young to know what it means.

“Were you at the party, Mr Levi?” Eren asks, chirpily.

“Yes,” Levi says.

“Why are you waiting here? Are you in trouble?”

“Yes,” Levi tells him.

“Oh. I didn’t know grown-ups could get in trouble.”

“I’m not a grown-up,” Levi hears himself say, distantly. “You – you say hello to your father for me, would you? And tell him I’ll be down to visit you and Mikasa soon.”

“Will you play with us next time?” Eren asks, excitedly. Levi wonders if he’s seen the blood or if he’s so desensitised to it that it doesn’t even register.

“Yeah,” Levi promises. “I will.”

Eren trundles off, shoes squeaking against the floor. He opens the doors to the gym; Levi hears the other children, laughing. Little Armin and Jean and Connie and Sasha. The doors swing closed. Nile reappears from the back office, holding a tall glass of water. He clears his throat.

“Yeah,” he confirms, not meeting Levi’s eyes. “You’re going under,” he says, and lets him drink the entire glass. He doesn’t know the next time he’ll be able to. He drinks it in one, then sets it very carefully, very neatly, on the desk. He passes over his aviators, his belt, his shoes. “Keep the jacket,” Nile says. It’s a dangerous indulgence.

“If you see Erwin,” Levi says, absently. “Could you tell him I’m sorry? It won’t happen again. I was just…” he searches vacantly for the right word.

He realises he hasn’t spoken. “C’mon,” Nile says, quietly. He leads Levi down the hallway, down the stairs, and lower still. The cells here are ancient, a leave-over from the titan war, a century ago now, when this building was used by the government for interrogation and reconnaissance. He tries to imagine his ancestors working here, taking prisoners. He wonders if they ever imagined it would end up like this.

Nile is fumbling with his keys. Levi wants to tell him to hurry up. Not that he’s eager. He just wants this part over with. “Sorry,” Nile mumbles, holding open the door to the cell. He unlocks the metal slab, the trapdoor in the centre of the cell. Even when Levi was a child, it was too small.

Levi crawls in, taking the short ladder one rung at a time. Nile waits for him to settle himself at the bottom. He can stand up straight, but can only sit with his legs bent. It smells like wet, bleached metal. Rust. Old blood, old shit. Nile shuts the lid. Levi listens to him lock it. He hears him lock the door. It’s dark.

He realises, sometime later, that he still has Erwin’s lighter. He fumbles for it in the dark, in the cold, watches its flame, reflecting light off the walls. Ignite, and die. Ignite, and die. Ignite, and spark.

-

He hears the door to the cell opening and closing, rusty corrugated metal. He has lost track of time. It could be night, it could be day. He lifts his eyes upwards, knees pressed to his chest, to stare at where he thinks the food slot might be. “Kramer? Sir?” He asks, whoever it is. He’s very cold. “Could I come out now?” He tries, hoping, arms wrapped around his chest to conserve warmth. Empty ration cartons are scattered around him, it reeks like sweat and waste. “Please,” he croaks, “I won’t… I won’t do it again, I promise,” he says, even though he can’t remember precisely what it was he did that was so bad in the first place.

He hears footsteps on the ground above him. His legs are so numb. There’s a rattle of a gas-lamp being set down on the metal trapdoor. The food slot is pulled open.

“Levi?” Erwin whispers.

Levi stares up at him, shrinking away from the sudden light. “You can’t be here,” he says, shaking his head. Stupid Erwin. Stupid, foolish Erwin, who never uses his damn head, who just does things, like he doesn’t even know there are consequences for words, and for actions. “Erwin, they’ll – “

“I don’t have much time,” he hisses. “Nile let me in but they’ll have his head if they find out I’ve been down here. It’s been four days,” he tells him, falling back into the familiar old routine, the things he used to say to keep Levi sane when they were children, “it’s just past midnight. I’m fine,” he dismisses, before Levi can ask, “Levi, you need to know – I have a plan, okay? And you can’t know it until I do it, but it’s going to save you. It’s going to save both of us. I’m going to get you out of here, Levi,” and he says it with all the earnestness he used to have, back when he was a boy.

“No,” Levi croaks, “you can’t be here. You can’t be here, they’ll terminate you.”

Erwin scoffs. “No one’s terminating me,” he whispers, “I’m the best they’ve got and they know it. Levi, they think they can control me now, understand? Trust me, I’m going to make this work for both of us. This is leverage. Just trust me. Do you trust me, Levi?”

Levi shouldn’t say. He should scream for the guards so they take Erwin away and maybe then they won’t lock him down here for longer when they get found out. Everyone gets found out, eventually.

“Yes,” he whispers.

“I know you do,” Erwin says, warmly. “And I trust you too, Levi. More than anyone, understand?” His voice echoes down into the silo.

Levi shakes his head. “Shouldn’t,” he warns him, “shouldn’t, don’t trust me. They’ll order me and I’ll do it – “

“You touched me, Levi,” Erwin says, quietly. “You came to me. You did that of your own free will, because you wanted it, and because I wanted you.”

