Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The ballroom is a gilded cage.

Soft candlelight drips from chandeliers like honey, bathing the marble floors in gold. Laughter travels through the air, all silk and venom. Every smile looks sharp and yours is no different.

You’ve practiced it for years. Soft eyes. Tilted chin. A smile that doesn’t touch your eyes. You know how to wield your beauty like a blade. You’ve had to.

You are the princess. And tonight, you are nothing more than bait.

Tonight is about performance.

You are the youngest daughter of the crown, a vision in sapphire silk and diamonds. Every eye in the ballroom watches you. Every noble mouth whispers something about you behind a gloved hand. The mysterious daughter returned from seclusion, the delicate thing no one saw for a year. Some say it was an illness. Others, scandal. You know what it was.

It was survival.

There are many over the years who've attempted to take your life. You were a diplomatic angel from heaven that could easily bring nations closer—a symbol molded into the perfect bridge between warring crowns. Your presence at a table meant treaties instead of battles, alliances instead of ashes. Empires softened at the sound of your voice. Kings who had once sworn war left court with peace in their mouths and wonder in their eyes.

The reason for such was a mystery to everyone but yourself and your parents.

It wasn’t just your smile nor your beauty, it was simply the weight behind your words. The subtle pull of something primitive and blood-born inside everyone that could nudge a hardened heart, stir empathy from stone. You learned early to wield it like silk. Gentle and controlled. Never enough to draw suspicion. Just enough to shift the tide.

Your mother has taught you how to hide it well and never use it unless told to or necessary. This power of persuasion—an ancient gift whispered about in royal halls and dusty tombs—had passed through generations of Eldia’s bloodline. Not every child born to the crown bore it, but when they did, it was both a blessing and a curse.

It was a tool meant to unite kingdoms—or so you were told—yet a secret that could shatter them if revealed. You learned what it was by accident when you were young when you used it on one of your riding instructors to get out of class. It was easy to work with, almost second-nature to use after that, until you were discovered by your mother.

She had made you promise never to let it shine too brightly. To never let others glimpse the true depth of your influence. She would’ve stood beside you now but she is buried beneath stone and roses, claimed by an illness that took her far too suddenly. You had only just begun to ask real questions when she died. And now, the answers live only in memory, in journals locked away in your chambers, and in the quiet warnings she left behind.

To the world, you were diplomacy incarnate. It was safe to say that power like this breeds fear.

And fear breeds enemies.

You move through the crowd with practiced grace, nodding, curtsying, laughing at jokes you’ve heard a dozen times before. The chatter washes over you in waves.

It’s a pity you have to endure this. You’d much rather be in the library or in your riding boots, hunting deep in the forest where no one speaks in double meanings.

But your duties are not decided by want.

A servant swings by you, handing you a drink, as you scan the crowd. The court tonight is full of dignitaries. Northern emissaries. East Eldian nobles with land and leverage. Daughters of merchant kings hoping to marry one of your older brothers into power. Sons of other nations wanting to finally make you theirs.

It isn’t until you catch the eyes of Lord Rowen of the Western Reach—red-faced, over-perfumed, always watching you a moment too long—that a sharp chill runs along your spine.

He smiles too wide. He takes your hand and bows over it. “Your Highness. Radiant, as ever.”

You smile back, carefully measured, even when you really had no interest in this conversation. “Lord Rowen. I trust your journey to the capital was pleasant?”

“A touch long,” he says, fingers lingering. “But you make the arrival well worth it.”

You withdraw your hand smoothly, your face grimacing just the slightest bit. His eyes narrow in a way that says he noticed.

He leans in, voice low. “There are rumors about you, you know. Quite strange ones.”

You tilt your head, feigning slight confusion, but you reply confidently. “There always are. Court gets bored quite easily.”

“I wonder if they’re true.” His smile is uncanny. “That you could talk a man into giving up his army. That even war bends to your will.”

Your smile doesn’t slip, but your pulse stutters. You couldn’t be sure if it was plain flattery or if he was onto you. “You give me far too much credit, my lord.”

“Do I?” His gaze drops to your lips, then flicks up. “Or not enough?” You feel your resolve stiffen and realize you must do something before he asks too many questions.

The voice you use next is velvet, laced with the power of persuasion, it comes out as sweet as honey. “Careful, Rowen. There’s truth in some rumors and there’s danger in pushing your luck with me. Don’t.” You choose your words carefully, making sure not to impose any command that isn’t necessary.

You watch his posture shift. His pupils dilate and his eyes fall into a daze. You’ve known this reaction ever since you learned to wield your power.

He nods and you slip away before he can recover and realize what happened.

As you make your way to the dais, you pass by a table of foreign dignitaries laughing too loudly. A few of them eye you curiously. You’re well aware that their culture doesn’t crown women with diplomatic power, and they do not understand how you command a room without raising your voice.

You’ve just started ascending the stairs when you feel it.

The faint, sharp-edged feeling blooms behind your ribs like smoke. A bitterness you cannot name. Your hand tightens around your wine glass.

Something’s wrong. You’re sure of it.

You glance behind you, scanning the crowd. So many smiles but none that tell a story.

It’s instinct. No, it’s more than instinct.

It’s the feeling you’ve trained yourself to recognize without hesitation: intent.

Someone in this room means you harm.

You step onto the platform beside your father. He doesn’t look at you, still speaking with a royal advisor. The Queen, my step-mother, is seated, regal and unreadable as always, her gaze skimming the ballroom.

You look down into your cup and you feel a knot in your stomach. The wine looks too thick and smells odd. It wouldn’t be apparent to anyone if they didn’t look any closer but you’d been trained to notice.

You lean toward your father and whisper low. “Father, who poured this for me?”

He waves a hand, distracted by the many guests that come to greet him. “Some servant, I believe. Why?”

You don’t answer.

Instead, you walk to the edge of the platform, trusting yourself. You raise your glass like a toast and let it slip from your fingers.

It shatters on marble and the entire ballroom quiets at once.

Your father finally turns to you fully. “What is the meaning of this, y/n?” His voice booms.

“It was poisoned,” you say calmly, unbothered, voice slicing through the silence.

Panic immediately ripples through the hall. Guards step forward. Nobles rise to their feet. Whispers and accusations of the princess’s poisoning are already spreading.

“Are you sure?” Your father stares at you, his expression a mixture of anger and concern.

“I’m always sure.”

…

After the ball, you find yourself in the private room lit only by oil lamps and fury, standing across from your father, the Queen, and Erwin Smith, head of the Royal Guard. The warmth of the ballroom is gone. Only the echo of panic and betrayal lingers behind your ribs.

Your father paces like a lion in a shrinking cage, hands clenched behind his back, gold-lined cloak dragging along the stone floor. His crown is still perched on his head, tilted slightly from all the worry.

“Do you have any idea what they would have accomplished if that poison had touched your lips?” your father snaps suddenly, spinning on his heel to face you. His voice cracks against the stone walls. “This wasn’t just a stunt. This was war dressed in a wine glass.”

“I didn’t drink it,” you reply calmly. You don’t step back. “I caught it before—”

“Regardless, it was nothing but luck and luck favors fools,” he cuts in. “You should’ve been prepared.”

You clench your jaw, huffing slightly. “I wasn’t exactly anticipating an assassination attempt between the waltz and dessert.”

He slams his hand down on the map table. “This is the third attempt in six months. It’s too dangerous for you to even make public appearances.”

The room falls quiet.

For a moment, all you can hear is the low hiss of flame in the lanterns and the dull thud of your own heartbeat. Your hands are cold at your sides, fingers twitching with the urge to defend yourself, to argue that you’ve done everything asked of you. That you’ve smiled and lied and bled for this family. That you can easily handle yourself in the face of danger.

“So, how can we fix this? It’s not like you can lock me up in one of the quarters in the palace forever.” You say, alluding to the fact that you’d spent most of your childhood away from the rest of the world. “You’ve already done that for far too long, and it’s obvious you need me.”

“Y/N, you have to understand that they fear you,” The queen says. “Because you’ve turned would-be enemies into allies. Because you can end battles before they begin. Because your words are more powerful than anyone’s will.”

“The gift is too precious to be left unprotected,” Erwin adds, finally stepping forward.

You flinch, just slightly, looking at Erwin. “No one outside this room is supposed to know about that.” You remind him.

Erwin doesn’t blink. “No one should, but secrets this old don’t stay buried forever. Especially not when someone’s trying to kill the one person keeping this kingdom’s alliances from unraveling.”

“We’ve already had half the guests detained. The kitchen is locked down. The servants are being questioned as we speak.” The King pinches the bridge of his nose.

“And what if none of them are responsible?” you ask, quietly. “What if the real threat is still inside this castle, watching us scramble while they plan their next move?”

The silence that follows confirms it: the same thought had already crossed their minds.

