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prologue
Eren is ten when Shiganshina falls, when the Titans come, when his mother is eaten before his eyes.
He is fifteen before he is allowed to join the military, and lucky to have stayed alive long enough to do so.
He is eighteen when he discovers that he himself is a Titan, and Captain Levi takes responsibility for him shortly thereafter.
He is twenty-two when he starts the Rumbling. He knows he will never live to see twenty-three.
.
36
After Levi’s squad dies at the hands of the Female Titan, Eren brings him a cup of perfectly brewed tea.
Levi frowns—it tastes as though Levi himself made it. He has been in the Survey Corps for ten years and no one has ever brewed it in exactly the same way he does.
.
92
When Levi enters the dungeon, he smells blood.
His body moves without hesitation. He vaults down the staircase and runs to Eren’s room, unlocking the bars in record time. Doesn’t stop in the doorway, doesn’t allow himself to be shocked, doesn’t pause for breath. Just keeps moving until he has forced the blade out of Eren’s fist—and then out of where it is piercing through Eren’s chest—and hurls it away.
“What did you do?” he asks as he gathers what’s left of Eren’s body. He inspects the damage; it’s never been this bad before. He’s thankful the kid is still breathing.
But is he healing? He better be, if he knows what’s good for him. This is beyond human medicine and Levi knows it.
“Captain…” Eren’s voice sounds faraway, his mind untethered from his body. “Captain, I need help.”
“I’m here, Eren,” Levi says. “I’ve got you.” Those are the only things he can say that wouldn’t be a lie.
“It won’t…” Eren tilts his head and looks confused. “It won’t let me. I need you to do it, Captain.”
Levi doesn’t breathe for a moment. Though fear is a familiar companion, he is certain he has never been more terrified.
“Eren,” he murmurs. “Eren, what do you need me to do?”
The only limb still attached to Eren’s body moves as the kid slowly raises his hand to indicate the nape of his neck.
“Your job, sir,” Eren says. “Please.”
Levi swallows back every curse that threatens to spill from his mouth. He has to fight to keep his voice steady.
“It’s my job to take care of you,” he manages.
Eren looks up at him then, searching his face. “Captain, please, just…” Eren trails off, eyes going in and out of focus. “Um,” he says, but his voice is clearer. “Wait. Um.” Eren looks around, down at his mutilated body, at the blood covering Levi’s hands and arms and legs and uniform. “Oh. Oh, no. Um. Shit.”
Eren is panicking now. Levi grits his teeth and tries to remain calm, because that’s what everyone expects of him.
“Are you healing?” he asks.
“Sir, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” Eren is frantic, but Levi can finally see steam rising from the wounds. “It’ll heal,” Eren assures him, and Levi stops himself from asking why it took so long to start. Then Eren mumbles, “You weren’t supposed to be back today,” and Levi—
Levi cannot deal with that. The idea that he could have come back to—to—
He tightens his hold on Eren and watches silently as the damage repairs itself. It’s a slow process.
“Sir?” Eren says after a while, and Levi looks down at him in acknowledgment, unable to trust his voice with any kind of response. But Eren’s green eyes go wide all the same and he whispers, “Oh, fuck…” Then a bloody hand is on Levi’s face and it takes a while for him to realize that—that there are tears in his eyes and Eren is doing his best to wipe them away.
Levi shrugs off the touch and forces himself to stare at the ceiling.
“I’m sorry,” Eren says again, voice small this time. “I’m an idiot. I’m stupid and selfish and I swear I know better.”
Levi doesn’t even have the energy to scoff.
“I’ll do better,” Eren promises. “I’ll be better.”
And Levi is already so tired, but…
I will, too.
.
681
Erwin is dead. Nearly everyone is dead. How does one mourn so many fallen comrades?
The mood is somber as the nine remaining members of the Survey Corps kneel in front of the queen who was once one of them.
Levi catches a glimpse of the first medal before Historia lowers it over Hange’s head. It looks nearly identical to the one he has been carrying in his pocket ever since Shiganshina, and Levi closes his eyes against the unrelenting grief.
