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Chapter Text

The Northern Kingdom was unforgiving. Its snow-covered landscapes, while beautiful, kept your palace freezing, even during the day. It was only the excessive amount of brick chimneys in your room that kept you from getting sick through the night. You always felt a connection to the cold, like it was a familiar friend you could depend upon. The cold was always there.

You awoke shivering, just as you did almost every day. This day, however, was different from all the rest for one special reason.

"Happy Birthday, Your Highness!" dozens of servants yelled to your right. Somehow, even the large room seemed cramped with all of the people in here.

You smiled and leaned up from your covers, pretending the noise didn't damage your ears. "Thank you, all."

You looked to your left. Your giant window gave you quite a view. The vast mountain range was full of jagged cliffs and huge sheets of snow. The thick pine forests below them were only broken up by rivers that looked like blades cutting through the ground as they reflected the light. Those rivers were frozen for most of the year.

You've never seen what could be past them. You've never been there, but you've read about the Southern Kingdom. The ground was soft and lush, perfect for crops. Their trees changed color all throughout the year, and they had so many different varieties of them. Almost all of your goods come from there.

Northern land only had a few things to offer besides pine wood- the real fortune was in the mines. Northern diamonds were the reason you had such a beautiful palace. It was built generations ago. They're a treasure, but the mines have become scarce in recent years, slowing the trade between the kingdoms.

As you've gotten older, you've become more involved in the politics of it all. Just the other day, there was a riot in the streets before your palace, with the common people demanding more food. Things like that always happened in the dead of winter, but it was becoming more frequent and started to happy at any time of year. You had enough food in your palace, but you weren't exactly swimming in it like you were as a child.

In your attempt to find out what had changed, you learned that the relationship between the Northern and Southern Kingdoms has been strained for the past decade or so. It had to do with the death of the King and Queen of the South, who were known for their benevolence. Since the prince was too young at the time- you learned he was around the same age as you- the Queen's greedy brother stepped in as regent.

With the rise of that regent, insurgency grew in the North. Your loyal soldiers did what they could in your capital city, but you had no idea what was going on in the other towns. Sometimes you spied a few rogues coming into the city under cover of night, but your eyes were used to the darkness. You've caught many people before their crimes were committed, but you couldn't stop everyone.

Thankfully, your silver palace had remained untouched, but it was only a matter of time before something more drastic occurred. If things stayed the way they were, dissent would only grow. You hoped every day for a change of heart for the regent, but it seemed to never happen.

The morning turned into the hurried mess it always did, with the servants dressing you in an opulent ice-blue gown, doing your hair up to double the height of your head, and caking your face in more makeup than you've ever worn.

Before you could start to complain, your mind was read. "That's what happens when you're officially a lady," Your eldest maid said. "You've got to look your best at all times!"

When you looked at the mirror, it did not feel like your best. You felt like a different person. An eighteenth birthday was the most significant of your life, so you had expected something to change... just not this fast and all at once. Your corset was tighter than ever before. Your hair had never felt this heavy, and your face... you tried not to look at it too hard. There was something else you felt, too, but you could not place it.

"Any news about the South?" You asked one of your servants. News did not travel fast- everything you learned was at least a few months after the fact. Finding information quickly was almost an impossible task. So when he handed you the scroll, your servant warned you that it was about half a year old already. You gladly took it from his hand anyways, thanking him for his hard work.

It was always very easy to convince people to help you. You guessed it was just because you were the royal, they had to listen to you. But even when it came to your unorthodox procedures- like wanting to learn to read and write for yourself instead of being read to and written for, your governess- who was such a stickler for tradition- accepted your idea quickly. When you declined attending a ball that had been previously explained to you as imperative, your answer was taken without argument.

You uncurled the dry parchment. "Coronation of the Southern Prince," You read aloud. You grinned. There was a sketch to go along with the article- it depicted a young man, and it looked like he was scowling. You laughed and showed your company.

"It doesn't look like he's very excited to rule!" Someone exclaimed.

Your elder maid scoffed. "Well, it's not exactly easy, and he is still young, just like our Lady."

That put it into perspective. Being as young as you are, plus not having a mother or father to guide you... that would probably put you in a sour mood as well.

"I'm just glad the Regent isn't in power any more!" One of your younger maids said. "He was awful!"

You took a closer look at the image. It looked like the Regent was still depicted in the image, seated close to the front of the gathering. You wondered how much influence he still has. Will the young prince have a mind of his own? Seeing as there was a riot recently, it doesn't seem like anything has really changed yet.

Your elder maid pushed a finger onto your forehead. "You're going to get wrinkles like me if you keep looking so frustrated. A princess does not need to worry her pretty little head of such things!"

You tried to argue, but she just shook her head and shoved you off to breakfast.

~

When you arrived in the throne room, there was someone already kneeling before the King.

"A southern courier," One of your servants whispered behind you.

Most people would find the room cold and empty, especially with how sound echoed through the space. The walls were tall and shone like silver, and the chandeliers hanging down looked like icicles. When you were a child, you were convinced they were made of real ice.

The whispers grew as you waited, making it impossible to make out what the solder might have been saying across the room.

The King nodded, then tapped his scepter twice on the ground. The courier stood and turned to face you. He had an indistinguishable look on his face, which you could have sworn almost looked like guilt.

All of the servants went before you to gather the baskets of wheat, rice, and fine fabrics and bring them out of the room.

When everyone else was gone, the King's voice boomed. "Happy birthday, my daughter!"

You ran to embrace your father- feeling the warmth of his many coats. The pure white fur on his back was new- it must have been from his most recent hunt. "Thank you, father." You spoke into his shoulder.

He held your hands before him and admired you. There was a hint of a laugh as he said "Your mother would have loved to see you like this."

You gave him a sad smile. Your mother died when you were just a toddler, so you didn't have a lot of memories of her. You remember feeling safe in her arms, and warm, and you knew that she loved you. Your father has reigned alone since her death, and you could tell it was wearing on him. He rarely smiled unless he was with you. Despite all of your attempts to aid him in some way, he would always refuse- saying he did not want you to feel burdened by the responsibility of being a leader until you absolutely had to.

Being the only child of the King meant that you were the sole heir to the throne. In the event that something would happen to your father, you would assume control of the Northern Kingdom and its colonies. You tried not to think of it too much, but it was hard to look in your father's eyes and see his light fading with each grueling day- especially with how much worse it had gotten.

Those eyes started to well up with tears.

"Father, what is wrong?" you asked.

He looked away. "You just look so much like her."

You attempted a joke. "She wore this much makeup and her hair like this?" You said, gesturing to the bee hive on top of your head.

He forced a chuckle. "No, no."

You took a seat beside your father, ready for the day of requests. Once each month, commoners would be allowed to bring their grievances directly to the King, and this being the first day of your adulthood, this would be the first time you would be allowed to sit in on the whole ordeal. It's definitely not the first time you've been present, as the large curtains in the corner provided a rather good hiding spot for a young teenager.

But after sitting for half an hour, no one had come into the throne room. Usually there was a giant line waiting, and you'd expected it to break records this time around. Your father seemed nervous.

"So... what was with the southern courier?" You asked.

The King hesitated. "They came bearing gifts."

"I saw! Those silks looked delightful. So, they just came to show goodwill? That is wonderful!" You said.

"Yes," Your father started. "Our two kingdoms have come to an agreement. They will increase the amount of goods sent to us."

Your smile grew. Maybe the newly-appointed prince had really changed things around! If more goods are sent, then you'll be able to provide for the people. Perhaps that's why no one's come in for grievances yet, because the South has come bearing gifts to all of the common folk already. But in order for trade to resume like that...

"I didn't know a new diamond mine was found!" You exclaimed. "I'd like to see it soon."

Your father did not meet your eyes. "It's not diamonds we're trading, princess."

"Then-" You started. "The pine wood must be selling well?"

The King loosed a breath. "As I said, I've made an arrangement with the Southern Kingdom. Their continued goods... for your hand in marriage to the prince."

"What!?" You jumped up from your seat in a rage, doing everything you could to keep your language proper. "You would agree to something so important without my knowledge? I thought I was to inherit our Kingdom, father, not abandon it!"

He looked down. "This is not abandonment, daughter. You're uniting the kingdoms together! You will be serving your people by leaving them. You will be serving me."

You grabbed his hand and knelt before him. "Please do not make me do this, father, you know how independent and unruly I am. I cannot survive in any court but our own. You will be condemning me by doing this, I know it."

But however much you begged, you knew the deal was done.

The King placed his hand on top of yours. "This will unite our kingdoms. You will see. Our people are already benefitting from the gifts from the South."

"It is their fault our wealth was taken away a decade ago! If they had sent miners like they promised before the King and Queen's deaths, we would not need an arrangement like this!"

He shook his head. "I know. I am put in a difficult situation. But the South will be a wonderful place to live, you know. It's beautiful and full of life! I wish I might visit it again sometime!"

You sighed. "But it is not home, father, and it is not mine. This is my Kingdom, and I cannot bear to leave."

"You will do your duty to your Kingdom, Princess." The King decreed. "I am still your King, and you must obey me. I am sorry I did not tell you sooner, but this is the way it has to be. The courier came here with a caravan that will be your escort home."

"Am I not allowed to take any of my court with me?" You pleaded, realizing you'll have to be away from your servants- who at this point were more like family.

The King shook his head. "Princess (Y/N), you must be strong. You have served this family and this court faithfully in your youth, but the time has come to unite the North and the South. There is no one else that I could see as fit to this role."

You did not respond, you only wept.

"The southern courier will be here at sundown to collect you and your things. Please be ready."

~

The next few hours were spend with you crying your makeup off while bequeathing your items to your servants. Each of them tried to refuse but you insisted.

You were told that the South would provide you with everything that you needed, and in your shock, you suddenly became angry at all of the things that you possessed.

The only things you would take with you were enough clothes for the journey, a few of your favorite hair pins, and a necklace you inherited from your mother. You always felt a sense of pride and strength when you wore it.

Despite your servants' best attempts to re-apply your makeup, nothing would stay on your face.

~

The courier took your bag and left you alone with the King. Your eyes were weary and surely red as he met them with his own.

"I want you to take this with you." He said, reaching to his hand and pulling off a ring. "The two diamonds here were taken from the first two mines found in our kingdom." He held it out to you and you took it.

The diamonds were tiny and embedded in the platinum ring. It was not the prettiest ring you'd ever seen, but you had always admired it on your father's hand.

"This is a representation of our Kingdom," he said. "and I know it's not much, but it is a matching set to my crown."

Sure enough, his crown had two diamonds. You never knew those were from the oldest mines.

He continued. "I want you to offer this ring to the prince."

You looked at him with anguish. "You cannot ask me to give away this important part of our Kingdom!" You argued.

"I am giving it to you to do with it whatever you wish. But my hope is that you will offer it to the prince as a sign of your loyalty, and of your love."

You scoffed. "How can I love someone I've never met?"

He smiled softly. "the Queen and I loved you before you were born."

"That's different."

The King rose from his throne and embraced you. "I believe in you, my daughter. Make the most of this opportunity. And remember, this is for the best."

You could not find yourself agreeing with that last sentiment. Nevertheless, you hugged him back, knowing this may be the last time.

After the door closed behind your back, you tried not to turn around, but you could not fight it. The castle has never been kind to you. It has never been warm. And yet... it was yours... or, it was supposed to be.

You met the courier at the carriage and stepped inside.

"Hello, Princess!" a very excited voice greeted you.

The woman in front of you held out her hand. Strange- you had only ever seen men engage in handshakes. She took your gloved hand in hers.

"I'm Hange Zoe, Noblewoman of the... Zoe estate, obviously."

The Zoe estate... You had read an article or two about them. They were integral in the transportation of goods between the kingdoms, and once got in trouble with the Regent early on as they were smuggling goods into the North without his permission.

"I'm (Y/N) (L/N)." You said, bowing your head. "Crown princess of the Northern Kingdom."

The woman laughed. "So formal, your grace." She imitated your somber tone. "You can just call me Hange. I don't care much for the ceremoniousness. Nevertheless, I am your lady in waiting. If you should need anything, you will ask me first! And during this long, long, journey back to the South, I will teach you everything you need to know!"

You just nodded. This felt like whiplash. From being so happy this morning to devastated to... whatever you're feeling now. Dread? But this woman in front of you doesn't seem too bad... Maybe the South will be a welcoming environment after all.

"What is the Prince like?" was your first question.

Hange nearly exploded as the carriage started to move. "Oh, the prince! I... well, I'd better just let you meet him first. He's more than meets the eye, you know, but I don't want to make his first impression for him. You two will be... you know... anyway. Let me tell you about the agriculture..." She went on.

You were content to listen to her educate you about the South, as that was something you had always been interested in. However, your thoughts kept drifting to the prince, as you twirled your father's ring around your finger. Could you really learn to love this stranger? You guessed only time would tell.

You could never have been prepared for all that would occur.

Chapter Text

On the third day of your journey, you found yourself in a landscape unlike any you had known before. During the ride yesterday, you watched as the snow started to melt away, which brought your caravan a nice resting place for the night. Hange, who seemed skilled and knowledgeable in many areas, had boiled a pot of stew each night for everyone to eat. You mostly stayed glued to her side the entire time, only saying a quick hello to your company and listening as their conversations went on.

Hange had graciously brought with the most updated map of the Southern Kingdom, which you now saw was actually about half the size of the North. With how dependent you always were on them, you would have expected your sister kingdom to be much larger. Nevertheless, there were still several different cities on the map with vastly different landscapes.

Your journey was marked in red ink- you were just over halfway done, and almost out of the Northern Kingdom.

"Here's the capital city, where we're going." Hange pointed to a central part of the map. It looked like there was a river going through the city, which emptied out into a large lake. "Over here's Shiganshina, one of the farming districts. They supply most of the cattle."

Hange went on to describe a few more places to you.

"What about this area?" You asked, pointing to a mountain range to the west with no name on it.

Hange shrugged. "No one's been able to traverse it well enough for us to really know what's over there. So until someone returns alive, it remains unnamed. We don't have mountain people like you do up in the North!" She smiled up at you.

You showed her a polite smile. "Maybe with this new union, we could change that."

She raises her eyebrows. "There's a group of apologists that claim only someone who's worthy can go in there. I think it's all made up, and we just don't have the tools to survive it, but I've also never been there myself, so I can't say anything for sure."

You nodded. "Maybe we could go there together."

She scoffed. "That terrain is hardly fit for a future queen!"

You grimaced at that term. You would have gladly accepted that title if it were for the Northern Kingdom, but with the context you have now, it almost feels like a mockery. You tried to put aside your discomfort and went back to studying the map with Hange.

~

It was now the fifth day. You were finally on the last leg of the journey.

You started to warm up to your travel companions, and found yourself much more optimistic than you did when the trip began.

It didn't hurt that you were seeing such beautiful landscapes of the Southern Kingdom. You passed never-ending fields of grain, cascading hills, and gorgeous plains filled with wildflowers. You'd never seen those colors out in nature before, and you forced the caravan to stop so you could pick a few for yourself. You and Hange had played around with them in the carriage and stuck them in each other's hair.

In the afternoon, you decided to take a small nap, since it would be about an hour until you reach the palace. You wanted to be prepared for whatever was awaiting you.

Just as you started falling asleep, though, the carriage stopped.

You heard yelling outside. Shaking Hange awake, you whispered "What's happening?"

Hange peered out the window, moving the small curtain a bit. Her eyes widened. "Bandits." She said in a low voice. "They must have known about us. They're here to steal your riches."

"But I don't have any-oh!" Hange pulled you to the floor of the carriage.

"Shh!" She lifted a finger up to her lips.

You could hear the voices a little clearer now.

"Where's that northern royal?" You heard a gruff voice say.

"Sir, I bet she's in here!"

"Open up that carriage, men!"

The footsteps sounded closer. They were going to open the door. They were going to rip you out of the carriage and-

You heard the mighty neigh of a horse, and the unsheathing of a sword.

"Get back!" Your mystery rescuer yelled. It sounded like there were at least four men on horses.

You pushed past Hange to get a look through the window.

Sure enough, men dressed in black leathers and long, forest-green capes with hoods were beating back the bandits. The man that arrived first appeared small in stature, but the way he moved with his sword showed that he had great strength. You were sure that was the person who had arrived first.

You watched the parties fight. The bandits were clearly going to lose, despite having two more men than the troop that had shown up. All of the men who came to save you seemed like they were highly trained in swordsmanship. You doubted your standard lessons in fencing could hold a candle to them. You looked closer at the first man.

You tried to get a glimpse of his face, but it was difficult with how fast he was moving. You caught a moment of his eyes- the rest of his face was covered by a mask- but his eyes were captivating. They were sharp and angular, and blue-grey in color. You've never seen eyes like that before.

They reminded you of ice from back home. The memory spiked in your gut.

You turned around to get Hange to look out of the window, but when you turned back, your rescuers were gone, along with the bandits.

"What? How-"

"That must've been the Wings of Freedom!" Hange exclaimed.

"The what?" You asked.

She helped you take a seat. "I've heard stories of a band of four who mysteriously save people or return stolen goods, and they call themselves the Wings of Freedom. Did they have green capes?"

You nodded.

"Then it was definitely them!"

The courier opened the door of the carriage, startling you slightly. "Your highness, I'm sure you could tell, but we were just attacked by bandits. Fortunately, they didn't take anything, and all of us are fine. Just a few scratches here and there. We only have a little bit to go, and then we'll be at the palace, okay?"

"Thank you, sir." You said.

You listened to Hange tell you more stories about the Wings of Freedom as you finished the last stretch of the journey.

~

The Southern palace was massive. You never thought you'd find something as big or as fantastical as your home in the North, but you've been proven wrong. The grounds could have housed an entire town, but they were filled with gardens and fountains and well-groomed fields. Elegant roses lined each stone pathway.

The carriage came to a stop on a circular drive, just in front of the main building.

"Okay! Get ready!" Hange said excitedly.

"Ready for what?"

The door was opened, and a line of trumpets played a loud fanfare. It took everything in you to not cover your ears. Immediately, you were flooded by dozens of servants, you surrounded you and led you inside the massive double doors. The whole thing happened so fast.

Inside the doors, you caught a quick glance of the inside before you were whisked away. The throne room was a breathtaking cathedral of marble and gold. Polished white floors stretched beneath towering columns veined with gold. Colorful sunlight dotted the empty throne room through windows made of stained glass. Vibrant blues, yellows, greens, and reds danced like fire on each surface. You did not have time to see what images might be depicted on them.

If the silvers and blues of your home reflected the cold, this palace was the ultimate picture of warmth.

There was no one sitting on the throne, like you had expected. You were grateful, as you were hardly in the state to be presented to royalty.

You were brought to the bath first, as you were desperately in need of one. Creeks in the forest weren't exactly your favorite way to get clean.

After you were dry, the next events were strangely reminiscent of the morning of your birthday, however when your face met the mirror, there was somehow more makeup on it than that day. They dressed you in a gown you would have never picked out for yourself, but you wanted to make a good impression, so you didn't say anything.

After you were all set and ready, you were lead to a room with a group of young women. Hange ran up to you and grabbed your hands.

"These are your ladies in waiting, your grace!" She made an exuberant bow to her knees. The others politely dipped their chins. She lead you down the line.

"This is Nanaba," She gestured to the first woman. She looked a little older than you. She had strong shoulders and a wise look in her eyes.

"Petra, and Rico," Petra looked youthful and bright. She smiled brightly at you. Rico bowed her head again towards you.

"And I'm Isabel!" The last girl interjected. She looked about your age, but she had a childlike disposition, especially with her hair in little pigtails. You smiled.

"Hello," You said. "I'm pleased to meet you all." You curtsied as elegant as you could in your stiff getup.

"You're so pretty!" Isabel chimed. "He's going to love you, I know it!"

You blushed. Looks never really meant much to you before, but it was nice to know that one of your handmaidens felt that way. Rico elbowed Isabel in the side.

"Ouch! Hey, I'm just being honest. Don't you think he'll just eat her up?"

Nanaba sighed. "Please, Isabel, you're gonna scare her off."

"Okay." Hange said, taking her place to your right. Nanaba moved to your left, and the other three filed behind you.

After spending almost a week traveling with Hange, you had become pretty comfortable with her. But now, after meeting four new people who were meant to be closest to you, you couldn't help but feel a little nervous.

Hange threw a light punch to your shoulder. "Come on! This is exciting stuff!"

You heard Petra grumble behind you. "So informal... there goes our years of training."

Hange laughed. "You're going to go out there and completely capture everyone's hearts."

You gave a half smile. In all honesty, you didn't really care what the court thought of you. It wasn't your choice to come here, anyway. They are the ones who asked for you. However, your thoughts drifted to your beloved home kingdom. Whatever wrongs you might commit will be reflected on the Northern Kingdom and its King. Even though you're hurt by his betrayal, he was still the most important person to you, and you didn't want to let him down.

You decided that it is important to make a good impression on this prince and his court.

You spun around and searched your ladies eyes. "What's the prince's name?"

"Hange didn't tell you his name? You had five days to familiarize her with our court and the one thing you forgot to mention was the prince's name??" Nanaba basically yelled over you.

Hange just shrugged.

"It's Levi." Rico said.

You hummed. That doesn't really seem like a particularly royal name. Of course, you don't really know the traditions here, though.

"Thank you." You said. You took a deep breath. "Okay, I'm ready."

Two servants opened the doors of your chamber, and Hange took the first step, beckoning you to follow. You walked through what felt like endless hallways... how did you get this far away from the throne room already? You kept your eyes fixated on the walls, which felt unnecessarily decorated. Just before reaching the entrance to the throne room, which you recognized from when you first arrived, you felt your heart starting to beat faster.

Being from the North, you were used to feeling cold. But the full-body chills you experienced when you stepped in the middle of the doorway were completely and utterly new.

You were frozen. Isabel cleared her throat, which prompted your feet to shuffle across the red carpet. You knew this wasn't the wedding- just a mere introduction- but it sure felt a hell of a lot like walking down the aisle.

That white and gold throne you witnessed before now housed a young man- obviously Prince Levi- who lounged in it casually. The advisors around him, who spanned several generations in age, all donned various robes and leathers that matched the scenery. They wore billowing, loosely draped white garments with gold accessories, some even wearing jewels. They blended in perfectly with their environment.

The prince himself just wore simple black robes, with small red accents throughout. He did not look like he belonged to this court at all- not with his raven-black hair, pale skin, and blue-gray eyes...

Wait. Those eyes...

Those were unmistakably the eyes of the man who had saved you in the forest mere hours ago. But how could that be? He's the prince- surely he's being watched at all times, unless he's relatively crafty.

You found yourself with your mouth slightly agape, and you quickly closed it.

His eyes honed in on you like a predator to its prey. You swore you could see a spark beyond that steely gaze. For a moment, it felt like no one else was there. It was just you and the prince; it was the gift and the receiver.

A shadow grew behind Prince Levi. The regent.

"Welcome!" His scratchy voice said. You could never have guessed what he sounded like. "Princess of the Northern Kingdom." He bowed in what felt like a mockery.

You politely curtsied back. "Greetings, Lord Kenneth. Greetings, Prince Levi." You felt a jolt of electricity as his name left your lips.

Why are you so nervous?

As you lifted from your bow, you looked at the prince again. There was no mistaking that he was attractive. You thought to yourself that those sketches in the news scrolls didn't even come close to capturing his beauty. You suddenly felt subconscious of your own appearance, silently hoping that he liked what he saw. Isabel did mention that she thought that he would like you, but you searched his face for any type of reaction to you. His expression had not changed a single time since you walked into the room.

Nothing was happening now. Were you supposed to say something more? Prince Levi hasn't said anything yet. Did he already hate you or something? Your thoughts kept spiraling until-

An elder advisor coughed.

"Hi." He finally said. The Prince almost looked annoyed. "Welcome to the Southern Kingdom. I trust you find your handmaidens well. Kenny will show you to your quarters." He waved a hand casually.

You raised your eyebrows as the regent snapped his neck toward the prince. "Say that again, your highness," he drawled, voice low and dangerous, "so I can make sure I heard you right."

Prince Levi's jaw clenched. "Lord Kenneth will show you to your quarters."

The regent turned back to you and gave you a patronizing smile. "This way, princess."

His voice felt sickening to you. You already disliked the man- knowing he was the reason for the hunger in your land and probably the reason this whole marriage arrangement was made. In face, the Prince did not seem on board with this at all, which kind of made you feel comforted. At least the two of you had one thing in common, and that was wanting nothing to do with one another.

However, it was a little intriguing that he chose to spend his time sneaking off and playing robin hood from time to time, assuming that was him out there in the forest.

You barely heard anything the regent said to you as he walked you to your chambers. Thankfully, it didn't seem like he was much of a talker, because you didn't know how much longer you could stand being civil around him. Why was he still a part of this court? The prince obviously dislikes him, as displayed by his behavior in the throne room. You guessed he must still have more power than you had hoped. Maybe all the prince had was his title.

Your party stopped at the door.

"You are free to retire, your highness. We will give you some time to acclimate to our court before any real wedding preparations begin. Please do not hesitate to talk to anyone, especially me." He purred, and then he winked at you.

You ignored the gross chill across your body, and just nodded, entered the door with your ladies, and closed it.

"Ew." Isabel said. "Why did he wink at you? That was disgusting."

You could not help the laugh that escaped your lips. It felt good to let go after feeling so tense for so long. The others started to giggle too, and you turned around to take in the gorgeous room before you. It was too gorgeous.

The floor was covered in soft white carpet, with several blue accent rugs atop it, matching the light blue color of the walls. Gold trim curled like vines along the ceiling beams, catching on the setting sun and gleamed like fire. Pillars lead up high, vaulted ceiling etched with constellations you don't recognize.

A grand canopy bed waits at the center, draped in pale fabrics that look too perfect to actually use. Everything smells like lavender and beeswax.

Your eyes are drawn, slowly, toward the far side of the room. A pair of open doors spill light onto the floor, leading to a balcony veiled in white silk curtains that stir in the breeze.

You cross the room in silence, drawn forward like something pulled by a thread.

The air hits you—warm, southern—but the sight takes the breath right out of your chest.

Beyond the terrace, past the gleaming rooftops and golden towers of the southern palace, the world stretches far into the distance. And there—there—on the edge of the horizon, barely visible but unmistakably real, the mountains rise. Home.

The North is still there.

Far, far away.

You grip the edge of the balcony railing, fingers pressing into the marble. The beauty of the room tightens around your throat. The foreignness of it only drives the blade further into you that this is not your frozen home. It's everything a southern princess could want.

And nothing you would have chosen.

Your head started to ache as Nanaba pulled you back inside, and your handmaids stripped you of that awful dress and washed your makeup off, before sending you into the bath to take down your bird's nest of hair.

After you were clean, your ladies shuffled off into rooms next to yours, and Hange gives you a nod, silently suggesting you have some time to yourself to familiarize with your chambers. You took a seat on the plush bench at the foot of the bed, and just when you let out a large yawn, a letter slipped under the door.

You furrowed your brows and walked towards it. Who could be passing you secret notes? You unfolded the piece of parchment and looked to where it was signed before even starting to read its contents.

The letter was signed simply,

-Levi.

Chapter Text

You heart raced. Before starting to read, you flung the door open, but no one was in the hallway. He must be fast. You then quietly closed the door, taking a deep breath before heading back to the bench to read your mystery letter.

(Y/N),

Don't misunderstand my actions. I did not ask for this arrangement, but I intend to respect you. I know that I might have seemed cold during our interaction earlier, but I hope you can understand that is because of my uncle. Technically, he still outranks me before I become King, so I don't know why he set this up. I just want to warn you to be careful around him, because he's definitely planning something.