Levi buries his head in his knees, tears at his hair.

“They’re going to try and tell you it was a lie,” he says, “but it wasn’t a lie. I know that, even if sometimes you have to forget. I’ll remember for you.” Erwin goes quiet; they both sit, frozen, at the sound of footsteps past the cell.

But they pass. “I have to go,” Erwin hisses down at him. “I’m sorry, Levi.”

Wait, Levi says into his knees. Erwin closes the food hatch. It is dark again. “Don’t go,” he croaks.

-

When they drag him out, he’s more animal than human. His legs are so stiff the guards have to carry him down the hallways by each arm, feet dragging numbly against the ground. He knows from experience not to open his eyes. He can tell from the air that it’s night, cooler than it would be during the day, with none of the bright bloom beneath his lids. A small mercy, maybe. They hose him down and put him fresh clothes, just a thin vest and slacks. “My glasses,” Levi croaks, and Kramer hasn’t forgotten; Levi slips his aviators back over his eyes, blocks out the worst of the light from bulbs and streetlamps, and feels more human for it.

The put him in the chair in Kramer’s office, opposite his desk. He’s still very cold, dripping wet. He turns his head to Erwin, who ignores him, and wonders if he hallucinated his visit, whenever that would have been. A week ago, maybe. Levi is a poor gauge of time.

Erwin does not look at him at all. He has his leg folded over his knee, watching Kramer. Shadis is standing, silent, a sentinel, behind Kramer’s chair. “Levi,” Kramer says, levelly. He leans forward, and stubs his cigarette out in the crystal ashtray. “Did you enjoy your vacation?”

Levi shakes his head, hastily, dumb.

“No,” Kramer agrees, “of course you didn’t. Do you want to go back?”

Levi shakes his head again, this time desperately. “Please,” he croaks, and he hasn’t spoken in so long it sounds like tires over gravel

Kramer waves his hand in his direction. “Well?” He prompts.

Levi says some words. I’m sorry, or, I won’t do it again, or, I’ve learnt my lesson. It’s all the same thing. Just words he’s learnt to say, in the right order, at the right time, automatic, mindless, like the rest of him.

Kramer sniffs, sits back in his chair. He takes his time with his cigarette pack, carefully selecting one, lighting up, methodical. He plucks it from his lips, holds it between two fingers, and exhales slowly. “You’ll speak only when I tell you to speak, Levi.”

Levi nods again. He’ll do anything.

“Now,” Kramer continues, shifting the file on his desk forward, absently flicking through the pages, “Smith has given me one version of events. I’d be curious to hear if your version matches up,” he elucidates, tapping his ring finger against the page. Levi doesn’t even try to read it. “You realise, of course,” Kramer sighs, almost tiredly, like this is boring, or a waste of his time, “that fraternization between an Eldian and a… you, is strictly prohibited, for obvious reasons.”

Levi nods. He knows, he knows, he knows. He just wanted to feel human, just for a little bit.

“So I don’t think I should have to tell you what’s at stake, based on your testimony,” Kramer tells him. “Obviously, Smith holds the beast titan. That is an unavoidable fact for the foreseeable future. But there’s no guarantee he gets to complete his term, Levi. Shadis tells me I have six very promising young warriors who only need a couple more years before they’re ready. And I would get you a front-row seat, Levi, to his ceremony. Would you like that?”

Levi has to pause before he shakes his head to think about what answer Kramer wants to hear. He doesn’t even think about Erwin, sitting at his side, motionless.

“You’re young men,” Kramer says, like that’s all they are, like they’re normal boys, with normal lives. “I’m not… immune, to that fact. I was young once. You’re at that age. This is good, in fact,” Kramer insists, “considering your duties, Levi. This means it might go easier for you. You’re ready for it, aren’t you?”

Levi nods, staring at the cord of Kramer’s telephone.

“Young men,” he insists, “experiment, don’t they? They get curious. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to handle something like this. Could be worse,” Kramer considers, jerking his chin at Erwin, “he could be a woman, and then we might have a whole other problem on our hands. Of course, I know all about his inclinations – “

Levi feels Erwin’s hands curl into fists.

“ – given his business with Lobov, but he’ll be dead in thirteen years. We don’t need anything more from him than that, Levi. We don’t care if little Nana and Mike fool around, now and again, play-act at marriage. But for you,” he says, heavily, “well. This proclivity would be an issue, wouldn’t it?”

Oh God, Levi realises hysterically, they don’t know anything about anything. Not about what Erwin’s been saying, all kinds of seditious things. They’re just worried about my fucking junk.

“It’s just an experiment, Levi. Isn’t it?” Kramer presses, pointing between them. “Boys being boys. A mistake.”

Levi nods, hastily. Yes, it was a mistake, he’s already telling himself, and he knows if he says it enough he’ll convince himself of it. That’s how this works.

“I want to hear you say it,” Kramer orders.

Levi swallows, works up enough spit that his words don’t sound like gravel. “It was a mistake,” he rasps. “We made a mistake. Please don’t hurt him.”

Kramer’s eyes flash. “Ah,” he says.