He knows he is next in line, so he listens for the cues. Historia’s ornate gown rustles with every movement she makes; it isn’t hard to track her progress. He can tell she’s putting effort into stepping lightly, like the lady everyone expects her to be; her footfalls are quiet but still discernible.
He forces himself not to flinch when she tightens his own medal around his neck. He kisses her hand obediently when she offers it, focusing on how grateful he is that she is here and not dead on a battlefield.
It occurs to him then that he should probably tell her that the next time they speak.
He hears her move away and stop in front of Eren.
There are things he should probably tell Eren, too.
But something in the air is shifting, so Levi abandons those thoughts, eyes flashing open to analyze the threat. A moment of peace is clearly too much to ask.
Levi’s gaze lands immediately on Eren, who is poised over Historia’s hand. Eren’s eyes are wide and terrified and he is baring his clenched teeth in a grimace and Levi—
Levi has no idea what to do. Every muscle in his body is tense, ready to strike, but there’s no enemy here that he can see. So he focuses on breathing, on not overreacting, because he already gets enough shit for being too protective of the kid.
Or…well, he did. Before almost everyone was fucking dead.
“Eren?” Historia says quietly.
There is a long, awkward silence until Eren finally seems to come back to himself. He lets go of Historia’s hand.
The queen gracefully moves on to Mikasa as though nothing strange just took place, aware of the audience in the room.
She’s a good leader, Levi thinks.
Afterward, as soon as they’ve filed out the door, he grabs Eren and pulls him to the side.
“Hey,” Levi says. “What was that?”
The kid is truly awful at hiding his emotions; Levi can read the struggle on his face.
“It was nothing, sir,” Eren says at last.
“Oh?” Levi’s voice is mild, but he narrows his eyes, calling Eren on his bullshit.
He knows Eren recognizes the challenge. But then Eren’s gaze shifts away and he seems unwilling to answer it.
“It was nothing, Captain,” he says again, and Levi wonders why he’s lying.
.
773
He has always given Eren a choice. Always.
Until the day he sees Eren pinning Floch Forster against the stable wall, his tongue down that prissy little pissant’s throat.
There is no thought process to what he does next, no consideration. Nothing but instinct and movement. He rips Eren away and shoves him somewhere behind his back; he knows that Eren won’t run. Floch is on the ground before he can draw a new breath and it feels like between one moment and the next his face is battered and Levi’s fists are covered in blood. He barely manages to stop himself before he kills the cocky fuck.
He rises to his feet and can feel the graceful predator inside of him. He isn’t even breathing hard as he rounds on Eren.
Eren, who is looking down at Floch impassively, not at all bothered by what Levi has just done. Eren, whose green eyes rise to meet his as he simply stands there and waits to see what Levi will do next.
Levi grabs Eren by his shirt and pulls him down to eye level, voice low and dangerous when he speaks. Lesser men would cower, but Eren meets his gaze, fearless.
“I’ve put up with your ego and your insubordination and your stunning lack of restraint. I’ve exhausted myself with your moodiness and your hero worship and a thousand other things besides, but Eren? I draw the line at Floch fucking Forster. I’ve put up with a lot of your shit, but you will answer to me for this.”
Eren says nothing.
Levi snarls and pulls away, loathing the blank mask that Eren’s face has become. He takes a step back and only half a moment to come to a decision.
“Follow me,” he says, flat monotone, and Eren obeys.
Hands tacky with Floch’s blood, Levi leads them on a familiar route through the castle. He pauses to lock the dungeon door behind them before they step down the stairs, but if Eren has any reaction to this, he doesn’t show it.
When they enter Eren’s old cell, Levi secures the bars and throws the keys into the hallway, beyond reach.
“On your knees.”
Eren is taller and broader than Levi and has no reason to listen to him. Nevertheless, Eren falls to his knees. His arms disappear behind his body: a gesture of submission that echoes the way his hands were bound in the courtroom all those years ago. It stirs something ugly inside of Levi.
And then Levi is kicking him, again and again and again. Eren takes all of it kneeling, barely moving, keeping his balance on spread legs, head down and features obscured by long brown hair.
