𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐀 | 𝐋. 𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐍

𝐈𝐈.𝐗𝐈𝐈𝐈

"So you finally showed up." Valen perked her head—Levi lounged on an iron bench under the shade of a magnolia tree.

Like all of the military officials present at the coronation, he was dressed in his olive green trench coat, the Wings of Freedom proudly emblazoned on his breast pocket. His cravat had made a comeback, tied snugly around his neck. The trench coat, in Valen's opinion, looked good on him—or rather, he made the coat look good.

Levi stood, holding back what Valen perceived as a smile. "I was wondering where you were. I haven't seen you all day," he said, walking over to her.

"I was handling business," Valen answered plainly, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. Levi wound his arms around the curve of her back, squeezing her body to his. Any lingering stress from squeezing past aristocrats and well-to-do merchants faded in his arms, Levi's very presence drawing out her seemingly never-ceasing discomfort from her body. "And what are you doing alone in the garden?"

"I've never liked parties much. That, and all the pigs standing around. You'd think with all the booze they're passing around they'd be a little more tolerable." Valen rested her chin on his shoulder, humming in agreement. "Nile's right-hand hurling into a vase was the last straw for me. I walked out and figured you'd come around soon."

"You might be horrified to hear that people hurl in vases all the time," Valen remarked; the other maids had forced her to wash all the puked-in vases the first time she worked a party as a "rite of passage." No matter how hard she scrubbed or what she sprayed in them, the stench of upchuck and regret never seemed to ebb. "Some guests even 'reserve' certain vases beforehand."

Levi cringed. "Disgusting." Valen pulled away from Levi. Entwining her fingers in his, they continued on a cobblestone walkway that cut across a field of orange roses. "So, about this 'business' you were handling..."

"You'll be more than pleased," Valen said, almost breaking into a smile. "Hange wormed her way into Erwin's schedule and cornered him in the barracks. It's settled: I'm no longer being discharged."

Levi stopped, his gray-blue eyes lighting up. "You're staying?" he asked, perhaps with more enthusiasm than he wanted to convey. He quickly neutralized his expression, looking a tad embarrassed. Valen held back a laugh: Humanity's Strongest sometimes resembled a love-stricken teenager more than a valiant soldier. "How?" he asked, this time working to keep his tone even.

"Hange cornered Erwin in the barracks right before he could even get started on the paperwork," Valen answered. She was surprised the Commander had even allowed Hange to present her argument; he'd been clear when he said he'd discharge Valen. But Hange hadn't cared. She'd still barged in with that ear-to-ear grin of hers, mangled shoulder and all. "Could you believe her? She prepared a five-page essay in advance, including counterarguments. I'm stuck working stable duty for a week, though."

"One week of stable duty is generous. I would have given you a month." Valen so badly wanted to make a certain hand gesture, but she just pouted instead. "So that lasted the entire day?"

"Not precisely." They'd resolved her conflict with Erwin in little under an hour. She and Hange had spent the rest of the early afternoon handling something else, something Valen was reluctant to share but was going to discuss regardless. "I'm thinking of seeking counseling," she confessed.

"Valen Ferreira is seeking counseling—" Valen punched Levi hard in the shoulder. "My bad. That was insensitive."

"Insensitive it was," Valen growled. Levi released her hand and massaged his shoulder, wincing. "I told you this. If I do things, it's because they're in my best interest and my best interest only. And this is one of them." Running a hand down his arm, Valen sighed. "There are years of emotions I have to work through, and it's going to be ages before I can unlearn everything. That's why I'm seeking counseling."