“We cannot afford another close call,” the Queen says. “Not with the treaty with Hizuru still unsigned. Not with the Reiss boy circling you like a vulture in the East. And certainly not with your gift barely held in check.”

“You think this is my fault?” You exclaim, disbelief crossing your features.

“No,” She says, trying to soothe your short temper. “I think you’re one heartbeat away from being used. And that terrifies me more than losing you.”

The King lets out a breath and comes to a decision. “You’ll be assigned protection. Not just palace guards. You need someone specialized, following you around and shielding you from all this.”

You already know what that means. And you don’t like it.

“I don’t need a shadow,” You argue, irritated. “I can take care of myself, I need my freedom. Independence. If you cage me now—”

“This is not a discussion,” he snaps. “This is a simple battle strategy. We’re down a queen’s gambit and trying to keep the rest of the board from collapsing.”

Erwin speaks again. “I’ve already made the selection.”

“I do not care, I don’t need anyone.” You continue, your arms crossed over your chest.

Your father gives you a sharp look, silencing you, and gestures for him to continue.

“There’s only one person I trust to do this properly. He’s the strongest man in the nation. He doesn’t play politics. He doesn’t take bribes. And he follows his own methods and doesn’t bow to royalty easily.”

You narrow your eyes, scoffing. “Sounds charming.”

Erwin’s lips twitch like he almost wants to smile, but it fades quickly. “Princess, he won’t be charming in the slightest, I can tell you that much. He’s lethal and won’t think twice to end someone’s life for you.”

“And I’m supposed to be grateful he’s babysitting me? He sounds like a danger, himself.”

“It may seem brash but I do not care,” your mother says softly. “You’re supposed to survive no matter what.”

Something in your chest tightens. You know better than anyone that survival in this court often comes at the cost of everything else. Freedom, identity, happiness.

You sigh to yourself and ask softly, “Who is he?”

Erwin turns fully to face you now, voice even. “Captain Levi Ackerman.”

The name falls like a blade.

You’ve heard it before. Everyone has. The invincible soldier. The blade of the crown. A man who moves through blood and silence with equal ease. A man who once held off six hundred armed rebels on his own while bleeding from a sword wound to the side. He never speaks unless necessary. He reluctantly takes orders only from Erwin and answers to no one else. Not even your father.

You stare at Erwin, brows raised, completely gobsmacked.

“You’re seriously assigning him to me?”

He meets your gaze. “If anyone can keep you alive and out of danger, it’s Levi.”

You’re not sure if that comforts you or makes you want to scream. But in the end, it doesn’t even matter. The decision has already been made.

“You were born with power none of us asked for,” The king says quietly. “That makes you valuable. And it makes you dangerous.”

You don’t respond and your hands grow cold.

He turns to face you, slower this time. The firelight catches on the lines beneath his eyes. “You may not like the man guarding you but you’re no longer just a princess in this castle. You’re a symbol and symbols are the first to burn when empires fall.”

You stiffen, resolve shaking. “You think I’m a liability.”

“No,” he says. “I think you’re the only thing keeping this kingdom from collapsing.”

You remain still as everyone begins to leave the room. Spine straight, fists clenched behind the folds of your gown. But inside, there’s an uneasiness that begins to churn as you register the events of tonight again.

You’ve survived another attempt. But just barely.

And now? They’re giving you a blade with legs. A soldier who doesn’t bow. A ghost in the palace halls who answers to no one. Not even the crown you wear.

Turning toward the door, your father mutters one final order behind you. “Erwin, send for him. Tonight.”

The air feels heavier somehow like the moment before a storm breaks, when the sky holds its breath and the earth tenses beneath your feet.

You exhale quietly.

And leave without a word.

Chapter Text

The maids dress you in silver today.

They say nothing of last night. Nothing of the poisoned wine or of the way your hands trembled as you were once again victimized to the troubles that had consumed your life. They avoid your eyes and move with the precision of people trying not to break something already cracked. You sit motionless as they weave your hair back, pinning your curls up like armor.

Not a word spoken, yet everything feels too loud.

Once the maids leave, you cross to the mirror once the door closes and stare at yourself.

Your reflection looks like the girl from last night. The girl who smiled through a thousand lies, who laughed over poison, who almost died because she trusted the wrong hand.

You were always grateful to your instincts. They'd saved you countless times before but again, as your father said,

"Luck favors fools."

It was a shame you agreed with him on that, yet you couldn't shake the irritable thought of having someone watch over you every minute of every day. Especially one so dangerous. You'd learned to question everyone's character, their morals, and principles. So even if Commander Erwin was assigning Levi Ackerman to you, it didn't necessarily bring to light how he is as a person.

It's impossible to allude to that fact unless you see for yourself and you were too curious for your own good to let that go.

You couldn't even dare to risk that much.

A knock gently comes at your door.

"Your Highness?" a voice murmurs from the other side.

You don't answer, clearly anxious to face the day head-on.

It was Petra, one of the guards who still addresses you with warmth. She's the only one left who does. Her armor is polished, her eyes sharper than usual. She was a kind soul and you spent many days enjoying your time stuck in the palace with her, along with your Ladies in Waiting—Lady Sasha and Lady Mikasa.

"Oh, Petra, I'm glad it's you. I'm not in the mood for much interaction this morning," You say, smoothing out your gown as you look at her.

Petra smiles kindly, "It's quite alright, Princess. I know you've been through a lot and it's unimaginable how much attitude these workers have today. You'd think they're the ones that almost got poisoned." She joked.

You gave her a smile as you couldn't help but agree. "Security's starting to get tighter than it ever was, it's very suffocating. I guess it is for everyone."

"I understand," Petra empathized. "But it really is all for your safety."

You rolled your eyes at that. It was tiring how much you heard it on a daily basis.

"Where are Mikasa and Sasha?"

"They're getting debriefed on the new security system and how to best take care of you," Petra explained. "They'll be out by this evening."

"I can't believe they're making them do that!" You exclaim, exasperated by your father's overprotective nature. "It's bullshit! They're my friends!"

Petra widened her eyes at your language. It wasn't uncommon knowledge, this trait of your personality, but it still caught people off guard and you took some pleasure in it.

"It's for the best," Petra repeated and then took a breath.

"Also," She started, "I know this is the absolute last thing you want to hear but the Commander wants to meet with you soon."

"Already?" You asked nervously. You weren't ready to meet Levi yet. You never knew of anybody who ever was.

Petra nodded and you sighed to yourself.

It was ironic how someone as powerful as you—the princess of Eldia—had such little control over your own life.

You were led through the halls of the palace—your home though it never felt like one. You'd practically memorized the layout of the entire place considering how much time you spent stuck in here, banned from venturing into the outside world. You knew of every secret entrance and hidden passageway. You knew of all the rooms where you'd find the most privacy and areas where others' conversations echoed clearly. That was the way you'd learned to stay in contact with what happens outside the palace walls.

"Is he here?" You ask Petra, antsy and a bit excited to see the man in person, for once, and not simply heard through myth.

Petra looked over at you, "Levi? I'm not too sure, I guess you'll see when you get there."

"Do you know him?"

"I was on his squad for years before I was repositioned at the palace." Petra says, "He's an...enigma. That's for sure."

You scoffed, "So I've heard. Anything else you know?"

"Not much. Even though I'd known him for many years, I never learned much about him." She sighed quietly to herself, "He's really reserved and been through a lot, I can say that much."

"Been through what?" You ask, clueless of the situation outside of the palace. The horrors of war were completely foreign to you and no matter how much you tried to squeeze out information from the guards you knew, they were strictly forbidden to tell you anything more than what you already knew.

It was incredibly unfair.

Petra gives you a soft look, "Don't worry so much about it, Princess. I'm sure you'll find a way to get along with Levi, no matter how temperamental he may be. I mean, everyone loves you."

"I guess that's right," You say smiling to yourself and taking in the compliment, which makes Petra chuckle.

Petra led you both to one of the smaller war quarters of the palace. It was less grand than the throne room and less theatrical than the council chambers. You never found yourself in these areas of the palace because frankly, you thought it was boring. It was impossible to hear anything through these walls, no matter how much you tried, because all the war chamber rooms were completely soundproof.

As you walk in, you notice Erwin waiting for you. Petra gives you an indication that she'll be waiting right outside and you nod.

You look around to find an unfamiliar face but the man you're supposed to meet is nowhere to be seen.

Erwin stands up and quickly bows before crossing his arms and returning to his usual rigid posture.

"Princess," He acknowledges, "Nice to see you here this morning."

You nod once, smiling at him courteously. "You as well, Erwin."

You move to the window and place a hand on the cold glass. Below, the gardens are blooming with white roses.

A bored sigh escapes your throat, "I thought this would be more climatic than it is. Just where is your phantom soldier?"

"He should be here shortly, Princess," Erwin confidently says, used to your attitude.