Levi only stops when he realizes that blood has begun to pool on the floor.
“Do you feel better, Captain?” Eren asks eventually over the sound of Levi’s ragged breathing, and Levi hates how easily Eren creates distance between them. The kid has the balls to call their Commander “Hange” but will never utter Levi’s name without his title in front of it.
“Do you?” Levi retorts, but his voice is as hollow as his chest.
“Armin said he had to listen to you torture people.” Eren shakes his hair out of his eyes and looks up at Levi, expressionless. “That’s not what this is.”
In a flash of movement, Levi digs his fingers into the long, bloody strands of Eren’s hair, fisting it and pulling hard, forcing Eren’s head back and his chin up, exposing the vulnerable line of his throat.
“The fuck do you know about anything, shitty brat?”
Eren’s lips quirk, but his smile is dark.
“More than you think.”
.
142
When Levi arrives, Eren is sprawled out on the bed in his cell. The MP on duty gives a nervous salute.
“Open it,” Levi says.
The man’s eyes go wide. “But Captain—”
“I said open it.”
The door is hastily unlocked and Levi steps inside, pulling it closed again.
“Now lock it and leave us.”
The MP looks uncertain. “When should I return, sir?”
“You shouldn’t,” Levi snaps. “I don’t want to be disturbed. And just like him,” he cants his head toward Eren, “I don’t need a key to get out.”
The man on the other side of the bars looks terrified, but all Levi can feel is contempt.
“It’s iron and stone, moron,” Levi tells him, “not fucking magic. Normal men can escape a prison; you really think this shit can hold a Titan?”
He turns his back on the MP, and a moment later he hears his title muttered and the sound of hurried footsteps getting farther and farther away.
Levi hisses out an irritated sigh and looks over at Eren, only to have his heart lurch dramatically in his chest.
On the bed, Eren is smiling.
It has been a long, long time since Levi has seen any emotion on Eren’s face. He has become so used to blank eyes and a passive frown.
Just let this moment last, he thinks. Just let it all end here. Let the airships come with their bombs. Let it end with Eren’s smile.
Useless, desperate thoughts.
“Captain,” Eren says eventually, amusement evident in his voice. He doesn’t bother to stand, and that lack of formality melts away some of the tension Levi has been carrying for far too many months. Levi knows the difference between Eren’s easy familiarity and blatant disrespect. He has missed the former more than he cares to admit.
“Eren,” he says, matching the kid’s tone. “You wanted to see me?”
Eren’s smile turns into a grin. His long arms, folded behind his head, move as he lifts his shoulders in a shrug.
“Couldn’t sleep,” he says, and the absolute brazenness of it almost startles a laugh out of Levi.
“Mm.” Levi tries for skeptical and unimpressed, but then he’s moving forward, indulgent instead. He’s always indulgent with Eren. “Sit up then, brat.”
Eren does as he’s told, and Levi settles in at the head of the bed, back pressed against the stone wall. He arranges the pillow on his lap and then tugs Eren back down. The hand nearest Eren’s head goes to rest in his hair until Levi’s greedy fingers begin carding through it. Eren closes his eyes and hums a satisfied sound. His warm hands wrap around the arm Levi throws over him.
And Levi has to brace himself before looking down. Has to remember to breathe. Forces himself to acknowledge the deeply dangerous feelings clawing their way up his chest and into his throat. Breathes through each and every one of them and does his best to let them go.
And then—in case he never gets this chance again—he tries to memorize Eren’s face as it is in this moment in time. But in doing so, he can’t help but notice how different Eren is from the bright-eyed kid he was four years ago. At 18, Eren had the world on his shoulders, but back then their world was almost small enough to bear. At 22, Eren looks far older than he should, struggling with the weight of a world grown larger.
“I wish we could go back to when things were easy,” Eren says quietly, as though reading Levi’s mind. (Levi has a brief flash of panic: could it be a Titan power Eren has not yet disclosed?) “You know,” Eren continues, “back when Titans were just Titans and we were just soldiers in the Survey Corps.” He lets out a long sigh, shifting to get more comfortable. “I always wanted to feel free. But I would give anything for our world to just be small again.”