Also, I don't like all of the stupid protocols we have to do as royals. I will speak to you as an equal and you can talk to me however you want. My priority is to rule the Southern Kingdom like my mother and father did, and these rituals don't do anything to help me.

The reason I am giving you this letter is because I obviously can't say this around my uncle or people who are still loyal to him. Your handmaidens were selected by me, so they are trustworthy. Just watch your back around Kenny and stay away from him.

The name Kenny was scratched over, and he wrote "Lord Kenneth" next to it.

Do not say anything about this letter to anyone. Act like nothing happened.

-Levi.

You leaned back onto the foot of the bed. Act like nothing happened? What an ask! You just got here and there's already a huge conspiracy going on?

You had to physically hold yourself back from ripping open Hange's door and asking her where the prince's chambers were. But instead, you looked back at the letter, reading and re-reading those words while you played with the silver ring from your father. You would keep it for now- and wait for the right time to give it to the prince, if you were going to give it to him.

It comforted you to know that he was at least aware of the strange way he was acting in the throne room. And it was interesting to know that the regent still outranked Levi, since he wasn't technically the King yet. Kingship would come with marriage.

Part of you also found it humorous that the prince insists on calling the regent Kenny, which obviously upsets him. It's just a small way of showing his discontent, which is probably all he's able to do. He's got his hands tied.

You wondered if there was any way you could help him, but as your eyelids started feeling heavy, you realized the best thing you could do right now was sleep. You climbed into the bed, and though it was the same size as yours back home, the mattress was so soft that you felt as thought you were sinking through the bed.

This conspiracy can wait until the morning.

~

Breakfast was served to you on a long, stretched table made out of heavy oak wood. You'd only seen small pieces of furniture made out of this material, like things that were easy to transport to the North. The grand table had plates of different foods, some you've never seen and didn't care to try, and staples like bread, eggs and bacon. You opted to go for the simple option. Your handmaidens followed your lead, and took their seats on the table around you.

You decided you'd keep the letter to yourself for now, even though your ladies were trustworthy. You thought about it all morning, while they dressed you and prepped you for the day, and then led you to this dining hall.

"I'd like to see the grounds today." You said.

Hange smiled. "I will take you!"

"No fair!" Isabel argued. "You got to travel with her! I want to take her!"

They quarreled for a bit, and then decided that Isabel would show you around the main gardens. Hange crossed her arms and stayed quiet for the rest of the meal. The others all said they had training to do - things like archery, horseback riding, and even classes about history and other languages. You wondered if those things would be available to you as well. You missed the consistency of your activities back home.

You were dressed in a more simple, floral gown to go on your stroll, and Isabel showed you all of her favorite parts of the grounds.

You walk slowly, your steps muffled by the soft gravel path beneath delicate slippers you didn't choose. Warm air brushes your skin, scented with something sweet and unfamiliar — citrus blossoms, maybe, or jasmine curling through the hedges. The sun is heavy on your shoulders, golden and unrelenting. You felt the need to cover up with a coat.

Tall hedges rise on either side, sculpted into graceful arches and swirling patterns too perfect to be real. Pale roses bloom along trellises of silver lattice, their petals unfolding like silk, untouched by frost. Fountains gurgle quietly in the distance, the sound too delicate to compete with the rushing rivers of the North.

You round a corner, and the trees open into a marble clearing where a reflecting pool lies still as glass. Dragonflies skim the surface. There's a white bench facing the pool, which has delicate flower painted on it.

You stop beside a flowering tree - its blossoms the color of sunlight and blood - and tilt your head back to take it in. It almost looks like the tree is on fire.

"They say these trees bloom year-round," Isabel said. "Even in winter."

"So, are you from the capital then?" You asked her.

She shook her head. "I'm actually from a small town. My family was really poor, and then my parents both passed away. Levi's mom - er, the Queen- was on a visit and decided to take me in and have me raised in the palace."

"Wow." You said. You had imagined all of the people in the castle were just always there. You wondered if your other handmaidens had similar stories.

"Yeah, so Levi's kind of like a brother to me. Sometimes I still tease him and call him 'big bro'!" She giggled. "Then he usually throws something at me."

When the prince said your ladies were trustworthy in his letter, he must have meant it. You wondered if all of them have been at the palace for most of their lives.

"Then," she continued, "I was taken to be trained as a lady in waiting for the next monarch, after the King and Queen passed away. And here we are now!"

You smiled and linked your arm with hers as you walked through the garden. "I'm glad you're with me." You said, and you meant it. You could see yourself getting along very well with her.

Then, suddenly, you hear a rustle in the bushes. Levi emerges from the greenery like a shadow drawn in daylight, wearing similar black leathers to what he wore yesterday evening. His expression was unreadable. He doesn't acknowledge Isabel. He doesn't acknowledge you, not directly.

Without a word, he crosses the marble path and lowers himself to sit on the bench in front of the reflecting pool. Did he know you were going to be here?

Isabel's gaze darts between the two of you, and you catch the flicker of something—amusement, maybe, or mischief—just beneath her carefully folded expression.

"I should... check on the linens," she says suddenly, her voice sounding far too innocent. "The seamstress was meant to bring your evening shawls." She offers a quick curtsy and disappears down the path without waiting for permission.

You're left with the soft trickle of the fountain, the scent of blooming citrus, and the weight of Prince Levi's presence a few feet away.

He finally drags his gaze to you, and then shifts on the bench and pats his hand on the seat, inviting you to sit. You gather your skirts and sit beside him, carefully taking notice of the inches of nothingness in between you.

Again, he doesn't say anything.

"I got your letter." You say quietly. And when he doesn't immediately reply, you think you've messed up. Maybe that wasn't from him, but from someone trying to stir something up. Maybe you trusted it too easily, or-

"You weren't supposed to say anything about it." He said, finally. His tone felt soft, much more gentle than the way he spoke in the throne room.

You remembered. But still, you wanted to find some way to talk to him... and you wanted him to know that you read the letter. "Sorry."

"Tch, don't apologize."

You blushed from embarrassment. Great, you annoyed him and he already hates you. There goes your whole future.

"The gardens are beautiful." You say, trying to salvage the conversation.

He looks away. "They were designed by my mother." There's a hint of softness in his voice.

You became quieter, remembering the King and Queen's passing. They were both wonderful leaders, so you don't doubt they must have been loving parents. "She did a great job."

He nodded to the burning tree. "That was her crowning jewel. It's said that the tree has some soft of connection with her family line. She used to sit under it for hours at a time."

"It's very unique. Nothing like I have back home." You said. Home. Though you supposed this was your home now. "Have you ever been to the North?" You asked him.

He seemed to ponder something, then spoke. "I've crossed the border a handful of times, while hunting. I've never officially been there."

Hunting, huh? You wondered if that was code for 'going out with my friends and doing good deeds under the moniker of "Wings of Freedom".'

"It's the opposite of here." You said. "I've never seen the South, so my journey here was eye-opening."

You thought for a moment. Should you bring it up?

"Crazy thing happened to our caravan just an hour away from the palace." You said. You could have sworn Levi's brow twitched upwards. He turned to face you. "Some bandits attacked us."

"Was everyone alright?" He asked.

Silly question, you were there, You thought, but instead said "Yeah, we were saved by this group Hange called the "Wings of Freedom."

He pressed his mouth into a thin line and just nodded his head.

"You ever heard of them?" You questioned.

He just shrugged. "Can't say I have."

"Yeah," you went on, "The leader looked reeeally familiar."

He just blinked. This guy is good.

"Come on, admit it!"

"I don't know what you're talking about." He looked away.

You laughed incredulously. "I know that was you!"

He whipped his face to you, and you saw that fire again in his gray eyes. Then, his hand was covering your mouth. You felt your face heat.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He said slowly, threatening.

You lifted your hands in surrender and he backed off.

He spoke in almost a whisper. "It was one of the only ways I could help my kingdom while my uncle ruled."

You matched his tone. "I think it's very honorable. You're doing good without seeking the glory."

He huffed. "Can't say that about Kenny."

"Who else goes with you?" You asked.

"You'll find out soon enough." He replied. What a boring answer.

You fell into silence, but it felt like the opposite of the silence in the throne room last evening. That was tense and icy, and this felt comfortable. There was still something unspoken, but you couldn't place it.

You had been so scared to come here and find that your betrothed would be a disgusting pig of a royal. But instead, you found a man who just wanted to do right by his people. He was honorable, and gentle, and strong. You couldn't get the images of him fighting those bandits back out of your head. And it definitely did not hurt that he was easy on the eyes. Even better, he was humble about it.

Maybe marrying him wouldn't be so bad. Now, it was just everything else that would be weighing on you. The conspiracy with his uncle, the tense relationship with the North, and this overwhelming sense of dread that you couldn't find a connection to.

"Do you... like your room?" He asked awkwardly.

You smiled politely. "It's very beautiful. It's just... not like home. It's only been one night, though." You twisted your father's ring on your finger. "Thank you." You said.

"For what?"

"I mean, you really didn't have to send me that letter, or talk to me now. You could have just let me be ignorant. I... appreciate you considering me."

"It's nothing." He paused. "You are supposed to be the future Queen, anyway. Just do me a favor and stay away from my uncle."

You nodded.

Then, he stood. "I have matters to attend to. I'll.. see you around."

"Farewell, Prince Levi." You said, dipping your chin.

He paused for a moment before walking away. "Levi. Just Levi."

And after his head disappeared around the hedges, you said it quietly to no one but yourself.

"Levi."

Chapter Text

The ensuing few days became busy with wedding preparations. Servants had you choose linens, tapestries, flowers, gowns, what kinds of foods you wanted to eat, what pieces of music you wanted played at what time, and by night you were exhausted.

You honestly did not have much of an opinion on anything, which is why you were grateful that your handmaidens seemed to jump in every time you hesitated. It did spark a few arguments amongst them, however, like when Petra and Rico couldn't decide on which pattern of lace should be used for the sleeve of your dress or when Hange wanted chicken and Nanaba insisted on duck for the main course.

It did provide you with some entertainment, though.

However when your ladies all dropped away one by one with one excuse or another, you found yourself alone- well, alone with dozens of people asking you questions that they somehow never ran out of.

"What type of flowers would you like for the altar?"

"Which appetizers shall we serve the noble guests?"

"Would you like gold or silver trim for the table settings?"

Just as the questions begin to blur together, a sharp voice cuts through the room.

"That's enough."

The servants fall silent at once, bowing quickly before retreating with their notes and swatches, the door closing behind them. You release a breath you didn't realize you were holding, only to glance up and find the prince there.

Your soon-to-be husband stands in the doorway, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

"You look like they're about to drag you to the gallows," he says flatly, stepping closer. His gaze flicks briefly to the scattered papers and silk samples on the table. "Tch. Half of this nonsense doesn't matter anyway. Don't waste your energy."

You blink, unsure whether he's mocking you or reassuring you.

"Still," he adds after a pause, his tone softening just enough to be noticeable, "if it's too much, tell them. You're not here to play decorator."

The weight of his words lingers, and though his face betrays nothing, you sense an unexpected thread of understanding beneath his clipped voice. Your thoughts drifted back to your conversation in the garden, remembering the gentleness you had seen from him.

But before you could say anything back to him, he was gone, and the servants trickled back in and reassembled. This time, though, it felt more calm.

Rico comes to collect you at some point, and brings you down a wing of the palace you haven't visited yet.

"I thought you'd like this." She says, opening a door.

You step inside, and the air changes immediately. It smells faintly of parchment, candle wax, and something older—like dust and forgotten ink.

The library stretches wider than you imagined, the ceiling arching high above in sweeping curves of ivory stone. Shelves climb to dizzying heights, packed with leather-bound tomes, scrolls sealed with wax, and gilded volumes whose spines gleam in the light of crystal chandeliers. Sunlight streams in through tall windows, catching in motes of dust that drift lazily through the air, making the whole room glow.

A hush settles over you, not stifling but comforting, as though the weight of countless voices and stories has been waiting patiently for centuries.

Tables of polished wood sit in tidy rows, some scattered with abandoned notes and half-burned candles. In the far corner, you notice an alcove with velvet chairs and a low fire, an invitation to linger.

It is nothing like the gray, utilitarian libraries of your homeland. This place is alive, vibrant, warm-like the rest of the Southern Kingdom.

And for the first time since you arrived, you feel the smallest tug of belonging.

You turn to thank Rico, but she's already bowed her head and closed the door behind you.

You drag your fingertips along a line of matching spines. You're drawn to a large book with golden trim- a sight you're starting to get used to. Brushing off the cover, you read the title. It's a history book. Some of the letters look different, like this was written a long time ago. Those velvet cushions were calling your name, so you take a seat and crack open the book to the first page.

A lot of it is similar to things Hange explained to you on your journey from home, but it goes into more detail. There's even some drawings of towns and even the palace, which used to look a lot different. The base is still there, but there's so many turrets and walls of ivy and new structures that make it almost unrecognizable.

Suddenly, a thought strikes you and you finger through the table of contents for a certain region of the south. That unnamed mountain range.

You open to its page, and...

It's blank.

You laugh.

You hear a thud from somewhere else in the room, and you slap the book shut, scrambling onto your feet.

"Who's there?" You call, your voice shaky.

A head of raven-black hair emerges from behind a shelf. He raises a hand in greeting. You place a hand on your beating chest.

"You scared me!" You fling a bookmark in Levi's direction, and then freeze. Did you really just throw something at him? "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry-"

"Calm down, it's fine." He says, moving around the desks to approach you. "Normally, there's no one else in here. You startled me too." He rubs his head. Was that what you heard?

"Oh." You said. "Rico brought me here because she said it's always empty unless someone needs something."

He nodded. "Yeah, it usually is..." He trailed off.

"Are you looking for anything?" You ask.

He hesitates for a moment, then speaks, his voice sounding distant. "A family heirloom. It's not in its usual spot. You see a scroll with a red ribbon?"

You shake your head.

"If you see it, let me know." His eyes dart down to the book you were reading, which you threw onto the chair before standing up. "What do you have?"

You step aside so he can see the large, golden book. "Oh, it's just a book of history. I thought it might be nice for me to go over some of that stuff... again."

"Hmm." He said. He picked it up, opening it up to that blank page, almost like he'd done it a hundred times before. He stares at it for a second before turning it to face you. "You've seen this?"

"I was just curious." You said. "Hange told me about it, about how no one's been there to map it out." You weren't exactly lying, but it felt like there was a little more there than just curiosity. You really felt like you needed to know what was over there.

Levi lowers himself onto the opposite chair, and you sit back down where you were. He sighs. "I've tried to organize a party to travel it for years, but my requests keep getting denied."

You perk up. "You want to go there?"

He shrugs. "How can we call it a part of our Kingdom when no one's been there?"

You feel a chill on your skin when he says the word our.

"Well," you start, "if you manage to get it approved, I'd like to go too."

He raises a brow. "You think you can handle it?"

You scoff. "I'm from the North! I'm pretty tough, you know!" And it was the truth. Being the princess did offer you many of life's comforts, but you also chose to challenge yourself. You made many trips to the mines in your childhood, and you spent many of your recent summers training with the soldiers of your army. "The mountains of the North can't be that different than these."

He shook his head. "These are different."

"You've seen them?"

He nods.

"Seriously? They have to be at least a few days' ride out just to reach them!"

"Two days if you're efficient." He says casually. "They're dangerous. They're black, and sharp, and slippery- I didn't get very close before I had to turn back."

"It sounds like you need another trip." You say. "I can handle cliffs." You add.

He stands up, handing the book back to you. "Whatever you say, princess. I'm going to keep looking for that scroll." You detected sarcasm in his tone, but decided to let it go.

When you left the library, Levi was still searching.

~

The regent seemed no where to be found at most times, which you're honestly grateful for, but each night you swore you heard footsteps swiftly pass your door that sounded like his. Your curiosity grew each night, until something different happened.

The footsteps stopped. At their loudest, the footsteps paused right outside your door. You felt your heart beat in your throat.

Your fingers clutched the blanket. Do you make a move? If the regent truly means to undermine the fragile peace, can you afford to remain silent?

The shadow shifts again, and the footsteps continue down the hall until they're merely an echo.

You're left alone in the silence, the question gnawing at you: Do you trust Levi's command to stay away... or do you follow?

The silence stretches a little too long, and before you can stop yourself, you slip from the bed. The marble floor chills your bare feet as you ease toward the door, pressing your ear against the wood. Nothing.

But instinct- or maybe recklessness- pushes you further.

You open the door and cringe as it lets out a quiet creak. The hallway is dark, only illuminated by a couple candles high on the wall. You follow the fading echo of footsteps, keeping close to the carved stone.

Rounding a corner, you nearly stumble when you see him.

Kenny.

Even cloaked in darkness, his presence is unmistakable: tall, broad-shouldered, that lazy, dangerous way he leans as though every hallway in the palace belongs to him. He stops at the end of the corridor, waiting. You find it hard to believe he and the prince share blood.

You press yourself against a pillar, holding your breath. A moment later, two figures step into view. Their movements are careful, almost reverent, as they approach him.

At first, you only see the outline of their uniforms. But when you shift just enough to glimpse their insignias in their torchlight, your stomach drops.

Those are Northern soldiers.

Your people.

Here, in secret, speaking with the man who has allegedly been sowing discord between the kingdoms.

The realization makes your throat feel dry. Why would your own countrymen conspire with the regent of the South? And what does it mean for the fragile peace your marriage is meant to protect?

You cling to the shadows, heart racing, afraid to move closer, afraid to run. One wrong sound, one breath too loud, and all three heads might turn toward you.

You force yourself to stay still, pressing deeper into the shadows as their voices carry just enough for you to catch fragments.

"...the shipments... border..."

"...signal comes... strike..."

"...she doesn't know...."

Kenny's low chuckle rumbles through the hall, sending a shiver down your spine. You can't make out the words that follow, but the tone is unmistakable—mocking, confident, dangerous.

The soldiers bow their heads slightly, as though in obedience, and one slips a folded piece of parchment into Kenny's hand. He tucks it away casually, like it means nothing at all, before turning to leave in the opposite direction.

Your breath trembles in your chest. You don't know who "she" is. You don't know what shipments, what signal, or what strike they spoke of. But you know enough to understand one thing: something terrible is being set in motion.

When you look back, the Northern soldiers are gone. In the dim light you got a glimpse of their faces, and you didn't recognize them as any of the soldiers from the capital. They must have been from one of the smaller towns. The towns that always rebelled against your father, the ones that hated him... and you, by extension.

The hall feels longer on the way back to your room, each shadow heavier than the last. You keep to the walls, slipping silently through the palace until you reach the safety of your chambers. When the door closes behind you, you finally let out the breath you've been holding.

Your hands are shaking. You press them to your chest, as if that might still the frantic beat of your heart.

You should feel relieved—you weren't caught. But instead, the words echo in your skull: shipments... signal... strike... she doesn't know.

You pace the room, trying to piece meaning from fragments, but nothing fits. What were your countrymen doing here, speaking in secret with Kenny? What are they planning?

And more importantly- should you tell Levi?

He warned you about his uncle. He told you to stay away from him. If he knew you had followed those footsteps, if he realized you'd seen and heard what you weren't meant to...

You sink onto the edge of the bed, torn between the weight of the secret and the fear of what might come if you share it. Levi may be your husband-to-be, but he is also a soldier of the South. Would he see this as betrayal?

The night presses on, restless and heavy, and you find no answer- only the sharp knowledge that, one way or another, you are already entangled in something far larger than yourself.

You're frozen in your bed that night.

Chapter Text

Only a few hours pass before it's morning. Sunlight pours through the tall windows, warm and golden, but it only highlights your sleepless night. You dress in silence, your handmaidens no where to be seen, and you stare at your reflection against the gilded mirror, the secret gnawing at you like a splinter you can't dig out.

When you step into the corridor, he's already there.

Levi.

Leaning against the wall as if he's been waiting for you, arms folded. He doesn't speak at first—he doesn't need to. His fiery gaze flicks over your face, noting the faint shadows under your eyes and the stiffness in your shoulders.

"You didn't sleep." He observes. His voice is flat, but there's no mistaking the question beneath it.

You hesitate, throat tight. "The palace is... noisy at night."

He studies you in silence, and the air between you tightens. His eyes narrow and he pushes off the wall, stepping closer. His words are quiet, but they cut through you all the same.

"You saw something, didn't you?"

The question hangs in the morning air, heavier than any crown or vow. Your lips part, but no answer comes. Because if you speak, there's no going back.

"Why were you standing outside my door?" You deflect.

He nearly rolls his eyes. "Answer my question." He presses.

You hesitate- just for a breath, just long enough to feel the weight of silence pressing down on you. You look both ways down the hall, then motion for him to come back into your room. He looks concerned, but follows. As soon as he closes the door, the words tumble out of your mouth.

"I followed footsteps last night."

His expression hardly changes. "Whose?"

"Kenny," you whisper, the name tasting bitter on your tongue. "He met with two men... soldiers. They were from the North."

Something flickers across his face- sharp, dangerous, gone in an instant. He steps closer, so close you catch the faint scent of leather and steel clinging to him.

"What did you hear?"

You replay the fragments in your mind, forcing yourself to steady your voice. "Not much. Something about shipments. A signal. A strike. And... that she doesn't know yet." You swallow hard. "I don't know who they meant."

The silence between you sharpens until it almost cuts. Levi studies you, his gaze heavy enough to pin you in place. You can't tell if he's angry you disobeyed him—or if he's angry at what you've uncovered.

Finally, he mutters, "Tch. Of course he'd crawl into bed with Northerners." His jaw tightens, his voice dropping even lower. "You shouldn't have followed. But... you did well."

The unexpected praise startles you more than any reprimand could have. You search his face, but he's already turning away, his hand gripping the doorknob.

"Don't mention this to anyone else," he says. "If Kenny suspects you saw him, it won't just be politics we're dealing with."

You nod, your heart still racing. For the first time, the secret no longer feels like yours alone- but sharing it with Levi feels as dangerous as keeping it. What will he do now that he knows Kenny is definitely planning something?

Before you can ask, he's gone.

~

You've lost track of the time.

"It's tomorrow!!" Hange practically screams in your ear over dinner. "Aren't you so excited? I can't wait!!"

You nod with a mouthful of food stuffed in your face.

Petra claps her hands together. "Just wait until you see the dress! Nanaba and I have been overseeing the seamstresses the whole time!"

So that's where they've been. You wondered where everyone had been running off to- the only times all six of you were together were over dinner. It's been six days since you arrived in the Southern palace- almost two weeks since leaving home. You feel like you've seen so much of the palace already, but you still haven't been in every room. You've gotten to walk with Isabel in the gardens almost every day, and during a couple of nights, you managed to convince Nanaba to go over some fencing drills with you.

You're grateful for the amount of alone time they give you, though, since you're able to spend that time in the library, or spend your time trying to "accidentally" bump into Levi. You ask yourself more than once if your arranged marriage is meaningless... each time you talk to him, you feel different.

Talking to Levi doesn't feel like talking to anyone else- not your people back home, not Hange or your other ladies in waiting, and not any of the other servants. He has a certain mystery surrounding him, but you find yourself relating to him in a strange way. Despite both being heirs to your respective thrones, it seemed the two of you have led pretty different lives up until now, and you love getting to know each new thing about him, even though he doesn't give you much.

Hange leans back in her chair with a dramatic flourish, glass in hand, eyes sparkling with mischief. "So," she says, voice rising just enough to catch everyone's attention, "tomorrow's the big day! You'll be married to Levi Ackerman, the man of legends!"

You flinch slightly, cheeks warming, but Hange only grins wider.

"You do realize," she continues, leaning closer across the table, "that this is your chance to see just how precise and disciplined he really is? I hear he's very... observant!"

Gasps ripple around the table. You sputter, eyes widening, while Rico clears her throat delicately. Nanaba gives Hange a warning look, and Petra hides a giggle behind her napkin. Isabel, of course, bursts into cheerful laughter.

"Gross, Hange," Isabel says between laughs, "I don't want to think about that!"

Hange ignores them all, tapping her finger against her glass. "Honestly, it'll be fun to see you two together. The man is a mystery, and you... well, you're clever. I think it'll be quite the pair."

You shift uncomfortably, wishing the walls would swallow you whole, but the warmth of your handmaidens' presence tempers the embarrassment. They chatter about everything else—the dresses, the palace gardens, the servants fussing over details—and Hange continues to tease in playful, lighthearted ways, keeping the mood lively and bright.

By the time the meal ends, your sides ache from trying to hold in laughter at the ridiculousness of it all. For a moment, you can almost forget the weight of the wedding, the tension with Levi, and the secret you carry. Here, among friends who care for you, the night feels lighter, filled with teasing, warmth, and the strange comfort of shared laughter.

When the laughter finally fades and the last candle gutters low, your handmaidens drift away one by one. Hange is the last to leave, giving you a playful wink before slipping out the door, her energy trailing behind her like a spark in the air.

Silence settles over the dining room. The plates are cleared, the chairs pushed in neatly, and you are left alone at the end of the long table, the flicker of a single candle your only company.

You draw a slow breath, letting the stillness press around you. The teasing, the laughter—it had felt good, warm, like a reprieve from the storm looming over tomorrow. But now, as the night deepens, reality returns.

Tomorrow, you will stand beside Levi Ackerman. Tomorrow, your life will no longer belong solely to you.

Your thoughts also keep drifting to that mountain range. You managed to find a couple more books that contain it in its index, but the most detailed thing you've seen is a sketch with it in the distant background- and it was painted black. You started calling them the obsidian cliffs in your head. You wondered why Levi seemed to be the only other person who was really interested in them at all.

You found yourself in the library late that night, swiping your hand over that blank page like you could somehow magically invoke the ink to come out of the paper. You couldn't help but notice that feeling in the back of your mind, which kept drawing you to this book time and time again. You tried to convince yourself the tingling feeling in your hands wasn't real, and that the slight blue tint to your fingertips was all in your head.

Levi's presence approached you like soft candlelight.

"You should get some sleep," he said, "It's a big day tomorrow."

You scoffed. "Look who's talking!"

Instead of saying anything, he eyed the book in your lap, then shook his head. He reached out his hand, and with a pout, you gave it to him.

As you stood up to go, he spoke.

"You're obsessed."

You just shrugged while making your way to the door. "Maybe. But I'm not the only one in this library."

He sighed. "Goodnight, Princess."

You fought a grin. "Can't call me that anymore after tomorrow."

And before he could say anything back, you had turned to go.

The image of his flustered expression haunted your dreams that night.

~

Levi shook his head, wishing the heat he felt on his face wasn't real. He gave the library another once-over, then left.

Since he couldn't find that family scroll, the only logical assumption was that Kenny must have taken it. Given that he's obviously planning something crazy, Levi didn't doubt that there must be some nefarious reason. He just had to connect all the pieces.

That's easy to say, and much harder to do when all the pieces are just crumbs. The few words you had told him you overheard had been circling around in his head. And as much as he wants you stay out of it, what you told him was extremely important information.

It was important enough that he decided to stash a couple of emergency packs near the horse stables of the castle. He just wanted to be prepared.

The other thing he couldn't ignore was the fact that he wasn't completely repulsed by you. When his advisors had told Levi that Kenny's last act as King Regent was to arrange a royal marriage between the kingdoms, he had expected some stuck-up and spoiled princess who had never gotten her hands dirty or bothered to use her brain. He had accepted that he probably wasn't going to like whoever showed up but that he would tolerate her and keep living his life.

But each time he interacted with you in the past week has been changing his mind. You're quite intelligent, and you don't act ignorant. You must be pretty sneaky if you could follow Kenny- of all people- unnoticed. And there must be something good about you if he hasn't heard a single servant make an offhand complaint about you.