The silence in the room stretches for a while and it is deafening. Erwin was a nice man but he wasn't one who said much, and especially to the princess.

You fidgeted restlessly. You've been still far too long today and too many thoughts consume your mind. Your fingers drum along the carved wooden windowsill as the petals tumble from the rose bushes below.

Erwin still hasn't said a word since your last question. You glance over your shoulder at him.

"You're being terribly cryptic, you know," You say, lifting a brow. "Very ominous. You could at least tell me if he has a personality."

"He's not here to charm you."

"Well, I'm not asking him to serenade me with a lute," You retort almost immediately. "I'm simply inquiring about who's going to be following me around all day. Is that so wrong?"

Erwin gives you a look, "Just have some patience, Princess. I apologize for making you wait."

"He's the one making me wait."

"Am I?" Says a voice unfamiliar to you—sharp, cool, and deep as it reverberates through your body.

You spin toward the sound just in time to see the door shut behind him.

He doesn't bow nor does he offer a smile. He stands just inside the threshold, gaze flickering over the room and then scanning you. His eyes were slate gray and unblinking while his expression was serious and disinterested.

You've never seen someone look at you like that before—as if you aren't the most important or beautiful person in the room and your mere presence is an irritation to him.

It sent a small nervous shiver down your spine.

He's not particularly tall but his presence was overwhelming. Every line of his body is stiff with discipline, his uniform severe, his boots scuffed from years of wear. A couple pieces of jet-black hair hang across his brow in defiance of the otherwise militaristic neatness of him.

He stops just shy of the war table and says nothing.

It almost bothered you how uncaring he was. You never noticed nor allowed for it when others fawned over you, but the fact that he didn't immediately give you at least some

importance, messed with your head. You were the princess after all.

You glance at Erwin, "This is him?"

"Captain Levi Ackerman," Erwin confirms and introduces him since he can't bother to do it himself.

"You were wrong, Erwin. He is charming." You mutter sarcastically under your breath.

Levi's eyes narrow just barely, his expression unamused. "This must be the mouth I've been warned about."

You blink for a beat and then smile sweetly, "And you must be my last resort."

"Watch it, brat." Levi warns and you widen your eyes a bit. "Be grateful I'm agreeing to save your ass since you can't manage to keep yourself alive." No one ever spoke to you that way. No one ever needed to put you in your place, and it baffled you how someone—who didn't even know you—could find the act second-nature.

You'd usually done and said whatever you pleased for as long as you had known, simply because everyone let you. Sure, it could come off as a bit spoiled but it never came from a bad place. It's simply how you were and everyone adored you and your personality anyway.

Erwin gave Levi a sharp look but it didn't affect him in the slightest. It was obvious this man didn't bow to the crown, even if he was considered its blade.

"It's not like neither you or I have a choice," You smile spitefully. "King's orders and all that, right?"

Levi doesn't rise to the bait. He just exhales through his nose like your presence alone is exhausting, which is frankly insulting, considering how many nobles would kill for five minutes of your time.

"I follow orders," He says flatly, "Not tantrums dressed in silk." You stiffen, huffing slightly through your nose.

Erwin clears his throat, probably to prevent this from escalating. "Levi will report directly to me and accompany you wherever you go, Your Highness. Your safety is now top priority."

You shoot him a look, "And my dignity? Are you seriously saying he'll keep speaking to me like that?"

Erwin, regrettably, didn't have an answer for that. For a moment, the only sound in the room is the ticking of the clock above the hearth.

Levi steps forward slightly, looking at you as his arms crossed over his chest. "Your schedule. I want it. Every movement, every meeting, every detail of the things you do during the day."

You begin to interject, "I don't need you to—"

"I'll also begin an inspection of your routes." He cuts you off almost immediately, voice stern. It makes you falter just the slightest. "Routes you takes when you're not hiding in parlors, eavesdropping or running off to talk to foreign emissaries without permission." Levi turns toward the door.

Your gaze sharpens, as you feel a twinge of embarrassment at your past actions. "You've read my file."

"I read your mess." He says with utmost ease, without looking back.

...

"He seriously said that to you?!" Sasha gaped at you, eyes wide with surprise and intrigue. You told her and Mikasa all about meeting Levi for the first time.

You nod, as you sip your tea. "Can you believe that? I've never met someone so rude and uncouth in my life."

"Well, I guess the rumors do him justice, then." Mikasa adds quietly, "He isn't really known for his manners."

"Regardless! And forget the fact that I'm the princess for a second," you complain, sprawling your hands. "I mean, who talks to somebody they just met in that way?"

"You didn't really help your case though," Sasha giggles softly. "Guess you've met your match when it comes to an argument." You give her a sour look.

"He might hear you," Mikasa muses.

"You both are almost as annoying as he is."

Mikasa smiles, "It's interesting how he doesn't bend to royalty, though. Kind of admirable. I wonder why that is."

"It's stupid is what it is." You mutter to yourself, fidgeting with the lid of the china teapot in front of you.

The door opens and all three of you look in its direction. Connie, your friend and messenger, steps through.

He clears his throat as Sasha holds back a laugh. It was always amusing to watch Connie try and do his job. The man was never serious a day in his life unless he was doing this.

"Your Highness," Connie almost barks out a laugh. He was one of the very few people who never addressed you with such a formal title and you truly enjoyed it. The friends you'd made over your life in the palace were wonderful and your life—no matter how bleak it may seem—would've been truly unbearable without them.

"You're requested in the meeting room by the council." Connie reminds and you look at the time, almost jumping to your feet. He drops the formalities at the end of his announcement, "Yeah, hurry up. Your dad's pissed."

"I can't believe I forgot!" You put on some comfortable flats as Mikasa rushes you out the door.

Dragging your feet on the marbled floors, you stroll to the closed council meeting you were summoned at.

You hate these meetings with the utmost passion. They're always draped in worry and never end with anything useful. Just more new restrictions and guards at your door.

Levi follows you from a couple steps behind, and walks inside with you. Not much has been said to one another since you two met earlier. You hate how much his presence keeps you on edge.

You don't like how he walks into rooms like he's already studied the best way to exit from them. You don't like how he sees everyone as a threat. You especially don't like that look he has, as if he's waiting to bury a blade in someone's throat.

The head of diplomatic affairs, Nile Dok is already seated. Commander Pyxis is there, too, with his calm and tired eyes, beside General Magath, Erwin, and your father at the head of the table.

"There's new information," Erwin stands and says, once I'm seated. "The wine bottle used last night was traced to a shipment from the Marlayan delegation."

You straighten, looking up. "They're still in the capital."

Your father's face hardens. "And they will remain under watch until further investigation. There's not much more we can do without upsetting them entirely."

"Do you think it was them?" You ask, mouth dry.

"No," Magath grunts, setting his hands on the table. "It's too obvious. Too soon after the trade war."

"But the fact that someone wanted it to look like them," Erwin adds, "is more telling than if it were."

Your mother's voice cuts through the air, calm and surgical. "It's not just about y/n. Whoever orchestrated this is trying to destabilize negotiations. They want blood to follow the ink on the treaties and the princess is the best target."

The silence after that is thick.

You stare at the crest on the table, fingers tightening, as your resolve trembles. It was difficult to wrap your mind around these harsh truths.

"And what?" You ask, voice softer than it previously was. "I'm supposed to just smile and show up at the next gala? Let whoever it was try again?"

"Yes," Your father says coldly.

You want to scream at him. How can someone offer up their own daughter like that?

Standing with fists clenched at your sides, "You're using me just like always!" you exclaim. "I'm the lamb they send back into the wolf's den."

"You're the princess of Eldia," your mother says quietly. "Your appearances to your subjects mean everything. That is simply your duty."

Heat rushes to your head and you storm outside the room. Levi follows you without a word.

Outside the council chamber, you nearly trip over a servant boy carrying scrolls in between your scurry back to your room.

You apologize instinctively, helping him gather them up. He's too stunned by your presence to speak.

"I hope you're alright," You say softly, stacking the scrolls back on his tray. "Do you need any help taking these back?"

The boy is staring at you still, disbelief crossing his features. He blinks and then snaps himself out of his daze, "No, no, Your Highness! Thank you so much, I apologize for running into you." He collects his things from your hands and bows before he leaves. "Have a good evening."

Levi watches the whole thing. You straighten yourself up and look at him, your eyebrows knitting together.

"What?" You ask a bit too sharply, tired of his silence and observation.

"You have patience to coddle every passing servant," he says, "but not enough to listen to a room full of people trying to keep you alive."

"I listen just fine," You snap. "I just don't like what I hear."

"And for the record, I wasn't coddling him. It's called being kind. Ever heard of it?"

He stares at you for a long, unreadable moment."You think kindness is going to keep you breathing?"

"No," You say softly, clearly losing your spirit to keep arguing. You'd gone through far too much today. "I don't care much about staying alive these days. But being kind to others sure makes dying a little less lonely."