“I know, kid,” Levi says, voice thick with so many unsaid things. “I would, too.”
I would. I would do anything.
Eren’s eyes open to meet his own, and there’s something sad in them.
“The government’s plans won’t work, you know,” Eren says.
Levi presses his lips into a thin line. “You’ve always been too smart for your own good.”
“If you agree with me, then why isn’t anyone saying anything?”
“Because it’s their job to find a solution.” Levi pauses, gathering the words he needs. “Look,” he says. “They can’t just tell us we’re all gonna die. That our alliances won’t be enough. That our military stands no chance against the type of warfare that airships can bring.” Levi chuckles darkly, tilting his head back against the stone wall and staring into space. “Our people have known bad odds before; a lot of ‘em are even acquainted with hopelessness. But there’s a finality in hearing your government say there’s nothing they can do. That you’re gonna die, no matter what.”
Eren is silent for a long time, eyes open, contemplative.
“What do you think Erwin would do?” he finally asks. It is a quiet question, barely more than a whisper.
Levi looks down at him.
“You know what he would do,” he says softly. “You saw it often enough.”
Eren frowns. “Then why does everyone keep saying they wish he was here?”
Levi huffs out half a laugh, looking at the ceiling. “Because he’s dead and they aren’t thinking about what he’d do,” Levi says. “They’re just thinking about how much easier it was to follow him. Erwin pretended to have all the answers, at least in front of most people. That conviction bred comfort.”
“But no one has the answers,” Eren mumbles, and Levi has to restrain himself from repeating his earlier compliment. There’s a pause, as the fingers wrapped around Levi’s arm tighten. “There are no answers.”
“That’s life, kid,” Levi says, but he knows Eren can hear the kindness in his tone.
The cell is quiet after that, until Eren murmurs, “Captain?”
“Mm?”
“Wake me up before you leave?”
Levi rolls his eyes. “Sure, brat.”
He sits there until morning, of course. Loses himself in Eren’s slow, steady breaths, in the rise and fall of his chest, in the unusual warmth of his body. Doesn’t dare move until at last Eren stirs, blinking up at him in confusion as he tries to orient himself in this unfamiliar space.
“You’re still here,” Eren whispers. Levi feels a sudden surge of affection, subtle as a punch to the gut.
“Mm,” he acknowledges. “Didn’t want to wake you. You never seem to get enough sleep.”
Eren’s resulting smile is brighter than the sun. It always is. Always has been.
It’s one of the few constants in their world, one of the few things Levi knows he can rely on: Eren’s ability to outshine the goddamn sun.
Sometimes Levi thinks he could have lived his whole life in the Underground, if only he’d had Eren and his smile.
But here, now, Eren’s eyes are soft and unguarded and the air is heavy with possibility. Levi knows how easy it would be to give in—but he doesn’t. He tells himself no for what must be the thousandth time and then deftly moves their conversation into calmer waters.
Levi has become an expert in the violent art of self-denial.
Later, when he stands to leave, Eren looks at him in a way that makes his stomach drop.
“Eren? What’s—”
He prides himself on his quick reflexes, but between one moment and the next, he is suddenly pulled against a broad chest, Eren’s arms around him, tight.
“Thank you for everything, sir.” The words are spoken against the top of his head and Eren’s voice is hoarse. “You don’t have to forgive me, but please know I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Eren, what the fuck is going on?” Levi struggles until the arms around him let up enough for him to move his own. He hugs the kid and grumbles at him. “Looming over your superior officer is an act of insubordination, you know.”
Eren huffs out a shaky laugh. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“If you’re so sorry, then why does it sound like you’re saying goodbye?”
Eren crushes Levi’s body against his own. “Because I need to. Will you tell the others I’m sorry?”
“Tell them yourself.”
“I can’t.”
“I’m not a goddamn courier, you little shit.”
“Then don’t tell them. I don’t care.”
Levi wrenches himself out of Eren’s arms. “After all these years, you still can’t trust me with your plan?”