What? What has he said wrong? He looks at Shadis, helplessly. Shadis clears his thoat. “General,” he starts, “there we go. That’s the end of it, isn’t it? If he says it’s a mistake, then it’s a mistake – “

Kramer holds up his hand, silencing him. “It was a mistake,” Kramer repeats.

Levi nods again, desperately. He can feel Erwin beside him like a monolith, unreadable.

“Good,” Kramer says shortly. He closes the file and smacks it on the desk, making Levi flinch. “Because that’s not what he tells me.”

Levi can’t help it. He twists, stares at Erwin’s impassive face with a mounting horror. No, he thinks, and can’t think anything else. They’re going to put him back Underground. A month, longer, like when Kenny left. Erwin is just staring straight ahead, a look on his face almost like boredom. He’s damned me, Levi thinks, why? Why would he damn them both, what’s the gamble, what’s the plan –

“No,” Levi whispers, “no, no there’s some – it’s a mistake. It’s a mistake.”

“Did I tell you to speak? And pull yourself together, boy,” Kramer says, disgustedly, “you look like you’re about to piss yourself.”

Levi accepts the order. He inhales, slowly, inhales all of it – the fear, panic, confusion – and exhales it out into numbness, the empty blurring inside himself.

Kramer scoffs, looks over his shoulder at Shadis. “That’ll never not be terrifying to watch, you know that?” He says, and then turns back to them both. “Now,” he continues. “Levi, I have some questions for you. And you’re going to answer them. If you don’t answer them honestly, I will know, because I know the answer to most of them. And if you answer them honestly, you have my word that no matter what your answers are, you will not be put back in that box. You’ll walk out of here, and I’ll see to it you get a good meal, a bath in the officer’s quarters. That would be good, wouldn’t it? To get all that filth off of you?”

Levi nods. It would be.

“Good. See? Now we’re getting somewhere.” Kramer folds his hands in front of himself, leans forward expectantly. “So, how long has this – experimentation been going on, Levi?”

The truth is – is what? That last time was the first time, but that there have been other… that he’s felt more than that, for longer. “It was the first time,” Levi tells him, “but I’ve wanted to for longer.”

Kramer makes a disgusted noise, irritated. “Fine,” he says, like he expected this. “How long?”

Levi shuts his eyes. “A few – “ he manages, then has to swallow to work up saliva, “ – a few years,” he says, vacant.

“A few years,” Kramer repeats. “And when you started feeling things like that, Levi, why didn’t you report it immediately?”

Shadis scoffs. “He’s a boy – “

“Are you forgetting yourself, Keith?” Kramer snarls. Levi flinches, but only inside himself, too sunken. “Levi,” he orders, voice tighter, harsher, “why didn’t you report it, immediately?”

“I didn’t know what it was,” he admits, absently.

“Are you stupid?” Kramer demands.

“Yes,” Levi replies, automatically, “sorry, Sir.”

Kramer’s eye twitches. “Smith,” he orders, “hit him.”

Levi tenses for a blow that does not come. Something about it shakes him up, a little, drags him up. The anticipation of a threat from which he is spared. He frowns, tries to push himself back under, turns to look at Erwin.

He seems unbothered, hands folded against his stomach, his brown leather loafer bouncing absently over his knee. “No,” he says, like he’s rejecting a breakfast option. He stares at his nail beds. “I don’t think I will,” he answers, and looks at Kramer directly.

“Excuse me, boy?” Kramer cocks his ear. “Did I hear you correctly?”

“I imagine so, General.” He pushes his thumb between his teeth. Kramer’s eyes widen; Shadis freezes. Do it, Levi thinks, suddenly, viscerally. He’d be caught up in it. It would be so quick.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Kramer whispers.

Erwin holds his thumb there, for a moment. And then continues. “Well, I don’t want to,” he says, “but I would like a fair hearing. I would like to help. And as a shifter, this is my right, in a way – this is how I get you to trust me.”

“Trust you?!” Kramer hisses, “You’re holding the strength of fifty-armed vessels in between your teeth.”

“I didn’t ask for it,” Erwin says, simply. “I just feel like you’re missing something obvious.”

“And what would that be, golden boy?”

“Levi is an Ackerman. I’ve been doing some reading – “

“We should never let any of your kind learn to read, it’s a danger.”

“ – and I think you’re wasting potential,” Erwin continues, earnestly, as if he doesn’t realise that for this, he has probably doomed Levi, doomed himself. They’ll never let him stay a shifter. They’ll have him eaten tonight by a placeholder. “The first Ackerman’s weren’t just bodyguards, General, or assassins. They were titan-slayers.”

“Titan-slayers,” Kramer scoffs. He waves his hands. “Do you see where we are, boy? Do you see many titans?”

“Not right now,” Erwin agrees. “But I know the plan for Paradis. You want to send Nana and Hange and Petra and Moblit to retake – “

“Boy!” Kramer insists. “Not in front of the asset!”