Levi looks at you, expression unchanged yet trying to understand you. You feel a bit exposed by the way he looks at you and even wonder why you said that without thinking.

He nods once, looking forward as you start to walk and he trails close behind you.

You don't know how long it'll be before you truly get used to his shadow.

Chapter Text

A week had passed since then.

There was no progress made with getting along with Levi. Whatever Petra told you that day—about everyone instantly adoring you—was certainly and indisputably a lie. At least it was when it came to him.

The first couple days, you didn’t understand what exactly you’d done to irk him so much. You’d tried again and again to make him at least have a civil conversation with you. You’d tried to get to know him—curious as you were about his past—but the man was a stone wall. He was so composed it was frankly unnerving. He never talked unless necessary and barely blinked unless it was to judge you.

All you ever received were grunts, insults, and scoldings, leading to irritated arguments from the both of you. If you thought you were under strict watch before, you couldn’t even think to do much now.

Life was already tiring in the palace and it had been even more troublesome with his company.

Walking into your room, the space was sunlit through the white sheer curtains, the sunlight catching motes of dust that float lazily in the still air. High-arched windows line the far wall, draped in ivory gauze that stirs faintly in the breeze.

The scent of lavender and old parchment lingers in the room because your maids always leave the windows cracked to let in the morning air. This is your favorite part of the day, when everything is quiet, soft, and untouched by court politics. When you can just laze around before heading off to your classes and meetings. There’s a dressing table near the fireplace, scattered with perfume bottles and hairpins and across from it, your canopy bed waits, dressed in pale blue silks.

As you approach your bed, resting at the center of it is a letter.

Unmarked and unsealed.

The light catches the cream-colored parchment, edges curled like it’s been handled already. There’s no wax insignia. There’s just careful, slanted writing on the front: For the Princess.

The handwriting is elegant and measured. It’s not a message born of panic. It was written with purpose. You wonder how it even got in here since your handmaidens oversaw the mail you received if you weren’t in the room.

Your stomach twists as you read it.

‘To the Crown’s Golden Tongue,

You think you’re untouchable. A crown, a smile, a voice that makes people kneel. You’ve worn your charm like armor for years now, haven’t you?

But I see you. I know what you are. I know exactly what it is you do.

I watched you at the ball. I’ve watched you many other times before. I’ve watched you convince people into doing things they don’t want to. How many minds have you softened, sweet girl? How many allies were twisted by something they thought was their own will?

It’s intriguing how easily you’re able to do it and I wonder what someone could do if they had their hands on that pretty little voice of yours. Even the thought excites me in ways you cannot comprehend.

You’re a poison in silk and you are not diplomatic at all.

Power like this should never belong to a single naive girl.

You’ve had your fun, but here’s the truth: your secret is a blade and I now hold it to your throat. I could carve you up before you even realize who I could be.

I could ruin you and take a lot of pleasure in it.

One quiet conversation in the wrong ear and this kingdom will turn on you like wolves in velvet. You know what they do to witches, don’t you? Even the pretty ones.

I suggest you act very, very carefully from now on and be the perfect little puppet you were raised to be. This palace has plenty of shadows, Princess. The court devours what it cannot control.

And soon, you will belong to someone else entirely.’

The blood drains from your face.

You read it again and again, your breath catching in your throat.

Each line sinks deeper and lodges like knives behind your ribs. You grip the paper harder than necessary, crumpling the edges.

The paper is untraceable. Whoever wrote this knows. Not just about the gift, but how recently you’ve used it. How dangerously close you’ve come to exposing yourself.

You sink slowly onto the edge of your bed, the letter trembling between your fingers.

Who saw you? When did they see you? Was it at court? At the gardens? At the ball? Have they known all along?

Your thoughts race, mind grasping for logic, for names, for possible motives.

Could it be Levi?

No.

You press the thought down before it finishes forming. You weren’t even sure if he knew about your power, given he’d never shown any indication of it. He’s irritating, rude, and stubborn, but if he wanted to expose you, he would’ve done it. He has full access to you at all times so why waste that and use a threatening letter? It wouldn’t be tactical and you expect a little more from such an audacious soldier.

Regardless, you decide to not tell Levi or anyone else until you can be sure of who to trust. You fold it with careful fingers and hide it deep in your drawer, beneath a pile of old ribbons. You’ll burn it tonight. You keep this secret because you don’t know how to differentiate between your friends and enemies.

It’s such a terrifying state of mind to be in.

You sit down on the bed, fingers brushing over the spine of the book you’d left unfinished the night before. The pages open like a familiar door, and for a brief moment, you let yourself fall back against the pillows, letting the words pull you into another world—one where letters don’t bleed threats and your every step isn’t followed by a shadow in a cravat.

You try to read. You really do but the quiet stretches too long.

Levi’s presence near your door looms at the edge of your thoughts. He hasn’t said a word all morning as always. He just stands there like a sword you’re forced to carry everywhere. It was so difficult to get used to.

You decide to distract yourself, and what better way to do that than to pester your bodyguard? It’s become your favorite little pastime, only because he makes it so easy.

You tilt your head slightly toward him, your voice light. “You don’t talk very much do you?”

“And you talk far too much,” Levi replies, his voice deep and disinterested, not even glancing your way. You prop yourself up on your elbows, laying on your stomach, and look at him. As talkative as you were, it intrigued you to banter with him.

“Why, yes. It’s one of my best qualities.” You grin.

“Then you must not have many.”

Your eyebrows knit together, irritation bubbles at the base of your stomach. This was a regularity between you two. You could never fathom someone speaking so rudely, let alone to the princess, herself.

If you had to be frank, however, it was kind of a nice change. It gave you someone to argue with for once. Someone who didn’t cater to your every whim like their life depended on it. Someone who challenged you, no matter how much it pissed you off.

“What is your problem with me?”

“Who could ever have a problem with you, my dear?” He says with a deadpan face, but you sense the slightest hint of sarcasm. Surprising, considering you didn’t think he was capable of humor.

“Asshole,” You mutter to yourself and immediately notice Levi’s eyes narrow sharply, which makes you laugh. “You’re awfully grumpy for someone whose entire purpose in life is me.”

“A brat like you is certainly not my purpose in life,” He scoffs. “I’ve had worse assignments.”

“Oh?” You raise a brow, challenging him. “Like what?”

Levi looks annoyed that you even asked, his eyes narrowing.

“I’ve tortured traitors in the most brutal ways until they begged on their knees to die,” he says, voice like steel dragged across stone. “I’ve killed more people than you could count in a lifetime. And I’ve stood ankle-deep in the blood of comrades and enemies alike because I had to, so don’t flatter yourself thinking you’re the worst I’ve dealt with.”

You straighten instinctively, your mouth parting and then closing again. For once, no clever retort surfaces. You’re not sure there is one. You’d meant it as a jab. A little dig in your usual back-and-forth. But his answer feels like something scraped from the bottom of a battlefield. It was heavy, iron-tasting, and final. That type of truth was one foreign to you.

His tone never changed and there wasn’t a flicker of emotion between any of it. It felt as if he was completely in control of his emotions or war had squeezed every droplet of it out of him. That’s what made it worse.

You realize something about him for the first time, because he finally lets you. You realize that Levi Ackerman isn’t just cold and enigmatic.

He’s simply haunted by everything that he’s been through.

“And now I get to make sure you don’t trip over your own dress and end up next.” Levi mutters in frustration.

Oh, so that was the main issue.

Humanity’s strongest, Levi Ackerman, was reduced to babysitting a princess in pearls who talked too much and never listened to anyone.

It’s not angry nor cruel. It’s simply the truth but for some reason it hurts you a little.

You don’t respond for a beat. Then, finally, you mutter, “You could’ve just said you hate being here. I didn’t need your blood-soaked resume.” Levi doesn’t say anything in response as always, inconsiderate of your feelings.

Without another word, you rise, brushing invisible dust from your skirts, and turn on your heel. Your slippers click crisply against the floor as you stride toward the door.

“Anyway, I’ll be in the courtyard.”

Behind you, Levi exhales like this is exactly what he expected. He couldn’t expect you to stay still for long, especially when your only entertainment was him. He falls into step a beat later, his boots heavier, quieter.

You turn around to face him, “Don’t follow me, I wish to be alone.” Spinning on your heel, your skirt whips around your ankles as you walk. Footsteps still echo behind you—measured, silent, inevitable.

“I’m obligated to follow you,” Levi says flatly, matching your pace without effort. You sigh to yourself.

“Obligated,” you echo under your breath, scowling. “More like obsessed.”

You were growing tired of his presence—always there like a splinter in your foot. It was more so because you never got a chance to be alone these days. Wherever you went, he lurked in every corner. The library. The garden. The small hours before dawn, when you sit by your window and pretend not to feel the weight of everything pressing in.