Levi's original plan was to be civil with whoever the Princess of the North was, and he didn't want to think about the rest. But now that he's met you, he supposed it might not be all that bad to be chained to each other for the rest of your lives. Besides, his parents had an arranged marriage and they managed to make it work. They were so close that they even died together, getting sick at the same time.

He sees a bit of his mother in you. She was kind and loyal, and curious. She also used to look at that blank page in the golden history book. But beyond that, you're kind and easy to talk to, which is saying a lot for him.

Levi steeled himself as he walked down the hall. Tomorrow could go in many different directions.

There were no footsteps outside your door that night.

Chapter Text

When the morning breaks, the first sound you hear is birdsong. Soft, insistent, spilling through the tall windows with the early light. For a moment, you lie still, suspended between dream and waking, before the reality of the day strikes you with full weight.

Today, you will be wed.

The palace is already stirring. You hear muffled voices in the hall, hurried footsteps, the rustle of fabric. When you sit up, sunlight pours across the floor in golden ribbons, warming the cold knot in your stomach.

A knock comes at the door before you can gather yourself. Petra peeks in, smiling gently, her voice hushed as though afraid to break the fragile quiet. "Good morning. It's time to get ready."

Soon, the others join her—Rico with her steady hands, Nanaba with her quiet reassurances, Isabel practically buzzing with excitement, and Hange bounding in with a grin far too wide for such an early hour.

"Rise and shine, bride-to-be!" Hange sing-songs, dramatically throwing open the curtains. Light floods the chamber, blinding, brilliant, inescapable. "Your kingdom awaits, your groom awaits, your destiny awaits- oh, this is going to be so much fun to watch. And the dancing!" She grabs Isabel's hands, and they twirl around in the room, giggling. "It's going to be splendid!"

You groan softly under your breath, drawing a laugh from Petra and a fond shake of the head from Rico. Nanaba lays out the gown with careful precision while Petra brushes invisible dust from the fabric.

The sight of it—white, gold, impossibly fine—steals the air from your lungs. It doesn't feel like yours, not yet. It feels like a costume, a symbol, a weight.

Still, when they guide you toward the dressing stand, hands gentle but firm, you allow yourself to be led. Because today is not about choice. It is about duty, and survival, and the fragile thread of peace that rests on your shoulders.

Outside the window, the bells begin to toll.

The palace hums with life. Somewhere beyond your chamber walls, you hear servants hurrying through corridors and the faint strains of music being rehearsed in the distant halls. But here, in this sun-drenched room, time feels slower, drawn out with every careful detail.

Nanaba lays the gown across the dressing stand. White silk, threaded with pale gold, its fabric glimmering like water catching the morning light. There's bits of intricate lace poking out of the bottom. The embroidery traces curling patterns of vines and flowers, symbols of prosperity and unity. You stare at it, unable to imagine yourself inside something so beautiful, so heavy with meaning.

Petra moves with delicate precision, arranging jewelry across a velvet tray. A circlet of silver, a chain of pearls, golden clasps for your hair. "Simple, elegant," she says softly. "It will suit you." You twist the ring on your finger.

Rico oversees everything with her steady eyes, her voice calm as she directs the others. "The veil first," she reminds them, setting it neatly aside. "Not too heavy. She'll need to walk comfortably."

Isabel flits around the room like a bird, practically glowing with excitement. "You're going to look amazing," she says, grabbing your hands with a grin. "The whole kingdom's going to lose their minds when they see you."

And then there's Hange. "Don't look so grim - it's your wedding day!" She circles you like an examiner inspecting rare treasure, her grin uncontainable. "Ah, Levi's going to be speechless. Absolutely speechless. Mark my words."

Your cheeks burn as Isabel giggles and Petra tries—and fails—to suppress a smile. Even Nanaba lets out the faintest sigh of amusement. Rico merely raises an eyebrow, muttering, "Hange..." in quiet reprimand.

But Hange only laughs, sweeping a lock of your hair from your face before passing the brush to Petra. "There. Let them fuss over you. You'll thank me later when you're radiant enough to blind the whole audience."

And so the work begins.

Your hair is brushed until it gleams, twisted into an elegant style that feels both foreign and impossibly delicate. The veil is pinned, the circlet rests cool and heavy on your brow. The gown slides over your shoulders, the silk whispering against your skin, fitting like it was spun for you alone. Every layer, every clasp, every careful tug adds to the weight, until you feel more like a symbol than a person.

The only bit of you that's still there is the silver ring from your father.

Still, when Petra steps back with shining eyes and Isabel gasps dramatically, you can't help but glance at the mirror. For a moment, you hardly recognize yourself. The reflection looking back is regal, poised, breathtaking. A stranger—and yet undeniably you.

Nanaba smooths the final fold of silk. "Perfect," she says simply.

Rico nods in agreement, but her gaze lingers on you as though searching for something deeper. "Do you feel ready?" she asks quietly.

You hesitate, your hands tightening in your lap. Ready? You don't know if you ever could be. But with every detail falling into place, every handmaid's touch sealing you into the role, you understand there's no turning back.

The bells outside ring louder now, their peal echoing across the kingdom.

"It's time," Rico says.

And for the first time that morning, your heart begins to truly race.

The doors to your chamber stand open now, sunlight spilling across the marble floors. Beyond them, you hear the muffled hum of the gathering crowd, voices rising and falling like the swell of an ocean. Somewhere, deep in the palace halls, trumpets sound a triumphant note.

Your handmaidens linger around you, fussing with last details—smoothing the veil, adjusting the clasp at your shoulder, smoothing out their own matching gowns. Isabel bounces on her heels, trying to stifle her excitement; Petra's smile trembles with pride; Rico stands steady and composed, a quiet anchor; Nanaba watches with sharp, thoughtful eyes; and Hange, of course, can't resist whispering, "Breathe. You'll knock him flat on his ass."

You manage a small smile, but your thoughts are far away.

Kenny.

The memory of that night comes unbidden: the sound of his footsteps echoing through the darkened corridors, the low murmur of his voice as he spoke with those northern soldiers. The words still prick at you like needles. Shipments. Signal. Strike. She doesn't know yet.

Your stomach knots beneath the silk gown. Does he know what you overheard? Was this ceremony—this fragile illusion of unity—already undercut by his schemes?

And Levi. You told him, but he gave you nothing in return. No plan, no hint of his intentions. Just silence. Both of you have avoided the topic altogether.

"(Y/N)," Rico says softly, her hand brushing your arm. "It's time."

You blink, the present rushing back to you. The handmaidens gather, their eyes shining, their faith unshaken. To them, this moment is sacred. To you, it feels like the edge of a blade.

You take one last breath, pressing the thoughts of Kenny into the back of your mind—because whatever danger lurks in the shadows, you have no choice now but to face what waits on the other side of those doors.

The bells ring again, louder, demanding.

And you step forward.

The great doors swing wide, and light floods in.

The hall is vast, soaring columns and banners of crimson and gold stretching high above. Every bench is filled—nobles in gleaming finery, courtiers whispering behind jeweled hands, soldiers standing at attention in perfect rows. The air is thick with incense and expectation, the weight of countless eyes pressing down on you all at once.

Your feet do not move.

The aisle stretches endlessly ahead, a river of polished marble flanked by flowers and silks, leading to the altar where Levi Ackerman waits. His figure is dark and sharp against the brilliance of the hall, posture straight, gaze steady. Even from here, you can feel the cool gravity of him.

But your body betrays you. Your breath hitches, your hands tremble beneath the veil, and your knees refuse to bend. The world narrows to the pounding of your heartbeat and the deafening silence that follows.

A sharp poke digs into your side.

You jolt, glancing to your right, where Hange leans close, eyes glinting with mischief even in this sacred moment. She whispers, just loud enough for you to hear, "Move. Before they think the bride's turned to ice."

Heat floods your face beneath the veil. You draw in a shaky breath, lift one slippered foot, and take the first step forward. Then another. And slowly, the frozen grip begins to loosen.

The hall does not fade—the eyes, the whispers, the grandeur remain—but your focus sharpens. You steady yourself with every step, the weight of the gown anchoring you, the distant figure of Levi growing closer with each pace.

By the time you reach the halfway point, your hands have stopped trembling. By the time you draw near the altar, you can breathe again.

Levi meets your gaze as you approach. His face is unreadable, but his eyes—sharp, unwavering—hold you in place more surely than any words could.

You stand next to him at the altar, Levi's presence beside you like a steady flame. The murmur of the crowd fades as the officiant steps forward, robed in white and gold, his voice echoing through the vaulted chamber.

He speaks of unity and peace. Of two kingdoms, long divided, now bound by this union. His words rise and fall in practiced cadence—hope for the future, an end to discord, the promise of strength through harmony. You hear them, but they wash over you like waves, too grand and polished to feel real.

All the while, you feel the stares of the court. Some hopeful, some skeptical, some sharp with quiet malice. You wonder how many in this hall are whispering behind smiles, waiting for cracks to show.

Levi does not flinch. He stands still, expression unreadable, his gaze fixed forward as if the words mean little to him. Yet his hand brushes faintly against yours, not a gesture of affection but of acknowledgment, grounding you in the moment.

The officiant's speech swells toward its end, declaring the union a bridge between North and South, a promise sealed in duty and sacrifice.

When the final words come—joined in marriage, bound in peace—the hall erupts in applause, the sound crashing around you like thunder.

You exhale, realizing only then that you'd been holding your breath.

The officiant raises his hands in the air to silence the crowd. "I pronounce you husband and wife; King and Queen of our great Kingdom!"

A trumpet fanfare splits the air, bright and triumphant, echoing from the vaulted ceilings. The court rises to their feet in applause, silk and jewels flashing in the golden light. You feel the swell of it around you, vast and suffocating—this spectacle of unity, of peace, of hope.

Then the doors slam open.

The fanfare falters, notes cracking, cut short. A shout rings through the hall, sharp and foreign in its cadence, and suddenly armored figures flood the aisle—northern soldiers, weapons drawn, faces grim beneath their helmets.

The crowd gasps, shrieking as the first blades flash in the candlelight. Guards scramble forward, shoving nobles behind them, but the soldiers are already too deep, too swift.

You freeze, heart hammering, as the harmony of the moment shatters into chaos.

Your first thought is Kenny. Your eyes dart instinctively to where he'd stood in the shadows earlier, just behind the dais. But the space is empty. He's gone—slipped away before the storm broke, leaving only the wreckage of his plan behind.

Levi moves before you can think, a step closer, his body tense, sharp as drawn steel. The air around him feels charged, dangerous, and though he says nothing, his presence alone is a shield between you and the soldiers surging forward.

All around, the hall is dissolving into panic. The marriage that was meant to bind two kingdoms has become the spark for something far darker.

And you can't shake the hollow certainty in your chest: this was never meant to be peace. This was always meant to be war.

A soldier in the middle of the chaos stops and lifts his hands around his mouth to shout.

"The King of the North is dead! He's fallen to sickness!"

Your blood runs cold. For a heartbeat, the chaos around you fades—the clamor of steel, the screams of the court, the thunder of boots—and all you can hear is the echo of that voice, cracking the world in half.

Your father. Your kingdom. Gone? You didn't even know he was sick. Is that why he pushed you away so suddenly?

You can't breathe. You can't think. The wedding, the vows, the talk of peace—it all crumbles into ash in an instant. And somewhere deep inside, beneath the panic and disbelief, a hollow truth takes root: nothing will ever be the same again.

The hall erupts into chaos. Nobles shove against each other to flee, soldiers clash in a frenzy of steel, and banners rip down from the vaulted ceiling. You stand frozen, unable to move, unable to breathe, the weight of that sentence pinning you to the marble floor.

Then Levi's hand closes around your wrist.

"Move."

You barely register his voice—low, sharp, unshakable—but your body obeys as he drags you through the scattering crowd. His grip is iron, steady where everything else is falling apart. You stumble, silk and gold trailing behind you, your veil tugged loose as you're pulled from the altar, down a side passage, away from the screaming.

You try to look back once—just once—to find Kenny, to see his smirk in the shadows. But the dais is gone from sight, swallowed in smoke and chaos.

Levi doesn't slow. His strides are precise, purposeful, every turn through the stone corridors taken without hesitation. Guards shout in the distance; steel strikes against steel. Your mind floats somewhere far away, locked in a fog of disbelief, but Levi anchors you with the sheer force of his momentum. He dodges around soldiers waiting around corners without any hesitation.

By the time you realize where he's leading you, the sharp smell of hay and leather already fills the air. The stables.

"Here." He shoves open the heavy doors, scanning the rows of stalls with a soldier's eye. A black horse waits near the end, saddled and ready. You blink, dazed, only now grasping that this had been planned—an escape prepared, tucked away beneath the grandeur of the palace.

Levi turns to you, hands swift as he lifts you into the saddle. You don't protest. You can't. Your limbs move stiffly, as though you're nothing but a doll being placed where you need to be. He grabs a couple bags from underneath a pile of hay.

His voice cuts through the haze, firm, commanding. "Hold on."

He mounts behind you in one motion, his arm bracing around your waist, the reins snapping in his hand. The horse surges forward, hooves striking sparks against the stone floor as the stable doors burst open.

The wind tears at your gown as you plunge into the sunlight, the city flashing by in streaks of gold and stone. Behind you, the palace bells toll again—no longer triumphant, but warning.

Levi drives the horse westward, away from the smoke, the cries, the shattered vows.

And all you can do is cling to the sound of his heartbeat against your back, your mind still trapped in the echo of those words:

The King of the North is dead.

Chapter Text

You ride for hours. Actually, you're not even sure how long it was, but the sun was setting now, so there must have been several hours between you and the palace.

At some point, your brain was finally able to move past the one thought of your father being dead - only to start spiraling about how it happened or wondering if it was even real. For all you knew, Kenny could have just completely made it up.

But the hole in your chest told you that it was real. You could feel it- your connection with the North, severed.

Levi didn't say anything to you until you stopped near a small village. He helped you off the horse- caught you from nearly faceplanting after tripping on your damn dress- and handed you one of the packs.

"There's extra clothes in there."

You nodded, and the two of you walked towards a small cabin that looked abandoned. He kicked down the door as if he had done so a hundred times before. Inside there was only a table a few chairs. You couldn't wait to get out of this soiled gown.

When you had dressed, you recognized these garments as matching to the group of bandits from the forest the day of your arrival.

You were cradling the dress in your arms. It was so perfect and pristine this morning, and now its edges were ripped, somehow there was some blood on it, and the whole thing had grown a shade darker with a layer of dirt. Petra and Nanaba had worked so hard on it with the seamstresses...

You wondered what became of your handmaidens. You didn't see them when you looked back, and they were all pretty agile, so you could only hope that they managed to escape as well. Looking at the dress they had all fussed over just this morning made you want to weep.

You laid the dress down gingerly on the wooden table. It wasn't long before you gave in- covering your face with your hands as you started to cry.

Levi didn't know what he should do. He had done everything so logically that there was no room for feelings right now. He needed to tell you the plan so that you could get some rest and be ready for the day ahead... but you just kept crying.

So he stood a pace away, watching you unravel, his arms stiff at his sides. He doesn't know what to do—what the hell is he supposed to do? His mind races with tactics, routes, weapons he should check, the next move to keep you both alive. He can plan for enemies, ambushes, betrayal. But not this.

He takes a step forward, hesitates. His hand twitches upward, hovering halfway between himself and you. He reaches—then pulls it back, fingers curling into a fist. His jaw tightens, and he cringes inward, irritated at himself.

Pathetic. Can't even—

The sound of your sobs cuts the thought short.

Levi exhales slowly through his nose. He doesn't move closer, not yet. He just stands there in the dim light, watching your grief break over you, wishing he knew how to bridge the distance between survival and comfort.

Levi can't stay still. Standing there, watching you cry, makes him feel... useless. He's trained for combat, for strategy, for death. He can handle any ambush, any attacker—but this? This is beyond him.

He moves, mechanically at first, shoving a chair against the wall, brushing dust off a table, checking the packs he'd brought. Cleaning, organizing- that stuff always helped him clear his head. Weapons, rations, maps, a few blankets—everything he might need for the road ahead. His movements are sharp, precise, but they don't shake the gnawing feeling in his chest.

Every so often, he glances at you. You're still curled over the bench, shuddering quietly, hands covering your face. Levi swallows, jaw tightening. Calm. Focus. Keep it together.

He bends to adjust a pack, pulling out a canteen and setting it on the table. Then another, then a blanket. Anything to distract himself, to make the moment feel less... heavy. The sound of his own motions seems almost deafening in the quiet cabin.

Finally, after what feels like hours, he exhales sharply. He wipes a hand across his face and forces himself to step closer. One slow step. Then another.

He stops just short of the bench, hesitant. His eyes trace the line of your shoulders, the trembling of your hands, and he swallows again. His hand twitches. He reaches out, fingers brushing the edge of the sleeve of your gown.

Then he pauses. Pulls back. Cringes.

God, what am I even doing?

But he can't leave it like this. He can't. Not after everything that's happened. You've just lost your father- for goodness sakes- and of all people, he knows how that feels. So he tries again, this time placing a hand lightly on your shoulder—careful, tentative, nothing invasive.

"Hey," he mutters quietly, voice low but steady. "You're alive. That's what matters."

The words feel awkward, insufficient even to him, but it's all he has. And when he feels your small shudder beneath his hand, he leaves it there, silent, letting the simple presence of him be the anchor you don't know you need yet.

You flinch at the touch, almost pulling back instinctively, but Levi's hand doesn't move. It's firm but gentle, steady in a way that somehow grounds you even while your chest shakes.

You lift your head just a little, enough for him to see your tear-streaked face. Your eyes are red and wide, caught somewhere between shock, sorrow, and disbelief. You don't speak. You don't move. You just look, and Levi meets your gaze without saying more, letting you absorb the moment.

For the first time since the chaos in the hall, you take a slow, shuddering breath. It's not relief. Not yet. But it's a start.

Levi tightens his hold just slightly, careful not to squeeze, and waits. He doesn't rush you, doesn't try to force words or comfort you with empty platitudes. He just stays there, a quiet, immovable presence against the storm of your grief. He feels like his hand is burning.

And though you don't say it, you feel it—the faintest tether forming, an unspoken assurance that you're not entirely alone.

You sit there for a long moment, letting your chest rise and fall, listening to the creak of the cabin and the sound of Levi's steady presence behind you. The sobs have quieted, but the knot in your stomach remains, heavy and relentless.

Slowly, almost without thinking, your hands reach out, brushing against his arm. The motion is tentative at first, a question more than a demand. Levi stiffens for a fraction of a second, then simply lets you touch him.

And then you collapse against him.

Your arms wrap around his torso, clutching as if holding on to life itself. Your face buries in the crook of his shoulder, and the tears flow freely again, hot and raw, against the fabric of his coat.

Levi freezes. He doesn't move at first—doesn't pull away, doesn't push you off. He's never been good at comforting anyone, and yet... he's here. His hands hover for a moment before settling lightly on your back, firm, steady, letting you lean into him.

You cling, shuddering, and he allows it. No words, no reassurances, just the solid weight of him holding you up when you can't hold yourself.

For the first time since the wedding, since the palace chaos, since Kenny's betrayal, you feel a fraction of safety, a tiny spark of something like peace. And even if Levi doesn't say a word, even if he doesn't know exactly how to comfort you, it's enough.

For now, it's enough.

You cling to him for a few more moments, shuddering into his chest, until Levi finally shifts, just enough to brush a hand through your hair. His voice is low, clipped, but not unkind.

"You need to sleep," he says.

You pull back slightly, blinking through tear-streaked eyes, you almost whisper. "I... I can't. There's too much—"

Levi cuts you off with a small, sharp shake of his head. "You can't do anything if you're exhausted. Just... sleep. That's all I'm saying."

You want to protest, to demand details, to know exactly what he's planning, but his expression—stoic, unyielding—stops you. You realize he isn't lying.

Reluctantly, you nod. Your arms loosen around him, and he carefully guides you toward the corner of the cabin where a blanket has been laid. He sits beside you, not letting go, letting you rest your head on his shoulder.

"Sleep," he repeats, almost softer this time. "Everything else... comes later."

And for the first time since the wedding, since the chaos, since Kenny's plan turned everything upside down, you allow yourself to obey. Your eyelids grow heavy, your body finally sinking into a fragile, hard-earned sense of safety.

Levi watches you for a moment longer, expression unreadable, then settles in beside you. Silent. Waiting. Ready.

You bury your face against Levi's shoulder, letting the warmth and solidity of him ground you. Your arms slacken, your chest rises and falls more evenly, and the tremor in your body slows.

The exhaustion is absolute. Every muscle aches, every thought feels heavy, and even the memories of the palace, the wedding, and the chaos fade into a haze at the edges of your mind.

Slowly, inevitably, your eyelids droop. A soft sigh escapes your lips as you give in, letting sleep claim you. Your body sags against him, trusting, vulnerable, finally letting go.

Levi doesn't move. He sits quietly, one hand resting lightly on your back, the other bracing you in case the cabin creaks or the wind rattles the boards. His expression is unreadable, but there's a sharp edge of vigilance in his eyes—alert, aware, prepared for anything.

For the first time in hours, the cabin feels still. Outside, the wind whispers through the village, carrying the faint scent of smoke and earth, but inside, the two of you are alone in this fragile bubble.

And as your breathing deepens, steady and even, Levi allows himself the smallest, almost imperceptible exhale. For now, at least, you're safe.

~

When you wake, you're lying on the floor. You hear some scuffling to your side, and Levi's there, re-packing his bags and taking inventory of what looks like some food he must have found somewhere.

"Lucky for us, news travels slow here," he starts, "and I must not have a very recognizable face."

So he must have gone and bought food.

"We can't stay here all day," he says. "Rested or not, we need to move."

You nod slowly, still numb, still processing the magnitude of what's happened. You float through packing up and getting on the horse.

The path stretches endlessly beneath the horse's hooves, rolling hills and scattered forests passing in quiet monotony. The village is far behind, and the open road feels both endless and unnervingly empty.

You glance down at the rough map Levi had pulled from his pack that morning. Your fingers trace the winding roads, the small villages, and the rivers curling through the land. And then your gaze shifts westward, to a dark, blank stretch of mountains marked only by the faintest sketches in the corner of the page.

The obsidian peaks.

Even from here, hundreds of miles away, the crude image—and the legends—settle over you like a weight. The golden history book in the southern palace library, the one Levi had seen you studying so many times, had promised details, maps, and stories. Yet the pages were blank where the mountains should have been. No one had survived them. No one had returned to tell the tale.

Your stomach tightens. You know, somewhere deep in your gut, that this is likely where the road will take you eventually. Was this really his backup plan?

Levi glances at you once, eyes unreadable, then back to the path. He doesn't speak of the mountains, doesn't need to. He knows the fascination in your expression, the same one he's seen countless times as you studied maps and texts in the palace library.

You ride in silence most of the time, head bowed, the memory of the wedding chaos still heavy in your chest. The dust clings to your clothes and hair, and even the steady rhythm of the horse under you can't fully chase the exhaustion from your limbs.

Levi moves behind you like a shadow, always alert, scanning the path ahead, the trees, the horizon. He doesn't speak often, but the occasional glance tells you everything you need: stay close, stay quiet, stay alive.

Somewhere along the second day, he produces rations, handing you bread and dried meat with that clipped, matter-of-fact tone. You eat mechanically, barely tasting it, your thoughts constantly returning to the palace, to Kenny, to the northern soldiers.

At one point, you pause near a stream for water, leaning over the bank to drink. Levi watches, eyes flicking up and down the surrounding trees, every movement precise, every sound noted. "Watch yourself." he mutters quietly. It isn't an order so much as a reminder that danger could be anywhere.

By the third day, your muscles ache from the constant riding. Your mind drifts to the map in your pack. You trace the western line with your finger, imagining the obsidian mountains that lie far beyond the horizon. You don't see them yet, but you know they'll emerge on that horizon soon.

Levi notices the way you study the maps, the faint light of curiosity in your eyes, but he doesn't comment. He knows better than to distract you from your thoughts. Instead, he focuses on the trail, on the weather, on the subtle signs of other riders or settlements. You weren't much for conversation these days anyway.

At night, you camp under the stars in abandoned clearings, the quiet only broken by the low whinny of the horses and the crackle of the small fire Levi sets. You try to rest, but sleep is fitful, full of dreams of smoke, fire, and shadows of soldiers you can't quite place.

And every time you glance west, you feel it—an invisible pull, a promise that whatever awaits beyond those distant hills will change everything.

Chapter Text

It's in the morning when you finally break your self-inflicted silence.

Levi's busy saddling up the horse and cleaning up from you camp last night, kicking sticks and rocks around to cover your tracks.

"What are we doing?" You ask, your voice sounding a bit weak. It makes sense after all those tears.

His eyes flash up at you, seeming surprised to hear you speak after so long. "I think you've already figured that out." He says.

"No," you clear your throat, "I understand the location we're going to... but why?"

Levi looks away, thinking. "You've heard the legends, right? Well, I may have gone into a rabbit hole a few times on the matter. We're going to go into the heart of that mountain range."

"But doesn't everyone die if they go in there?" You question.

"Not if they're worthy."

You almost laugh. "Oh, and we must be worthy then?"

He shrugs. "We are both of royal blood. And don't you think it's odd that the only people who really care about finding anything out about that place are the two of us?"

You pause, not saying anything yet.

He continues. "There's that- and my family scroll that went missing. I know for a fact it has some information about this place and my family's tie to it, and I'm betting that Kenny is the one who stole it from the library."

You shake your head. "Okay, so then we say it's safe for you to go in. What about me? What if I'm not worthy?"

"I'll protect you." He says, almost like you should have known it already. He turns back to finish setting up the horses, but then he pauses and faces you once more.

"About your father... I'm sorry. He was a good man."

You blink back a few tears and decide that those would be the last of this journey. If you're going into a place as treacherous as those obsidian mountains, there isn't going to be any room for crying. You steel yourself for the ride ahead.

The morning air is crisp, carrying the damp chill of dew still clinging to the earth. The horse's steady rhythm rocks you gently, Levi's presence solid and close behind you as he keeps one hand on the reins, the other braced lightly against the saddle.

It isn't long before the trees thin as the road slopes upward. When you crest the hill, the world opens up before you, and your breath stutters in your throat.

On the horizon, half-veiled in pale morning mist, the cliffs rise. Black stone, jagged and sheer, gleaming as though polished glass had been carved into the earth itself.

The obsidian cliffs.

Without realizing it, you draw the reins just enough for the horse to slow. Levi doesn't stop you. His gaze has already locked onto the dark horizon, sharp and assessing, though his face betrays nothing.

"They don't look real," you whisper. The words leave you before you can swallow them.

Levi's voice is quiet at your shoulder, steady against the weight of the sight. "They're real enough."

The cliffs catch the sun strangely, reflecting light in fractured shards. They don't belong here, in the soft rise of green hills and pale morning sky. They look wrong. Ancient. Waiting.

A chill slips through you despite the warmth of Levi at your back. "It's like they're alive."

His answer comes after a beat. "Or dead. Depends who you ask."

The horse shifts uneasily beneath you, snorting as if it too can feel the weight of those cliffs pressing down from a distance. Levi clicks his tongue, giving the reins a light tug, urging the animal forward.

"Don't stare too long," he mutters. "They'll still be there when we get closer."

You turn forward again, letting the horse fall back into its steady rhythm. But even as the hills close in around you, hiding the cliffs from sight, the image lingers—black and sharp and impossible, etched into the horizon of your thoughts.