Eren’s smile is both infinitely sad and horribly fond. “You are my plan, sir. I trust you to do what needs to be done.”
It takes a moment, to move from one hurt to the next, but Levi’s chest goes cold as the implication hits him. “You trust me to kill you.” His voice is a hollow, empty thing, and suddenly Eren looks unsure.
“It’s your duty,” Eren says. “You swore you would.” When Levi doesn’t reply, Eren turns away from him, shaking.
Levi swallows. “You may not have heard it this way, but I swore an oath to protect you, and to put you down if you turned out to be a monster.” His voice goes soft. “You aren’t a monster, Eren.”
He cannot tell if Eren is laughing or sobbing.
.
305
When Eren tells him about Zeke’s plan to sterilize all Eldians, Levi takes a few moments to process the information.
“Not a fan of giving people choices, your brother,” he observes at last. He is trying for dry and unbothered, to hide the fact that he is extremely disturbed.
Eren shoots him a look. “Half-brother,” he corrects. “And no, but then neither are you.”
Levi freezes then, regarding Eren with narrowed eyes and an expression he hopes doesn’t look as wounded as he feels. He clenches his jaw and waits for an explanation.
“You pretend to give me choices,” Eren says finally. “But what if I said I don’t want to fight? What if, after the basement, I’d told you I was done?”
Levi doesn’t even have to think about his answer. His voice is flat when he says, “I would have told you where to run.” Softer when he adds, “I would have probably run with you.” The admission costs him nothing, and it’s true.
Eren’s brow furrows as though he doesn’t understand. “You’ve wanted to desert the Corps?”
Levi can’t help but scoff. “Tch. Haven’t we all, at some point?”
There is a long silence in which Eren looks uncertain. “But you haven’t,” Eren says quietly; it sounds like a question. “You’re still here.”
Levi’s eyes flit away, unable to hold Eren’s gaze. “I swore an oath.”
A huff of a laugh, but Eren’s voice sounds tired. “Of course. Your oath.”
Levi crosses his arms defensively at Eren’s tone, at the way that final word is emphasized with something approaching derision.
“I would have told you where to run,” Levi repeats, and then walks away.
But he tracks Eren down again later that same night. Looks into those bright green eyes and gives Eren another choice.
“Do you want to run?”
.
809
Levi is willing to admit that he’s tired. Tired of fear and pain and death and loss, of rivers of blood and piles of bodies. Of the cruelty hidden in every bit of new knowledge, the unspeakable brutality of the truth.
He doesn’t know if he can do it anymore. He’s ready to stop fighting.
But he made a promise, once. It doesn’t matter that Levi’s body is broken; Eren is his responsibility. The weight of his failure may be heavy, but it is his burden to bear.
They are on their way to Fort Salta, chasing Eren’s Titan, when the passenger hold disappears and Levi finds himself…elsewhere.
It is that same strange place he woke up once before, when Eren’s voice pulled him from an unconsciousness that mimicked death. The sky above is dark and beautiful, filled with stars and colors Levi cannot name. The sand here is softer than the sand they encountered on the beach the first time they saw the sea.
A huge column of bright light extends up from the horizon, branching outward from the top like a tree with innumerable limbs. The illumination outlines an unmistakable figure moving toward him in the distance.
Levi carefully makes his own way over to Eren. They stop several paces apart, simply looking at one another.
“You’re…you’re injured,” Eren says. The empty numbness in his voice is gone; in fact, he sounds surprised.
“No shit, brat.” Levi frowns, forcing down the impulse to try to hide the extent of his wounds; there’s no point when Eren has already seen his butchered face. “So where are we, anyway?”
“In a land outside of time,” Eren answers. “A place where all Eldians are connected.”
Levi sits with that for a moment. Tries to think of what he could say to Eren now that would change anything.
“It’s peaceful here,” he says finally, because he knows he doesn’t have the right words. There are no words, really. Eren has already made up his mind.
Eren steps forward then, cautious, as though he’s unsure of his welcome, and whatever’s left of Levi’s heart can’t stand to see his hesitation.
