❝𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇, 𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒃𝒚 𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏.❞
— 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐔𝐒 𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐔𝐒
꧁꧂
I FUCKING WARNED YOU.
Holding a mirror, Levi gingerly pressed the cold, soaking rag to his cheek, wincing upon contact. A dull soreness pulsed in his skin and facial muscles, fixing his expression into a frown. He clenched his idle hand in a fist as he endured the coldness spreading through his muscles. Even hours after, he swore he could still feel her palm on his face.
Damn it. Levi removed the cloth to inspect the injury. He clicked his tongue at the sight: a faint bruise had formed on his pale skin, blue and purple hues lightly blossoming along his cheekbone. For the most part, the swelling had lessened, but some puffiness persisted under his eye.
She'd slapped him hard.
Levi wrung the cloth over a pail and sighed. No amount of cold compressions would erase the contusion forming on his cheek. He draped the rag over a towel rack. Standing up, he slipped on a clean shirt, the gentle linen scent ushering in a sense of comfort—the little comfort he could feel, anyway. He believed it'd be weeks before he'd fully recover from the horrid excuse of a spar he had in the gymnasium. What had he been thinking, allowing her to play dirty? Thinking about it closely, though, she would have done so even if he'd established rules.
Raking a hand through his hair, Levi cursed quietly as his finger accidentally brushed upon where she'd yanked back his head. Had she tugged any harder and he'd be like Ness, concealing a bald spot with a bandana. He picked up the mirror again and devised an explanation for the bruise. What sounded more convincing? That he bumped into a wall? Fallen off his horse? Truthfully, anything sounded better than 'I sparred a recruit in the gymnasium, ripped her shirt, and she slapped me silly for it'. The symbols—surprisingly —weren't his biggest concern.
More than anything, it was his reaction that astounded him.
Under any other circumstances, he would have instantly lashed back with greater force—perhaps he would have reported her insubordination to Commander Erwin. But no. He'd stood there, gaping like a moron, his feet stuck to the ground.
Her strength frightened and captivated Levi, ensnaring him in unspeakable ways and daunting him beyond words. Whatever she'd slapped in him, it'd rewired his brain and reduced him to a simple-minded dimwit who allowed himself to be smacked around like an unwanted toy. Just like that, she'd grasped his fascination, dizzying and pinning him to the wall, and the only thing he could think about was her, and the power she'd held over him.
He hated it.
꧁꧂
Though the sun had risen a couple of hours ago, the mugginess saturating the grounds clouded the glass of the bunkhouse windows. Traces of the preceding night's thunderstorm lingered in the environment, from the smell of moistened soil to the moss finely dusting the pines, and the way the ground sank when stepped on.
Journal in hand, Valen entered the classroom, confronted with the migraine-inducing sound of morning conversation. The unrelenting discord combined with a poor night's rest and the random aching in her body, all Valen yearned for the serenity of the woods, its chirping birds luring her in.
Valen marched up the steps, passing her babbling classmates as she headed for the corner in the back beside a window. She was so tired that instead of placing her journal on the desk like she usually did, she chose to drop it, coming down with a thud that quickly faded in the ongoing gabbling. From her place, she enjoyed a mundane but no less refreshing sight of the woods, a reminder of what expected her the second classes ended. If she had her pills, she would have gladly nestled her head in the crook of her elbows and snuck in a nap.
"Valen, right?" It was a gruff, masculine tone coming from below her. A burly blond man—or boy—had turned aroun on his bench, staring up at her from his row. Sitting alongside him was an even taller young man who could barely house his legs under the desk, like a Titan cramming itself in a barn.
Valen pointed to herself. "Are you talking to me?"
"Of course I am. Who else would I be talking to?" Her eyelid twitched as he chuckled lowly. "You're from the Eastern Division, right?"
"I'm older than you think I am."
His golden eyes rounded and he erupted into laughter. "I'm not trying to charm you. I'm just striking conversation." He extended a hand. "Reiner Braun, by the way."
"Valen," she answered curtly, refusing the handshake. He'd heard of Reiner from the Southern Division recruits—a brotherly figure, selfless in his ways—but the tales did nothing to lessen the suspicion brewing in her. She was picking up on something arcane an cleverly concealed from the world, and it pestered her like a stray hair tickling her cheek. Perhaps it was her cynicism fueling her misgiving—Reiner could genuinely be a comradely person—but she swore something was looming in the background.