The courtyard, where your friends gathered during mid-afternoon, was one of your main sources of enjoyment and you weren’t about to let it be ruined by him.

The desperation rises fast and hot in your throat.

There are very few times you’ve used your gift for selfish purposes. Fewer still where you’ve needed to. Regardless of your urge, you were still terrified about the letter. You didn’t know who was behind it and if they were always watching.

Even so, this. This was just becoming unbearable.

You stop at the base of the marble stairway leading to the lower courtyard. Levi slows behind you, a few paces back, arms crossed as always.

You don’t look at him as you prepare to speak.

“Stay away, Levi,” you say, your voice smooth and silken with command. “Don’t follow me to the courtyard. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll turn around.”

You feel it unfurl inside you, warm and quiet. A pulse of persuasion like a note in a song only certain ears can enjoy. The gift takes hold of your words, weaving them with honey and steel. Your resolve wraps around the air, thick and impossible to ignore.

Normally, it hits like a wave. People blink once and then soften. They nod and they always agree. They do what you ask without question, without realizing why.

But Levi doesn’t move.

He just stares at you tiredly.

“No.”

The word hung heavy in the air. It thuds in your chest like a misfired arrow.

You watched his expression for the same daze and blind faithfulness that everyone harbored when the gift hit them, but it was nowhere to be found in Levi.

What?

“But I ordered you to,” The words slip out of you in plain confusion and shock.

“I said no,” Levi repeats, voice harder now. “You don’t get to give me orders.”

“But I did.” You say before you can stop yourself, a bit breathless. You were mainly speaking your thoughts aloud. “You should’ve listened. You—why didn’t it work?”

Levi’s eyes narrow, sharp as broken glass. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Shit.

You shouldn’t have said that. You never talk about it. You never admit it. Your mother drilled that into your bones years ago like her life depended on it. It’s a gift, but also a curse, and people will fear what they don’t understand. You were never supposed to use it unless absolutely necessary.

And now it’s out there between the both of you. Shaking in the air like a loose thread that’s about to unravel everything.

Levi’s expression shifts slowly, his jaw tensing and shoulders still. His voice drops. “Did you just use it on me?”

For a moment, your heart stutters. But then, relief floods your chest. A small, shaky exhale leaves your mouth.

He knows.

Of course he knows.

He must have been briefed. Either by Commander Erwin, who sees everything, or your father, who also made you swear never to use it on anyone inside the palace without permission. Especially not him. Especially not Levi.

Your muscles loosen slightly, but only slightly, because knowledge doesn’t equal forgiveness—and with Levi, nothing comes without consequence.

You don’t answer right away. Your fingers curl into your skirt. Your throat feels tight. As much as you try to look confident, it feels more like panic.

His gaze sharpens like a knife sliding free of its sheath. “You tried to control me, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t—” you deny nervously, then stop. Lying won’t help when he already knows.

“You knew all along. They told you.”

“I knew,” he confirms, curt and cold. “I just didn’t think you were reckless enough to use it on me.”

You straighten your shoulders, stubborn instinct rising like a shield. “I wasn’t trying to control you. I just needed…space. Just one moment for myself. You never leave me alone.”

“You want space?” Levi scoffs, stepping closer, boots heavy against the polished stone. His expression is clouded with slight anger. “Fine. Ask for it then. Don’t try to twist my head with some cursed little trick you’re too immature to handle.”

The words sting more than you expect.

“You don’t understand what it’s like,” you say, quieter now. Your demeanor is just the slightest bit vulnerable. “To always have to smile. To always say the right thing. To be watched every second like you’re some…prized pet. You get to disappear behind a uniform. You can be alone whenever you please. I don’t get to be alone unless I make it happen.”

Levi doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t try to sympathize. His silence is sharp and his glare piercing but there is a hint of softness in his eyes that glistens by.

It was so subtle—the crack in his armor—but it disappeared as fast as it came.

Levi leans down to your level, his breath fanning your face as his intimidating scrutiny hits you.

“You try that power on me again,” he says, tone like frost—a not-so-hidden warning, “and I won’t give a damn who you are. I’ll deal with it my way. Princess or not.”

Then he turns and walks away. You’re left staring at the empty corridor, pulse still racing, the taste of power and shame bitter on your tongue.

For the first time since you were a child, your gift of persuasion has failed.

And it failed on him.

You couldn’t help but wonder why, your mind too curious to let it go unresolved.

The courtyard is all golden sun and polished marble, cut with shadows from the flowering archways that lace overhead. Birds flit between the ivy-wrapped pillars, and the breeze smells faintly of lilac and fresh air.

This is one of the few places where you can breathe. Or you try to.

A low hum of conversation drifts between the benches, interrupted now and then by the splash of the fountain and the occasional burst of laughter from Sasha.

She’s sprawled on a picnic blanket under the pear tree, an apple in one hand and a dagger in the other, idly cutting the fruit into perfect slices without looking. She’s wearing your colors, of course, the pale blues and silver embroidery that mark her as part of your personal retinue, but her boots are muddied and her braid is already loosening from its pins.

“Did you know the new kitchen boy tried to sneak out a whole roast duck last night?” she says, chewing a piece of apple like it’s a state secret. “I admire his spirit but he was stupid. Niccolo was not pleased at all!” She laughs at her own story. “It was really funny to watch.”

Mikasa smiles softly at her, amused, when her eyes focus on you. They both stand and curtsy, regardless of the amount of times you’ve told them to stop.

“I hate when you guys do that,” You mutter.

“But you’re the princess,” Sasha coos and it makes you roll your eyes.

The sound of metal on stone draws your attention toward the far side of the courtyard. You knew exactly what the source was.

The knights.

Eren stands in the sun, sleeves rolled and expression snarky, leaning against the edge of the fountain. He notices you first and straightens up, bowing quickly even as the formality irritates him. The other two, Jean and Reiner, follow suit.

“Escaped your handler, huh?” Eren says, teasing. “Thought Sir Frowns-a-Lot glued himself to your shadow.”

You’ve known Eren the longest out of the knights, since along with Mikasa, he was raised in a military school near the palace. You grew up watching him spar in the sun-soaked courtyards before you were old enough to speak in council. Eren, with his unpredictable temper, tended to argue with you more than he agreed, which is probably why you enjoy having him around.

“Even shadows need breaks,” You reply smoothly, looking at him as he comes to sit down on the grass near you. “And besides, he hates being around me so I’m sure he’s grateful for the pause.”

Jean looks up from where he’s been fiddling with his armor, smirking. “Levi probably begged Erwin to let him go back to the front after three days of dealing with her.” Jean was always your sharp-tongued confidant, ever since you knew him. He was teasing but had your back when it mattered the most. He also knew most about the mischief you were up to in the palace, since you confided in him from a young age.

“Oh, come off it, Jean,” you say, glaring at him. “I’m sure he’d miss me terribly, right?”

Reiner lets out a low chuckle, relaxed but watchful. “You do have that effect.” He was always the one to feed your ego and offered a steady and quiet protection. You always considered Reiner as an addition to your older brothers, even if you both were the same age.

“See?” You muse and Sasha tosses you a slice of apple as you sit beside her. You catch it easily and take a bite, savoring the brief sweetness before the bitterness in your chest creeps back in.

“Have you heard the latest?” Mikasa asks softly.

You glance toward her.

“The mole in the palace,” she says. “Rumors are getting worse. There’s talk of it being someone close to the inner circle.”

Your breath catches, and your thoughts flicker instantly to the letter hidden in your room. The veiled threat that looms over every step you take, a silent dagger aimed straight at your secrets. You try to keep your reaction hidden and not divulge anything through your expression.

Sasha’s expression shifts, shoulders straightening slightly. “They’re saying whoever it is has to be behind the poisoning. That it wasn’t just an assassination attempt. That they were testing how far they could reach.”

“Seriously?” You ask, wondering what else they know. They’re the main reason why you stay in the loop when it comes to these things. Your friends never shield anything from you. “Do you all think it could be a larger threat?”

“Possibly,” Eren shrugs, grabbing a slice of fruit from Sasha. “It could definitely be a bigger thing but it's too soon to tell.”

Jean adds, “We knew it had to be someone on the inside, though. No one gets that close to a royal unnoticed. Everyone in the palace is buzzing with paranoia.”

“They’re not wrong to be paranoid,” Reiner says. “Someone slipped poison past the royal tasters. Someone’s feeding information beyond the walls. That kind of breach doesn’t happen by accident.”

A chill tightens at the base of your spine. The group falls quiet for a moment, just long enough for the wind to stir the leaves again. For your thoughts to drift back to the folded letter hidden beneath your dresser drawer.

“Oh, forget all that, for now!” Sasha waves her hands, trying to lighten the mood. “Your birthday is coming up!” She beams at you.

“Don’t remind me.”