“I would forgive you anything,” Levi says in a rush of breath, because he needs Eren to know.
It makes Eren freeze and swallow hard, drawing Levi’s eye to the long column of his throat. And then Eren moves into Levi’s space like he belongs there, and something flickers in the back of Levi’s mind.
“I’ve never seen you hurt like this before.” Eren takes Levi’s damaged hand and pulls it toward him, noting the missing digits, the scarred and mangled flesh. His touch is achingly soft against Levi’s skin; fate never allowed Eren to form any physical callouses. “Is this the price?” Eren murmurs, but it doesn’t sound as though the words are meant for anyone.
And then Eren’s palm finds its way to Levi’s scarred cheek and Levi is baffled by the depth of feeling in his eyes.
“Eren?” he says uncertainly.
Eren’s lips press against his. It startles him—they are not close like this, never have been, but Eren’s kiss is hauntingly familiar, and so much better than Levi could have ever dreamed.
And he did dream, once. Levi can admit that much to himself, here in this land of sand and stars.
The kiss is short and chaste and conveys a reverence that Levi cannot understand.
“I’m sorry, Captain,” Eren says, but he doesn’t move away, just rests his forehead against Levi’s. “Forgive me. If this is finally the end, forgive me and survive me.” Eren’s voice goes rough as he moves to press his fist against Levi’s heart. “You have to live, Levi. Please live.”
“Eren, what the fuck is going on?” Levi is desperate now and has no idea what to do. He needs to know what this is, this violent, roaring ache inside him that threatens to overwhelm everything that he thought he knew.
And he is still demanding information, begging for an explanation, when Eren sends him back into the real world. And then Levi is in the passenger hold again and Armin is still speaking and it seems nothing has changed at all except for the fact that Levi’s shirt is wet with Eren’s tears.
When the time comes, Levi’s sword clashes against Mikasa’s, because of course it does. He may not have answers, but he won’t let Eren die.
(Moments later, Eren watches his captain fall for the eight-hundred-and-ninth time and screams in unmitigated rage.)
.
1
(Their first life is still clear in Eren’s memory.)
His captain stands against his own squad when Eren accidentally shifts while picking up a spoon. And Levi remains kind to him even after every member of that hand-picked group dies protecting Eren.
Even wounded, Levi faithfully comes to Eren’s aid, donning his gear and cutting Eren from his Titan after the fight with Annie in Stohess. And when Eren is ready to give up hope, chained and gagged in Reiss’s underground chapel, it is Levi who leads the assault to rescue him. When Eren is frozen in despair, it is his captain’s words that spur him into action.
And when Eren’s nose is bloody from how little he is allowing himself to rest and how often he is shifting into his Titan form, Levi kneels next to him and offers up his pure white handkerchief.
In Shiganshina, Levi chooses Armin over Erwin. (In the lives where they are forced to choose, they will pick Erwin more than three hundred times, thinking him to be their best chance. He isn’t.)
When Historia awards Eren a medal along with the eight other surviving Scouts, her touch shows Eren visions of a terrifying future. When Levi asks him about the time spent frozen in front of their queen, Eren pulls his captain into an empty room and tells him the truth.
“Eren,” Levi says calmly, “you aren’t a monster.”
Eren doesn’t believe him. But Levi urges him to at least keep his mind open and the information secret until they have more to go on.
Eren can’t sleep through the night after that. He used to have nightmares, sure, but nothing like this. He makes a habit of seeking out a familiar door under which candlelight often flickers ‘til morning. Levi pours him tea and never once turns him away. Sometimes they talk, but when they don’t, the silence is companionable. Eventually, Eren offers to help with the paperwork, and though Levi scoffs, Eren knows he’s secretly pleased. He gives Eren reports to read and requisition sheets to sign off on.
When Eren falls asleep over the section of Levi’s desk that has been wordlessly designated as his own, he almost always wakes in his captain’s bed. Levi is inevitably either asleep in his own chair or still awake and working, the quiet scratch of his notations soothing and familiar.