Erwin looks at Levi as if he had forgotten he was there. “But I think,” he continues, “that would be a waste. You should send Levi and I instead. He’s already the best operative you have, and on my back, we would be unstoppable – “

“Do you think we’re stupid?” Kramer hisses. “Letting him off-leash, as if we don’t know his uncle’s out there right now?”

“My uncle is a traitor,” Levi blurts, compulsively, without being asked. “He abandoned his people. If I see him, I will kill him myself. I will kill him with my own bare hands.” He blinks, shakes himself out of it. Kramer is eyeing him with something – almost like pity.

“Well yes, thank you, Levi, for that little performance,” he sneers at him. “That’s how I conditioned you, idiot.”

Levi doesn’t understand. He stares at Kramer, and Shadis, and then at Erwin, who’s eyes are sad. “My – my uncle,” he starts again, “was a traitor – “

Kramer throws up his hands with triumph. “You see, Smith? You think you know anything about anything, just because you read a book? I’ve been breeding Ackermen for decades. Titan-slayers,” he scoffs, “you think I haven’t heard the myths? That was then. This is now. Levi,” Kramer says, “Underground.”

Levi presses shoulders his ears, shuts his eyes. Submerge, he tells himself. Sink down, where you can’t hear him.

“You’re wrong, General,” Erwin says. “You’re wrong, or you’re a liar. You can’t make him do anything. You can’t make him obey, and you can’t choose his liege – “

“I can, and I will. Just like I did for his uncle. Just like I’ll do for sweet Mikasa, when the time is right. Just like I did for the rest of them, you stupid, little boy,” Kramer says, disgusted.

“For his mother?” Erwin asks.

The silence is deadly. Kramer pulls open his desk drawer. Very slowly, methodically, he fills his revolver with bullets. “General,” Shadis tries. “He’s just spent a week off-duty. If he gets wounded so soon – “

“Quiet, idiot,” Kramer dismisses. He cocks the gun, aims it somewhere between Erwin’s eyes. Then, lower. Then, lower still. “Even for one of you freaks,” he wagers, “losing your balls has got to hurt, no?”

Levi snaps his head upward. “Don’t,” he warns.

“Underground,” Kramer commands, “Levi, shut up.”

He wants to shut up, he realises. He wants to obey. He just can’t. “Kramer, I swear to God, if you so much as scrape the hair on his head, I’ll shove the muzzle down your throat until you’re shitting bullets.”

Kramer’s eyes move to him, sharp. The hand holding the revolver swings, points at him, instead. “You’re an ungrateful little shit, you know that Ackerman?”

“You’re not going to shoot me,” he says, dully.

“Want to bet?”

“Yes.”

“Levi,” Erwin says, quietly. It’s the first time he’s said his name. What, is he warning him? Levi looks at him. Erwin shakes his head, once, almost imperceptibly.

Levi sits back in his chair. Kramer narrows his eyes. “It would teach you a lesson,” he seems to be weighing up. “You know, I’ve often thought, it’s not like you need a tongue to do what you do, Levi. In fact, it would probably make you more marketable.”

“I see,” says a voice, “is this the expert handling we can expect from you, General?”

Kramer’s finger slips. The bullet hits the door-frame, just to the left of Uri Reiss’s head. “Lord Reiss,” he blurts, emptying the revolver of its bullets, stuffing it back inside the drawer. “I thought I – I made it clear, this is a simple business, an internal matter – “

Uri seems to regard them, all four of them, taking in the scene. He’s wearing a maroon sweater vest over a white-pressed shirt, has a linen jacket folded over his arm, like he’s just come back from an evening at the theatre and decided to stop by his favourite internment zone for drinks. He pulls out the chair from the corner, drags it across the floor. It screeches. He sits himself at the end of the desk, folds his hands in front of himself, and blinks expectantly. “Well?” He prompts. “Who would care to explain?”

“Lord Reiss,” Kramer starts, “I assure you – you have my word, Levi’s pledging to Frieda will not be impacted by this – foolish, childish nonsense – “

“No?” Uri asks, and his eyes briefly trail over Levi. “Dear God,” he exclaims, mildly, “what on earth did you do to the boy?”

Kramer arranges the papers on his desk. “A period of reflection,” he says, stiffly.

“A period of reflection,” Uri repeats. “And what sin was he reflecting this time? Did he look at you the wrong way? Did he refuse to eat his vegetables?”

Kramer’s jaw is tight. “Lord Reiss,” he begins, “if you have trouble with my methods – “

“Well?” Uri demands, and it’s cold, harsher than Levi thought a man like Uri was capable of. “What did he do?”

The word is dragged from Kramer’s lips. “Fraternization,” he says, slowly.

“Fraternization,” Uri says, as if taking this in. “And the boy is – how old?”

“Eighteen.”

“So to understand – you placed this young man in… solitary confinement, for more than a week, taking him away from his duties, including those he was supposed to be performing on my orders – “

Levi frowns. What orders? Uri never gave him orders.

“ – because he…” Uri finishes, expectantly.

Kramer points at Erwin. “With him.”

Uri raises his brows. “And?” He presses.