He was charming. Too charming.
"Valen? Just Valen?" Reiner needled, playfully flaring an eyebrow. "No surname?"
"Ferreira."
"Ferreira..." he repeated, rolling it over his tongue. Valen fiddled with her pen. "Haven't heard that one before. Where you from?"
"Calaneth."
"Oh, so the same district we're being deployed from," Reiner said. "What led you to the military?"
"You're asking too many questions."
"Am I—"
"Roll call!" Ness, one of the Scout Regiment's more experienced soldiers, shouted from the board. The blabbering ceased, and everyone seated themselves. Valen removed the little regard she'd given Reiner and zeroed in on the chalkboard.
Thank fucking goodness.
"We'll be starting formation training soon, so you're going to be putting everything you learned into practice! If you haven't been paying attention, then I'd start doing so right now!" Ness peered at his clipboard. "Alright, starting with Ackermann!"
"Present."
"Good... Arlert?!"
"Present!"
Ness proceeded through the list, moving down the C's, Ds, and Es until finally arriving at the Fs.
"Feldman?" Ness called.
"Present!"
"Alright then... Hausner?"
"Present!"
A mild frown twisted her lips. Other than Feldman, Valen was the only one whose surname began with 'F', so it was only right that she'd be called on before 'Hausner'. Ness, she wished to believe, was not a malicious man—no cruel man would pardon his horse for chomping on his skull. If he'd skipped her, it was simply because he was tired.
Still, she needed her name checked.
The man continued checking attendance until the last Scout—a Western Division graduate by the name of Winkler—was named. After he'd checked his name off, Ness squinted at his clipboard for a minute, and for those sixty seconds Valen hoped he'd discern the discrepancy and call on her—the last thing she needed was a truancy on her record. Her finger traced random patterns onto the leather of the journal.
Her puzzlement amplified when Ness nodded firmly and dropped the clipboard at his side. "Everyone's accounted for, great! Just give me a minute, and we'll get things rolling!" Instantly, almost everyone turned around on the benches and conversation sparked again. Her frowned persisted. For once, she'd gone overlooked, and it was right when she needed to be seen.
Valen rose from the bench, snaking past three others and entering an aisle bordering the classroom. As she descended from the bottom step, Ness rummaged through a chest, looking for course material for today's lesson, she deduced. "Sir?"
"One moment...!" Ness groaned, his head almost swallowed whole by the chest. He straightened, clenching a detailed diagram. "Ah, Valen. It's good seeing you around. By the way, great job on the exam on Wednesday. Only you and Arlert scored one hundred."
"Thank you." What could she say? She was a versatile woman. "My name was skipped during roll call."
Ness scowled. "Oh, is that so?" He grabbed his clipboard. "Sorry 'bout that. I'm not the brightest in the mornings." He whipped a pen from his pocket. "Ferreira, right?"
"Correct."
"Right..." Ness mumbled, scanning the roster. "Finally pronounced that right. The rei part messed me up every time..." He made a face. "Strange." Ness looked up from his clipboard. "You're no longer on my roster."
Valen frowned again—what did he mean her name had vanished from the roster? She'd checked last night. They'd her scheduled for this class. Had someone by chance miscopied something? "Pardon?"
"Look." Ness beckoned her closer, and he glided his finger across the parchment paper, starting with the As, through the Bs, Cs, and Ds, all the way to the Es, and finally resting on the Fs.
Ness was right—she had been removed from the roster.
"This was given to me this morning." Valen stepped back. "I'd go to the administration building and ask them what happened. They might have messed up, but I'd check in with them just in case. But right now, I have to get class going." He pulled back the clipboard. "We're only reviewing the basics today, so you'll be alright, but you can always check in if you got any questions."
"Thank you," Valen said as he nabbed the pointing stick he used for the class. As of now, missing class was the least of her worries. Though it could have been an indiscretion on the part of the administrators, she had a hunch something else had happened, and her intuition seldom lied to her.