Eventually, the Survey Corps is strong enough to explore beyond the Walls again. They ride south with their party and get their first glimpse of the sea, vast and beautiful and unforgiving.
It is decided that Levi and Eren will remain on the coast to keep watch, with Eren’s Titan intercepting any outsiders who dare to approach. A small cottage is built while Armin gives Eren long, dubious looks and Mikasa tries to argue that she should be the one to stay instead of Levi. But when the time finally comes, the other Scouts go back to the Walls, and Eren is left alone with his captain.
They spend a year there. And though Eren decimates all but one Marleyan ship, life is relatively peaceful for a while. Most of their days are spent cleaning and cooking and training, and Eren finds comfort in the easy routine of it, the way the two of them move around and in tandem with one another effortlessly.
The isolation makes Eren brave. On the days when there are no ships to sink and no visitors bearing supplies and no conversations about all that lies ahead, Eren allows himself to want. He has wanted for so long but always pushed it aside—would have told anyone who asked, I only want impossible things, and been certain of the truth of it. But sometimes, now, when he meets Levi’s intense grey eyes, he swears he sees a spark of interest there, thinks there might be something more than affection in the soft curve of his captain’s lips.
It happens on a day just like any other. They’re sparring together, as they often have since being left alone on the coast. It’s one of the few situations now where Eren gets to see Levi’s lethal body in action. He can’t seem to get enough of it—or of the warm approval he’s treated to when he manages to genuinely impress his captain. He’ll never be on the level of Levi or Mikasa—no one will—but Eren knows he’s getting better and better.
If Levi’s reactions are any indication, Eren is actually getting quite good.
So they’re sparring, and Eren has managed to hold his own for far longer than usual, and has been amply rewarded by the way that Levi’s eyes have progressed from widened to narrowed to dark with intent.
Eren knows it can’t last, and he’s right. He ends up on his back with Levi’s knife at his throat. He’s only fractionally surprised—he wasn’t really expecting to have that weapon pulled on him, but he loves it when Levi fights dirty.
“That’s cheating, Captain,” Eren says, trying to catch his breath.
Levi taps the underside of Eren’s chin with the flat of his blade.
“If someone’s trying to kill you, kill them first,” Levi deadpans. “Doesn’t matter how you do it.” He rises until he’s no longer pinning Eren’s body beneath him and then gets to his feet. He offers Eren a hand and pulls him up easily, the same way he has countless times before.
And then it happens. Eren makes it happen. He refuses to let go of Levi’s hand.
When Eren kisses him, Levi freezes for a brief moment. But then he comes alive in Eren’s arms and it is everything Eren wanted and more. At first it’s heat and hunger and urgency: a desperate need to touch and bruise and bite and claim. But that overwhelming passion shifts smoothly into gentle awe and reverence—into such unexpected softness that Eren’s heart aches with it. He finds himself comfortable with both extremes (and is eventually assured that Levi feels the same). And though they are filthy and sweating from the exertion of training, neither of them care; Eren will soon learn there are some messes Levi doesn’t mind at all.
When the stars come out, they retire to the same bed, where Eren curls himself around his captain. He wakes the next morning to a tangle of limbs and Levi’s head against his chest and the sound of slow, even breathing. His own pulse suddenly thunders in his ears and he struggles to keep still because holy shit, Levi actually slept through the night.
No one is more surprised by this than Levi, who eventually stirs and then frowns at the mid-morning light. He shifts to look up at Eren with an unreadable expression, and Eren forces himself to endure it, breathless with fear and uncertainty and excruciating hope. Then Levi smiles, huffs out a disbelieving laugh, and burrows closer—and in that moment, all is right in Eren’s world.
Later, in the kitchen, Eren makes a bold move.
“Teach me how you brew your tea,” he demands, and Levi blinks at him. “Look, I know you’ll drink whatever someone hands you, but it’s obvious when you hate it. Why don’t you ever just show us how you want it?”
Levi huffs out a laugh. “Well,” he drawls. “Small disappointments can make bigger ones more bearable.”
Eren rolls his eyes. “Do you actually believe that?”