Kramer scoffs. “And?” He splutters. “And the boy has duties! And Smith is a – “ he pales, slightly, “an ELdian!” He seems to decide is better than the alternative, whatever it was he was about to say.

“Well, I’m Eldian,” Uri says, levelly.

“I didn’t mean – not you, Lord Reiss – “

“So perhaps, all this fuss is because the boy is a boy, hmm?” Uri sighs, and he folds his legs, as if this discussion about Levi’s imminent threat is very boring to him. “Gregor,” he scoffs, waving his hand, “I told you, years ago, that you couldn’t control it. If the boy’s a deviant, he’s a deviant,” Uri says, like there’s nothing to be done, “sticking him in a box isn’t going to worm it out of him. You can’t force people to love differently, unfortunately. Just look at his mother.”

Kramer’s face darkens. “You can’t force people,” he agrees, “but Ackerman owes devotion to – “

“To me,” Erwin blurts, “to me, Lord Uri. Levi has chosen me – “

Kramer stands so suddenly his chair topples, enraged. “Liar!” He snarls.

Uri’s brows are raised and – Levi does not know why, but for the first time, he thinks he’s genuinely surprised. “I see,” he says, and his voice is more gentle, now. “Mr Smith,” he says, in greeting. “Why do you say that?”

“Because,” Kramer interjects, “he’s a damn fucking – this is the one Lobov had,” he spits, “he’s a corruption. I told the council he was best suited for the front lines where he could just die with the rest of his people – “

“I know the boy,” Uri interrupts, hand held up to halt Kramer in his tracks. “Mr Smith,” he starts again, “you say Levi has chosen you. Why?”

Levi watches him, sees the steely resolve beneath the picture of the Good Eldian, all deferent and mild. “Sir,” he says, “I read – “

“Well of course he’s read,” Kramer spits, “he’s the son of a traitor, where else would he get his ideas – “

“Goddamn, General!” Uri cries out. “Would you – cease?” He snaps his hand in Kramer’s direction. The room feels like the barrel of explosives Levi had hidden behind the Alliance State building before he blew the damn thing up. Shadis raises a brow. Kramer looks fit to burst.

“Now,” Uri starts again. “What have you read, son?”

Erwin explains. Myths, first of all, and then scientific books. Erwin talks about titan-slaying and the paths and his grand plan, Levi riding on his back like a fantasy. It would be good to be in the clouds, he thinks. To be so far above it all. It might almost feel like being free.

“And, I have evidence,” Erwin continues. “The literature says, you generate a bond between an Ackerman and their liege when they’re afraid, and then the Ackerman will obey, so it doesn’t make sense that Levi listens to Kramer, unless Kramer is his liege. At least, I think that’s correct,” he says, knowing damn well the logic stacks up.

“Aren’t you a clever boy,” Uri says. “You must care very much about what happens to him.”

“I do,” Erwin agrees.

“Because, that’s the hidden half, isn’t it?” Uri smiles, wryly. “The reciprocation.”

“Lord Reiss,” Kramer tries.

“I know what I’m talking about, of course. Your uncle and I, Levi, were good friends. Very good friends. Old friends, in fact.”

“My – my uncle,” he starts, the words feeling weary from his mouth.

“Yes, yes, he was a no-good dirty heretic,” Uri brushes away. “Tell me, Levi, are you bonded to this boy?” He asks. He almost asks it kindly.

Levi swallows. He twists, searches Erwin’s face. But it’s impassive. It gives him nothing. He meets Kramer’s eyes, and they’re hard. Uri is waiting, patiently. The silence stretches on.

“Ackerman,” Kramer says, warningly.

“It’s alright, son,” Uri tells him. “You can tell the truth.”

“Levi,” Erwin says, softly, at his back. His voice sounds like it in his ear, like it’s coming from inside his own head. Levi knows the answer. He gives it.

“Shadis,” Kramer orders, “escort him back to his cell.”

Levi shakes his head. “No,” he protests, “no, you said if I answered – “

“War Chief Shadis, stay right there,” Uri counter-orders. “You’re sure, Levi? You’re absolutely certain?”

“No,” he admits, “I don’t know what it means. I don’t know what it feels like, I – Goddamn, I – “ he looks at Erwin, helplessly, shakes his head. Erwin smiles, sadly. He shrugs a shoulder. What can I do? It seems to be saying. It is what it is.

“Well, Kramer, you’ve ruined him,” Uri sighs, irritated. “Our last male, and look what you’ve done. Now, my brother thinks we’re better off keeping them in your hands, but if this display is anything to go by…”

“My Lord,” Kramer tries, beseechingly, “I’ve raised countless Ackermen, all of them good, all of them loyal, flawlessly. He comes from a – problematic line,” he says, waving his hand, frustrated, “his mother was a bad case, I could never get her to awaken. But I promise you, with the next one – “

“The next one?” Uri laughs. “What, the female? Oh, no, Kramer,” Uri shakes his head, tsks. “No, I think we’re past that, now. War-Chief Shadis,” he asks, “where is the girl, currently?”

