TRIGGER WARNING: RELATIONSHIP ABUSE IS FEATURED IN THIS STORY. The abuse is perpetrated by an OC directed at another OC and happens "off screen" but could be traumatic for victims (if you are a victim and in need of help please call 800.799.SAFE).
Setting: A Wall Rose estate several months after the fall of Shiganshina.
Some sort of political bullshit evening was not what any of them were in the mood for.
Yes, the room was opulent-but it was hot. The early summer evening was not serving the bejeweled and sumptuously clothed crowd well-despite the doors thrown open to the sprawling estate with the hope of cooler temperatures as evening slowly approached.
Erwin and his contingent, recently arrived, were now knotted up near the entrance to the parlor, susurrant groups of stuffy aristocrats blocking the way to the relief of the terraces. Fortunately, waiters came round with trays of champagne, so they needn't employ soldierly tactics to reach the refreshments. They all agreed that it was the only thing that was making the current situation bearable. They were only there as novelties--"brave scouts" that ventured outside of the walls, humanity's strongest. Even as commander for only a few months, Erwin understood they had to occasionally trot themselves out like show ponies for the nobles and rich patrons to "ooo" and "ahhh" over. Especially after the fall of Shiganshina and the titan menace now more real than anyone had ever imagined.
He had to admit that they cleaned up fairly well. The four of them looked sharp and impressive in their dress uniforms. Levi had even prevailed upon Hange to wash her hair. They were an oasis of crispness among the wilting finery.
With the chatter in the room rising as more people arrived, the four of them found their conversation dwindling.
"Who is that?" Levi suddenly asked after there had been a notable lag where all four had been mindlessly surveying the clammy room, each one of them wondering how long they had to stay.
They all turned toward where Levi's eyes were fixed.
Off in a corner about 20 feet away was a young woman, obviously set apart. She stood looking over the room with her hands clenched in front of her, a slightly anxious veneer to her eyes, which she was trying to hide with a placid mask. She was diminutive in stature but not in voluptuousness, at least as far as one could tell under the severe black jacket she wore.
"That's Morgana Sorkin," Hange gasped.
"The singer?" Mike asked.
"Yes! I heard someone say that there was going to be some sort of entertainment tonight but I had no idea it was going to be Morgana Sorkin!" Hange yelped, her voice rising in excitement, drawing a few looks from nearby guests. Thankfully, the woman in question was out of earshot. "Commander, we have to stay to hear her sing! Promise we won't leave before that--I know you hate these things, but we'll never get another chance..."
As Hange babbled on about the singer's renown and how she had once heard her in Wall Cina a few years' back at a reception she had to deliver papers to, Erwin couldn't help but be intrigued as he took in the pretty young woman and how she was set apart from the crowd--almost like she was under guard by the two tall, forbidding individuals that stood just behind her. Her soft brown hair was artfully arranged around glimmering jewels, her slightly almond shaped eyes an indeterminate shade of moss green to brown. She had an oval face with ivory skin and rosy lips. Individually her features were not striking but taken as a whole they conveyed a sweet, gentle beauty all its own.
"She is quite lovely," the commander found himself saying out loud.
"Oi, back off, Erwin. I saw her first," growled Levi.
"That's right, Erwin--you need to leave the short ones to the captain," laughed Mike. "Although all's fair in love and war. She does look delicious."
"All three of you need to back off," said Hange, her voice dropping and gesturing to the others to lean in. "I hear she's Lord Shelton's mistress--and that cocksucker I'm pretty sure doesn't share."
"Lord who?" asked Levi.
"Shelton. Someone you definitely do not want to mess with," Hange quipped. "Word has it he's more powerful than the king these days..."
"Oh, that cocksucker," said Levi, suddenly recalling the name. Lord Shelton. The king's first minister and rumored to be at the heart of more than one "disappearance" of citizens with inconvenient opinions.
"Gods, that poor thing, she must be sweltering in that jacket," observed Hange. "She's covered from chin to wrist... I wonder... it obviously doesn't go with her gown." It was true--the stiff black buttoned up garment was obviously of a different style and material than the soft rose-colored silk skirt that cascaded from underneath it.
"Since when did you become an expert in fashion?" laughed Mike.
"Hey, just because I'm a soldier, doesn't mean I can't admire pretty things--especially that pretty thing," quipped Hange, slightly ogling the singer.