“The big twenty,” Eren whistles, knowing how you feel about this topic. “You must be overjoyed.”

“My parents will just use it as a dumb excuse to try and set me up with a prince!” You exclaim, giving them the reaction they wanted. “The annual ball they throw every year is genuinely the worst event I’m forced to attend.”

Jean grins, hand to his heart, sarcasm laced in his tone. “How tragic. Forced into courtship while the rest of us wallow without any prospects.”

“Speak for yourself,” Sasha says between bites of another apple slice. “I’ve had at least three stable boys propose this week alone.”

“Because you stole their rations,” Mikasa deadpans.

“I charmed them and I was hungry,” Sasha argues, utterly unapologetic. “Multitasking is a fantastic trait to have.”

“Anyway,” Sasha continues, bouncing a little where she sits, “Don’t forget that you’ll get so many presents from us! And Mikasa and I will dress you up well for the party.”

Reiner adds, “You should enjoy yourself for once, since you never do. It’ll be good for you, considering everything that’s going on.” Everyone nods their head at that, teasing aside.

“Maybe I will,” You say at last, softer. “If the opportunity arises, I will do something fun for myself.”

Sasha claps her hands together in response and you get warm smiles from everyone else. It’s nice to be looked out for in this way. There are very few people in your life that would care this much to make you happy on your special day. In a life where you're more symbol than person, more pawn than player, it's easy to forget that anyone might care about you as a person. Not the crown, not the title, not the bloodline, just you. Yet, here they are—no politics and no performance. They’re the best friends you could ever have.

You let yourself bask in that for a moment longer because in your gut, you know this won’t last.

But for now, it’s enough.

Chapter Text

You’ve been dressed like a doll. Again.

A pale blue gown cinched so tightly it bites into your ribs, layered in chiffon, silk, and an unreasonable number of tiny pearls. There’s a tiara tangled in your hair, pins digging into your scalp, and your heels have already blistered your feet, though it hasn’t even been an hour.

It’s your twentieth birthday. You should be ecstatic yet you want nothing more than to disappear.

It was supposed to be a happy occasion—one where you thought your parents would shower you with their love and affection, one where you expected to do the things you loved. You should’ve known the actuality of it was far from your hopes. Being the youngest and only daughter of the kingdom—regardless of your gift and diplomatic abilities—meant that you would have to get married someday. Married to a stranger from another kingdom to strengthen Eldia’s alliances, not for love. Your freedom was limited since the day you were born and even so now, because you felt like you were put up for auction like a damn prized calf.

It was infuriating.

“Smile, Your Highness,” one of the Queen’s ladies had whispered sweetly, seconds before you were announced. “Everyone is watching.”

Of course they are. They always are.

The worst part is that you don’t know who and for what intention they keep their eye on you. Your mind wandered to the letter in your room a week ago. You hadn’t gotten any more since then but even the thought of it kept you on edge.

The ballroom explodes in applause as you enter, the entire court rising to their feet like a well-rehearsed choir of sycophants. You sweep through the archway, force grace in every step, and pretend not to notice the way dozens of eyes rake over you. The scent of wine, honeyed fig, and power makes your stomach churn.

At your side—to your disdain, of course—is Levi Ackerman.

You feel him more than see him. He’s dressed in a black formal uniform, with hints of silver to uphold your colors, eyes sharp beneath the flickering chandelier light. A deep blue sash cuts across his chest, the royal crest gleaming on his shoulder. His posture is a constant threat of authority and he hasn't said a word since you left your chambers.

Regardless, you can practically feel the judgement radiating off him in waves.

“Stop hovering over me,” you mutter under your breath without turning your head. “Your presence is nauseating.”

Levi clicks his tongue, “I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t run off every time someone looked at you wrong.”

“Trust me, you’re not exactly my ideal escort either, Captain.” You retort sharply, rolling your eyes. “I’d bolt from you too if I had the chance.”

“Mutual torture,” Levi exhaled through his nose. “How delightful.”

Your lips curl into a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes as you descend the steps into the ballroom. You’re immediately swallowed by nobles and lords, fawning courtiers offering gifts, and praise. You don’t listen to most of what they say. You just drift from one conversation to another, smiling like your mouth isn’t aching from it.

Levi, of course, never leaves your side.

You hate that he has to be here. That after everything, he’s the solution your parents insisted on. If anything, someone more amiable would have been a better alternative. He was a soldier down to the marrow, all sharp edges and careful glances, and if anything, his presence made you feel more caged than protected.

“Don’t wander,” Levi says beside your ear, his voice low and making your stomach flutter for reasons you cannot comprehend, as the King and Queen wave you over toward the throne dais.

“Is that an order?,” you hissed at him, even though you were absolutely considering it. It pissed you off to no lengths that he kept treating you like a spoiled child. You were very capable of controlling your own behavior, considering how long you had kept up this charade.

“A warning.”

You don’t respond, because you’d rather not give him the satisfaction.

Your parents take their seats on the raised platform, nobles bowing like reeds in the wind as they approach. You stand in front of them, hands folded at your waist, forcing a serene smile as the herald reads out your name, your titles, and a glowing speech written by someone who definitely wasn’t you.

“...A daughter of grace, of power and promise,” the man drones, with an unusual amount of spirit, “a shining symbol of Eldia’s future!”

You snort at that and immediately cover your mouth, hiding your smile.

The king gestures to the steward and so it begins.

The arrival of your suitors. The moment you have been dreading since your last birthday.

One by one, they’re introduced. Most of them are familiar, some are strangers. They're all preened and postured to impress you—well, more so the crown. Their intentions are written in the curve of their mouths, the weight of their gifts, the subtle glances at your father. Not at you. It angered you beyond comprehension that you were expected to marry one of these buffoons. You’d always dreamed of finding love like the fairy tales and novels you had grown up reading, since books were your only true company, and that made this a truly tragic reality. One that you weren’t ready to accept just yet.

You go through the motions—names, curtsies, and the same formalities. You exchanged a few words with each of them and none of which were honest. It was a facade you’d been putting on since birth.

Then the trumpets sound again and the final suitor approaches.

A man you haven’t seen before today. He was tall, broad-shouldered man with light hair and a beard sitting on his face. He’s dressed in immaculate red-and-gold military regalia.

“Lord Zeke Yeager of North Marley!” The announcement echoes.

Your spine stiffens. You’d heard the name whispered for weeks. His family controlled the border to the north—defensive positions your kingdom depends on, especially now. Your parents had talked about him with utmost praise, and it bothered you that he was here now in a group full of your suitors.

You feel the quiet shift in the air. The way the Queen sits straighter and the flicker of something cautious but calculating in your father’s expression. This isn’t just a suitor.

This is a proposal and the thought makes you want to vomit.

Levi notices the way your body stiffens and places a hand on the small of your back almost to steady you. The warmth of his palm against your bare skin startles you, sparking a trail of goosebumps that betray your carefully composed exterior. It’s a small gesture but the unexpected intimacy of it knocks the air out of your lungs more than you'd ever admit.

Lord Zeke bows. “Your Highness,” he says smoothly. “May this birthday mark the beginning of something far more enduring.”

You tilt your head, extending your hand that he brings to his lips “Such as?”

“A future worthy of your crown.”

You smile politely, holding back a scoff. “How ambitious of you. Do you really think my future is so bleak that I’ll ever picture you in it?”

“I understand this isn’t your preference.” Zeke smiles and begins to say, realizing your discontent.

“Yeah,” you reply sarcastically, looking anywhere but at him. “You don’t say.”

Zeke smiles, “But it is the Queen and King’s wish, is it not? Surely you would honor that.” His tone was so calculated that it made you feel uneasy.

“Fortunately,” you say with a pleasant smile, trying to keep it plastered to your face and hide your true feelings, “their preferences do not equal my consent. Now if you would excuse me, Lord Zeke, I think I’ll go find something less nauseating to occupy my birthday.” This was your usual routine with your suitors. You knew exactly what to do to make them run away and it irritated your parents to no lengths.

He lets out a low chuckle but there’s no warmth in it, only something cold and coiled beneath. “Do what you wish,” he says, voice almost too calm. “While you still can.”

You falter, a bit unnerved. His words linger in the air, too ambiguous to fully grasp, too unsettling to ignore. But you don’t get the chance to dwell on them. Levi steps in without hesitation, his hand curling around your elbow as he mutters a terse excuse and guides you away. For once, you don’t resist and are grateful for the interruption.

You don’t look back at Zeke as Levi leads you through the glittering crowd of nobles, their laughter and clinking glasses distant and meaningless now. The polished floor reflects the chandeliers overhead, but all you feel is the burn of Zeke’s words echoing in your mind.

While you still can.

You shiver, though the ballroom is warm. It sickened you to think your parents would set you up with a man like that. Your thoughts linger on the threatening letter and you can’t help but think of the nefarious plans being concocted in the palace you call home. You don’t know who to trust or whom to bear your secrets to.