“She’s fostered, Sir. With Doctor Yeager and his wife. Good and loyal Eldians,” he nods, hands stiff behind his back.

“And has she awoken?”

“Sir,” he agrees. “There was an incident, a few months ago.”

“Oh? An incident,” Uri says. “That doesn’t sound like control, Kramer.” He stands, rests his hand on Levi’s shoulder. “Look at me, son,” he tells him.

Levi does.

Uri is searching his eyes. For what? Levi skirts them away, can’t bring himself to look at the other’s man face. Maybe it’s just because he’s being kind. People aren’t often kind. “He still belongs to me, yes?” Uri asks Kramer.

Of course, Kramer answers.

“Then I’ll hear you out,” he tells Erwin. “Your idea has potential,” he says, releasing Levi’s shoulder. “And – General?”

Kramer seethes. “Sir?”

Uri fiddles with his cufflink. “The boy is bonded,” he says. “Nothing you or I do is going to change that, now. So you had better adjust, accordingly. There’s only two of them left, after all. You wouldn’t want to be out of a job.” He looks at Shadis. “Now, you escort this one,” he says, resting his hand on Levi’s head, “somewhere where he can get a good night’s sleep. And you,” he says to Erwin, “you come with me.”

-

Some weeks later, they meet out on the stretch of beach off the harbour. ‘Beach’ is putting it kindly; Levi has seen real beaches, now, with crystal waters. Not far from here, even, just an hour’s drive up the coast, there are towns and villages that have sandy, bright promenades. Liberio’s beach has sand that’s permanently damp and packed, peppered with rocks and debris. You’d only swim in the water if you wanted to catch a disease from the oil and waste the ships in the harbour dump into the sea.

It’s tipping into fall, and the waves are choppy. As far as Levi can see, it’s all grey. Grey sky, grey water, grey walls, grey ships. He shoves his hands in his pockets and pushes his aviators up his head, pinning his loose hair back off his brow. He just looks stupid wearing them in all this dark.

He doesn’t turn when he hears Erwin approaching. He’s got warriors in tow, Armin, Connie, Sasha, Jean and Marco. “Mikasa,” he calls out, absently, “Eren.”

The more of them, the better. There are no bugs here – Levi knows that, for a fact, and the waves by the rocky breakwater will cover their voices even if there are. Still, the kids help, their chatter doing most of the work for them. “Don’t eat rocks,” he tells Eren, irritated. “Mikasa, don’t let him go in the water.”

Levi walks the short stretch to the breakwater, hops on the rocks. Erwin follows him, and they walk some way out, balancing. “No one wondered why you’re suddenly so taken with baby-sitting duty?” He asks him.

“Well I’m a good guy, aren’t I?” Erwin asks. “This is the kind of thing I do. I’m a good Eldian, Levi,” he says, looking out at the water. “A very good Eldian.”

“This is the only place we can talk,” Levi tells him. “Are you listening to me, Erwin?”

“Always,” he says.

“Be serious. You realise, everything we do now – we have to be above reproach. Perfectly above reproach. They’ll only tolerate – “

“Levi,” Erwin says, softly. “I know.”

Levi nods, stiffly. “Good.” He says. “Fine.” He holds out his palm, demandingly. “Give me a cigarette.”

Erwin sighs. “You know,” he says, relinquishing the pack, “you’re paid more than me. You really could just buy your own.”

“Filthy habit,” Levi dismisses, even as he takes a drag so blissful he has to shut his eyes to exhale, head tipped up. “So? He asks him, sudden, “Do you think it’s true? Did you mean it? That I’m… bonded to you?”

Erwin shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says, breathing smoke from his nose. “You tell me. You feel any different?”

Levi doesn’t know really. They ran tests, made him answer questions, talk to scientist after scientist, and they all say the same thing, that Levi has chosen Erwin, although he’s not supposed to be able to choose at all. “If I chose,” he says, “then I think it was a long time ago.”

“When?” Erwin asks.

Levi thinks. “That first time,” he says, quietly. “When you came to me, after Kenny. And you read to me through the slot.”

“Levi,” Erwin tells him, hushed.

“It’s true,” Levi decides. “I remember thinking no one had ever been so kind to me before. Even though you knew if they found you, you were at more than risk, because of what happened with your father.”

Erwin laughs. Levi stares at him, wondering if he’s gone mad. “I see,” he says, “and that’s what triggered your devotion, was it?”

Levi feels prickly inside himself. “You find that funny, Smith?”

But Erwin shakes his head, still grinning. “Idiot,” he says fondly, “you saved me, first.” He sprinkles ash on the rocks, but is careful to avoid the water. “And again, incidentally,” he adds, looking back up with a slightly pained smile. “When were you going to tell me about Lobov?”

Levi shrugs. “Never,” he says, honestly.

“Levi – “

He remembers that last time, before he’d been shipped out. Erwin staring vacantly at his mirror, tracing all the places on his body the other man had touched with a sick fascination, veneration. Why do I let him, he’d frowned, why don’t I just fight back? Wouldn’t death be preferable, Levi?