The young woman, who had been scanning the room, suddenly sensed the unusual group of soldiers staring at her and turned her eyes in their direction. They of course all awkwardly diverted their gazes in a weak attempt to pretend that she had not indeed been the topic of their conversation. Her eyes fixed on them curiously for a moment with a slight smile before one of two tall individuals standing behind her leaned over to whisper in her ear. Her eyes immediately snapped downward. It was a rather grim looking older woman dressed in a black gown made suspiciously out of the same material as the stiff black jacket. She seemed to be charged along with the dark-featured man next to her with overseeing the young singer, preventing her from venturing into the crowd and even monitoring who she glanced at, so it seemed.
When she looked up again it was in a very pointed direction, her eyes blank. Erwin couldn't help but follow her gaze. It had landed on a tall, elegant man with striking white hair. He had pale blue eyes that locked with the young woman's with a cold possessiveness. Erwin guessed this was the infamous Lord Shelton. He had never seen the man before but certainly was aware of his reputation. And yet, as he looked at the formidable lord, there was something familiar about him that Erwin couldn't place, something about those cold pale eyes. Something unpleasant.
"Yep, there he is," whispered Hange who had also followed the young woman's gaze. "Best not look at her anymore--don't want to make trouble for us."
Or for her, Erwin found himself thinking. It was vaguely unsettling to observe how the much older man was staring down the much younger woman.
The room was filling up and the event was clearly getting into full swing. Erwin sighed. Time for them to spread out and mingle. They were there to talk up the Survey Corps not stand around and ogle young women.
"You two head left and we'll head right," said Erwin to Levi and Hange, as he nodded to Mike and the two made their way into the crowd. Between the heat and the insufferable small talk, Erwin guessed it was going to be a long evening.
After interminable smiling and chatting and buttonholing of various bigwigs, Mike said he had to get outside for a smoke or he would end up choking someone. Erwin, of a similar mind to escape, decided it was a better bet to wander the grand mansion for a bit rather than push through the crowd and then stand in a swirl of smoke on the terrace where anyone could grab his ear once again.
He hit the jackpot with the very first door he opened. A sumptuous study lined with impressive-looking leather-bound books. Fortunately, the room was still fairly bright as it caught the last of the early evening summer sun. He trailed along the bookcases examining their spines and was rewarded almost immediately with a clutch of science texts near the door. As he used his finger to skim over the various gold-lettered titles, he heard voices in the hall.
"I am fine, I am fine, Pandora," said a gentle lilting voice that was slightly laced with anxiety.
"Millie said she heard you getting sick. If so, you better get to the kitchen for something to stiffen you up. His lordship will be very disappointed if you are unable to perform."
"I will be fine, my stomach is better now..." he heard the first voice answer, obviously that of the young singer they had been discussing earlier.
There was a short silence where it seemed the other person--Pandora, he guessed--was assessing.
"So you were vomiting? Any other symptoms?"
"No--no..." the young woman stuttered nervously.
"Are you sure?" asked Pandora, her tone sharp.
"No--it's just nerves, Pandora," the singer responded a note of desperation in her voice. "I--I've never performed for such an important crowd--and it is quite warm."
"Well, if you had brought an appropriate gown you wouldn't be," observed Pandora. "Why on earth did you choose those short sleeves and that neckline?"
"Millie packed for me--I didn't have a chance to instruct her..."
"Well, you're very fortunate that I had that jacket. It would have been very inconvenient otherwise."
"Please, Pandora, just let me retreat for a few minutes to collect myself," the woman pleaded. "Tell Reglitt I'll be out in 15 minutes--please just assure him and his lordship that I'll be there and all will be well."
"I will," Pandora finally agreed, curtly. "Fifteen minutes. And be sure to button up that jacket."
Erwin was just realizing as the conversation appeared to conclude that he had been shamelessly eavesdropping when the slightly ajar door suddenly burst open and the young woman herself rushed into the room, tearing at said jacket. She ripped it off her shoulders and unthinkingly dropped it to the floor as she grabbed onto a nearby table to support herself. The poor girl was gulping deep breaths and she gripped the table with a white-knuckled grasp, her eyes squeezed shut, mouth slightly open and wheezing.
Erwin instinctively knelt down to retrieve the jacket and said, "Miss, may I be of some assistance?"