Valen bounded for the door, springing into the summer day. She eased into a jog, destined for the administration building. The warmth was taxing on her lungs, but after years of strenuous endurance training as a Cadet, it was nothing that'd bother her. It was her concern driving her forward, keeping her feet moving under her.
Rounding a corner, the structure came into sight, a run-of-the-mill building constructed from stone and framed with iron, standing at a modest three stories. Vines obscured the stone in some places, particularly at the top where the sunlight was strongest. She slackened her pace, her jogging transitioning to a steadier amble. Valen stopped at the doors of the building and shakily opened them just enough for her to slip inside.
The door closed behind her, and she turned up in a small lobby. A couple chairs positioned against a wall opposed a desk in the right-hand corner, which a soldier normally occupied, but currently that seat was empty. Valen spun, looking for the person in question—would they return soon?
"Oh, Valen, it's you," came from behind. Nanaba—one of the cooler, more reserved Scouts—entered the lobby. For some reason, Valen found her to be pleasing to be around. "What are you doing in the building? Is something going on?"
"The person at the desk," Valen started. "Are they returning?"
"Oh, Mathilde?" Nanaba's eyes darted to the desk. "I'd come later. Punctuality's not exactly her strength." She stiffened as if she'd recalled something important. "Oh, and by the way, congratulations on the reassignment."
Reassignment? Her heart jumped. If she'd been reassigned, wouldn't she have been informed beforehand? And why would she need to be congratulated? They primarily reassigned recruits for adjustment purposes—was she being reprimanded for her social skills? "Pardon?"
"Oh, I thought someone would have informed you by now," Nanaba said. "Just this morning. You got reassigned to the Special Ops. Miche was the one who told me." The floor buckled under her. "Everything alright?"
"Everything's alright." She was skilled, that was certain, but the promotion smelled foul, rotten to her. Their spar had ended in no victory, therefore, she had no business being reassigned. Had she somehow slapped the common sense from his brain?
She had to get to the bottom of things. "Where's the Commander?" Valen questioned, trying to hide her mounting stress. She needed this settled now—not in the evening, not the following day, but now. "Is he in the building?"
"Of course he is," Nanaba answered. "Where else would he be?"
"Is he busy?"
Nanaba contemplated her before shrugging. "He could be, yes. He's always busy when there's an expedition on the calendar." She stopped speaking and looked at her. "Why do you ask?"
"There's a concern I need addressed." She'd be scolded if she told Nanaba how she truly opinionated on her reassignment, and at the moment, Valen was only interested in arguing with the Commander. "Right now."
"Right now? I'm unsure whether that can happen," Nanaba said. "If you don't mind, I might be able to help. If not, I can have someone run word to Erwin and have him call you in later."
Valen groaned inwardly—she respected Nanaba, but she wished the veteran would stop asking questions. "This is something I'd like to discuss with him directly."
"Oh. Well then." Nanaba regarded her strangely before pointing to the door at the end of the lobby. "Second floor, last door to the right. There should be directions in case you lose your way."
Valen gave her a muted 'thank you' and strode across the lobby, pushing through a door. She stood in a corridor illuminated by sunlight streaming in through the vast, ornate window at the other end. Wooden doors—some lacking plaques—lined the passage, and partly molten candles sat in their iron holders, their crooked wicks unmoving. A stiff sort of silence hung in the air, dust, wood, and an unspecified floral scent intertwining to produce an alluring fragrance. Her eyes hovered over the space until they landed on a wooden sign that read 'staircase'. Engraved below the word was an arrow, pointing straight down the hall.
She inhaled sharply before proceeding.
This is wrong, Valen thought as she ambulated through the corridor. Had the Captain arranged this? If so, why? Had her markings roused so much suspicion that he was compelled to keep his eye on her? If that was the case, then what was she supposed to do? She'd joined the Scout Regiment to make the most of her strength, not to be investigated like a criminal. Staying would be against her best interest.
Finally, Valen discovered the staircase, and she hasted up the first flight. Although the Special Ops was comprised of the strongest and brightest soldiers humanity had at its disposal, she was going to do everything in her will to reverse the change. It was clear their showdown in the gymnasium had paved the way for this, and if those were going to be the circumstances surrounding her reassignment, she wanted nothing to do with it.