Perhaps, Levi had thought. But he had understood. It had hurt him, though, the idea that Erwin could think the same things about himself that Levi did. No one deserves to think that. Especially not Erwin.

“What?” He asks, annoyed.

“Thank you,” Erwin says, genuinely. Levi turns his chin away. He doesn’t need thanks.

“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbles, scuffing a rock into the water.

“Uri said it was an honour,” Erwin tells him. “To be chosen.”

“Well shit,” Levi breathes, “you’re welcome, then.”

Erwin laughs. The children are screaming, but it’s happy screams.

“I’m not going to let you down, Levi,” Erwin continues, because he’s clearly got a goal in mind, and that means he’s not going to drop it until he’s said his piece. “I’m not going to ruin your trust. I’m going to help you, Levi. We’re going to fix it, what Kramer did. I’m going to save you like you saved me.”

Levi sniffs. He scratches his nose, absently, cigarette between his fingers. “You talk big talk,” he says, coolly. “For a duck, that is.” He tries to suppress his smile by exhaling his smoke through his lips, but Erwin’s laugh makes it break.

“I like your hair,” he offers. “You growing it out?”

Not intentionally, is the answer. He’d always kept it military short, or maybe, just because it was the way his mother used to cut it. He keeps trimming the undercut, but it’s growing longer. He’ll have to start putting it in a top-knot, soon. “I’m going through a phase,” Levi tells him, solemnly, and Erwin laughs again, kicks murky water with his foot.

“You should be careful,” Erwin warns, “you’re gonna look like the guys from Lobov’s dirty magazines.”

Levi snorts to hide his derision. “They’re such fuckin’ hypocrites,” he mutters. “All of them. Kramer and Lobov and Reiss – “

“Reiss?”

“Oh, c’mon,” Levi mutters, “‘your uncle and I were good friends, Levi, good friends, old friends, special special friends – ’“

“Alright, point taken. I guess I didn’t see it that way,” Erwin admits. “Y’know,” he starts, carefully. “He’s probably over There. If he’s still alive, that is.”

Levi blinks. “I’ll kill him myself,” he blurts, and then bites his cheek, wincing. “It doesn’t matter where he is. We’re here.”

“True,” Erwin agrees. “For now.”

Levi looks at him sharply. “For now?”

“Well, until the mission,” he rectifies, quickly.

Levi drags his gaze away, stares out at the brown ocean. The watchtowers and barbed-wire topped fences are at the edge of his vision. “Your father is there,” Levi reminds him, quietly. “Somewhere. If he hasn’t been killed by their – what are they called? Survey Corps?”

“Men with swords,” Erwin sighs, “isn’t that quaint? Like knights from a fairytale.” He clears his throat. “It’s death, though,” he adds, quietly. “Being a pure titan. There’s nothing left inside you, Levi. Trust me.”

Levi looks at him, and feels himself do so softly. “Erwin,” he murmurs, “what was it like?”

Erwin shrugs. “I don’t remember. I’m not supposed to.”

“But do you?”

He takes a thoughtful drag. “Maybe,” he says. “I don’t know if it’s real, or if it’s just – when you dream something, and convince yourself it happened.”

Yeah. Levi knows a thing or two about that. “Kramer’s never going to forget this,” he says. “We’ve shown him up too much, made him look like an idiot. If his method is shown not to work – “

“Who cares what that old sadist thinks?” Erwin dismisses, and then catches the look on Levi’s face. “Sorry,” he says, softer. “He’s not going to hurt you anymore, Levi.”

Levi shuts his eyes and exhales. “You can’t guarantee that, Erwin.”

“I can.”

“Just because you’re a titan and just because I’m the last male Ackerman… it doesn’t mean anything. In a few years, one of them will be ready to take your place, and they’ll be primed to visualise being – being a fucking duck, or whatever it is you did. And they’ll have more than enough of my…” what, children? He won’t call them that. Spawn is too cruel. Progenies, is the word the scientists use. “They won’t need me anymore.”

“Well, firstly, you sell your unique skill set rather short,” Erwin explains, levelly, “but that’s not what I’m talking about, Levi. I’m not talking about us being safe here, we can’t be safe here, not in a world that hates us.”

“Erwin,” he tries not to groan, pinching the bridge of his nose, “there is no other world.”

And Erwin regards him. “Isn’t there?” He asks, quietly.

Levi stares at him. He blinks. “You don’t mean – “

Erwin points. He points, out at the ocean, due east. “Over there,” he says. “There’s a place where being Eldian doesn’t mean you’re scum. Where – old men don’t molest you, and your father doesn’t betray you, and you don’t have to watch war criminals torture your best friend over and over. There are walls to keep them out. Well,” he says, as an afterthought, “for now, at least.”

“Erwin,” Levi shakes his head. They are alone, but he lowers his voice regardless. “You can’t mean – “

Erwin looks at him. “What do you think I mean?” He asks, calmly.