The cliffs disappear again behind a curve of the hills, but the unease they left lingers. The horse's hooves beat a steady rhythm against the dirt path, the only sound between you and Levi. His arm brushes lightly against your side as he adjusts the reins, steady and unshakable as always.

The silence stretches—until the horse suddenly jerks its head, spooking at something hidden in the grass by the roadside. It stumbles, and you let out a startled gasp as your balance slips forward.

Levi reacts instantly. His arm snaps around your waist, pulling you back against him with one firm motion. The horse steadies with a low snort, and Levi keeps his hold for a moment longer than necessary, his voice low and clipped against your ear.

"Sit straight. You'll fall if you keep slumping like that."

Heat rises in your face, though whether from embarrassment or the sudden closeness, you can't tell. "I wasn't slumping," you mutter, defensive despite yourself.

Levi exhales through his nose—almost a laugh, though not quite. "Sure."

You glance back over your shoulder, intending to glare, but he's already looking ahead again, face as composed as ever. Still, you can see the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth, the ghost of a smirk he doesn't bother to hide.

For the first time in days, something stirs in your chest that isn't fear or grief. It's small, fleeting—but real.

The horse keeps moving, the cliffs still waiting far to the west. But the silence between you feels a little less heavy now, broken not by danger, but by something almost human.

The horse settles back into its rhythm, hooves steady against the dirt. You shift slightly in the saddle, trying to reclaim some dignity after nearly tumbling off. Levi's hand lingers on the reins, but you can still feel the ghost of his arm at your waist.

"You could've warned me before the horse spooked," you murmur, half under your breath.

Levi's reply comes without hesitation. "What do you want me to do, talk to the grass? Tell it not to rustle?"

You roll your eyes, though he can't see it. "I just mean you didn't have to sound so... smug about it."

"I wasn't being smug," he says flatly. "Just stating the obvious. You lean too far forward, you fall. It's not complicated."

You twist slightly to glance back at him. "You don't make it very easy to thank you, you know."

That earns you a sidelong glance, cool gray eyes cutting to yours. Then, to your surprise, a quiet sound leaves him—short, almost dry. A laugh, though he'd never admit it.

"Don't bother thanking me," he mutters, looking away again. "Keeping you alive is part of the deal."

Part of the deal. The words should sting, but somehow, they don't. Not entirely. Because beneath the bluntness, you hear something steadier—an unspoken promise he won't let you fall.

You huff softly, facing forward again. "Still smug," you say, just loud enough for him to hear.

Levi doesn't answer this time, but when the next stretch of silence falls, it feels different—lighter, easier, threaded with something that almost resembles trust.

The cliffs are still waiting somewhere in the distance. But for the first time since you left the palace, the weight in your chest feels just a little less crushing.

You relish as much as you can in that small feeling of comfort as you approach the beginning of the mountain range. Larger and larger spires of obsidian jut out of the ground on either side of you before the 'road' becomes too rocky for your horse to continue.

The cliffs stretch so high it feels like they scrape the sky, their surfaces dark and gleaming, catching the afternoon light like polished glass. But it isn't the cliffs themselves that catch your attention.

It's the caves.

At the base, set into the black stone, are fissures—great cracks and hollows that yawn like mouths, some narrow, some wide enough for three people to walk abreast. They stretch deep into the mountain, the darkness swallowing the last of the light.

"Caves," you breathe.

Levi's gaze follows the same line. His expression stays unreadable, but his jaw tightens slightly. "That's not what I expected."

"What did you expect?" You turn to him.

He shrugs and presses his mouth into a thin line. "I swear when I surveyed this before, there were no openings like this...."

"Well, maybe you just didn't get close enough." You said.

A chill moves over your skin. The thought of climbing would have been daunting, but this—this feels worse. A path into the mountain itself, into something ancient and untouched.

Levi begins unfastening supplies from the horse's saddle, movements brisk, precise. "We leave it here. Too dangerous to bring it farther." He hands you a small pack, then slings another over his shoulder. "Take only what you can carry."

The horse stamps uneasily, tossing its head as though it, too, senses the wrongness seeping from the cliffs. You glance back once, running your hand down its neck, grounding yourself in the warmth of something familiar before turning to face the dark mouths of stone ahead.

The air grows colder the closer you step.

The road has ended. From here, it's nothing but shadow and silence.

You and Levi stop before one of the larger openings—a hollow in the black cliffs wide enough for both of you to walk through side by side. The air here is different, colder, carrying a strange vibration you can almost feel in your teeth. The darkness of the tunnel yawns ahead like a throat, silent and waiting.

And then... something pulls.

It isn't physical, not exactly, but it tugs at you all the same—an invisible thread drawing your hand toward the stone wall beside the opening. You hesitate, breath caught, staring at your own fingers as they lift of their own accord.

Levi notices. His sharp voice cuts through the stillness. "What are you—"

But the moment your palm presses flat against the obsidian, the world changes.

Blue light erupts beneath your skin, racing across the stone in branching lines, like veins awakening after centuries of sleep. The glow shimmers outward, flooding the wall in cool, radiant color. For a heartbeat, you can feel the stone itself humming under your hand, alive with energy.

Then the light darts away—an arrow shooting down the tunnel, carving a glowing path deeper into the darkness.

You stagger back, your hand trembling, your breath sharp in your throat. The glow lingers faintly against your skin before fading, leaving your palm warm, almost buzzing.

Levi is staring at you, eyes narrowed, jaw tight. The faint blue glow flickers in his irises as it dances along the tunnel walls. He doesn't move, but his grip has tightened on the strap of his pack.

"...Okay," he says quietly.

The arrow of light waits ahead, stretching deeper into the cave as though it expects you to follow.

You swallow hard, staring at it, then back at your hand. Your palm still tingles as if something inside the stone has branded itself into your skin. You don't know why, but you know—deep in your bones—that the light is meant for you.

Levi shifts beside you, his boots crunching against loose stone. His hand brushes the hilt of his blade, though you can tell he knows steel won't mean much here.

"Careful," he says lowly. Not quite an order—more like a warning.

But the pull is too strong. Your feet move before your mind can catch up, drawn after the line of blue that snakes its way along the cave wall. Each pulse seems to sync with your heartbeat, steady and insistent, guiding you deeper.

The tunnel swallows the daylight within moments. Darkness presses in on all sides, but the glow keeps the path alive, illuminating sharp obsidian walls that catch the light like shards of glass. The air is cooler here, damp, carrying the faint scent of mineral and stone.

Levi follows close behind, his footsteps soundless but his presence solid at your back. His voice cuts through the hush after a long stretch.

"You don't even know what it is."

"No," you admit softly. "But... it feels like it knows me."

Your own words make your skin prickle, but it's true. The light doesn't frighten you—not the way it should. It feels almost familiar, like an answer to a question you didn't know you'd been asking.

The tunnel bends sharply, the blue line curving with it, and for a moment you think you hear something faint—like a hum, low and distant, as though the mountain itself is awake.

Levi's hand hovers close at your arm, not quite touching but ready. He doesn't stop you. He doesn't try again to pull you back. He just keeps pace, silent and steady, while the light leads you deeper into the obsidian's heart.

"This is nothing like Northern mountains." You say, trying to lift the mood.

"You don't have magical lit-up tunnels up there?"

You trace your hand along the line on the wall. "I didn't think they had that anywhere, but here we are."

The tunnel twists and turns, the glow of the blue light bouncing off jagged walls and reflecting faint patterns across your face. Every step is careful, deliberate, yet you can't tear your eyes away from the arrow of light.

Finally, the words tumble out, almost before you realize you're asking.

"Levi... do you believe in magic?"

The question hangs in the cool, damp air. You glance over your shoulder, expecting maybe a scoff, a sharp retort, or one of his usual clipped silences.

Instead, Levi stops mid-step and turns his head toward you. His gray eyes meet yours, flat and unreadable for a heartbeat. Then, just the tiniest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

"No shit," he says, deadpan. "I'm looking at it right now."

You can't help the laugh that slips out, short and incredulous, even though your chest still carries the tension of the mountains. Levi doesn't move, doesn't elaborate, but the ghost of a smirk lingers in his eyes.

You shake your head, trying to wrap your mind around it. The stone beneath your hand hums faintly, the glow pulsing like a heartbeat, guiding you ever deeper.

For the first time, you realize this isn't just some hidden cave. Whatever this is, whatever the mountain holds... it's alive. And you can feel it watching, responding to you, recognizing you.

Levi clears his throat, breaking the spell. "Keep moving. That light isn't going to wait for us to philosophize."

You nod, letting the wonder and disbelief settle into your chest as you follow the blue arrow further into the obsidian heart, Levi's quiet presence a grounding tether at your back.

After what feels like hours winding through the twisting tunnels, the air shifts again. The walls no longer press close, and the low hum beneath your hand grows stronger, vibrating faintly through your bones.

You round a bend, and the tunnel opens.

Light floods the space—not sunlight, not fire, but the artificial glow of your own blue energy, stretching outward across the jagged obsidian like a river of living light. And then you see it: a pool, black and glossy as polished onyx, resting perfectly still in the center of the cavern.

The pool divides the chamber naturally, like a line drawn across the stone. On one side, your blue light stretches, illuminating the jagged walls and casting shimmering reflections across the water. On the other side, darkness presses down, thick and almost solid, absorbing the faint echoes of your own breathing and the soft drip of unseen water from the ceiling.

You step closer, heart hammering. The reflection of your own hand in the black pool is uncanny, distorted, almost as if the water is staring back. The glow from your palm reaches halfway across the chamber, stopping sharply at the invisible line where light surrenders to shadow.

Levi slides to your side, quiet as ever, observing without comment. His eyes, however, are sharp and assessing, taking in the full scope of the cavern, the pool, the dividing line of light and dark.

"This..." you whisper, barely daring to breathe. "It's like it's... waiting for something."

Levi doesn't answer. He only shifts slightly, hand hovering near his blade, alert but patient. You feel the pull of the blue light under your palm more strongly than ever, almost urging you forward, toward the unknown dark side of the pool.

The water is still. Silent. Immovable. Yet it feels... alive, like a presence beneath the surface, aware of you, aware of your light.

And for the first time since the obsidian cliffs came into view, you realize this place isn't a passage through the mountain—it's a threshold. This is the destination.

The tunnel behind you is gone, swallowed by stone and shadow. Forward, the cavern waits, split perfectly between your light and the darkness beyond.

Your breath hitches. The blue light pulses faintly, calling you. And you know... whatever happens next, you can't turn back.

Chapter Text

You watch Levi as he lingers at the edge of the dark side of the cavern, the obsidian wall pressing close. All you can focus on is him.

He doesn't move at first, shoulders tight, eyes fixed on the black stone as if he's arguing with it silently. You notice the way his fingers twitch, brushing the wall without touching it, testing it, as though he's debating whether to step into whatever this place wants him to. You may have touched the wall without really thinking about it before, but you know he's not as hasty as you. Still, he was the one who wanted to come here in the first place, thinking it had something to do with his family line. And it seemed he came to that same conclusion when you did.

You hold your breath as he swallows, jaw tightening, and finally his hand presses flat against the wall.

The reaction is immediate. Red light flares beneath his palm, bright and wild, snaking across the dark side of the cavern. It's almost like fire, alive and fierce, reflecting in the black pool and dancing toward your own blue glow. The sudden heat makes your skin prickle.

Levi jerks slightly, but only for a heartbeat, then squares his shoulders as though daring the mountain to respond further. You can see the tension in his jaw, the tight line of his lips.

The red arcs across the obsidian, intertwining with your blue, and for a moment the two of you are tethered by the energy of the cavern. You're like opposites, but equal. You feel the power humming beneath your hands and beneath your chest. It might even consume you.

Levi shifts his stance, his eyes scanning the glowing wall, lips pressed into a thin line.

You break the silence, not really thinking before the words come out of your mouth. "What the heck is this?" You almost laugh at yourself - those words aren't very becoming of a princess. Or a queen.

Levi doesn't look toward you - his eyes are locked forward. "I guess this is probably why no one's come back from this place."

You step closer to the edge of the black pool, eyes tracing the edge. "I think we should go for a swim."

Levi's presence behind you is steady, his movements controlled, but you can sense him thinking, calculating, analyzing everything. "You sure?" He asks.

Until now, it seemed like Levi had a pretty solid plan for everything. He knew how to get to the mountains - which trails were best, which villages were on the way. But how could he have possibly known the mountains would be like this?

Magic was all but gone from your world. You had heard stories as a child of magicians and warlocks using magical powers, but as you came into adulthood you just accepted them as fiction. The closest thing to magic you've seen until now was the beautiful flower fields of the South. Maybe that group of apologists wasn't crazy after all. You couldn't wait to tell Hange of all of this - she'd absolutely eat it up. That is, if she was all right.

And as if to bring back your focus, the black pool ripples slightly, though there is no wind anywhere in the cavern. Your pulse races, and for the first time since the mountain drew you here, you feel an edge of... excitement? Fear? Curiosity? All tangled together.

Keep your hands steady. You force yourself to breathe slowly, following the rhythm of your own blue light, letting it stretch across the cavern floor.

You take another step forward, letting the glow of your palm wash over the jagged obsidian at the edge of the pool.

It's waiting. Waiting to see what we'll do.

You stop at the edge of the blue-lit half of the pool, heart hammering. Across the black divide, Levi mirrors your stance, the dark side of the pool still and unreadable.

Your eyes meet. No words pass between you—none are needed. There's a silent understanding, a shared agreement that whatever happens next, you face it together.

You nod once, just slightly, and he returns the gesture, just as subtly.

With a deep breath, you step forward. The cool surface of the water rises to meet you, sending a shiver through your body as your toes meet the black depths. The blue glow ripples around your hand, tracing arcs along the pool as it reacts to your presence.

Levi doesn't hesitate. He steps into his side of the pool, water rising around his boots. The darkness seems to pulse with him, red light flaring faintly as it spreads across the surface. The heat from the glow radiates outward, mingling with the chill of the cavern air.

The two of you stand opposite each other, separated by the thin line dividing light and shadow. The water laps quietly at your sides, reflecting the glow of blue and red across the obsidian walls.

You can feel the energy thrumming beneath your feet, responding to your presence, and across the pool, Levi's stance is solid, controlled, ready.

And then, together, you both take the final step forward—letting yourselves sink deep into your respective pools, the water swallowing you almost immediately, as the cavern hums and the light pulses like a heartbeat.

The chamber is alive, the two of you suspended in your own glowing halves, facing whatever this place has been waiting for.

The water rises around you, cold at first, then warm, strange and alive beneath your skin. Your blue light stretches along the obsidian, pulsing in response to the cavern itself. Every ripple, every hum, feels deliberate, as if the mountain is studying you, probing for weaknesses.

And then, you're in a bright room. It's unlike your chambers at the Southern Palace, and you feel a sense of familiarity. This is your old bedroom. You walk over to the window, and sure enough, it's the view you've loved for eighteen years. There's evidence of the servants having just left- there's a warm meal set on the desk, and you can smell the delicious aroma. But before you can walk over to it, you hear a voice behind you.

"Daughter."

You swing around. It's your father. Alive. Standing there, exactly as you remember him, eyes bright, smile gentle.

A surge of relief and joy tears through you. Without thinking, you start running to embrace him, and move toward him in the doorway.

"Father!" you cry.

He calls your name, and everything feels right. He's warm, and you can feel the furs of his coats between your fingers as you crash into him.

"Happy Birthday," he says, and you nuzzle your face into his chest. That's right, today is your eighteenth birthday. "The servants certainly dressed you up, I see."

You retract from him, remembering your face of makeup and your beehive of hair. "Yes... I must admit it's not my favorite." You smile.

The King places a hand on your shoulder. "Come, I have a surprise for you."

You turn back to look at the room before you leave, remembering that you were just with someone. But as your eyes scan the room, there's no one there. Who was that, anyway? You shake your head and walk with your father, hand in hand.

~

You step out into the square, and you're met with quite a sight. Every cart is full of vegetables, every shop is full of stock, and every restaurant has people lined up for warm food. You haven't seen this many people in the square in... ten years. Even the snow seems to have curled away from the warmth.

You whirl to face the king. "How?"

"The Regent had a change of heart! He's promised us a constant flow of goods, so long as we open the mines back up. There's a sudden demand for northern diamonds." He says, his crown flashing in the sunlight.

Townspeople approach you one by one - offering baskets of bread, vegetables, and flowers. They bow as they do so, and you regard each with a heartfelt thanks. This is nothing like the North you know. It's... changed. Overnight.

You certainly don't stop to complain. You spend the rest of the day in the square, dancing with the children and making visits to elders and shopkeepers. It's been so long since you've seen some of them.

Children weave between the stalls, laughing with their mouths full of sugared nuts. You catch the eye of a baker who hands you a still-warm pastry—honey dripping from the flaky crust. You can't remember the last time you tasted anything so rich.

You drift past the spice merchant's table, fingers brushing over a jar of saffron threads. "Straight from the southern coasts," he says proudly. His accent is different—rounder, warmer—and you wonder how strange it must feel for him to be here, in a land usually so gray and hungry.

For the first time in a long while, the square doesn't feel hollow. It feels alive.

~

Every morning, the square bursts to life before the sun (the sun is out!) even clears the rooftops. You wake to the sound of merchants setting up stalls, their voices thick with cheer as they call out prices that would have been unthinkable only months ago. And every morning, you let yourself get lost in the colors, the scents, the flavors.

The baker recognizes you now—he always presses a small loaf into your hands "for the princess," as he calls it. The fruit vendor insists you try something new every time you pass, and today you taste a peach so sweet it drips down your chin. Children skip past you with sticky fingers, their laughter echoing off the stone walls, and you marvel at how light everything feels, how alive.

The North has never looked like this. The gray stone buildings are still the same, the wind still bites when it whistles down the alleys, but with the stalls so full, the streets so crowded, the kingdom feels... warm. For the first time in years, no one is scowling or whispering or watching their neighbor with suspicion.

At night, the torches burn brighter because there's oil enough to waste. Families gather in the square, trading stories over spiced wine and roasted meat. You sit among them sometimes, soaking in the hum of voices, the clinking of cups, the impossible normalcy of it all.

You almost forget what it felt like before—gray mornings with empty tables, long nights with stomachs that never quite filled. Almost.

And if a thought lingers in the back of your mind—that something is missing—you chase it away with another bite of honeyed pastry, another laugh shared with your people.

You forget about your fascination with the South - with their newly-recognized prince and suddenly-benevolent regent, and keep indulging in the spoils of his nation.

Two weeks pass in a blur of full bellies, laughter, and color. The square hums with life each morning and glows with warmth each night, and you almost dare to believe that maybe, finally, the North has turned a corner.

But then, the summons comes. In the late afternoon, one of the guards interrupts you during a dance.

You're barely through the palace gates before you know something is wrong. The air is different here—heavy, hushed. Guards stand stiffly at their posts, and servants move quickly but quietly, their eyes lowered. The contrast to the bustling square outside is jarring, like stepping from sunlight into shadow.

A handmaiden meets you at the stairs, her voice trembling as she bows. "Your Highness... the King. He's taken ill."

Your stomach drops, the sweetness of the morning market turning sour on your tongue. You push past her, skirts brushing the cold stone as you take the steps two at a time.

The corridors that had echoed with laughter only days ago now feel suffocating, lined with closed doors and whispers that vanish as you approach. At the end of the hall, your father's chamber doors stand open, but the smell that greets you is not the incense and warmth you're used to—it's the sharp, medicinal tang of herbs, damp cloth, and sickness.

The King, your father, lies on his bed, a shadow of the man he was not a day ago when you last saw him. His skin is pale, his breaths shallow. Physicians hover around him, murmuring in clipped tones, while the chamberlain wrings his hands in the corner.

Your heart lurches, carrying you forward, but your feet feel heavy, as though even the stones of the palace floor are reluctant to let you pass into this new, terrifying reality.

Bliss shatters. The market, the laughter, the food—it all feels impossibly distant now.

You force yourself forward, heart pounding in your ears, until you're at his bedside. Your father's chest rises shallowly, unevenly, his lips gray. You reach for his hand, cold and frail in yours.

"Father," you whisper, voice catching. "It's me."

No response. Not even a flicker of recognition in his glassy eyes.

You turn sharply to the physicians, desperation breaking through your fear. "Do something! You can't just stand there!"

But they don't move.

In fact, they don't even look at you. They stand perfectly still, as though frozen in place. A shiver runs down your spine.

"...What are you doing?" you demand, stepping back.

The chamberlain twitches—his lips moving as though to speak—but instead of words, a curl of smoke escapes his mouth. His form ripples, crumbling away in flakes of gray dust.

You stagger backward as the nearest physician follows, his face collapsing into ash that floats upward, vanishing into nothing. One by one, every figure in the room disintegrates before your eyes, dissolving into the air like they had never existed at all.

"No," you breathe, shaking your head. The herbs, the linens, even the bed itself begin to waver at the edges, fading.

A sharp pull rattles through your chest—an unnatural, magnetic force. And suddenly you know.

This wasn't real. None of this was real.

Then you look back at your father, and something changes. His eyes, once familiar, twist. The warmth disappears, replaced by malice. You don't recognize the look in his eyes.

"No," you whisper, stumbling back as the illusion solidifies into something monstrous, something dangerous.

You raise your hands, remembering the blue light you had wielded before. How could you forget something like that? You willed yourself to summon that power once again.

Something feels like tingling in your fingers as that creature that still resembles your father comes toward you.

"I—I can't," you murmur, shaking, voice breaking. "Father... no..."

But the enemy advances, eyes burning with the twisted familiarity of someone you loved. The blue light stretches, coiling around the figure, protective and precise.

And then it hits you. This isn't him. This is the cavern, testing you. It's forcing you to face what you fear most—not just loss, but betrayal, the impossible choice between love and duty. You remember Levi - not to far away from you in this cave. You have to get back to him.

You tighten your grip on the energy, focusing, steadying yourself, letting the light center you. You strike, the blue light solidifying into a sharp pillar of ice. The ice strikes the creature and breaks off into pieces. The illusion falters, screams in a voice that is both your father's and something else entirely, and finally dissolves into ripples across the obsidian surface.

You're back in the cave.

You stumble back, heart hammering, chest tight, tears streaming. The water calms slightly, and for the first time, the cavern seems to settle, as though acknowledging that you endured the test.

Levi's red glow pulses beside you, steady and unwavering, but you don't turn to him yet. You need a moment. You've survived your test. You've faced it—and for the first time, you understand that the mountain doesn't just challenge you. It knows you. It showed you what would have happened if you were never sent to the South. Or, what you imagined could have been.

The cavern is silent once the illusion dissolves, save for the faint ripple of water around you. Your chest heaves, heart hammering from the test, your hands still glowing faintly with the residual energy of the blue light.

And then you notice it. The glow isn't just lingering in the pool—it's in you. Your fingertips are cold, impossibly cold, tingling as frost begins to replace the blue glow, delicate patterns spreading along your skin, crystallizing like a living reflection of the cavern's light.

You gasp, stepping back, the water rippling at your feet. Your own reflection shimmers, tiny frost patterns creeping across the obsidian, glowing faintly under the cavern light. You lift a hand, and the frost trails along the surface of the pool like ink in water, twisting and forming shapes at your command.

Ice... you murmur to yourself, disbelief and awe mingling. The power feels alive, responsive—an extension of you, of the energy that had tested you moments ago.

You shift your weight, letting the frost trail along the water's surface, forming small shards that hover briefly above the obsidian before melting back into the pool. The cavern hums faintly in response, almost approvingly.

Your breath catches. You've survived your fear, faced your deepest doubt, and the mountain has marked you—gave you something you didn't know you had. And yet Levi remains there, silent, still submerged in the pool. He must be enduring a similar test to yours.

You raise a hand tentatively, letting the frost shimmer over the water, and realize: whatever comes, you're not the same as when you entered. The cavern has changed you.

You shift slightly in the icy water, watching Levi's pool beside yours. The red glow pulses steadily across the obsidian walls, but he hasn't moved. Not a muscle above the surface, not a flicker of reaction to your ice swirling around your hands.

Your chest tightens. You call his name softly, voice echoing across the cavern. "Levi?"

No response. You wait a few more minutes.

You glance again, eyes scanning every detail. His head barely breaks the surface, shoulders still submerged. The red light pulses like a heartbeat, steady and alive, but something about the way he hasn't emerged makes the hairs on your arms prickle.

He's not coming up yet... Why?

A small, uneasy tremor runs through you. The cavern hums beneath the water, responding to your presence, but Levi is still trapped in his own side—or choosing to stay there. You want to reach out, to grab his arm, but the line of black water between your pools is too wide, and the energy crackles faintly whenever the red and blue edges touch.

You take a shaky breath, frost forming along your fingertips despite yourself. The power feels alive, protective, but you can't shake the worry gnawing at your chest. Something about him staying submerged, about the way the cavern hasn't let him rise... it doesn't feel right.

"Levi..." you murmur again, louder this time. The water ripples around you as if urging you forward, urging you to do something. But the line between your pool and his feels uncrossable, and the red glow continues its steady pulse, a quiet warning, a reminder that whatever the cavern is testing him with, it hasn't finished.

Your heart hammers. You've survived your own test. But now, watching him there, still beneath the surface, you feel the first real edge of fear creep in.

The red glow pulses faster, brighter, and suddenly the water around Levi erupts. He bursts upward, water cascading off him, and the red light explodes into flames that lick the walls of the cavern.

You stumble back in the icy water, breath catching. The heat radiates instantly, contrasting sharply with your own cold, crystalline glow. The obsidian walls reflect the firelight, turning the cavern into a dance of red and blue, ice and flame.

Levi lands solidly in the shallow pool, water hissing as the flames surge around him. His eyes widen slightly, just enough for you to see the rare flicker of surprise on his usually unreadable face.

"Shit," he mutters, voice low but carrying across the cavern.

The fire arcs from his hands, responding to him as easily and naturally as your ice responds to you. Flames curl upward, bright and hot, licking across the obsidian without harming him, controlled yet alive.

You stare, mouth slightly open, frozen in awe—and maybe a little fear. Levi's not just out of the water; he's changed. The energy radiating from him is fierce, almost overwhelming, yet there's a precision, a calm command in how he shapes it.

The two of you float in your respective halves of the pool, ice and flame mirrored against each other, the cavern itself humming louder, as if recognizing the balance, the power, the test.

You take a deep breath, watching him, and realize this is only the beginning. Whatever the mountain has planned next, you're no longer just facing it—you're facing it together, your powers intertwined across the obsidian waters.

The moment Levi's flames flare, the water between you shivers. Blue frost and red fire hover just above the surface, not touching, yet the energy between them crackles, alive, almost sentient.

You reach out instinctively, letting the frost trail along the water toward the flames. A thin line of steam hisses where the two forces meet, curling into the air like smoke from some strange, invisible forge. The cavern hums louder, vibrations moving through the obsidian floor, through the black pool, as if it's responding to the balance—or the tension—between you.

Levi's eyes flick to you, a small nod acknowledging the interaction. He arcs a hand, sending a controlled wave of flame along the edge of his pool. The fire meets the frost in mid-air, and for a heartbeat, the collision doesn't destroy anything—it twists, swirling together, forming a fleeting spiral of steam and sparks before separating again.

The realization hits you: the mountain isn't just testing you individually. It's testing both of you together. How your powers interact, how your wills align—or clash. Fire and ice aren't supposed to get along. But for some reason... it works.

You glance at Levi, and even in the intense glow of his fire, you see his eyes sharp, focused. He isn't reckless—he's testing too, pushing gently against the edge of his own control.