“Let go,” you mutter softly once you’re far enough from the crowd, once the distant harp strings don’t feel like a noose tightening around your ribs. But Levi doesn’t release you.

“I will,” Levi says evenly, voice low, clipped. “When you stop shaking.”

You hadn’t even realized you were.

You yank your arm free, perhaps more forcefully than necessary, but Levi doesn’t flinch. He merely straightens his posture—ever the disciplined soldier—and gives you a look that’s neither pitying nor soft. Nothing but sharp awareness, like he’s already calculated how many steps it would take to kill a man like Zeke in this very room.

“Did you know he was coming?” you ask, folding your arms tightly across your chest, feeling upset.

“I knew they were planning something,” he replies. “Didn’t think they’d be bold enough to serve you up like a treaty on a silver platter.”

You let out a breath, slow and bitter. “That’s all I’ve ever been.” The words are more vulnerable than you intend. Levi’s gaze lingers a moment, unreadable.

“I’m not here to make you feel better about it,” he says eventually, voice even. Levi then looks directly at you, grey eyes piercing through your gaze. “But I’ll be damned if I ever let that bastard sink his claws into you.” He sounded so definitive about it, and you knew better than to doubt his ability to strike Zeke down if the opportunity arose.

You glance at him, surprised—not by his protectiveness, but by the vehemence behind it. His disdain for Zeke wasn’t just out of his duty towards you. It was personal.

“You know him,” you say, careful now.

Levi’s jaw tenses. “Knew of him. Enough to know he doesn’t make moves unless there’s something to gain. And he’s not interested in you. Not you but something more, I’m sure of it.”

You narrow your eyes, curious as always. “Then what?”

Levi doesn’t answer right away. You can see the internal conflict behind his eyes between what he wants to tell you and what he’s forbidden to.

“I’ll find out,” he mutters, looking down at you. “It’s my duty to you.”

For a moment, you just watch him. The way he keeps his emotions in check like a dam holding back floodwaters. The way his cravat is slightly askew from rushing to your side, and the shadow under his eyes that no one else in this gilded room would dare notice.

“You know,” you say after a pause, tilting your head at him with a small amused smile, “for someone who claims to hate my guts, you’re awfully invested.”

Levi’s eyes cut to yours, narrowing with irritation. A faint curl pulls at his lip. “Didn’t take long for your insufferable personality to crawl back out, huh?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you prefer me all shaken and timid? Should I go back and swoon into Lord Zeke’s arms?” You give him a saccharine smile, tilting your head just enough to be infuriating.

Levi exhales through his nose, the sound cutting and cold. “Careful, brat. I wouldn’t mind passing you off to someone more gullible.”

“Funny.” You tilt your head, voice dripping with mock innocence. “You didn’t seem so eager to let me go back there.”

Levi’s jaw ticks and he takes a step closer. Despite the crowded palace wing humming just beyond the corridor, the world narrows down to him and the space between you.

“I pulled you away,” he says, voice low, “because he’s not someone you want breathing down your neck. Not because I give a damn who you flirt with.”

You raise a brow, smile tightening. “Flirting? Is that what you think I was doing?”

“I think you like to run your mouth,” he replies flatly, scoffing, “and you don’t care who hears what, as long as it gets under someone’s skin.”

You flash a mocking smile before letting your expression fall into something colder, sharper. “Yeah, yeah. I’m heading to the library now. I know you’ll follow anyway, so just—don’t bother me.”

You pause and then add, “Don’t tell anyone I’m sneaking off.”

“God, you’re such a pain.” Levi sighs but then he grunts in agreement, which is the closest thing you’ll get. Without another word, he falls into step beside you.

The corridor’s shadows stretch long as you move, the echoes of your footsteps blending with the distant music and murmurs of the ball.

When you reach the library, the heavy doors groan as you push them open, revealing row upon row of ancient tomes bathed in flickering candlelight. The scent of dust and secrets fills the air—a reminder that knowledge can be both a weapon and a curse. This was your safe haven and you couldn’t wait to immerse yourself and disappear into a different reality.

However, fate had other plans.

Chapter Text

You’ve always come to the library to escape.

It’s one of the few places in the palace where you can disappear without suspicion, where silence is expected and solitude is easy to fake. Here, among the spines of books worn smooth by generations of hands, you can pretend you're just another girl with a love for stories—not a royal pawn nor a weapon.

The quiet hum of parchment and candlelight offers comfort, a stillness that no ballroom or council chamber ever could.

Opening the grand oak doors, the candlelight flickered softly along the carved shelves. The scent of old parchment and smoke clings to the air, familiar and grounding. You run your fingers along the spines of books you've already read and reread, letting the rhythm of it calm your mind.

But tonight, the shelves seem to whisper, tugging at your curiosity like threads in a tapestry. You’re about to step toward the alcove when a familiar voice cuts through the stillness.

"This better be worth the detour," Levi grumbles.

You startle slightly and turn to find him leaning against a nearby column, arms crossed and gaze sharp.

"God, do you always have to skulk around like a ghost?" You huff, steadying yourself. You were well-aware he was trailing behind, but as quiet as he could be, it’s easy to forget.

"I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t sneak off like a spoiled brat," He replies flatly.

You glare at him, picking up a book from the shelf and trying to ease your mind. "Well, correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t exactly recall inviting you."

"Doesn’t matter, I'm here whether you like it or not. You’re my priority." Levi says with utmost sincerity.

A small flutter stirred in your stomach. It was fragile and unexpected. Most days, you were just the crown’s reflection, a polished image for the court to admire or despise. But here, now, Levi’s words cut through the noise and the act. His words weren’t warmth or comfort, but the fleeting feeling of being seen for once in your life. Not as a symbol, not as the King’s daughter, nor as a piece in some grand political game, but as you—someone worth protecting for their own sake.

You swallowed hard, startled by the unfamiliar ache of it.

“Don’t get sentimental on me,” You snapped, forcing a sharp smile and pulling yourself out of your thoughts. “It suits you about as well as that ridiculous cravat.”

“I know nothing about sentiment, love.” Levi’s eyes flicked up, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’m a soldier, not a poet. I’m simply here to keep you alive, not entertain your theatrics.”

Facing him, you noticed firelight from the wall sconces casting flickers of gold along the sharp line of his jaw. "I’m not helpless, Levi. I can handle myself, contrary to what you and everyone else in this cursed castle believes."

“Handle yourself?” He scoffed, giving you a look. “What, you’re cracking jokes now?”

You rolled your eyes, but the tension between you had shifted. It wasn’t friendship nor was it trust.

But at least it was something.

It made you wonder if you could trust him enough to tell him the thought that plagued your mind. Your hands tighten around the folds of your gown. You hadn’t told him about the sickening sense that you’re being watched and studied. Nor had you told him about the letter, of course.

The thought snakes through your mind as you picture it, its precise penmanship and venomous intent.

Who would want to harm you? More importantly, who else knows about the power? Who understood it enough to threaten you with it? The nobles? Someone in the court? Your suitors?

Your curiosity is no longer just a soft pull, it claws at you now. There are too many shadows in your life, too many smiles hiding knives. If someone has indeed discovered your secret, you need to find out who. Immediately.

You browse through the familiar shelves until you reach the back of the library. You rarely came to this area but since you had nothing better to do, you thought you might as well. The books back here were much older and much more dusty, their leather spines cracked and worn, some titles faded beyond recognition. A faint scent of mold mixed with ancient parchment hung thick in the air, and the soft creaks of the wooden floor beneath your feet echoed quietly in the stillness. As you ran your fingers along the rows of forgotten volumes, a restless curiosity gnawed at you.

Then suddenly, your eyes catch onto a particularly peculiar book.

It isn’t the color that draws you but the wrongness of it. A book that looks too odd for this part of the collection, its golden spine barely worn or touched. The others surrounding it are thick with dust, their titles faded with age but this one glimmered under the flickering candlelight, nestled like a secret waiting to be uncovered.

You frown, stepping closer. A subtle draft brushes your cheek, faint but undeniable. You realize it’s coming from behind the shelf and curiosity pulls at you even more. You reach up, standing on your toes to tug it free.

Nothing happens at first. Then, a soft click.

The bookshelf groans, and to your astonishment, begins to shift backward and slide aside, revealing a narrow corridor hidden in the stone wall.

Your heart stutters. "Well, that’s not ominous at all," you whisper to yourself. You feel some goosebumps trickle your skin as the wind wafts up the corridor.

The pull being too strong, you slip into the passage without giving it a second thought.

It’s so dark. You take a wall sconce from its holder, the flame flickering against the walls as you step deeper inside. The air grows colder, damper, carrying the scent of ink and pages worn out over time. Every step you take echoes through the hallway. The walls narrow, pressing close, and water drips from above in a steady rhythm.