She whirled around, with a light gasp, completely startled by the soldier's presence. As he took a few steps toward her to hold out the jacket, her eyes went wide and her hands flew to her now exposed throat, fruitlessly trying to cover the angry purple and black bruises that ringed its base. But the soft white arms that were attempting to cover her only revealed more deep bruises along her fore and upper arms before disappearing into a lace-trimmed cap sleeve.
There was no doubt that he had seen. He continued to step forward aghast at the apparent cruelty someone had visited upon her delicate white skin. "Please, allow me..." He wasn't sure what exactly he was going to say, when the woman's eyes simply rolled back in her head and she started sinking to the floor. Fortunately, he was close enough to catch her as she crumpled like a rag doll in a dead faint.
He quickly picked her up and placed her on the leather-bound couch beside the table. He looked around and spotted a brandy decanter with matching snifters. Not ideal, but better than nothing.
He held up the back of her head and lightly tilted the glass so that the brandy just wetted her pink lips. Her dark-brown lashes splayed over her flushed cheeks and he couldn't deny how beautiful she was even in her obvious distress.
After only a few more tries with the brandy she struggled back to consciousness, pushing herself up weakly and glancing around with a bewildered look. She took in the handsome face of the soldier kneeling in front of her and her eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"I'm sorry," said Erwin, still holding the snifter, "but you seemed to have fainted, Miss--?" It felt presumptuous to immediately use her name without a proper introduction.
"Sorkin," she whispered as she righted herself a bit more. "Morgana Sorkin."
She looked into his strikingly blue eyes with a breathy gasp, taking in their concern and kindness. It was not anything that she appeared to be used to, her own eyes filled with uncertainty and wonder at someone daring to get so close to her.
Then she suddenly came back to full awareness with a snap. "Oh, dear god," she cried, sheer terror crossing her face. She grabbed the jacket, which Erwin had placed on the couch next to her, and held it up to her figure, struggling to stand up. He held her back with one large firm hand on her shoulder.
"Please, you shouldn't try to stand just yet," he offered gently. Once she had settled back into the seat, Erwin looked her in the eye. "Now, Miss Sorkin, is someone mistreating you? I am Commander Erwin Smith of the Survey Corps and I am at your service."
She looked at him like he had lost his mind. "Commander Smith--I appreciate your concern but I am perfectly well and have no need of assistance. I--ah--simply tripped on the stairs and sustained some bruises but am quite all right." She stammered a bit, not meeting his eyes, firmly pushing his hand away and standing up, pulling on the jacket and quickly buttoning it.
He had stood up with her and looked at her appraisingly. "I don't want to accuse you of lying, Miss Sorkin, but I think we both know that you did not simply trip and fall."
She finally met his eyes after ensuring the stiff black jacket was completely done up, once again covering her from chin to wrist. They were obviously troubled, but he could see a note of gratitude--a tiny bit of relief and amazement that someone seemed to know, someone cared.
He suddenly felt a rush of tenderness for this lovely young woman. Her head barely reached his shoulder. But she had an inherent dignity in her bearing that belied her small stature. Yet something was weighing on her so heavily that sadness positively radiated from her. He wondered what she must look like when her eyes were actually happy.
"Miss Sorkin," he said softly. "What can I do for you?"
She stood mesmerized by his clear blue eyes. Her lips parted slowly, almost as if she was going to tell him that there was, indeed, something he could do for her.
Just then the door opened and in came her stern-looking chaperone, carrying a pair of long gloves and what looked like an ornate lacy collar of sorts. "These should help with the heat..." She stopped suddenly. Morgana, who had jumped when the door opened, smoothed herself over as she turned to the older woman, who, Erwin assumed, must be Pandora from earlier.
"Ah!" Pandora exclaimed as she took in Erwin, narrowing her eyes at him. The room had started to darken with visages now less clear. "And this is?" she asked pointedly, clearly displeased to see him there.
Before Erwin could say anything, Morgana cut in smoothly. "This is Captain Schmidt from the Garrison and he was just telling me how much he admires my work..." She turned to him with a slightly tremulous smile. "But really--I must be preparing for my performance! I do hope you enjoy it. Come, Pandora..." The young woman shakily made for the door with Pandora looking steadily and curiously at Erwin, who had a slightly puzzled look on his face. He was certain that she had gotten his name, rank, and regiment wrong on purpose.
But before he could think about it any further, the woman was out the door with the older chaperone marching out after her.