Levi shrugs and edges Eren out of the way. “Fine,” he says. “But pay attention. I’m not showing you twice.”
He shows Eren more than twice. And when Eren finally offers him a cup that meets his standards, Levi smiles his approval and Eren’s heart soars.
When they are forced at last to return to the real world, it feels like a punishment. Isolation suited them; there was very little that they missed.
They listen, restless, as Hange and Armin speak at length of diplomacy and trade negotiations. Even from across the table, Eren can sense Levi vibrating with irritation.
“No one will trade for what they can take,” Levi argues, and Eren nods fiercely in agreement. “We’re going to die unless someone here is willing to take extreme action.”
(Throughout every reality, Levi has been right about this.)
When Eren starts the Rumbling, it is Levi who is by his side. Eren is young and righteous and believes they will prevail. Believes that the two of them together are capable of anything.
But then everything goes wrong. Disastrously wrong. Eren sees Levi fall for the very first time and can scarcely comprehend it. In what world is Levi Ackerman allowed to die?
Eren shifts to Ymir’s realm immediately, searching the Paths for the man he loves.
He is gone, Ymir tells him.
“Then I’ll go back! I’ll fix it!”
There are no happy endings.
But Eren is twenty-two years old. He refuses to believe her.
.
coda: the present (and attempt #810)
Sometimes Eren starts the Rumbling, and Levi protects him with his last breath. (If Erwin is dead, Levi dies by the hand of one of their comrades. If Erwin is alive, Levi tends to die in far more creative ways. And on the occasions when they do return home victorious, the backlash from the remaining world is never far behind.)
Sometimes they infiltrate Marley. They assassinate political figures, the Warriors, the Tyburs. None of it is ever enough. Often, Levi does not make it out of Marley alive. When he does, the airships come regardless.
Sometimes Eren shows them how to recreate Marley’s technology. But fighting a war with their enemy’s weapons never does them any good. They are a smaller nation and newer to it. In the end, Eren and Levi fight side by side, but Humanity’s Hope and Humanity’s Strength are no match for a nation like Marley that is hellbent on genocide.
Sometimes, when Eren is feeling particularly selfish, they run. They are almost always in a forgotten cottage up north when the bombs fall.
There are so many other variables. Sometimes Eren outs the Warriors before they can cause casualties. Sometimes Levi’s squad doesn’t perish in the forest protecting Eren from Annie. Sometimes they convince Reiner, Bertholdt, and Annie to fight beside them. Sometimes Eren uses the Paths to call upon all Eldians to rise up against their oppressors.
And sometimes, Eren makes mistakes. On one occasion, he even gives in to despair. He tries not to think about that, though—about the cold dungeon and the blood and the shining tears on Levi’s face.
Eventually, Eren goes back as far as he can—to age 10, when he first inherited the Attack Titan—and warns Erwin and Levi and Hange. But no matter what they do, the extra eight years never seem to yield better results. Levi dies and dies and dies and Eren is helpless against the constant onslaught of his grief.
It is no wonder, then, that Eren is tired. His soul has lived too many lifetimes. There are far too many realities in his head.
So this time, when Eren returns to that dark land of sand and stars, he traces the latest branch of his Path and goes back. He makes only one change: he calls Levi to him in a group with six others. He does not call him separately.
Still, Levi is unbearably kind. Still offers to forgive Eren everything.
But this time, Levi does not protect him in the final battle. Because in this reality, at long last, Levi does not love him enough to let the world burn.
(Eren was slow to realize that this is what it would take to keep Levi breathing. Slower still to understand how far he’d have to go, how he’d have to erase nearly every part of himself in order for Levi to live.)
Before Mikasa’s blade slices into his spine, Eren has a sublime vision.
He sees a quiet tea shop. Sees Levi survive the war for the very first time.
It is all Eren needs to finally let go and allow himself to rest.
.
epilogue
Not even in his last moments does Eren acknowledge the awful truth of things: that this is the only ending Levi would ever regret, if only he was given the chance to remember.
Levi does not remember, but he lives.
He lives, and he never shows anyone how to make his tea—not once (and certainly not more than twice).