The corridor twists before opening into a domed chamber. It appears as an underground archive, vast and still, the air thick as if no one had stepped foot in this room in ages.

The shelves here are jagged and leaning, carved from dark stone, filled with parchment bound in cracked leather and brittle scrolls sealed with wax long melted into dust. Shadows cling to every corner, and the flicker of your sconce casts eerie shapes against the arched ceiling, where faded murals depict things you’ve never seen in history books—creatures and symbols buried by time. It smells of mildew and memory. This place wasn’t just forgotten.

It was erased.

Stone plinths rise from the ground at intervals, many empty but still bearing relics under glass: a cracked mask, a rusted circlet, what looks like a piece of obsidian etched with unreadable glyphs in Old Eldian, and more. On the wall across from you, there is a painting half-faded—a crown dripping blood onto a map split in half. These things don’t look like they belonged to anyone of the Crown.

Your breath curls in front of you in the cold.

Browsing slowly, reverent in your steps, your eyes find one book at the top shelf, bound in deep green leather and etched with a symbol you didn’t recognize—an eye encircled by thorny vines. It seemed almost to glow faintly in the dim light. The shelf beneath it sagged slightly, dust dancing in the pale beams of light.

You step on a carved stepstool near you, finding your footing, and stretch on your tiptoes to reach the book, fingertips brushing the spine. It was so close but still out of reach as you clawed for it.

Suddenly, your foot slipped and your body tipped backward. You felt your heart leap into your throat as you braced for impact.

A firm hand grasped your waist, steadying you before you could fall.

“Careful,” Levi says, voice low. You can feel the warmth of his body all over you, his breath cool against your ear. "Do you make it a habit to make my life harder, or am I just lucky tonight?"

Your heart hammers in your chest, whether from the fall or his closeness, you can’t say.

You twisted slightly, meeting his sharp gaze, the warmth of his presence both grounding and irritating. His features are impossibly sharp up close. They are cut from marble and war, with a mouth made for scowling and eyes that could freeze fire. It’s infuriating how attractive he is. You feel your cheeks grow hot at the proximity. "It’s my full-time job actually.” You force the words out, trying to dull the thumping of your heart in your chest.

"That much is obvious." His lips curled slightly at your demeanor, though it didn’t reach his eyes, and set you down. He reached up and pulled the book off the shelf, handing it to you.

You pick up the book, turning it in your hands and then reading the title.

The Veil of Vows.

You crack it open. Your fingers trembled as you traced the faded ink, reading aloud the story inscribed in looping Old Eldian script. It felt as if it was a tale whispered through forbidden halls and lost to common history.

“Long ago,” You began reading, "before the kingdoms were drawn and the banners raised, the land was home to many peoples, diverse in blood and belief. Among them were those gifted with the ancient power of persuasion—an inheritance not bound by crown or bloodline, but by spirit and will.”

Levi’s eyes narrowed, every muscle in his body taut, as if bracing for the weight of the words. You felt a shiver crawl up your arm, this is not something you ever knew existed.

"The Gift was no mere charm or silver tongue," you continued, "but a force capable of bending minds and memories, reshaping truth itself. Those who bore it could rewrite history in the blink of an eye—turn friend to foe, love to hatred, loyalty to betrayal."

"The rise of the Crown changed everything. The royal bloodline—claiming descent from the gods themselves—conspired not only to unify the fractured lands but to dominate them. Through cunning, bloodshed, and fear, they suppressed the free peoples and ancient clans, crushing their voices beneath the iron heel of order."

"The Gift of Persuasion became their weapon, passed down through generations of monarchs, each trained to bend the minds of nobles, generals, and common folk alike. It was a power cloaked in ceremony and diplomacy, yet as lethal as any blade. Those who bore it were taught to shape kingdoms by twisting truth and rewriting loyalty—an invisible tyranny that shackled hearts and minds.”

Levi shifted slightly, a small scoff echoing from his throat. "And people wonder why I refuse to serve such a kingdom."

You shot him a look, but the truth in your hands weighed heavier than any insult.

"Yet, not all bent the knee," your voice softened, as you took in the words, "for there was another lineage—a secret faction known only as The Veil. Born of those who opposed the crown’s suffocating grip, The Veil wielded a different kind of power, one that could pierce through the royal spell and free the minds enslaved."

"Their bloodlines carried their power as well. The Crown, fearful of losing their hold, hunted The Veil with merciless cruelty, erasing their bloodlines and hiding their truths in darkness. Those who survived lived in shadows, their legacy whispered only in myth and rebellion."

Your breath trembles as you lower the book, its pages still warm from your hands. The weight of what you’ve just read sits heavy in your chest, pressing into your ribs like stone. You blink once. Then another time, as if that might make the words shift into something kinder. Something less damning.

“I thought…” Your voice falters, caught between disbelief and the sting of betrayal. “I thought the Gift was meant to protect Eldia. To preserve peace.”

Levi doesn't say anything. He watches you, arms crossed, his expression unreadable—but not unfeeling. His silence doesn’t mock you. It grants you the space to unravel.

You flip back through the pages in a frantic blur, your fingers now clumsy. “I was taught that the gift was rare and sacred. That it was passed down to keep the kingdom united, not to—” You stop short, your throat tight. “Not to rewrite people. Not to purge or commit genocide.”

A brittle silence clings to the air between you, broken only by the soft crackle of your torch.

You can still hear your mother’s voice, smooth and calm, explaining your lineage when you were a child.

“You have something special, my darling. Something meant to keep our people safe.”

For so long, you believed her. You believed them telling you that your power was diplomacy incarnate, a gift to maintain order in a chaotic world.

But this wasn’t order. This was conquest shrouded in lies.

“How could they hide all of this?” you whisper, not to Levi, but to the shadows surrounding you. “How could they lie to me—my own family?” Your hands curl around the edge of the book, white-knuckled.

“They didn’t lie,” Levi says quietly, finally stepping closer. “They just gave you the version they wanted you to believe. That’s how power works.”

You stare at the murals along the wall—dragons devoured by fire, cities drowned in ink and chain, entire civilizations turned to ash in the name of unity. It was all here. Someone from the Veil had to have created all this. Someone on the inside.

You wondered if this is why there were people out to kill you. To destroy the power.

Something in you wondered if that’s even how it worked. If you knew that killing you was the way to stop all of this mutiny, once and for all, then you would gladly fulfill the price.

“I’ve smiled in those courtrooms. I’ve looked foreign envoys in the eyes and told them our rule is just. That Eldia’s power is benevolent.” You laugh bitterly, but it’s hollow. It was astounding how this information cut through you. “God, how many minds have I touched already? How many choices have I forced that contributed to this tainted history?”

Levi’s eyes soften just barely, but enough for you to notice. It felt as if he sympathized with you.

You turn to face him fully. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“I knew enough,” He admits, gazing directly into your eyes. “Enough to know the Crown wasn’t the beacon of hope it pretended to be.”

“And you still chose to protect me?”

“I don’t protect kingdoms,” Levi says, voice low and sincere. “I protect people.” His gaze doesn’t waver. “You may be part of that damned bloodline, but you’re not them.”

Your throat tightens. Something in your chest folds in on itself because you desperately want to believe him.

You want to believe that you aren’t one of them—that your father’s crown doesn’t weigh heavily on your shoulders, invisible and poisonous. But it does. It always has. You’ve worn it since birth, stitched into every bow, every curtsy, every lie they trained you to speak as truth.

You look at him for a long moment. Not as your bodyguard nor as a soldier, but as someone you can’t categorize anymore. Someone whose refusal to obey—whose immunity to your power—suddenly makes perfect, painful sense.

“Is that why it doesn’t work on you?” You ask softly, realizing bit by bit. “The Gift? My power.”

Levi’s silence tells you more than words.

“You’re one of them, aren’t you?” You whisper, the words as much revelation as accusation. “The Veil?”

A muscle in his jaw twitches. “Maybe. I don’t know. I never knew my parents or where I came from. But I’ve never bowed to that throne, and I certainly never will.”

It shouldn't wound you. But it does. The sting of it coils beneath your ribs like something shameful because for so long, the Crown wasn’t just your family—it was your purpose.

Now, all you can see is the wreckage it's left in its wake. The kingdoms silenced. The truths that were buried. The people who were erased.

You stare at Levi, this man who has haunted your shadow and defied your voice. This man who may very well be descended from the one lineage the Crown tried to destroy.

It makes so much sense—not just why your power never touched him, but why he sees you at all.

Levi doesn’t see you as a pawn or a tool. He sees you as a person.

You close the book, its ancient pages trembling in your grip. The silence between you thickens and is filled with things neither of you can say aloud yet. The air in the archive feels heavier as if the truths buried here have uncoiled and wrapped themselves around your spine.

The throne you once held in such reverence now feels like a noose tightening around your neck.