You let a small shard of frost shoot toward the flames. Levi arcs his hand, letting the fire curl around it, and the cavern responds, a low rumble vibrating through the obsidian. Sparks of energy hiss off the walls, reflections rippling across the black pool.

You let out a shaky laugh, still shivering from the cold and adrenaline. "That... was insane," you say, voice echoing softly.

Levi's flames dim slightly, red glow flickering like a candle. He tilts his head, expression unreadable for a moment, then lets out a quiet chuckle, rare and low. "You're telling me. I wasn't expecting... any of that."

You grin despite yourself, letting your icy hands trail along the water, frost curling at the edges. "Yeah. Me neither." Your breath creates tiny clouds in the warm air above the pool.

For a moment, the two of you just stand there, letting the silence stretch, watching the colors of ice and fire mingle on the obsidian. The contrast is sharp, but there's a strange harmony in it too.

Levi glances at you, then shifts slightly closer. "You good?" His voice is quieter now, not commanding, not sharp—just... concerned.

You nod, letting a small smile tug at your lips. "I think so. I mean... that was terrifying, but I'm okay." You glance down at your hands, the frost fading slowly. "I think I've... got this. It honestly feels kind of natural."

His gaze lingers on you for a moment, and you feel something in the way he studies you, the faint tilt of his head, the softness behind his normally stoic eyes. Your pulse quickens.

Without thinking, you reach a hand forward, letting your fingertips hover over the water between the pools. Levi mirrors you instinctively, fire flaring just enough to warm the space between your hands without touching them.

You want to ask him what he saw, but you decide against it.

You laugh softly instead. "This is so weird. Fire, ice... in a cave. Who even gets to do this?"

He smirks faintly, leaning a little closer, the heat radiating from him brushing against the cold fog around your hands. "Yeah," he murmurs. "Weird as hell."

And then, in the quiet aftermath of the tests, with the obsidian cavern glowing softly around you, it feels... nice. Safe. Somehow, the two of you just... exist there together, ice and fire, side by side.

You catch his eyes again, and he gives the tiniest, almost imperceptible nod. You nod back. And for the first time since the mountain drew you here, it's not a test. It's just... the two of you, in the middle of something impossible, and for now, it's okay.

Chapter Text

A new tunnel opens up before you, dark and jagged, the obsidian walls slick under your feet. This time, it's Levi who steps forward first, hand brushing along the stone, and the red light flares in response, illuminating the path ahead.

"I guess we were worthy." He says.

You laugh. "I still can't believe this is real." You stared at the red light lighting up the tunnel. "You really have to show off, huh?"

Levi glances at you from the corner of his eye. "Show off? You're the one with the glowing hands."

You laugh softly, frost forming along the tips of your fingers as you wave them in the air. "Touché," you say, reaching toward his red light as it flickers along the wall. The warmth of the flames brushes against your fingertips, and you instinctively pull back, shivering—but then grin. "Okay, maybe not touché. More like... wow."

He doesn't respond immediately, just keeps moving, but you notice the way his shoulders shift, a subtle leaning closer than strictly necessary. Something about him still feels distant from you, but it's probably none of your business. You're just shocked he's stuck with you this whole time.

You nudge your hand forward again, this time letting a small swirl of frost curl up around the red glow. It hisses faintly, steam curling in the air, and Levi exhales sharply - almost a chuckle.

"You're ridiculous," he mutters, shaking his head slightly.

"Maybe," you say, smiling, "but at least I'm fun." You step closer, letting your hands hover near his again, careful, teasing, watching for any reaction. The warmth radiating off him contrasts sharply with your ice, and it makes your chest flutter in a way you're not entirely used to.

Levi finally glances down at your hand, his expression unreadable—but then his fingertips brush lightly against yours over the blue-and-red glow. Just a touch, but it's enough to send a jolt through your arm, a mingling of heat and cold that makes you catch your breath.

"Careful," he says, voice low, almost amused, almost warning.

You grin, letting the frosty swirl tease around his fingers. "Or what?"

You're flirting with him, and he's responding to it. If this were any type of normal situation, you would have never found the confidence in yourself to flirt. But... he technically is already your husband, and you just gained incredibly cool and strong magical powers. The tables have turned.

He smirks, shaking his head again, but doesn't pull away. The red light pulses softly between you, leading the way deeper into the tunnel, while your blue glow lingers just behind, wrapping around the obsidian like a gentle promise.

And maybe it's that comfort that urges you to trust Levi, because you find yourself spilling your thoughts to him in a moment.

"I uh... I saw my father," You blurt out.

He brings his gaze to you once again, but says nothing.

"It was two weeks of perfection... I saw what the North would have become if I wasn't... sent away. If we opened the mines back up and the resources flooded in like they did a decade ago." You said.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." He said, sounding serious.

But you shook your head. "No, I want to talk about it."

And then you told him the rest. He listened intently, and you were glad for it. You always found growing up that talking about what's on your mind was so much better than keeping it all in. So you used to rant to your servants all the time - about anything under the sun. They were more like friends than just servants, anyways. And in turn, they'd tell you everything. However, Levi was different. He seemed so closed-off. Maybe you shouldn't keep talking about this.

"Sorry, you probably didn't need to hear all of that..."

He shook his head. "It's okay."

So you told him about how it ended - how your father shapeshifted into that monster. And you told him about how you might never get that image of him lying sick in his bed out of your mind. You talk until you found yourselves almost out of the cave.

The tunnel widens, sunlight beginning to spill across the jagged stone ahead. Your fingers twitch instinctively, but then—suddenly—the blue glow of your hands fades. Levi's red light dies at the same moment, leaving the cavern in a dim mix of shadow and light.

He freezes beside you, body tense, eyes narrowing, and his hand moves away from yours. "Something's wrong," he mutters, voice low.

You glance toward the opening ahead, and there he is.

Kenny.

Of course it's him.

Tall, smug, and holding a scroll with a red ribbon, he's standing there like he just won a prize. The sunlight glints off the obsidian edges around him, but the red of the ribbon draws every eye, every thought straight to him.

That's got to be Levi's family scroll - the one that had information about the mountain you just came out of.

Levi steps forward instinctively, fists clenching. "I can just kill you where you stand," he growls, calm but deadly, eyes fixed on Kenny. He isn't yet revealing the flames from his hands. You don't make a move either.

Kenny smirks, holding the scroll aloft. "Ah, Levi. Straight to the point, I see. But I wouldn't do that, if I were you. I brought... friends."

From the shadows behind him, figures begin to emerge. Soldiers. Northern soldiers. Their armor glints faintly in the sunlight, weapons drawn, eyes sharp.

Levi's jaw tightens, and his eyes flick to you briefly. He mutters a curse under his breath.

Kenny steps closer, unfazed. His voice is low but ringing with authority. "And the king's untimely death? That's just the beginning. Your little mountain game won't change anything."

You take a step closer to Levi, hands curling into fists, but he puts a protective hand lightly on your shoulder. Not commanding, just... steady.

Levi's eyes narrow. "Ten of you or ten thousand, it doesn't matter," he says quietly, almost a hiss. "We're not losing this."

Kenny tilts his head, smiling faintly, the red ribbon catching the sunlight like a flame. "Oh, but that's where you're wrong. I do have the advantage."

You swallow hard, heart hammering, and glance at Levi. The mountain, the tests, your powers—it all feels distant now, overshadowed by the threat standing before you. Kenny has that scroll. The soldiers.

What the hell is in that scroll?

Levi shifts slightly, body coiled and ready, his eyes sharp, and you realize: the real fight has only just begun.

Kenny's small legion steps fully into the sunlight, Northern soldiers lining up with disciplined precision. You count roughly twenty- maybe a few more. More than enough to defeat the two of you... if your circumstances were normal. Their weapons glint, shields raised, faces hardened—but none of them move toward you yet. Kenny stands slightly ahead, the stolen scroll clutched tightly in his hands, his eyes gleaming.

He doesn't seem to realize—yet—that the two of you are anything other than humans, normal people armed with courage and grit. He's read the scroll, he knows the mountain does something, but what exactly? That part still eludes him. He's just as in the dark as you were before you went in.

Levi's stance stiffens, heat flickering faintly at the edges of his fingers, subtle but dangerous. Your power starts to pulse at your fingertips as the frost forms and melts, almost unconsciously, a warning, a preparation.

"Hmm.." Levi murmurs quietly, voice low enough that only you can hear. His eyes are fixed on Kenny, calculating. "He doesn't know."

You nod, feeling the weight of the mountain's energy still lingering in your body, the frost tingling across your skin. You'll have the advantage if you play your cards right.

Kenny tilts his head, scanning the two of you, a faint smirk on his lips. "Something's different," he mutters, voice almost to himself. "So you gained something from the mountain, huh?" He asked. And when neither of you answered, he shrugs. "I'll find out soon enough."

Levi glances at you briefly, that rare, subtle nod that says: get ready. You raise your hands, frost curling along your fingers. You inhale sharply, the cool air mixing with the heat radiating from Levi. Your pulse quickens. Kenny has the scroll, he has soldiers, and he thinks he has the upper hand—but the moment the mountain chose to awaken in you both... that changed everything.

Levi flicks his wrist slightly, a small flame arching along the ground near the front line, careful, controlled. It hisses against the stone, and you can feel the tension spike, the soldiers instinctively flinching.

The next move is yours, and the mountain's power hums faintly, as if urging you forward.

You exchange a glance—a quick, unspoken nod—and then the soldiers start to advance.

Before they can even make a few steps, you send frost skittering across the ground, jagged ice forming beneath the soldiers' boots. Shouts and clanging of metal echo as they slip, stumble, and scramble to maintain footing.

Levi steps forward, red fire arcing from his hands across the grass, hissing where it meets the frost. The combination isn't destructive, but it's precise—heating patches of ground to drive soldiers in the directions he wants, forcing them to split or fall back.

"Watch the one on your left!" you shout, ice flaring as a soldier tries to flank you. Your frost curls up, forming a barrier that knocks him back, boots sliding as he crashes into the soft dirt.

Levi flicks his wrist, a wall of flame tracing along the ground, forcing two more soldiers apart. Sparks rise where the fire meets your ice, a hiss and swirl of steam rising into the sunlight. Levi's drawn his sword against the enemies, warding them back and knocking some of their own weapons out of their hands. The soldiers stagger, confused, unprepared for the combination of cold and heat moving in tandem.

Kenny stands a few yards back, the stolen scroll clutched in his hands, expression tight. He's clearly realizing he miscalculated. "So that's what the mountain does," he mutters, voice tense but calm. His eyes dart between you and Levi, trying to gauge just how much power you two have.

You glance at Levi, smirk tugging at your lips despite the chaos. He gives a faint, almost imperceptible nod back. You both want to go after Kenny, but there's too many of his cronies in the way.

You fling a spiral of frost toward a cluster of soldiers trying to regroup, and Levi arcs fire toward another, forcing them apart. The field is a dance of red and blue, ice and flame, a perfect blend of control and chaos.

Your heart hammers, adrenaline surging, but for a brief moment, the two of you just... click. It feels so natural, like this is the way it was always meant to be. The soldiers falter under the combined power, unsure how to respond, and Kenny's tight expression shows that he's quickly realizing he underestimated you.

You dart to the left, frost trailing along your fingertips, curling into spikes along the dirt to trip a soldier rushing toward Levi. He arcs a flame to block another's charge, the heat sizzling where it meets the frost.

And you might've missed it if you weren't looking at him, but he slips a little bit on some ice, catching himself quickly with his blade on the ground.

"Be careful!" you call, laughing breathlessly as one soldier slips past you, smacking into a wall of ice you raise up.

Levi glances over his shoulder, smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I am careful. You're the one leaving ice traps everywhere."

"Hey! Traps work!" You flick your fingers, sending a thin shard spiraling toward another soldier's boots. He stumbles spectacularly, yelling as he falls forward.

He tilts his head at you, flame flickering along his arm. "Don't test me," he mutters, voice low but amused.

You grin, letting your frost swirl closer to him, brushing near the edges of his flames without touching. Steam rises, curling around the two of you. "I'm not testing you... just keeping you on your toes."

Levi glances down, a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth suggesting amusement—or maybe frustration at your teasing—before he flicks a small flame toward a soldier attempting to flank you from behind. The heat arcs perfectly, cutting off the attack without harming the man outright, forcing him back into the chaos.

You feel a thrill run through you, frost tingling along your arms as it responds automatically, sending sharp, icy arcs to separate another pair of soldiers. "Okay," you say breathlessly, "that actually felt good."

Levi's smirk deepens slightly, and he gives you the tiniest nod. "Yeah. We're not done."

Steam curls thickly where frost meets flame, the soldiers stumbling and faltering in the swirl of cold and heat. The two of you move almost instinctively now, your powers weaving together in a rhythm neither of you needs to speak aloud to coordinate.

For a heartbeat, amidst the chaos, there's a strange, quiet connection: you and Levi, side by side, and you're laughing softly under the tension of battle, fire and ice moving as one. Even Kenny's soldiers don't know how to respond to the strange dance, and you catch Levi's eyes for a brief moment—a flash of amusement, of pride, and maybe... something else.

You grin, frost curling along your fingers, and send a tiny swirl teasingly near Levi. "Try to keep up," you tease.

Levi flicks his wrist, flame arcing just enough to nudge the frost away, voice low and sharp with a hint of amusement: "This isn't a competition."

You laugh, and for a brief, fleeting moment, the battlefield feels almost like a game, the danger real but manageable, the two of you perfectly in sync. Fire and ice. Chaos and control.

The field grows quiet, the last soldier slipping on frost or stumbling away from a controlled wave of flame finally falling, exhausted or just plain giving up. You step forward, frost curling faintly along your fingertips, catching the sunlight. The ground is littered with discarded weapons, bent armor, and the faint scent of scorched earth mixed with ice.

Levi moves beside you, red glow flickering faintly at his hands before fading completely. He exhales, shoulders relaxing just slightly, scanning the battlefield. "All of them?" he mutters, voice low, almost rhetorical.

You nod, letting a small laugh escape—half relief, half disbelief. "All of them. I... can't believe that actually worked."

Levi doesn't respond, just gives a small, almost imperceptible nod, eyes flicking toward the edge of the mountain range. The tension in his jaw hasn't fully eased.

And then you notice it. Kenny. Or rather... the absence of him. There's no trace of movement, no sign that he's still nearby.

A chill runs down your spine—not from your frost, but from the realization that he's disappeared. You glance at Levi, whose expression is unreadable, but the tight line of his mouth tells you he's thinking the same thing.

Behind the area where Kenny and the soldiers had been standing, the earth looks subtly different. A jagged seam in the rocks, almost like a tunnel that wasn't there before, now partially closed and hidden in shadow.

You swallow hard, heart hammering. "He... he went that way," you murmur, pointing to the seam. "Inside. Can we even follow him in there?"

Levi doesn't answer immediately, just surveys the area, hands tightening briefly. Then he glances at you, voice low but calm. "Who knows? Either way, he's gone for now. Let's get moving before he decides to come out."

You nod, still catching your breath, frost fading slowly along your fingers. The adrenaline is fading, leaving a strange mix of exhaustion and lingering awe. You glance back at the field and then toward the partially hidden tunnel. Kenny is gone, but he left a clear warning: his fight isn't over.

Levi steps forward, hand brushing faintly against yours—not a command, just a grounding presence. You squeeze back lightly, a shared acknowledgment that whatever comes next, you're facing it together.

The mountain looms behind you, the sun casting long shadows over the field. And somewhere ahead, Kenny waits, his plans far from finished—but for now, the two of you have survived.

You take a deep breath, glance at Levi, and mutter softly, almost to yourself: "Again... that was insane."

He smirks faintly, firelight—or memory of it—still flickering in his eyes. "Yeah. Welcome to being us."

The field stretches behind you, still warm from the morning sun, but the energy of the battle lingers faintly in the air. Frost and faint heat ripple along your hands as the echoes of fire and ice fade, and you let out a long breath, shoulders sagging just slightly.

Levi leads a little ways away where you left the horse, red glow no longer pulsing, just a memory of power still lingering in his presence. You follow, side by side, boots crunching on the dirt and scattered rocks.

"You okay?" he asks finally, voice low, casual, though his sharp eyes scan the surroundings even as he walks.

You nod, tucking your hands slightly against your sides. "I think so. I mean... yeah, I'm okay. That was... a lot."

Levi grunts, a faint sound of acknowledgment, and you notice the small crease between his brows softening. "You did well," he says simply. No flourishes, no praise, just... quiet acknowledgment. And somehow that feels heavier than any words of encouragement.

You glance at him, letting a small, shy smile tug at your lips. "You weren't so bad yourself," you tease lightly, nudging him with your shoulder.

He glances at you, eyes narrowing ever so slightly, and smirks faintly. "I'm good at a lot of things."

"Uh-huh," you say, laughing softly. "Sure."

For a few steps, you walk in silence, letting the field stretch around you. The adrenaline from the battle fades, leaving only a strange calm. Levi doesn't rush, doesn't push, just moves forward with you beside him.

At one point, you reach for his hand on impulse, brushing your fingers lightly against his. Levi hesitates—just a fraction—but doesn't pull away. The warmth of his hand touches your frost-tinged skin, and a small jolt of reassurance runs through you.

"You're weird," he mutters, almost to himself, voice low but carrying a faint amusement.

"So are you," you reply softly, letting your fingers stay against his.

The horse waits where you left it, tied to a jutting rock, calm and patient as if nothing had happened. You slide into the saddle, and Levi climbs up behind you with his usual grace, settling close enough that the warmth from his body brushes yours.

As you ride back toward the closest village, the sun climbing higher in the sky, the tension of Kenny's ambush lingers at the edges of your mind. But for now, with Levi at your side and the mountain behind you, the two of you can just... breathe.

The journey ahead is uncertain, the danger far from over. But in this quiet, fleeting moment, frost and flame ride together, side by side, and it feels like enough.

Chapter Text

You wake to the faint sounds of the village stirring—the clatter of pots, the low murmur of people beginning their day. The sun filters softly through the small window of the modest inn where you and Levi snuck in last night.

Levi is already awake, sitting at the edge of the bed, lacing his boots.

"I got another horse." He says plainly. You don't bother asking how. He leans up to face you. "We need to figure out what's next."

You sit up slowly, rubbing your eyes. "Next... meaning Kenny?"

He nods once. "He's royal blood too. That means..." He hesitates, lips pressing into a thin line. "...he might get abilities. Fire, ice, something else—we don't know. But if he does, he'd probably come straight for this village to finish the fight. The fact that he hasn't... tells me he's not done with the trial yet. The mountain, whatever it did for us, might be doing the same for him."

You swallow, mind racing. "So he's still... being tested?"

Levi shrugs slightly, already moving toward the door. "Maybe. But that gives us a window. He's not on us yet."

You follow him outside into the cool morning air, the village already bustling, though none of the villagers seem aware of what went down outside the mountains in the distance. Your frost-tinged fingertips curl slightly, a reminder that the mountain's power still lingers in you.

Levi continues, eyes scanning the horizon. "The southern palace is vacant now. We should head back. If Kenny's still at the mountain, we might be able to beat him there."

You nod, heart pounding at the thought. "Okay. Let's go," you say.

The road toward the southern palace stretches ahead, winding through fields and hills. The sun climbs higher, casting long shadows that flicker across the path, but you feel a small, steady sense of determination.

Whatever the mountain did to you both, whatever powers it unlocked, it's time to use them—not just to survive, but to protect everything waiting for you at the palace.

Levi rides slightly ahead. You trail beside him.

You find yourself missing the closeness.

The road stretches out ahead, winding through fields that ripple gently in the morning breeze. The village fades behind you, small rooftops and chimneys disappearing into the distance.

"So," you say, letting your voice carry just above the sound of hooves on dirt, "the palace. How do we even get in without raising alarms? The guards are probably on high alert after... everything."

Levi glances back at you. "We do what we always do. Move fast, strike when it counts, and don't get caught." His tone is clipped, efficient, but there's a hint of amusement in his eyes.

When he says 'we,' you imagine he's not talking about the two of you. You remember he's the leader of those fighters... the Wings of Freedom. You tilt your head, smiling faintly.

"You mean, sneak in like thieves? I can do that... sort of."

"I mean... technically it's not like we aren't allowed in there."

"Huh," you say, "I guess you're right..."

Levi chuckles softly, low and rare, and it makes your heart flutter more than it should. "Besides, do you really think everyone forgot that big-ass wedding? We're literally the King and Queen."

You laugh, and the sound feels good after the tension of the mountains and battle. "A King and Queen that ran away like babies." you tease.

Levi doesn't flinch. Instead, you watch his shoulders stiffen. "Keep moving," he mutters, turning away from you.

You glance down at your own hands. "I swear," you whisper, "we're literally fire and ice."

He doesn't respond immediately, just glances at you sidelong. "Sounds about right."

Your wedding ceremony did conclude with the officiant naming you the King and Queen, but there was no formal coronation or presentation of crowns. So right now, you're technically still the Princess of the North and the Prince of the South. The coronation was meant to take place a couple of days directly after the wedding, but obviously that didn't happen.

So technically, Kenny is still King regent.

Your thoughts drift to your father once again. What would he say if he saw you now? You wondered if he knew about the royal blood and the ice powers. Even if he did, he probably wouldn't have said anything, knowing that it might be dangerous. You wouldn't put it past him to keep that from you, as he did with your secret engagement, and his apparent sickness.

You wanted to be mad - to find him and beat against his chest and ask why all of this was happening, but you couldn't find it in yourself. Despite his faults, your father was a good leader. Even in the face of starvation and war, he tried to make the best decisions he could. You can't blame him for any of this.

You hope he would be proud of decisions you have made for yourself.

For a while, the two of you ride in comfortable silence, the only sounds the clatter of hooves and the faint wind through the grass. But every so often, Levi flicks a small flame to mark a path, and your frost curls and dances in response, a quiet, private rhythm that reminds you both that you're not alone—and that somehow, you're a team now. It lightens your mood.

At one point, you nudge him again, playful. "Bet you can't catch me before the next hill."

He glances at you, eyes narrowing slightly, but the smirk is faint and unmistakable. "You're on," he mutters. And just like that, he kicks his horse forward, and you chase him, frost trailing behind your hands as you push your own mount faster.

Laughter breaks from you, light and unexpected, and for a moment, the tension of Kenny, the grief, the stolen scroll—it all fades. It's just you and Levi, fire and ice racing through the morning sun, side by side.

~

That night you find a comfortable place in the forest to stay, and when you start trying to make a campfire, Levi stops you.

"I literally can make fire with my hands now." He says.

You suddenly feel stupid, dropping the sticks. "Okay, your highness, go ahead, then."

And as if he's had the ability for his whole life, he waves a hand, and sure enough, your campfire is lit.

"Tomorrow we'll reach the palace." He says.

You nod.

He continues. "We have to be ready for anything."

"I know." You respond, almost a whine. You drag a stick on the ground aimlessly, making lines in the dirt.

"What is it?" He asks. Guess you're not very good at hiding things.

The past couple weeks of your life have been a whirlwind of events. From being told you're engaged, to getting married, to finding out your father has died, to discovering latent magical powers in yourself that you didn't even know existed, you hardly had time to take a breather from it all.

And yet, you found that you couldn't stop thinking of your companion on this journey, of all things. Your husband.

"Why did you agree to this?" You ask.

He raises a brow. "Agree to what?"

You gesture to yourself. "You know... this. The arranged marriage."

He looks away. "I didn't have much of a choice. That was Kenny's last decree, so I had to follow it. I still don't know why he cared so much about it."

You play with the ring from your father on your finger. "Oh." You said quietly.

"I think..." His voice sounded strained, like he was forcing himself to speak his mind. "There's worse people I could've been forced to marry."

You laugh at his attempt to be nice to you.

"Hey," he inserts between your giggles. "I was trying to give you a compliment."

"You're good at a lot of things, Prince Levi," You drawl, "But flirting is not one of them."

"I'm not- you're just... this is stupid.." He stammers through his words. This is a new side of him you don't mind seeing.

As he grumbles, you keep twisting that ring on your finger.

~

"I want you to take this with you." The King said, reaching to his hand and pulling off a ring. "The two diamonds here were taken from the first two mines found in our kingdom." He held it out to you and you took it.

The diamonds were tiny and embedded in the platinum ring. It was not the prettiest ring you'd ever seen, but you had always admired it on your father's hand.

"This is a representation of our Kingdom," he said. "and I know it's not much, but it is a matching set to my crown."

Sure enough, his crown had two diamonds. You never knew those were from the oldest mines.

He continued. "I want you to offer this ring to the prince."

You looked at him with anguish. "You cannot ask me to give away this important part of our Kingdom!" You argued.

"I am giving it to you to do with it whatever you wish. But my hope is that you will offer it to the prince as a sign of your loyalty, and of your love."

~

You eyed the ring.

"Give me your hand." You said. Levi looked at you suspiciously.

"Why, so you can freeze my fingers off?"

You held yourself back from rolling your eyes. "No, I want to give you something."

Levi hesitantly puts his hand out, and you slip the silver ring off of your finger and onto his. He looks at you with a question in his eyes.

"It's made from the oldest mines in the North," You say. "My father... he, um, he gave it to me just before I was sent- before I left. He wanted me to give it to you, as a symbol of accepting the marriage." You conveniently left out the part about love, but how was he supposed to know?

He left his hand suspended between you two. "Are you sure?"

You nodded.

He examined the ring now, and sighed. "I don't have anything for you."

You smile. "You saved my life back at the palace... I'm not expecting you to procure jewels out of nowhere."

Levi's thumb brushed unconsciously across the band, the way someone might test the sharpness of a blade. He didn't say anything right away, just studied the dull glint of the diamonds against his skin.

It struck you that he looked almost uncomfortable—like he didn't quite know what to do with something that wasn't practical.

Finally, he muttered, "It doesn't fit. It's loose."

You raised an eyebrow. "That's your first response?"

He cut you a sideways glance, a flicker of defensiveness in his eyes. "What? I'm being honest. It'll slip off in the middle of training or some fight, and then what?"

You bit back a laugh. "You could... I don't know, not wear it during sword practice? It's not a shackle, Levi."

"Feels like one," he said, but softer this time, not bitter. Almost thoughtful.

The silence stretched, and you twisted your own bare fingers, suddenly feeling the absence of the ring. "It was important to my father," you said quietly. "He wanted it to be... a promise, I guess. That this marriage could be more than just politics."

Levi's gaze flicked to you then, sharp but not unkind. "Is it just politics for you?"

You opened your mouth, then hesitated, the truth lodging in your throat. You weren't sure how much you could admit—not yet. You're not even sure if you can admit to yourself yet. So you settled for the safest piece of honesty you could manage.

"I don't want it to be," you said softly.

Levi's eyes lingered on you for a beat too long before he looked back down at the ring, turning it once more. His voice dropped, almost too low to hear. "Then I'll keep it."

Something in your chest shifted at those words, a warmth threading through the heaviness of everything that was waiting for you both tomorrow.

He looked up again, and though his face was the same unreadable mask, his eyes betrayed him—steady, searching, just a little too open.

"Back in the cave," he started. "I also saw something. It was... horrible."

"You don't have to tell me about it." You said softly, as if not to scare him away.

"No," he said, "you told me what happened to you. It isn't fair if I don't tell you. And... I want to... to trust you."

"Okay." You agreed.

He took a deep breath, and after another moment of hesitation, he began to speak.

~

Levi found himself in the Southern gardens.

They stretched endlessly before him—vivid, overflowing with color and life. Roses climbed trellises in impossible bloom, their petals heavy with dew that shimmered like jewels in the sun. The air was warm, filled with birdsong, and not a single shadow marred the perfect blue sky.

But wasn't he just with someone? He turned around, trying to remember what got him here. But there was no one.