“They’re – they’re devils,” Levi scoffs, “they’re monsters. I’m barely even Eldian, Erwin – “

“Don’t worry,” Erwin says, “I know you can’t help it right now. But we’ll work on it, you and I. I’ll drag you from the Underground, Levi. I’ll do it for you, even if you’re kicking and screaming, with my own two hands.”

“You say that like it’s simple,” Levi mutters, and he has to look away, turn his whole body away. It’s… shameful, is the truth, what Kramer has done to him. Every day Levi sees it more. “Erwin,” he hangs his head, “please. All these – “ he wants to call them fancies, “dreams, flying, and Paradis, and walls – “

“We’ll take the children. Hange and Petra, too – “

“Erwin, stop,” he begs, reaching out as if to cover his mouth with his own palm, like he can stop the words coming out. “You’re going to get yourself killed. Worse than killed. They’ll put you Underground until they train Armin to take your place – “

“Levi,” Erwin says softly, prising his hand off his face, “forget the Underground.”

“I can’t,” he hisses. “Goddamn, you think if I could just forget everything – “

“You have choices, Levi,” Erwin tells him.

Levi wants to slip and brain himself on the rocks. “Fuckin’ hell,” he breathes, shaking his head. “You must think I’m the worst kind of coward, huh?”

Erwin doesn’t answer, but he’s frowning slightly, looking past Levi’s head, out over all that water. The waves crash against the rocks. It dampens the end of their pants. “Are you loyal to Marley?” He asks, finally. That question. The only question that matters. It’s the final straw; anyone who hears this conversation now would have no doubt in their mind what Erwin is discussing, what he really means by ‘mission’.

The practiced, perfect answer comes to mind: I am loyal to Marley. Marley is the greatest nation on earth. It is by Marley’s generosity that I live. I work hard to atone for my ancestor’s sins.

He bites it down, but the effort takes a lot out of him, palms sweating. His cigarette has crumbled away. Wordlessly, Erwin hands him his.

“I ask,” Erwin continues, “because you grew up here. It’s your home. You have loyalties, in your own way, especially because you don’t wear the armband. That’s why they let you not wear it.”

Levi smokes. “They let me,” he agrees.

Erwin looks at him sharply. “Are you loyal to Marley?” He asks again.

I’m loyal to you. Why? Because Erwin once risked pain to lessen his. Because he makes him smile. Because he’s clever, and because he’s fair. Levi does not say it. He stands on those rocks.

You have choices, Levi.

He doesn’t. He’s never had a choice. That’s what he told himself, at least, along with everything else: my mother was a whore. My uncle was a traitor. Marley is the greatest nation on earth. So long as I’m loyal, I will not be like the other Eldians. I am pledged to Frieda Reiss. I will give children for the glory of Marley. I have no choice. I do these things because I have no choice.

Erwin’s hands on his skin. That had been a choice. No; a defiance. You’re a stubborn little shit, Ackerman, Kramer would say. He has the marks to prove it. Eighteen years worth of defiance in cigarette burns and crop-weals and a fear of the dark and tight, enclosed spaces. He thinks, maybe, defiance is in his nature. That they couldn’t scrape it from him even if they tried.

Defiance. He grips Erwin’s shoulder, silently, head still bowed. Erwin does not say anything, not when Levi’s nails dig into his skin, when they twist in his shirt. This is a defiance, he thinks. It hurts him, near physically, but he has choices. He pulls Erwin forward. He stumbles slightly, has to bend down to reach Levi’s mouth. They’re just young men. It’s only the second kiss Levi has ever had. “Tell me again,” he his demands, whispers it against Erwin’s lips.

“You have choices, Levi,” he breathes, his hands on Levi’s face. “You have a choice.”

Levi can choose. Levi is defiant. The spray hits their hips, cold and unforgiving.

“Tell me again,” he pleads.

“You can choose,” Erwin says, “you are free.”

“Underground,” he croaks, their brows wet with salted spray, “say it. Order me.”

“Levi – “

He twists his fingers in his shirt, brow pressed to his chest. “God-fuckin’-damnit, Erwin,” he snarls, “order me.”

“Choose,” Erwin says, “if you want.”

“Choose what?” Levi asks him. “Say it. I want to hear you say it.” Defiance, he thinks. Who will hear them here, on these rocks, the ocean as their guard?

“Will you stay Underground,” Erwin asks him, “or will you fight?”

Levi lifts his head. The children’s voices, further now, carry down that narrow stretch of beach, beneath a grey sky, on top of grey land. Fight! Fight! They’d screamed it at him, armed with one knife, in that ring, all the brass watching safely from the rafters, the titan lurching towards him. Fight! They’d ordered him. Well. They had ordered him, hadn’t they? They never told him who for.

“Ask me,” Levi orders.

“Will you fight with me, Levi?”

The spray whips his skin. Levi pulls his shades over his eyes, lets the tips of his hair hang damp over his brow, cigarette extinguished. They stand on those rocks, the seabirds cawing above their heads.

Notes:

um let me know if ppl are interested in more of this. i kinda just... leave it open ended. idk if ppl rlly like this kind of thing but lowkey I'm bored af in lockdown so 👈🤪👉

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of albatross