Ascending the final step, Valen barreled down the corridor, ignoring the prying stares from those working behind their desks. She recalled the directions Nanaba had given her: second floor, last door to the right.
If she could—
"Good morning!"
Who...? Arms joyously swinging at her sides, a bespectacled woman strolled out from her office, donning a maniacal smile. "Know where you're going, darling?" she piped, slowing to a stop. She adjusted her glasses and leaned down to study her. Valen caught a whiff of her body odor, and she repressed the urge to hurl all over the hall's plush red carpeting: her stench rivaled the Cadet Corps' boys'. "Oh my, looks like we haven't seen each other before!"
And I wish it'd stayed that way. Valen had no desire to pursue conversation with the woman. "I'm—"
"Hange Zoe, fourth Section Commander of the Scout Regiment," the woman nearly shouted at her, thrusting a hand toward her. "No need for formalities, you can just call me Hange." She scrutinized Valen. "Oo, I like your turtleneck, but don't you think it's a little too warm to be wearing one in June?"
Maybe if men stopped ogling me I'd wear something lighter. "It looks good on me," Valen defended.
"It does..." Hange agreed, nodding approvingly. She placed her hands on her hips. "Shouldn't you be in training?"
"I need to speak with the Commander."
"Oh, Erwin? Sorry, but looks like he's pretty darned busy. Commander things, you know. How about you go back to training?" Unexpectedly, she grabbed Valen's hand. "Or if you'd like, I can excuse you so you can stick around and help me with a couple of things!"
Hange was becoming increasingly animated, every word growing louder and more delirious. Valen pulled back, making a face. She's demented. "I'll pass," Valen said, trying to escape the woman.
"Oh, come on! Don't you find anything remotely interesting about science?" Hange exclaimed. "I promise you, it's not as bad as you think—"
A door opened, and Hange hushed. "Section Commander, I value your devotion to the sciences, but I'm going to have to ask you to refrain from being so disorderly. Others are working," Erwin scolded. He'd opened the door only partially, wedging himself between the doors.
Hange adjusted her glasses, her enthusiasm dampened. "My apologies," she said, quieter. She touched Valen's shoulder. "If you need anything, I'll be around," she whispered as she retreated.
Hange's door closed, and for the first time, the Commander acknowledged Valen. "Ah, Valen. It's a pleasure seeing you again. In fact, you're exactly the person I wanted to see," he greeted, a small, but suspicious smile on his lips. He stepped aside and flourished a welcoming hand. "Please, come in."
Wordlessly, Valen accepted his invitation, and she entered the study. It was nothing short of a Commander's working space. Everything was thoroughly dusted and varnished to perfection, books neatly accommodated on the shelves, his selection comprised of some of the Walls' most refined classics. The enticing essence of pine and lemon filled the space, and was that... pomade?
Erwin strode past her and promptly assumed his position behind his desk. Though she had a couple of chairs available to her, Valen chose to remain standing. "Commander, there-"
"Please, have a seat," Erwin interjected, waving to one of the chairs at his desk. Hesitantly, Valen lowered herself into a chair, perching herself on its edge. "How is your morning going?"
"Alright, sir." Valen failed to understand why he was being so vague—why was he delaying the conversation? He'd said he'd been expecting her, implying he'd known about her reassignment.
So, what was stopping him from speaking?
Finding nothing to gain from blurting, she stayed seated and decided to play along: maybe there she'd find an explanation. "How was yours?" she asked, faking the politest tone she could muster.
"Wonderful. Thank you." Instead of continuing the conversation as she'd expected, he stood and faced the window. Valen blinked. "It's truly a splendid day," he commented, gazing at the brightening day.
"Commander—"
"This is regarding your reassignment, correct?" Erwin questioned, still facing the sky. "It'll only be a minute." Her befuddlement escalated to anger. She came to find answers, but she'd found herself swarmed by questions instead.
What does he mean by 'it'll only be a minute'? Valen jumped when someone banged open the doors, and her head snapped to the source of the sound.
Her blood boiled.
꧁꧂
𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆
As I was revising this, I noticed the word counter growing larger and larger... added in a scene from an older draft, and I decided to divide this thing in two. I'll be publishing this first part today, and you'll be seeing the second one published around the same time tomorrow!
Again, thank you so much for all the support!
— C.