"Levi."

His chest tightened at the sound. Slowly, he turned—already knowing the voice, already aching from it.

And there she was.

"...Mom."

The word escaped like a prayer. She stood in the archway of flowers, smiling at him in a way he had never truly seen before. Gentle. Content. Her simple dress caught the sunlight, and her eyes were bright, untroubled.

For the first time in years, maybe ever, Levi felt something loosen inside of him.

"You look so tired," she said softly, stepping forward. Her hand reached out, brushing at the sleeve of his coat as if she'd been doing it his whole life. "But you've grown so strong."

He didn't move—couldn't. His mind tried to catch hold of something, a memory tugging at the edges, telling him this was wrong. That she was gone. That she had been gone for a long, long time.

But here, with the scent of roses and her voice curling around him like a blanket, the thought dissolved before it could take root.

Levi's throat tightened. "...You're here..."

Her smile widened. "I'm here, Levi. I always have been."

The garden pulsed with sunlight, impossibly golden, as she smoothed his hair back like she used to when he was small. For a fleeting, dangerous moment, he let himself believe it—that she was here, that the world outside this garden didn't matter, that he didn't have to carry the weight alone anymore.

He let out a shaky breath, shoulders sagging in a way he never allowed them to. The garden was quiet except for the faint rustle of leaves, the gentle trill of birds overhead. For once, there was no chaos, no blood, no enemies at his back. Just her.

His mother sat down on the edge of the marble fountain, the water sparkling as if touched by stars. She patted the space beside her, and Levi moved without hesitation, his boots silent against the grass.

"Do you remember," she began, her voice soft, "when you used to run through the alleyways and always came home with scraped hands?" She laughed lightly, the sound full and whole. "You were so stubborn. You never cried, no matter how much it hurt."

Levi almost smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. "Guess I'm still like that."

"You are." Her eyes softened as she reached out, resting her hand against his cheek. The warmth of her palm seeped into him, steadying, grounding. "But you don't have to be so strong all the time. Not here. Not with me."

His chest ached at her words, the knot inside him pulling tighter and looser all at once. He leaned into her touch without thinking, closing his eyes. For a moment, he wasn't a king, or a prince, or someone carrying the weight of kingdoms. He was just Levi—her son.

"You've done so well," she whispered. "I'm proud of you."

The words pierced him deeper than any blade. He swallowed hard, blinking against the sudden sting in his eyes.

"...Thanks, Mom."

She smiled, brushing a stray strand of his hair back from his forehead. "You don't need to thank me, Levi. Just stay here a while. Rest. Let yourself breathe."

And so he did. Sitting there in the garden, with the sun on his face and her presence wrapping around him like the warmest blanket, Levi allowed himself—just this once—to stop resisting.

Levi let the silence settle, the kind of silence he hadn't known in years—peaceful, unbroken, almost fragile. His mother's hand stayed against his cheek, grounding him in a way nothing else could.

The fountain gurgled softly beside them, water spilling over the edges in a gentle rhythm. Birds flitted between branches, their wings flashing white in the sun. Too perfect. Too still.

He shifted slightly, eyes scanning the garden. It was the same one he'd grown up with, but... sharper. Every flower bloomed in full color, not a single petal wilted or out of place. The grass was evenly cut, a rich green he didn't remember.

"Something on your mind?" his mother asked, tilting her head.

Levi shook it once, quickly. "Just thinking."

"About what?"

He opened his mouth, then hesitated. About how the sky had been cloudless since he'd first looked up. About how the air didn't move, no matter how many birds took off. About how the scent of lilacs was too strong, cloying, almost like perfume poured heavy.

Instead he muttered, "Doesn't matter."

She hummed knowingly, brushing her thumb across his cheek again. "You've always been that way. Keeping everything inside."

His chest tightened. He wanted to tell her. Wanted to say this wasn't right, that he shouldn't be here, that the warmth of her hand felt like it could vanish if he thought too hard about it. But if he did...

He might lose her again.

So he stayed quiet, eyes fixed on the ripple of the fountain.

That was when he noticed it.

The reflection in the water—his mother's face, smiling down at him. Only, in the water's shimmer, her lips didn't move in time with her words.

"Levi," she said, brushing her hand through his hair. "Stay with me, won't you? You don't need to go anywhere."

His heart clenched. Levi forced himself to look away from the fountain, away from that reflection that didn't quite match. His mother was here. With him. That was what mattered.

"Stay," she repeated softly, her voice like warm wind. "It's been so long since we've had this."

His throat felt tight. He swallowed, hard. "Yeah. I... missed it."

She smiled, and for a moment the cracks smoothed over. She looked exactly as she should—her hair tucked behind her ears, her eyes bright and proud. The kind of look she'd only ever given him once or twice as a boy.

"Then don't think so much," she said gently. "You've always been stubborn. Always looking for a fight. But here..." Her fingers slipped down to lace lightly with his. "You don't need to fight."

Levi stilled. He should've pulled back. Should've said something sharp to break through the haze crawling into his head. But instead he let himself breathe, just for once. No weight pressing down on his shoulders.

Just her.

The birds sang again. The lilacs swayed though the air hadn't moved. And Levi, in spite of himself, let his shoulders drop.

If this was a dream, if this was a trick—did it matter? He could almost believe the warmth on his skin, the smell of the flowers, the softness in her voice. He could almost forget that something deep in his gut whispered wrong, wrong, wrong.

Almost.

So he closed his eyes, leaned just a little closer, and let the lie wrap around him.

The warmth of his mother's hand lingered, steady and real. Levi held on, jaw slackening for the first time in what felt like years.

But then—her hand twitched. A tiny spasm, too sharp, too deliberate. He frowned and glanced down. For a split second, her skin looked gray, veins branching too dark beneath the surface. Then, with a blink, it smoothed over again.

"You see?" she said, tugging him gently toward the garden path. "It's better here. No blood. No fire. No one asking anything of you."

His boots scraped over the gravel, soundless. Levi slowed, his eyes flicking toward the fountain again. The reflection stared back at him—this time, his mother's face wavered, rippling even though the water was still.

"...Mom." His voice was low, careful.

"Yes, love?"

He hesitated. Everything in him wanted to sink into that voice, to let it cover the cracks. But the whisper at the back of his head was louder now. Wrong, wrong.

The lilacs shivered again though there was no wind. One petal fell, blackened at the edges, curling into ash before it touched the ground.

Levi's stomach tightened. He squeezed her hand once more—then felt it crumble slightly under his grip, too fragile, like pressed paper.

Her smile didn't falter. But her eyes—bright one moment, flat the next. "Don't go," she said again, sharper this time. "Stay."

The birds had gone silent.

"Stay," she whispered again, but the voice fractured this time—splintering into something guttural.

Levi jerked his hand back just as her grip tightened, nails digging sharp into his skin. He staggered a step, eyes narrowing as his mother's face twisted. The softness drained, features stretching too long, too thin. Her smile split wider than it should, teeth sharpening into something inhuman.

The lilacs behind her withered in an instant, collapsing into rot. The fountain cracked down the middle, water hissing into steam.

He tried to step back, but the thing lunged, claws raking for his throat.

Levi's breath hitched, but with it came a rush of memory—stone walls, the cavern's pool, the hum of power in his chest, you at his side. The glowing light. Fire sparking at his fingertips.

His mother's face peeled back, revealing hollow sockets burning with flame.

"You're nothing without me," it hissed, voice layered with echoes. "Nothing but a broken boy."

The words hit, but the fire in his chest flared hotter. He clenched his fists, and sparks danced between his knuckles.

"Not anymore," Levi muttered, low and dangerous.

Heat erupted outward, an inferno that poured from his hands, wrapping him in blistering light. The monster shrieked, its form unraveling in the blaze, wings of flame roaring against the false sky.

The garden shattered like glass, fragments falling into darkness.

Through it, Levi stood burning, chest heaving, until the last trace of the illusion crumbled into ash.

~

The fire between you both crackled low, shadows flickering across Levi's face. He had spoken without looking at you, voice even but tight, like each word was pried out of him against his will.

And now, silence. Only the wind moving through the trees, only the rhythm of your breaths.

You studied him—the way his hands rested loosely on his knees, though you could see the faint tension in his knuckles, the way his gaze stayed fixed on the flames as if he couldn't bear to look anywhere else.

"You... fought it," you said softly, almost more to yourself than him. "You saw through it."

Levi's shoulders shifted in a half-shrug, as though trying to minimize what he'd just laid bare. "Didn't have much of a choice." His eyes flicked up briefly, catching yours before darting away again. "Besides, it wasn't real."

"Real enough to hurt," you counter gently.

That earned you silence again.

For a long moment, you just let it be. Then you leaned a little closer to the warmth of the fire, to the warmth of him. "I'm glad you told me."

At that, his jaw tightened, like he wasn't sure whether he regretted speaking. But you could see something else in his eyes too—relief, small but undeniable.

"Don't make a big deal out of it," he muttered, though his voice lacked its usual sharp edge.

You smiled faintly, your chest easing with quiet warmth. "I won't. Just... thank you."

He didn't answer, but you caught the way his shoulders finally eased, the barest exhale escaping him like a weight set down.

The fire popped, sending a tiny shower of sparks upward. You stayed there in comfortable quiet, knowing this was one of the rare moments Levi had chosen to share his ghosts. And that was enough.

"Get some sleep," he said finally, standing abruptly as if to put space back between you. "Tomorrow's going to be a long day."

You almost wanted to protest, to hold onto the moment before it slipped away. But instead you nodded, watching the faint glint of your father's ring on his hand.

A promise, fragile and uncertain, but real.

You nodded, curling up on your blanket by the fire. The forest was quiet except for the crackle of flames and the whisper of leaves overhead. You thought he would take the opposite side of the fire, keeping the careful distance he always kept between you. But instead, after a long pause, you heard the crunch of boots in the grass—and then felt the subtle shift of air as he settled down beside you.

Not touching, but close. Close enough that you could feel the faint warmth radiating off him.

For a moment, your body tensed, unsure what to do. His presence was overwhelming in its own quiet way, and though he said nothing, you could sense the awareness in him too—like you were both pretending to sleep, pretending not to notice the strangeness of it.

It wasn't unpleasant, though. In fact, as the minutes passed, the tension eased, replaced by something softer. The warmth of his fire, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the solid reassurance that he was there.

It felt... safe.

You tucked your hands under your chin, trying to ignore the little twist in your chest at how natural it suddenly seemed. You didn't dare move closer, but you didn't want him to move away, either. It felt like you were trying not to spook a stray cat sleeping on your lap.

When you dared to peek at him, his eyes were closed, but his body was angled ever so slightly toward you—like instinct had betrayed him, too.

You shut your own eyes quickly, pretending sleep, but the thought lingered as you drifted off:

It was strange. But it felt nice.

Chapter Text

When you woke, Levi was busy as always. You let out a yawn while stretching a soreness on your shoulder- you'd never gone this many days before without a proper bed.

The dawn came gray and cool, mist still hanging low between the trees. You were packing the last of the blankets when Levi crouched by his satchel, rummaging with that efficiency of his.

"Here."

You looked up as he extended something toward you. At first, you thought it was just another piece of gear, some practical tool—but then the light caught the blade.

A dagger. Small, elegant, balanced perfectly in his hand. The hilt was inlaid with delicate swirls of gold, worn smooth by time, but still beautiful.

You blinked, taking it carefully. "Levi... this is—"

"Yours now," he cut in, not meeting your eyes.

You turned the dagger in your hand, the weight of it settling into your palm as though it had always belonged there. "It's... beautiful," you murmured, tracing the pattern on the hilt. "Where did you even get this?"

He hesitated, adjusting the strap on his shoulder before answering. "I took it with from the palace." His voice was quiet, almost guarded. Then, after a pause: "It was my mother's."

Your breath caught, eyes snapping up to his.

"She always said a weapon was worth more than a crown." His mouth twitched faintly, though not with humor.

You tightened your fingers around the hilt, struck silent for a moment by the weight of the gesture. He hadn't given you flowers, or silks, or pretty words. You would never expect something like that from him, anyway. But this—this was something far rarer. A piece of his past. Something he valued enough to carry with him all this time.

"...Thank you," you said finally, your voice softer than you intended.

That made him look at you, finally, his eyes unreadable but intent. For a long second, it felt like the forest fell away, like it was just the two of you, fire and frost balanced in the space between.

Then he blinked and glanced away, muttering, "Don't get sentimental about it. Just use it if you need to."

But the faintest flush of red crept up the edge of his ear, and you knew better.

You studied the dagger again, turning it so the morning light danced across the blade. It felt too important, too personal, to simply tuck into your belt and move on.

Levi shifted closer, crouching in front of you. "Here," he said, reaching for your hand.

You froze for a moment as his fingers brushed yours, steady and calloused, guiding your grip along the hilt. He adjusted your thumb, angled your wrist, close enough that you could feel the faint heat radiating off him.

"Like this," he murmured, eyes fixed on your hand. "That way, if someone gets too close, you'll have control."

You swallowed, nodding, though your focus was less on the dagger and more on the fact that his hand lingered over yours longer than necessary. The warmth of his palm contrasted with the cool metal. Using a dagger was a lot different than fencing.

When he finally let go, the air felt colder. And it wasn't just because of his fire magic.

You sheathed the dagger at your side, more aware of its weight than any weapon you'd ever held. "I'll take care of it," you said softly. "I promise."

He met your eyes, and for a second, his usual guard slipped—just a flicker, but enough for you to see it. Something unspoken passed between you, heavy and fragile all at once.

Then he broke it first. He stood, tugging at his cloak. "Good. Don't make me regret it."

But when you caught the faintest smirk at the corner of his mouth, you couldn't help the small smile tugging at your own. And as you mounted the horses together, the dagger resting at your hip, you realized it wasn't just a weapon he'd given you.

It was trust.

~

A few hours into riding, you finally see it. The palace's spires begin to rise over the hills ahead, but the once-peaceful view is interrupted by movement in the distance—a flurry of figures tangled in what looks like a chaotic fight.

You squint against the sunlight, trying to make out the details. "Wait... what's going on there?" you murmur, nudging your horse closer to Levi.

Levi's jaw tightens as he leans forward slightly, eyes narrowing. "Soldiers," he mutters, voice low. "Let's get a closer look."

The closer you get, the more distinct the shapes become. And then you see it: the familiar green hoods and capes, flying in the wind as the figures dodge, strike, and move with precise coordination.

"Wait..." you whisper, heart skipping. "That's..."

Levi's eyes widen slightly at the sight. "Yeah," he says, voice quiet but sharp. "That's them all right... looks like they're in the middle of something."

From your vantage point on the hill, you see the soldiers being held at bay, expertly blocked and countered, the three members of the Wings of Freedom moving almost like a living unit. You had assumed Levi was their leader, but they all seem to be able to hold their own just fine.

"They're doing okay," you say, gripping your reins tightly, blue frost curling faintly around your fingers. "Should we—"

Levi shakes his head, scanning the area. "Yeah- we'll need all the backup we can get going into the palace. Let's give them a hand." You see a faint warm glow around Levi's hands as he grips his reins, and he nods at you before moving towards your allies.

The clash of steel grows louder, the rhythm of battle carrying on the wind. By the time you crest the last rise, the fight below is clear: nearly a dozen Northern soldiers, many more on the ground, their formation frayed, circling three figures in green.

Their hoods and cloaks flash with every movement, the insignia of wings at their backs catching in the light as they fight like a single, fluid unit. One moves like a battering ram, heavy and unstoppable, scattering opponents with sheer force. Another is swift and precise, each strike deliberate, calculated. The last commands the flow of the skirmish with sharp, strategic movements, directing the others with nothing more than a glance or a quick word.

Levi moves his hand to his sword's hilt, his jaw tightening.

He doesn't wait another second. He's off the horse in a blink, blade drawn, slipping into the fray with practiced ease. The faint red glow of his hands is gone as soon as it flares, tamped down into focus.

You dismount clumsily after him, heart pounding. The dagger gleams at your side, and when a soldier rushes at you, your panic bursts into instinct—the ground slicking over with frost beneath his boots. He goes sprawling, and you drive your blade across his arm before he can recover.

Without thinking, you run over to where the soldier's collapsed on the ground. It looks like he's still conscious - good.

"Why are you doing this?" You question, trying to get a good look at his face through his silver helmet. His uniform is dull and clunky; it looks nothing like the pristine, fitted armor the soldiers around your northern castle had.

The man struggles to get up, but you quickly unsheathe your blade and hold it against his throat.

"Why have you betrayed your kingdom?" You ask again, hoping for an answer.

The look in that man's eyes are that of unbridled rage. "He promised us riches," he said between ragged breaths. "He said the king of the North was going to let us all rot..."

You could only assume this 'he' he meant was none other than Kenny.

"My father would never!" You argued, but that crazed look didn't leave the man's face.

And when he raised his sword, poised to strike, you lifted your own to block yourself - but he brought his blade to sink into his own body - a death blow.

You were frozen in shock, but you caught the words he whispered low.

"Long... live... King Kenneth."

Triumphant yells at your back ripped you away from the deceased soldier.

The trio in green fight like they've been doing this forever. The larger one barrels through three soldiers at once, cutting them down with raw power. The precise one slices through an opponent's weapon arm, clean and efficient. The other pivots smoothly, eyes flicking to Levi as if gauging him—recognizing him, even—but not breaking stride.

You throw your hand out again, frost exploding across the grass. Three enemies lose their footing at once, crashing into each other, and the precise fighter finishes them without hesitation.

The tide turns quickly after that. What's left of the Northerners scatter, wounded and weary, morale broken by the sudden reinforcements. In moments, the field is still.

Levi wipes his blade clean on the nearest cloak, his breathing calm, measured. Only then does he turn to face the trio. They stand together, hoods still shadowing their faces, but you feel the weight of their attention—especially on him.

One of them steps forward, voice low and steady. "...Levi."

For a long moment, silence stretches between them. Levi's grip on his blade tightens, then loosens again. His answer is low, almost grudging.

"It's been a while."

You shift your grip on the dagger, frost still clinging faintly to the edges of the blade. Whoever these people are, the air between them and Levi is charged with history.

The one who had been barreling through soldiers just a minute ago puts a hand out for Levi, and when he takes it, the smaller man is thrown into a big bear hug. The other man joins them, and the last member moves toward you so swiftly that you almost turn your dagger to ice.

They're lowering their mask and their hood falls off at the same time and-

"Nanaba?" You almost squeal out.

Nanaba's laughing as she embraces you. "I am so glad you're all right!" She exclaims. You hug her tightly, and out of the corner of your eye, you can see Levi pushing away the two other men, whose faces have been revealed. You don't remember seeing either of them around the court before.

When Nanaba lets you go, the others approach you.

"I'm Erwin Smith, it's very nice to meet you, your highness." He takes your hand and presses it lightly to his lips. Very old-fashioned... You say in your head, looking over to Levi, who's rolling his eyes.

"And this is Miche," He gestures to the (somehow) larger man, who is... sniffing the air around you? He seems to notice the confused look on your face, but before saying anything, he looks to Erwin and gives him a thumbs-up.

"Pleasure," He says simply.

What an odd group of friends. You wondered how Levi got acquainted with them. You'd have to ask him sometime.

You nod politely in response. "It's wonderful to meet you both." You look to the four people in front of you. "And thank you... for saving me when I first arrived here."

Nanaba smiled and put an arm around your shoulder. "Just doin' our job as the Wings of Freedom."

After a beat of silence, Levi clears his throat. "So, Erwin, what's the situation?"

Erwin straightens, releasing your hand with the kind of poise that makes you feel suddenly underdressed in your travel-worn cloak. His expression hardens into something sharp, deliberate—the look of a man who always has several steps already mapped out.

"We've been holding this position for three days now," he says, his voice steady but commanding. "Our scouts report that Northern soldiers have infiltrated further south than we anticipated. Kenny's influence is spreading faster than expected." His gaze flicks briefly to Levi, then back to you. "If you two were headed for the palace... you should know it's no longer secure."

Your stomach twists. "Not secure? You mean—"

"Occupied," Erwin cuts in smoothly. "Partially, at least. They've tightened the perimeter and established control over the gates. They're not strong enough to hold the inner palace yet, but it's only a matter of time. There's new groups of soldiers moving in every day."

Levi's jaw tightens. "So Kenny's moved quicker than I thought."

Nanaba frowns, arms folding across her chest. "We've been intercepting messages, but they're coded. All we know is there's talk about some kind of 'power' from the mountains."

You feel a chill that has nothing to do with your frost stirring at your fingertips. The tunnels. The trials. Kenny slipping into the cavern.

Levi must be thinking the same thing, because his eyes narrow, his voice clipped. "So he's already back at the palace."

"Which means," Erwin says, tone grave, "he might have found what he was looking for."

The thought makes your grip tighten on the dagger Levi gave you, its weight suddenly heavier against your side.

You mumble. "He beat us..."

Miche, silent until now, shifts closer. "Then what's the plan?" His voice is deep, calm, but there's an edge beneath it.

Erwin looks to Levi first, as if the answer must come from him. And for the first time since you'd met him, you see Levi hesitate—not because he doesn't know what to do, but because what comes next might change everything.

Finally, Levi exhales, short and sharp. "We need to move. Tonight." His gaze flicks to you, then back to Erwin. "If Kenny's inside the palace, it won't be long before he figures out how to use what he found. We can't let him."

The four green-cloaked soldiers share a look, unspoken understanding passing between them. Nanaba squeezes your shoulder gently, her usual smile tinged with seriousness. It's then that you realize you're matching with them - these leathers and the cloak you've been wearing all these days make you a part of this set.

"Then it's decided," Erwin says, his voice like steel. "We'll strike at midnight."

And just like that, the camp around you feels smaller, the night heavier with the weight of what's to come.

Nanaba puts a hand up. "Okay, are we completely ignoring this?" she says, grabbing your wrist and raising it up so the faint blue frost clinging to your skin catches the light. "Since when did you guys have magical powers?"

You jerk your hand back, cheeks heating. "It's... new," you say quickly, almost defensively.

Erwin doesn't smile, but his eyes sharpen with interest. "So the stories about the obsidian mountains weren't just myths."

"Hange would have a field day with this." Says Nanaba.

"That's one way to consummate the marriage." Miche grumbles.

Erwin clears his throat and fisted his hand in front of his mouth. Is he laughing?

Levi shifts uncomfortably beside you, crossing his arms. "Doesn't matter how it happened. All that matters is we've got it, and we can use it."

Nanaba whistles low. "You're telling me the two of you went into that cursed mountain range, came out alive, and picked up elemental powers like it was nothing? That's not exactly casual dinner conversation."

"Don't exaggerate," Levi mutters.

"You literally lit your hands on fire," she shoots back, grinning, then glances at you with mock seriousness. "And you froze half a battlefield. Sorry, but I think I'm allowed to exaggerate."

Your stomach twists a little at the attention, but Erwin's steady gaze keeps you from laughing it off. "If that's true," he says slowly, "then this changes things. Kenny isn't just trying to destabilize the kingdoms. He's after that power. We have to assume he's already found it."

You and Levi exchange a glance. His look is brief, steady, but you know you're both thinking the same thing: Kenny went into the mountain and he wouldn't stop until he had what he wanted. You don't even think the mountain would have ever let him out if he didn't find what he was looking for.

Miche breaks the silence with a small grunt. "Then we better hope you two know how to control it."

Nanaba smirks, nudging you with her elbow. "Guess the honeymoon's over."

Levi groans under his breath and pinches the bridge of his nose.

Erwin clears his throat, pulling everyone's attention back. "Jokes aside," he says firmly, "this changes our approach. If Kenny has even a fraction of the same power, the palace is no longer just a military stronghold—it's a potential powder keg."

Nanaba's grin fades, her arms folding. Miche nods once, face grim.

You straighten, the dagger at your side suddenly feeling small compared to the frost you'd wielded earlier. "What do you suggest?"

Erwin looks at you, but then turns to Levi. "We need information. We can't storm the gates blindly. Our last report said the southern palace still has resistance from within, but..." He pauses, his gaze steady. "If the regent has begun spreading whispers of the king's death, loyalties may already be fractured."

You keep your mouth shut, knowing loyalties are definitely fractured. If your interaction with that soldier told you anything, it was that you couldn't trust anyone bearing northern armor.

Levi scowls. "So, we're walking into a hornet's nest."

"Precisely." Erwin's tone doesn't waver. "Our best chance is to divide their attention. A small team can infiltrate through the service tunnels beneath the palace—get close to the regent. The rest draw the soldiers away with a distraction."

Erwin's gaze shifts between you and Levi. "We can't storm the gates head-on. A small infiltration team will enter through the service tunnels beneath the palace, locate Kenny, and assess the situation from within. But they'll need cover. A distraction large enough to draw the bulk of the soldiers away from the palace walls." Erwin's gaze lands on you, and the others follow.

Levi immediately shakes his head. "Not her. She's not—"

"Actually..." Erwin cuts him off, calm but firm. "She's the most logical choice." His eyes turn to you, sharp and calculating. "Your highness, your powers could create a diversion no battalion could ignore. If you froze the gates, the courtyards, even part of the city's approach, it would force the northern soldiers to redirect everything to contain it."

"I like it," Nanaba chimes in, arms folded. "Flashy, impossible to ignore, and you don't even have to get close to the enemy lines if you don't want to."

Miche nods slowly. "If anyone can pull an entire garrison's eyes away from the palace, it's her."

Levi's scowl deepens, jaw working. "She's not bait."

"No," Erwin agrees evenly. "She's the blade that cuts the noose. Without her, the distraction won't hold. And without a distraction, neither you nor I will make it through those tunnels."

Levi hates that the man is right. Erwin, the unfeeling planner, has always had the solution... it may not always be the safest, but he always got results. And usually, Levi would just go along, confident that Erwin knows what he's doing, and that whoever's put at risk is okay with it too.

But now, it's you.

And Levi feels the tight coil of panic at the pit of his stomach. His chest presses against his ribs like it wants to wrench free. Normally, he'd consider a plan, anticipate the variables, assess the risks—but he can't. Not like this. Not when you're the variable.

He runs through scenarios, fast and ruthless: what if you get hurt? What if they recognize your power too late? What if he's not there in time to shield you? Each possibility slams against his chest like a hammer. He isn't used to being powerless—not in a fight, not in a plan, not when someone else's life depends on him.

And yet... he knows it's necessary. You have to be split up. And still, he swallows back the urge to speak, to insist you stay behind, or to throw himself in front of you instead.

His hands curl into fists at his sides. He doesn't want to admit it—not even to himself—but for the first time in a long while, he understands fear that isn't about the mission. Fear that's personal. Fear that's for someone else.

The thought is sharp, unwelcome, and he pushes it down. He'll follow the plan, as always. But there's a promise in the tight set of his jaw, the flare of his nostrils, the fire behind his eyes: if anything goes wrong... he will be there. He has to be.

All eyes turn to you. The dagger at your hip feels suddenly heavier, but the frost curling faintly across your fingertips is steady. "I'll do it," you say quietly, but firmly.

Levi's head snaps toward you, disbelief flashing in his eyes. But when you meet his gaze, you hold it—steady, unflinching. You've made your choice.

Finally, he exhales through his nose, sharp and frustrated. "Tch. Fine. But you don't overdo it. If you so much as look like you're losing control, you pull back. Got it?"

You nod, heart pounding.

Erwin's expression softens, just barely. "Then it's settled. Levi and I will infiltrate through the tunnels. You, Miche, and Nanaba will lead the diversion. Gather your bearings- we'll move in a few hours."

The decision hangs in the cool evening air, heavy with anticipation. And though Levi sits beside you later by the fire, close enough that your shoulders almost brush, you can feel the storm rolling beneath his silence.

The fire crackles low, embers drifting up into the dark sky. The others have gone to check their weapons or get some sleep, leaving you and Levi alone on the edge of the camp, facing the palace in the distance. The night is cool, and the scent of pine fills the air, but your mind is restless, replaying the plan over and over.

Finally, Levi shifts, moving closer. Just close enough that your shoulders brush. The contact is light, almost accidental, but it sends a strange warmth curling through your chest.

"This isn't easy," he mutters, eyes on the fire rather than you. "And I... I don't do this," he adds, voice quieter now, "sitting next to someone when things are about to get messy."

You tilt your head, letting the firelight catch your features. "I get it," you say softly. "It's... weird. But it's kind of nice too, isn't it?"

Levi glances at you then, that unreadable mask still in place, but his eyes flicker—searching, uncertain, like he's measuring how much to let slip. His chest feels tight, a coiled weight pressing against his ribs. He notices the way your presence steadies him even as it makes his stomach knot with worry.

He shifts slightly, forcing himself to focus on the plan, on the mission, but his mind keeps returning to you. The thought of something happening to you makes his fists tighten involuntarily. Still, he reminds himself of your strength, the confidence that's visible in the way you hold yourself. He's seen it first hand - your power. You can handle it.

Even so, there's a tension behind his eyes that he can't fully erase, a silent admission of the fear he refuses to voice. And yet, when he finally speaks, it comes out almost like a whisper: "...Maybe," just barely audible.

You shuffle slightly, so your knee brushes his. He doesn't pull away. You dare a small smile. "We'll both make it through tonight. Then we'll have our Kingdom back."

He doesn't say anything else, but his gaze lingers on you a moment longer than necessary, the faintest flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. The air between you feels taut, filled with unspoken words, fears, and promises. Every muscle in him wants to reach out, to make sure you're safe, but he doesn't; he can't.

He wants to tell you everything - but he's not even sure he even knows what he's feeling.

You notice it, though, the slight hesitation in his movements, the way his shoulders relax just a fraction when your knee brushes his. It's a quiet reassurance, a silent connection that says he's there, even if he can't say it aloud.

The fire crackles beside you both, filling the pause with warmth. It almost feels intimate, a private bubble of calm in the midst of the storm that's coming. He shifts, leaning back slightly, giving you space—but not too much. Not enough to break the fragile closeness.

You catch his glance again, fleeting but steady this time, and in it, you read the same worry, the same determination, the same quiet hope that you'll both make it through tonight. You meet it with a small, reassuring smile, and just for a second, the world feels like it's narrowed down to only the two of you, safe together in that stolen moment before everything changes.

His jaw tightens imperceptibly, but his eyes meet yours, steady and dark. "...And if things go wrong?"

You rest a hand lightly against his arm. "Then we make sure it doesn't. We've got this."

A flicker of something crosses his face—maybe amusement, maybe relief—but it's gone as quickly as it comes. He mutters under his breath, "Don't get ahead of yourself."

"Think about it," you continue, "there's only one of him. With powers - I mean. And there's two of us. I can handle the soldiers... This ice basically makes it possible to build walls to push them away. It's more of a defensive power than offensive. So I'll be fine. And you can take Kenny - I know you can."

Levi appreciates the confidence, but he's not as sure. He's a master when it comes to one-on-one combat, but Kenny's the person he got that from. For all Kenny's uselessness, he did end up being a good sparring partner. Plus, who knows how different a fight can be when both people have magical powers? He doesn't even know what Kenny could be wielding now.

But instead of pointing that out, he'd rather return your assurance. "Yeah. Erwin's plan will work."

"There's something else, too." You say. "The soldiers wearing Northern armor... I don't think they're all actually soldiers."

"Why do you say that?"

You sigh. "I was questioning one, during that fight. His armor didn't fit. His movements were sloppy - not like a trained soldier. He said something about Kenny promising them all riches. I think some of the people we're fighting are just regular people."

Levi nodded. "Still... they chose to side with him."

"Yeah." You said. "Erwin said there's more and more coming each day. Kenny's manipulating everyone to be on his side."

Levi squints at the castle. "All the more reason to stop him now."

You swallow thickly and nod.

"It feels better - knowing that those soldiers aren't loyal to me or my father anymore. At first, I didn't like fighting people who wore the colors of my Kingdom, but now... it's clear they have betrayed the North." You said, feeling a new sense of strength. "So now, I won't hold back. We are going to win against them."

Levi rests a hand on your shoulder. It's warm.

"Yeah. We'll win."

The firelight dances over the warmth of his skin, the quiet rhythm of his breathing next to yours. For the first time in days, it feels like you're allowed to just... be. Together. Safe, if only for a moment.

And as the embers drift upward, the distant stars overhead, the two of you sit in silence, letting the night hold you before everything changes.

Chapter Text

Midnight has come.

The moonlight spills over the edge of your small camp, casting silver across the ground. Since your meeting, you and Levi had taken a seat a little ways away, both facing the palace, but you can still feel the warmth of the fire on your back. Perhaps it's him keeping you warm, but you don't ask.

After a while of silence, Levi finally straightens.

You sense it immediately, the shift in his posture, the unspoken warning that he's keeping himself in check. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his face turn to yours, and you meet his gaze.

You communicate with your eyes that which you can't bring yourself to say aloud.

He nods slightly, the silent acknowledgment passing between you. It's brief, but enough. He tenses, as though he's bracing himself for a blow, then swallows, forcing his face back into its usual stoic mask.

"Let's go." he says finally, his voice firm, carrying just enough edge to disguise the worry underneath.

Right on cue, Miche and Nanaba come up from behind, nodding as you ready yourself.

You step forward, your dagger at the ready. You flick frost from your fingertips - making sure the power is still there. You have no reason to believe it wouldn't be, but still. Levi doesn't move closer; he stays back, just far enough to let you take the lead, his jaw tight, fists clenched, watching every step you take.

Even as the shadows of the trees swallow you, you feel his gaze following, sharp and unwavering. And though you know the danger ahead is real, there's a quiet reassurance in the way he's holding back, letting you fight—but never letting go completely.

For Levi, it's a battle not just of tactics, but of restraint, of trust, of admitting—silently—that there's no one else he'd rather have survive this mission than you.

And its the thought of him that strengthens you as you stand at the edge of the western approach to the southern palace, the frost curling faintly along your fingers. The distraction team splits off as planned. Nanaba and Miche move to their positions, leaving you alone with just the space of the courtyard between you and the palace walls.

And suddenly, the world feels... cold.

Levi isn't beside you anymore. Not one glance, not one reassuring presence. For almost a week, you've been attached at the hip. And he was so warm. Even when he was quiet, even when he scowled, he was there. Always there. And now he's not. It feels weird.

You fight the urge to look back, knowing he's probably peeled off with Erwin by now.

"Focus," you whisper to yourself. "It's just tonight. I can do this."

Your eyes flick to the distant palace walls. Shadows move across the battlements—Northern soldiers, maybe others, unaware of the storm about to hit them.

Nanaba's voice cracks through the night air, firm but calm: "Ready?"

You nod, drawing a slow, steadying breath. "Ready."

And even though you're technically alone, the bond with Levi lingers, the memory of his warmth beside you, the weight of his gaze, the subtle reassurance that he's always a step ahead. It's enough to steady your nerves—for now.

You have to focus on your battle ahead. The operation hinges on whether or not you can pull it off. But part of you can't stop thinking about Levi's whereabouts, and if it's going to go well for him and Erwin.

The frost around your fingers tightens as you step forward, disappearing into the shadows, ready to begin.

You crouch low, scanning the courtyard. Northern soldiers are patrolling the gates, unaware of the danger coming their way. One deep breath, and you let the frost bloom from your fingertips.

A sharp snap of your wrist sends a thin sheet of ice racing across the ground. The first line of soldiers on the ground skids, crashing into one another as the grass turns slick with frost. A startled shout echoes through the night, and you push further.

Blue frost curls along the walls, spreading up in jagged lines, shattering stone tiles and freezing fountains in place. Soldiers scramble to keep footing, their armor clanking as they slip and stumble. You thrust your hands forward again, and spikes of ice burst from the ground, forcing a group to scatter left and right. These Northerners aren't like your royal guards from the palace. They start yelling, trying to figure out the source of the ice.

From the shadows, you see Miche and Nanaba moving with dangerous precision, taking down soldiers who attempt to regroup. The chaos you've created leaves openings in their defenses, perfect for Levi and Erwin to slip through unnoticed.

Your heart hammers, but you push it down, focusing on the rhythm of the frost. Every breath is steady, every movement deliberate. You sweep your arm in a wide arc, sending a wave of icy shards spinning outward. The soldiers try to push forward, but the courtyard has become a maze of frozen traps and slick surfaces.

A soldier charges at you, swinging wildly, but you sidestep, sending a thin blade of ice straight into his path. He crashes against the wall, and you don't pause. You keep moving, frost snaking across the ground, walls, and battlements. The courtyard is your battlefield now.

From your peripheral vision, you catch the faint shadows of two figures slipping through the gaps your chaos has created. Levi and Erwin, moving like ghosts, disappearing beneath the palace gates.

You silently congratulate yourself - phase one of the plan has gone smoothly.

You raise your hands once more, a massive spike of ice shooting upward to block a group of soldiers trying to rush toward the inner courtyard. The shockwave of frost sends them sprawling, giving your allies the precious minutes they need.

Breathing hard, you step back, frost curling faintly across your fingertips as the courtyard erupts in confusion. The palace guards and Northerners are overwhelmed, their formations broken, and the path to the inner palace is now open.

Through the chaos you've unleashed in the courtyard, Levi and Erwin slip through a narrow side passage that leads beneath the palace. The ground beneath their boots is cold and rough, echoing faintly with the sounds of soldiers struggling above.

"Stay sharp," Levi mutters, voice low.

Erwin's eyes flick to him briefly, then forward, scanning the dimly lit tunnels. "You know me."

They navigate a series of tunnels, their steps silent on the stone. Every turn is calculated, every corner cleared before they advance.

Erwin gestures forward. "This should put us near the inner courtyard under the east wing. We can come up from there."

Levi nods sharply, knives already in hand. "Got it."

The air in the tunnel is damp and musty, carrying the faint echo of soldiers moving above. Levi's boots make almost no sound on the stone, his body a coiled, lethal presence as he leads the way. Erwin follows closely, steps deliberate, eyes scanning every shadow for movement. Levi pushes back the feeling of pride in his chest, knowing the reason all those soldiers are on the move.

"Keep your distance," Levi mutters, voice low, almost a growl. "They might still have guards down here."

Erwin nods, silent, adjusting the strap of his pack. "Understood."

A faint scuff echoes from around a corner ahead. Levi presses a finger to his lips, signaling Erwin to halt. Both of them flatten against the tunnel wall, knives ready, muscles coiled like springs.

A pair of northern soldiers comes into view, chatting idly, unaware of the two figures hidden in the shadows. Levi slides out from the wall in a fluid motion, blades flashing, and in a heartbeat both soldiers are incapacitated—kneeling, unconscious, their weapons clattering silently to the ground.

Erwin raises an eyebrow. "Efficient as always," he murmurs.

Levi shrugs without looking back. "I didn't bring you along for quippy small talk."

The tunnel narrows, forcing them to move single file. Erwin scans the stone ceiling for signs of instability, noting loose bricks and the faint glow of torchlight from above. "We'll reach the inner courtyard in a few minutes if the passages hold," he whispers.

Levi doesn't answer; his focus is entirely ahead, every sense attuned to movement, sound, and the faint pulse of energy he can feel emanating from deeper in the palace.

A creak echoes from a side passage, followed by hurried footsteps. Levi gestures sharply, and Erwin drops into cover as Levi intercepts two more soldiers. The fight is silent, precise, almost a blur—the kind of deadly ballet only he could execute. The soldiers are down before they even realize what hit them.

"Clear," Levi mutters, sliding back to his side of the tunnel. "Keep moving."

They push forward, the faint red glow from Levi's hands now just perceptible in the low light, a subtle warmth beneath his gloves. Every corner could hide a patrol, every shadow a trap.

Erwin pauses at a junction. "We'll split here," he says quietly. "You take the main hall. I'll cover the armory—see what resources they've moved. Find Kenny - We'll regroup."

Levi inclines his head, eyes narrowing. "Okay. Don't get caught."

"Good luck," Erwin replies, clapping a strong hand on the other man's shoulder.

The staircase up stretches ahead, silent except for the muffled sound of distant chaos from the courtyard.

Levi steps carefully out of the tunnel, his eyes scanning the long hall. He can hear the chaos from the distraction raging behind him, but the path through the palace's inside is still far from clear.

A patrol of northern soldiers rounds the corner, unaware of the shadows from which Levi has just emerged. They're heading towards the courtyard - which means the plan is working. There are too many of them for a silent takedown, and even Erwin's plan only stretches so far—he's covering the armory, not the main hall.

Levi's jaw tightens. He flexes his fingers, feeling the warmth building in them. The fire inside him flickers faintly at first, testing the air, then roars to life as he steps into the open.

A sudden wave of heat erupts from his hands, licking the stone walls and sending sparks scattering. The soldiers freeze for a heartbeat, stunned, before scrambling to respond—but the flames are too fast, too sudden.

Levi moves with precise, lethal control, letting the fire swirl around the nearest soldiers. The heat sears their armor, forcing them to drop shields and weapons as the magical flames carve a path through the group.

One soldier attempts to flank him, but Levi's movement is instantaneous. A whip of fire lashes toward the man, forcing him back into the wall, groaning as his foot slips on a charred patch of ground.

Another group charges, hoping to overwhelm him with numbers, but Levi arches his hands, a controlled burst of flame shooting upward like a wall. The soldiers recoil, staggering against the heat and smoke, giving him room to advance further into the hall.

Every motion is calculated, every flicker of flame precise. The red glow of his magic dances across the walls and columns, reflecting in his sharp eyes. He can feel the pulse of power coursing through him, solid and controlled, a weapon as much as a shield.

From the tunnel exit behind him, he can just make out the faint glimmer of blue frost— you're still holding the distraction. Your magic keeps the remaining soldiers off balance, but Levi doesn't pause to admire it. He can't let himself get distracted now, not when he's so close. His focus is forward, cutting a path through the inner defenses.

The last few soldiers hesitate, realizing they're trapped between fire and frost, and Levi lets a controlled blaze surge, sending them down on the ground or scattering off. The path is clear.

He exhales slowly, the flames dimming at his command. His hands are buzzing from the exertion, and his chest still pulses with the energy of the magic. He steps forward into the hall just before the throne room- and senses something.

It's flames, but they're not his.

He holds his breath and turns to look inside between the pillars.

"Of fucking course." Levi curses under his breath.

Kenny.

Levi freezes just inside the hall, every instinct screaming. The flames ahead are sharper than his, more jagged, moving with a confidence and control that only someone familiar with fire could wield.

He glances again. Kenny's alone, sitting on the throne like he's already won. The stolen family scroll hangs from one hand, the red ribbon catching the torchlight as if mocking Levi. The other hand is engulfed in flames that dance and flicker like living things, illuminating the hard, cruel lines of Kenny's face.

He's playing.

Levi's jaw tightens. His knives are ready, but he doesn't move just yet. He watches, studying. Kenny hasn't seen him yet, he thinks.

Levi shifts slightly, testing the distance. His own flames flare faintly, reflexive, matching Kenny's intensity in a subtle, almost imperceptible mirror. He's strong, Levi thinks. Too strong for a straight fight without an advantage. Levi's won almost every fight he's had- the only exception being his uncle. Kenny's the only person who's ever been his match. He's older now, though, and stronger. Maybe it's not as far-fetched as it used to be.

Levi exhales slowly, forcing himself calm. What if he can try to talk until Erwin makes his way over as a distraction? He can at least delay the time before an all-out battle with Kenny. Could he even win something like that? Dueling abilities aside - Kenny's flames might be stronger than his, more potent.

It's then that Levi hears a low laugh coming from the throne.

"So, Prince Levi. How nice of you to join me."

Shit.

There goes the element of surprise - Kenny's already seen him somehow. Levi steps out in the open, across the room from his uncle. His hands twitch, flames responding instinctively to his focus, flaring around his fingers.

"I see you found what you were looking for." Levi grumbles.

"I think it suits me," Kenny says, twirling a flame around his fingers. They're almost purple in color.

Levi scoffs. "Don't try anything stupid."

"Or what?" Kenny interrupts, flames surging like a warning. "You'll stop me? Don't make me laugh."

Levi shifts slightly, the fire around his fingers pulsing as if in rhythm with his heartbeat. He keeps his posture calm, deceptively relaxed. Talk. Distract. Anything to keep him occupied until Erwin arrives.

"You always were predictable," Levi says evenly, taking a step closer down the aisle. "Chasing power, chasing control... and now here you are, thinking a stolen scroll and some flashy fire make you untouchable."

Kenny chuckles, flames spiraling higher. "Predictable? Maybe. But at least I don't hide behind rules and morality. You? You think you're so righteous, you think you're clever, but you're just a boy playing at being a man."

Levi lets the corner of his mouth twitch, hiding the tension in his jaw. "You don't know shit about me."

"I knew about your little robin-hood troop."

Levi's eyebrows crease. "If you knew, why let it go on?"

"Gave you a false sense of control." Kenny shrugged.

Levi resisted the urge to throw flames at the man. He didn't want to throw the first punch - there's no tactical advantage to that right now. He needs a cool head.

"I don't think it was all false. You know, there were a lot of people unhappy with your rule, regent." Levi seethed, poison dripping from that last word.

Kenny tilts his head, eyes narrowing. "Is that supposed to scare me?"

"No," Levi says, voice low, measured. "It's supposed to keep you talking." He flicks a finger subtly, sending a faint flare of fire along the floor in front of him—not intended to harm, but enough to remind Kenny that Levi isn't defenseless. "Erwin's on his way. You'll need more than theatrics to hold the advantage once he gets here."

Levi barely knows what he's saying. Words have never been his friend - he always preferred to communicate with actions. But he has to try.

Kenny's grin falters slightly, just for a heartbeat. He steps closer, the scroll now burning faintly in the heat of his magic. "Erwin? That little tactician? He won't be able to do anything against my power. And you... you're amusing. Always the polite one, always careful. What's next? Beg me to negotiate?"

Levi doesn't flinch. "I'm not begging. I'm warning. Keep moving, and this ends tonight. Stay where you are, and you might just survive long enough to regret it."

The air hums between them, the heat of their magic making the torches flicker. Levi shifts, testing the distance, knowing that every second he buys is a second closer to Erwin's arrival. But he thinks twice- maybe Erwin shouldn't come in here. Kenny's right - what the hell is a normal person going to do against walls of fire - even if that person is extremely skillful?

Kenny laughs, a low, sharp sound, and waves his hand. Flames twist around the throne room, licking the edges of the walls. He tosses the scroll between his hands. "I know you were looking for this before," He says. "too bad. I can't wait to tell you what it does."

Levi's eyes narrow. "Can't you just tell me now?"

"That would spoil my fun. We'll just wait until your pretty little wife arrives."

Levi feels his chest jolt. "What are you talking about?"

You're not supposed to be in here - Levi's reminding himself - you're supposed to stay in the courtyard. His thoughts race as he remembers your ice stretching much closer than he thought it would from that far away... maybe you were advancing father than expected. But why would you go against the plan?

~

Outside, you've pretty much disposed of all the northerners on this side of the palace. It's when you're doing a once-over with Miche and Nanaba that Erwin runs up to you.

"Levi," he says, almost out of breath, "Throne room - with Kenny. He's got fire."

It's then that you hear the armor clanking of another wave of soldiers.

Nanaba and Miche give you a hard look. Erwin straightens. "We can hold them off - you don't have to worry about us. Go help Levi- he needs your power. We don't need a distraction anymore."

You look to the trio, and it feels like your heart is beating in your throat. However, the thought of Levi alone with Kenny, who also now has fire, has your feet moving before you can even respond.

You throw walls of ice around yourself up as you sprint through the halls, trying to remember exactly where to go to get to the throne room. And finally, you see those pillars of white etched with gold, and your frost reaches the entrance to the room.

Levi's standing in the middle, with his back to you. Kenny hasn't seen you yet.

You hear Kenny say something about spoiling his fun, and the sound of his voice makes your icicles sharpen. You flatten yourself against the cold stone wall, letting your frost curl silently along the edges of the floor. The palace seems to hold its breath around you.

Then, in a sudden burst, you launch forward, past Levi. He shouts your name as your spear of ice arcs through the air, a gleaming shard aimed straight at Kenny.

He moves with inhuman precision, twisting just enough to let the ice sail past harmlessly. The shard strikes the floor behind him, cracking tiles and sending tiny frost chips skittering across the stone. He looks unamused.

Your eyes catch the scroll in his hand, its red ribbon taut against the grip. He's using it like a prop, a focus—something more than just a stolen piece of paper.

Levi pivots sharply, spinning to face you, but before you can say anything, Kenny surges forward, flames erupting in a perfect circle around you. The heat hits your skin even before the fire reaches you, forcing your breath into shallow bursts. The ice around you quivers, frost clinging to the edges of the stone as your magic responds instinctively to the barrier of heat.

These flames are nothing like Levi's - they're killing your ice.

You throw your hands out, frost snapping outward in a protective shield, but the flames curl higher, licking and twisting, testing the strength of your magic. Your ice spear shatters halfway through the circle, sending jagged shards clattering harmlessly to the floor.

Kenny smirks, stepping back just enough to keep the flames dancing between you and him. "I see you've grown stronger since last time," he says, voice cold but amused. "But do you really think you can stop me now?"

The hall seems to shrink around you. Heat and frost clash in a silent rhythm, painting the walls in streaks of red and blue. You grip your dagger tighter, readying another strike, heart hammering, ice magic thrumming beneath your skin.

You can't see Levi through the flames.

Kenny's laughs echo through the hall as the barrier of flames around you shifts shape- creating a path directly to him. At your back, the flames lick closer, as if pushing you towards the man.

"Since you're so curious, Levi," he drawls, "I'll tell you what's in this precious scroll. It's got something special inside- something that only be used by a person with our blood."

Levi says nothing in response.

Kenny goes on. "It's got a rune on it keeping it from being destroyed. Kuchel didn't want it to be used, said there was a high price to pay to use it, so she hid it away in that library."

Levi scowls. "Keep my mother's name out of your filthy mouth."

You're mere feet away from Kenny now. He raises his arms in a mocking surrender position. "You see, there's a spell inside. One that can only be used if both royal bloodlines are awakened and used together."

Both royal bloodlines? So there is a connection between your lineage and your magic.

He continues, his hand reaching out to your shoulder. You don't move- frozen by shock. "So you can understand why I wanted little girlie here to come to the South." Kenny's flames drop, and he's holding you in front of him- between himself and Levi. Levi hasn't moved an inch.

"Obviously, the marriage was just a tool. The two of you weren't actually supposed to fall in love and all that crap. You actually ended up helping me out, though, since I was going to take the pretty princess to that cave whether she liked it or not." You can feel his breath on your neck, and you wince, closing your eyes.

"Let her go! She has nothing to do with this- your grievance is with me!" Levi shouts, but Kenny doesn't move. You move your hand slowly to hover over the dagger.

"No can do, nephew. I need this one." And in one swift movement, Kenny's hand moves but is quickly replaced by a blade at your neck. His other hand unravels the scroll, and you can recognize the text as an outdated version of your language. You struggle under his grasp.

Kenny moves the blade slightly, testing your reaction. "Don't even think about it," he hisses. "One wrong move and this little adventure ends for you."

But the ice in your hand grows stronger, trembling with power. You can feel the pull of your magic, screaming to act, to defend, to strike. Your eyes flicker toward the scroll, recognizing the runes as a spell that could be catastrophic if fully unleashed.

Levi's voice cuts through the tension, low and deadly: "Don't hurt her."

The words are sharp, precise—controlled—but you can feel the fire behind them, coiling and ready to strike. Kenny chuckles, clearly unbothered.

"You're thinking too small, Levi. You think I just want to hurt the girl?" He chuckles. "No, see - what this spell can do is much more useful to me. When it's read and the flame and ice are used together, the user is granted a wish. And you know what I've always wanted?"

Kenny makes his flames flare up even higher. You feel their heat all around.

"It's power! This is just a taste of what I'll be able to do soon!"

Then, Levi shouts, "Stop this, Kenny!"

You're always the same, huh," he taunts. "Always trying to play the hero. Oh! and I almost forgot the best part, princess."

You dared to take a breath.

"Your father, the King? Yeah, he didn't die from a sickness. It was poison in his food. Put there by yours truly. I killed him."

Your heart dropped.

"It's funny, too- that's exactly the same way our good King and Queen of the South passed away. Such a shame."

Kenny did it all. He was the reason Levi's parents - the King and Queen- died ten years ago. Of course! You felt stupid for not putting it together earlier. He killed them in order to open up the position of power to himself, knowing Levi was too young to take the throne. And then he killed your father- to put into motion this insane plan of his. He's power-hungry. Bloodthirsty. Betrayal isn't a strong enough word.

You felt like you couldn't breathe.

You turned the hilt of the dagger in your hand and thrust it backwards, lacing the tip subconsciously with ice.

You feel your blade connect with his abdomen, and he grunts, losing his hold on you and moving his hands to the dagger imbedded in his stomach - it's not as deep as you would like, but it'll certainly slow him down, you think.

Before you can celebrate that small victory, Kenny throws flames out in a frenzy and heat blasts against your face, knocking you down the steps, landing you on your chest. The wind got knocked out of you.

You watch out of the corner of your eye as Kenny rips the blade out, throwing it carelessly to the floor. He returns a hand to his stomach, where flames bloom - he's cauterizing the wound. Fuck. You pound a fist on the stone ground. You barely made a scratch on him.

He laughs, a cruel, sharp sound that echoes through the throne room. "Pathetic. Is that all the North can offer me?"

He's barely able to finish his sentence before Levi's blade reaches his. He's moving fast, almost invisible, using the distraction you've created to close the distance.

Kenny reacts just in time, parrying the strike with his own sword, sparks flying as steel clashes against steel. The force reverberates through the stone floor of the throne room.

You're struggling to breathe - and to watch the fight unfold in front of you - and darkness blooms in the corners of your vision.

You pass out.

~

Levi moves like a shadow, each step measured but lightning fast. He pivots, spinning, sweeping his second knife in a low arc aimed at Kenny's side. Kenny ducks and counters with a high slash, the blades scraping together with a shriek of metal. The heat of Kenny's magic radiates off him faintly, even without unleashing flames, and Levi can feel the tension in every movement.

"You're fast," Kenny hisses, lunging forward, forcing Levi back a step. "But not fast enough!"

Levi sidesteps, twisting his body, and brings his knife down in a precise strike that grazes Kenny's arm, leaving a shallow cut. Sparks fly again as Kenny swings back, but Levi blocks, redirecting the force with minimal movement. Every motion is clean, efficient, lethal.

He's purposely not looking over to where you lay motionless on the ground, for fear he'd get distracted too long.

Kenny spins, attacking from multiple angles now, testing Levi's reflexes, trying to find an opening. Levi matches each strike, parrying, twisting, and countering, fire coiling faintly around his blade as instinct, ready to ignite if needed.

"You've improved," Kenny growls, backing up a step. "But do you think you can stop me with just steel?"

Levi doesn't respond, only shifts his weight, circling, eyes locked onto Kenny's every twitch. Then, with a sudden flick of his wrist, Levi slashes low, forcing Kenny to stumble over the edge of the throne dais.

Kenny recovers mid-step, rolling to his feet, but Levi is already on him, blades poised, relentless. Sparks and clashing steel echo through the hall, the sound almost drowned by the distant roar of the courtyard chaos outside.

Kenny feints left, then swings right, but Levi anticipates, spinning under the arc and driving a precise thrust into Kenny's shoulder, forcing him back again. Kenny's grip tightens on the hilt, fury flashing in his eyes, flames licking the edges of his blade instinctively.

"Not bad," Kenny mutters, panting slightly, backing toward the scroll. "But I'm far from done."

"Shut up, old man!" Levi shouts, growing tired of Kenny's taunts.

Levi blocks another attack, pressing forward, each strike forcing Kenny closer to a corner, closer to being overpowered. The fight is fluid, fast, a dangerous dance of steel, skill, and raw magic energy humming beneath their movements.

Finally, with a rapid combination of slashes and parries, Levi drives Kenny back, blades pinning him just enough to force him to drop his sword. Kenny glares, chest heaving, and Levi holds his knives steady, poised for the final move.

"You're done," Levi says, voice low and calm, eyes sharp, every muscle tensed and ready for any trick.

The hall is still, the air electric with tension, and for a heartbeat, it feels like the world is holding its breath.

Kenny's eyes flash, a dangerous glimmer as he raises his hands, flames licking faintly at his fingertips. But Levi is faster. In a single fluid motion, he slashes diagonally across Kenny's torso with one blade, while the other arcs upward, igniting a controlled burst of fire that forces Kenny to stagger back. The flames sear briefly but harmlessly, used to control movement rather than to injure—Levi's precision is surgical.

Kenny lunges, desperation in every movement, but Levi sidesteps, twisting, and with a final, precise thrust of both blades, pins Kenny against the wall. The fire around him sputters and dies, cut off by Levi's control of both space and magic.

Kenny's chest heaves, eyes wide with shock, as Levi steps back slightly, keeping the knives poised. Blood's almost covering him now, from the large diagonal gash. The scroll slips from his grasp, landing on the floor. Levi doesn't flinch, doesn't move to grab it yet—his attention is entirely on his uncle.

"You lose," Levi states flatly, his eyes cold, sharp. "No tricks left, no magic left. Stay down."

Kenny glares, but the fight has left him exhausted, every ounce of fire magic suppressed by Levi's relentless skill and control. He forces out a low chuckle, blood starting to trickle from the corner of his mouth.

"It's funny."

Levi doesn't respond.

"It just had to be you, didn't it, runt." He said. Levi bent down a little lower to the ground to hear him. Kenny used what seemed like the last of his strength to grab hold of Levi's arm. He coughed blood.

"Don't... be like me."

Levi watched the light leave Kenny's eyes. It was over.

He immediately twisted and ran to where you lay on the ground, chest barely moving. "Hey... hey, stay with me," he murmurs, brushing your hair away from your face.

You're not breathing.

He notices a small but nasty-looking burn on your arm, the flesh appearing to be boiling, and he tries to steel himself as he gently shakes you. "Come on, wake up..."

You stir then, eyelids fluttering as you gasp for air. Levi's gaze softens just a fraction. "That's it... breathe, just breathe."

The scroll lies forgotten on the floor for a moment, Levi's attention entirely on you. When you finally open your eyes, just barely, the first thing you see is the determined, slightly frantic face of Levi.

"You're safe," he says quietly, though the tension in his shoulders betrays how close it came. "I've got you."

"Kenny..." you manage weakly, voice trembling.

Levi lets out a long breath, finally allowing a fraction of relief to show. "He's... he's dead," he says quietly, voice low but steady. "Kenny won't hurt anyone else. It's over."

Your chest tightens, a mix of disbelief, relief, and exhaustion washing over you. Tears sting your eyes, and before you realize it, you're reaching out, your hand brushing against his arm. Levi doesn't pull away.

"He was going to kill me..." Your voice breaks slightly, and he leans closer instinctively, as if drawn by the weight of your fear.

"Hey, Kenny's gone. He can't hurt you." Levi murmurs, eyes locked on yours.

You take a shaky breath, leaning a little against him, letting the warmth of his body ground you. Levi's hand brushes your hair back, then lingers, thumb grazing your cheek. It's a small gesture, but it carries all the reassurance and care you didn't even know you needed.

"I was so scared," you admit quietly, voice muffled against his chest as you finally let yourself lean into him.

Levi's arms tighten slightly around you, not constricting, just protective, grounding. "I know," he says simply. "I was too."

Your fingers curl into the fabric of his coat. He lowers his face toward yours, just enough that your foreheads touch, breath mingling. The chaos of the throne room fades away, leaving only the two of you, a fragile bubble of calm in the aftermath.

You place a hand on his face. "There's blood..."

He shakes his head slightly. "It's not mine."

"You're... really here," you whisper. You swipe your thumb across his strong cheekbone.

Levi's hand brushes your cheek again, rough and warm, and he murmurs, "Yeah. I'm not going anywhere."

For a long moment, there's silence, broken only by the rhythmic pounding of your heart and the faint crackle of dying flames around the throne room. Everything else—the danger, the fire, the chaos—feels impossibly distant, like it belongs to another world. It's just you and Levi.

He's so close.

Your eyes flick across his face, landing on his lips. Then, almost without thought, your lips tilt toward his. Tentative. Gentle. A brush at first, soft and fleeting, a question and an answer all at once. You feel him pause briefly, as if measuring, testing whether this is real, whether it's wanted.

It is.

His lips press more firmly against yours, warm and steady, grounding you in a way nothing else could. The tension, the fear, the exhaustion—they all melt away in that instant, replaced by something raw and undeniable. Your hands find their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath the fabric, solid and sure. He's really there with you, and he's fine. It's over.

Levi's arms tighten around you instinctively, but carefully, like he's afraid to crush you in his own strength. Yet there's a fire in the pressure, a promise that he's not letting go—not now, not ever.

You breathe against each other, and for the first time in days, maybe weeks, the weight of the world doesn't press down on your shoulders. You only feel him. Only feel this fragile, perfect moment.

The kiss deepens just slightly, tentative yet insistent, as if both of you are testing the waters of what this could mean. Your frost-touched fingers curl into the folds of his coat, grounding yourself to him, to reality. His hand slides to the back of your neck, tilting your head gently, giving, taking, communicating more than words ever could.

When you finally pull back, just enough to breathe, your foreheads rest against each other. Eyes closed, breaths mingling, you can feel the echoes of the chaos behind you, but they feel distant now. Levi's gaze, soft but steady, meets yours, and for the first time, you don't see the unreadable mask—only him, only the man who risked everything to keep you safe.

A faint, almost imperceptible smile tugs at his lips. The sight makes your chest feel warm.

For a few more precious seconds, nothing else exists but the two of you, the warmth of Levi's arms around you, and the quiet certainty that, whatever comes next, you're no longer facing it alone.

Your eyes remain droopy - you're tired. That's right, it's been a while since you slept. This could all be a dream, for all you know.

Levi pulls back slightly, eyes soft, almost unreadable again, but the faintest curve of a smile tugs at his lips. "Rest," he says quietly. "You've earned it."

You lean against him, letting exhaustion finally claim you, feeling safe for the first time in hours, perhaps days, with Levi's presence holding the world at bay.

Chapter Text

Your eyes snap open to the familiar canopy overhead, fabric drawn neat and perfect, untouched as though nothing had happened. For a dizzying second you wonder if it's all been a dream—the mountain, the fire, the scroll, Kenny's laughter still burning in your ears.

But your body aches. Your hands sting faintly, and the air still carries the faintest whiff of smoke. Your arm hurts like hell - you can tell it's all bandaged up. It was definitely real.

You shift against the sheets—silk, impossibly smooth, as if the palace hadn't been torn by battle hours ago. How are you back here? When? You try to sit up, but a voice breaks through the haze.

"Whoa, whoa, don't go flinging yourself around just yet."

Your head snaps to the side. Hange sits there, slouched in a chair by your bedside, her wild hair even more unruly than usual. Her sharp eyes glint with relief, and there's a smile tugging at her lips as she leans forward.

"You're awake," she says, and it's a strange mix of wonder and relief, like she wasn't sure she'd get to see this moment.

"Hange..." Your throat is raw, the word a rasp. "You're... you're okay."

"Of course I am," she says quickly, brushing her hands over her trousers like she has to keep them busy. "Takes a lot more than a couple of goons to take me down. I was worried about you, though." Her smile falters, just slightly, eyes softening as they scan you, checking every inch as though she expects to find cracks.

You swallow hard, suddenly grateful beyond words for her being here. For the familiar, chaotic energy she carries, grounding you when everything else feels like it's unraveling.

Hange exhales sharply when you whisper her name again, like she's been holding her breath for hours. She leans forward, elbows on her knees, watching you with that familiar, keen curiosity—but there's a softness in it now that wasn't always there before.

Your voice is still hoarse when you ask, "Where are the others? Petra, Isabel, Rico—are they..." You trail off, too afraid to finish the question.

"They're safe," she assures, her tone more serious than usual. "Scattered around the palace helping clean up, keep order. Things were... bad, but we made it through. You'll see them again soon."

Relief crashes through you, and you sink back against the pillows, fighting off another wave of tears. "Good," you whisper. "I—I was scared I'd lost them."

Hange tilts her head, watching you carefully. "You've lost enough already. The rest of us are too stubborn to leave you, trust me."

That coaxes the faintest smile out of you, but your thoughts shift. "Hange... Nanaba. She—she was with the Wings of Freedom. She fought with us. I didn't even know she..."

"Ah, that explains a lot," Hange cuts in, her grin flashing wide for a second. "Always wondered what she got up to when she wasn't attending on you. Figures she'd be running double duty as a freedom fighter." She leans back in her chair, arms crossed. "Guess she's been keeping bigger secrets than I gave her credit for."

"She was incredible," you murmur, remembering the way Nanaba had moved with precise, unshakable skill. "They all were."

Hange nods, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Then I'm glad she was there with you. Means you weren't fighting alone."

For the first time since you woke, a small warmth fills your chest. Somehow, despite the lies and the danger and the blood spilled, you're still surrounded by people who care enough to stand with you.

You carry on telling Hange about your adventure- after she forces you to drink water. Hange was dying to know what the mountain was all about, so you told her everything- and showed her what you could do now. It was when you were creating little figurines of ice—a delicate bird perched on your palm, wings outstretched—that there was a soft knock at the door.

You froze, the bird melting slightly between your fingers. Hange glanced toward the sound, then back to you with a grin. "Well. Guess that's my cue."

"Hange—" you started, but she was already pushing to her feet, hands raised in mock surrender.

"Don't worry, I'll grill you later for all the juicy details." She winked, adjusting her glasses. "And drink more water, or I'll come back and force it down your throat myself."

Before you could argue, she slipped past the door, exchanging a brief, murmured word with whoever waited outside. Then she was gone, and in her place, Levi stepped in.

The room seemed to still when he closed the door behind him. He looked almost exactly as you remembered—sharp posture, guarded expression, dark eyes that didn't miss a thing—but there was something else now, something quieter, etched in the lines around his mouth and the way his shoulders settled when his gaze found you awake.

"Looks like you're in one piece," Levi said, his tone clipped, neutral—like he was giving a report, not speaking to his literal wife who felt like she had nearly died hours before.

You shifted against the pillows, trying to ignore how your throat tightened. That's it? After everything?

His eyes met yours briefly, then darted away as if he'd said too much already. He busied himself with tugging a chair closer, the scrape of wood on stone filling the silence.

You blurted it out before you could stop yourself. "Did... did something happen? Last night?"

Levi stilled, fingers tightening against the chair's back. Slowly, he lowered himself into the seat, leaning forward slightly, elbows balanced on his knees. "You mean besides almost getting roasted alive?" His tone was dry, deflecting.

Your heart pounded. You tried to steady your voice. "No, I mean—when it was over. When I woke up. I thought..."

For a moment, you swore you saw something flicker in his eyes. Guilt? Hesitation? The faintest memory of warmth? But then his walls slammed back into place. He leaned back, crossing his arms. "You were half-dead. Probably dreaming."

The words stung more than you expected. You clenched the sheets in your fists, looking away so he wouldn't see the heat rise in your cheeks. So it didn't happen. Or if it did... he regrets it.

Across from you, Levi's gaze lingered on you a second too long before he finally looked down, jaw set tight.

When you weren't looking, his fingers twitched against his sleeve, nails digging into his palm. He had kissed you—just briefly, just enough to make sure you felt alive in his arms—but saying it aloud felt impossible. It was stupid and selfish. And now, seeing the hurt in your expression, he almost wished he'd had the strength to stop himself.

Almost.

The silence drags, heavy enough to make your chest ache. You turn your face away, staring at the far wall as if it might anchor you. So it didn't happen.

Levi exhales through his nose, sharp and frustrated. You hear the creak of the chair as he shifts, and then—

"...It wasn't a dream."

Your head snaps toward him. His arms are still crossed, shoulders tight, but he doesn't move, doesn't look at you. His eyes are fixed on some spot on the floor, and he mumbles, as though forcing the words through gritted teeth.

"You were awake. I kissed you."

Your breath catches, caught between disbelief and relief. He finally glances up, and though his face is as unreadable as ever, his eyes are restless, almost cornered.

"I shouldn't have." He drags a hand through dark his hair, muttering the words like he's scolding himself. "It was reckless. Wrong time, wrong place. You'd nearly died and I—" He cuts himself off, jaw flexing.

You can't stop the tremor in your voice. "But it was real."

Levi's gaze meets yours, steady now, and there's no mistaking it. "Yeah."

The quiet that follows feels different this time—less like avoidance, more like a truth finally spoken into the open. The weight of his admission settles between you, thick and undeniable. For a moment, all you can do is stare, heart pounding against your ribs. He kissed you. It wasn't a dream.

Your pulse thrums with courage you didn't know you had. "It wasn't reckless," you say, voice steadier now. "It wasn't wrong. I wanted it, Levi."

His eyes widen, just barely, before narrowing again like he's trying to read the truth in your face. "...You're serious?"

You nod. The air feels charged, fragile, like the faint glow that still lingers in your veins when your magic stirs. "I don't care if it was the middle of a battlefield, or if we were both half-dead. For once, it felt... real. Like something that was ours—not politics, not bloodlines, not survival. Just us."

Levi swallows hard, gaze flicking away, then back to you. He looks torn between stepping closer and bolting for the door.

Slowly, you reach out, your hand hovering just above his clenched fist on his knee. "Don't regret it," you murmur. "Please don't regret it."

The silence stretches—but this time, he doesn't pull away. His hand uncurls under yours, fingers brushing against your palm in the faintest, most hesitant of touches.

For a heartbeat, the world holds its breath. Your fingers linger on his hand, tracing the line of his knuckles. Levi's eyes search yours, dark and unreadable for a moment, and then... something softens. Something that's been locked away behind all the control and restraint finally gives.

Slowly, deliberately, he leans forward. Your heart hammers as his lips brush yours—tentative at first, testing, measuring, a whisper of warmth. You respond instantly, pressing closer, the hesitance melting away as his hand slides from yours to cup the side of your face.

The kiss deepens, slow and searching, a promise and a reassurance all at once. Heat flares where your foreheads touch, your breaths mingling, hearts hammering in sync. His other hand finds your waist, steadying you, and you feel the faint pulse of his heartbeat against your chest.

It's quiet in the room except for the sound of your shared breaths, intimate and steadying. No one else exists here—not the battle, not the palace, not the dangers you've faced—just this moment, fragile and perfect, suspended in time.

When you finally pull back, eyes still closed, Levi rests his forehead against yours. "...Don't ever make me think that kiss was a mistake."

You smile, breathless, leaning into him. "I won't," you whisper. "Not ever."

And you believe him.

~

Turns out, the world keeps on spinning even when it felt like it all came crumbling down.

There were still quite a few factions in the North wreaking havoc across the border- now chaotic without a clear leader- and the palace had started taking in refugees from southern and even some northern towns. Lots of people had been displaced.

You didn't realize how widespread Kenny's influence was until now. All those problems your father used to deal with in the North for the past ten years were all caused by him.

Once you felt rested enough, you managed to find all of your handmaidens around the castle, helping the refugees in different ways. Isabel was nearly in tears when she saw that you were all right. And then she was hysterical when she saw what you could do with ice. She asked you to make ice sculptures in the garden, and you answered her with a 'maybe later.'

You couldn't bring yourself to look inside that throne room yet. It had only been less than a day, so it's probably still in shambles.

Instead, you don your comfiest lounge clothes and find yourself walking that familiar path to the palace library.

When you open the door, you're astonished from how untouched it all is. The library is spotless, besides the shiny flecks of dust illuminated from the last of the sunlight streaming in. The only thing amiss is the golden history book- it's not on its normal shelf. Instead, it sits open on the lounge chair.

You approach it- the spine cracked to a familiar page- and....

It's still blank.

You laugh softly. You're not sure what you expected. With how magical everything's been for the past week you were hoping the book would just fill itself with information about the mountains. You stared at it so long the sun went down without you noticing.

But as you took it and closed it to return it to its place, you supposed maybe the page was meant to be blank, for people like you and Levi. It was supposed to create that sense of longing for discovery.

And when you slotted the book back into the shelf, the door opened once more.

That low voice sounded, now laced with something fond, "I thought you might be in here."

In one hand, Levi was holding that magic scroll- some of its corners blackened but not frayed. Kenny did say that it was warded against being destroyed. Levi made his way to you.

"The old bastard wasn't lying," Levi started, "Apparently, if this spell is read while 'the powers of the North and South are united,'" he said, tracing his finger along a line of text, "then the users are granted a wish."

You cock your head to the side. "What kind of wish?"

Levi's finger moves to the bottom of the parchment. "Well, you can't wish to bring someone back from the dead, and you can't wish for someone to die. You also can't wish for more wishes."

"Classic," you say, moving next to him to get a better look at the scroll, "are we sure it's real?"

Levi shrugs. "I'm not sure I want to mess with it if it is."

"Really? But we could wish for anything!"

"I have everything I need."

You let the blush creep across your cheeks, no longer trying to hide it. "...We could wish for something for the Kingdom? Maybe for homes to be rebuilt?"

Levi shakes his head. "Honestly, I think my parents were right in just sealing this away."

You just look at him.

"Magic's unpredictable." He says. "What if wishing for peace for our kingdom causes war in another?"

"Maybe..." You say.

"Every story I've heard or read that has to do with magic almost never ends well. Someone always has to sacrifice something in order to gain, and then it's never what they expected. There's a give-and-take, and I'm done being taken from." He says, decidedly.

"Okay." You say, nodding your head. "You're right. Let's put this scroll to rest."

Levi nods, then looks at the grand clock on the wall. "Speaking of rest, you definitely need to sleep more."

You almost argued, but the darkness under your eyes and the feeling of your drooping eyelids were undeniable. After sealing the scroll away in its original spot in the library, Levi walks you back to your chambers, and you're grateful for the lack of eyes on you all the way there.

When you're inside, he shuffles on his feet. You offer him a polite thanks, and he nods back. He tucks his hands into his coat, and the movement feels final—like he's retreating into his armor again.

You watch him, your chest tightening with every step he takes toward the door. For the past week, he's been a constant—pressed against your back in the saddle, shoulder brushing yours when you walked, sitting close enough at campfires that you could feel his warmth even when no words were spoken. You had gotten used to him being there. And now, watching him pull away into the cold emptiness of the room, it feels unbearably wrong to be apart.

We're married. The thought loops through your mind, sharp and insistent. We're married, and I nearly died yesterday, and he kissed me. Why should there be walls between us anymore? Why should there be space at all?

Your pulse quickens. You want to ask—no, to invite. For him to stay. To sleep near you again, like the nights in the wild when the air was sharp and cold and his presence was the only thing keeping you steady. It was a necessity then. But the words knot in your throat. How do you ask without sounding desperate? Without breaking whatever fragile understanding was born in that kiss?

Say it. Just ask him.

Levi reaches for the doorknob. Panic spikes in your chest—if you let him go now, you'll spend the night staring at the ceiling, feeling the absence of him beside you. Before you can think twice, you reach out, fingers catching around his wrist.

His hand stills on the knob. Slowly, he turns back, brows drawn in that familiar mixture of suspicion and curiosity.

You swallow hard, pulse hammering in your ears. "...Stay." The word comes out softer than you intended, barely above a whisper.

For a long moment, he just looks at you, unreadable as ever. But his hand relaxes under your grip, and though he doesn't move closer yet, he doesn't pull away either.

For a moment, the silence stretches between you, unbearable. You half-expect him to pull away, to mutter something about you needing rest, to vanish into the shadows.

But he doesn't.

Levi exhales through his nose, quiet, measured, and then lets his hand slip from the doorknob. Your heart stutters. He turns back fully, looking at you with a gaze that feels heavier than words. "Tch," he mutters, as though chastising himself. Then, softer, "okay."

You release his wrist, but your hand lingers a moment longer than it should, reluctant to let go. He notices—of course he notices—but he doesn't comment. Instead, he pulls the chair back with one hand, only to pause. His eyes flicker to the bed, then back to you, a faint crease forming between his brows.

"You're gonna keep staring at me until morning if I sit there, aren't you?"

You bite your lip, caught. "...Probably."

Something shifts in his expression—an almost-smile, there and gone. With the faintest sigh, Levi sets the chair aside. He crosses the room and sits carefully on the edge of the bed, leaving enough space between you that it almost aches. He doesn't lie down, not yet, but the closeness is enough to soothe the ache that's been gnawing at you since he tried to walk away.

Your heart pounds as you shift under the blankets. The thought thrums again: We're married. He kissed me.

The words you want to say lodge in your throat, tangled up in fear and longing. Instead, you let the silence speak for you, inching just slightly closer until the fabric of your sleeve brushes against his. He doesn't move away.

His eyes remain on the floor, but his hand, resting loosely on his knee, twitches once, like he's resisting the urge to reach for you.

"Get some sleep," he says finally, though his voice is softer than before. Almost tender. "I'll be here."

You swallow hard, pulse thrumming in your ears. He's sitting so close now, solid and steady, and the thought of him spending the night upright on the edge of the mattress suddenly feels unbearable.

"You don't have to sit like that all night," you murmur. "There's plenty of room in this giant-ass bed."

Levi's head turns just enough for his eyes to catch yours, sharp even in the dim light. "Tch. That's not the point."

"Then what is the point?" you press softly, braver than you feel. "We've shared fire pits, cabins, even horses for a week straight. What makes this different?"

He doesn't answer right away. His gaze flickers over you, quick but lingering at your face, your lips. His jaw works, tension coiled tight, and you can tell he's fighting himself.

Finally, with a sigh that sounds almost like surrender, he moves. You hear him shrug off his coat. Boots thud softly against the floor as he tows them off, then he shifts fully, pulling back the covers with a stiffness that betrays his unease. He lies down beside you, his posture rigid, as though he's bracing for battle rather than sleep.

"You happy now?" he mutters, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

You smile into the dark, unable to help it. "Getting there."

A long silence settles, broken only by your breathing—yours uneven, his steady but tight. Finally, you edge closer, slow enough that he has time to pull away if he wants. When your shoulder brushes his, his muscles tense for a heartbeat... then loosen. He doesn't move.

Your chest feels warm, achy, like something too big to hold. "Thank you," you whisper.

Levi exhales, low and almost resigned, but his voice is quiet when it comes. "Get some sleep. I said I'd stay."

But the faintest brush of his fingers against yours beneath the blanket betrays him—the tiniest touch, but enough to make your heart leap.

The faint brush of Levi's fingers lingers, uncertain, but you take the risk. Slowly, you turn your palm until it meets his, threading your fingers through his like it's the most natural thing in the world.

His hand stiffens for a second—then relaxes, his thumb resting carefully against yours. You can feel the warmth of him even through the thin barrier of your nerves, and it's grounding in a way you didn't realize you needed.

You shift, inching closer until your head finds his shoulder. Levi doesn't push you away. He just exhales, a long, quiet breath, and after a pause he adjusts—just slightly—so that you settle more comfortably against him.

The tension drains out of your body all at once, leaving you heavy, drowsy. The scent of smoke and steel and something distinctly him fills your lungs, and your eyelids grow impossibly heavy.

Levi stays very still, like he's afraid to move, but his hand stays clasped with yours, thumb tracing the edge of your knuckle in the tiniest absent motion. He tilts his head down once, eyes half-lidded, and lets himself look at you—really look at you, peaceful for the first time since this nightmare began.

His chest rises and falls slow, steady, and without meaning to, you mirror it.

The world outside could burn, kingdoms could rise or fall, but right here, for tonight, you're safe.

Together.

By the time sleep claims you, Levi's arm has shifted just enough to curl around your shoulders, drawing you closer. His chin rests lightly against the crown of your head, and though he doesn't sleep often, not easily—tonight, with you pressed to his side, his eyes finally drift shut.

Chapter Text

You awake to a squealing Hange.

You shoot up from the covers, meeting her gaze, and then your eyes drift to the now-empty side of your bed. Your companion's gone, but he forgot his coat. It's hanging on the bedframe.

Hange's now invading your personal space. "TELL. ME. EVERYTHING!"

You cover your ears and try to blink the sleep from your eyes. "My first decree as Queen is going to be outlawing shouting anytime before 9 AM."

Hange dances on her feet and changes her tone to a whisper-yell. "You had a sleepover with the prince!"

"King," you correct her as you start to slide out of the covers, "and nothing happened. He just stayed here while I fell asleep. And you know, we are married, so that's not exactly a scandal..."

It's Nanaba that comes through the door next. "What is all this yelling? Oh." She spots the coat, then flashes you a smirk and two thumbs-up.

You roll your eyes. "Please, tell me I'm just dreaming..."

Isabel's next, and Hange's screaming seems to somehow get louder as they jump around together, holding hands.

"I think you guys are taking years off of my life." Rico says as she and Petra arrive. Petra gingerly closes the door and takes notice of the object of everyone's attention.

"Oh, how cute!" She says, clasping her hands together. "Love is in the air!"

Rico places a hand on your shoulder, then moves to smooth your bedsheets back into place. Hange helps her, moving automatically as her eyes are still locked on you.

You remind your maids that nothing happened last night as they chatter away, dressing you for your day.

Hange scoops up Levi's coat and disappears from your room. She walks through the hall, wearing a mischievous grin on her face as she makes her way toward Levi's chambers.

When she knocks on his door, he swings it open immediately.

"Oh, it's you." He says, starting to close the door, but she blocks it.

"Rude!" She retorts, pushing past him into his room, taking notice of the damage caused in this wing. Her lady's room had been spotless, but this... she was honestly surprised Levi could stand being in here.

"What do you want, glasses?"

A smile curls on her face. "You forgot something..." She dangles the coat in her arms in front of him.

He snatches it from her, causing her to jump a little bit.

"Uh, you're welcome?" She says.

Levi responds with a glare.

Hange rocks on her heels, somehow at a loss for words - not a common occurrence for her. "Okay, okay, don't bite my head off," she says, raising her hands. "I just came to return your coat. And maybe..." She leans against the wall, grin widening. "...ask how the princess is doing this morning."

Levi pulls the coat on, deliberately avoiding her gaze. "She's alive. That's all that matters."

Hange narrows her eyes, tilting her head. "Alive, sure. But she looked pretty comfortable with you last night. Cozy, even."

Levi freezes mid-adjustment of his sleeve. His jaw tightens. "...You were spying?"

"Don't flatter yourself." Hange waves a hand dismissively. "But word gets around when the bride and groom finally stop acting like ice and flint striking sparks. Took you long enough."

Levi's glare sharpens, but it's undermined by the faintest trace of color brushing his ears. "Nothing happened."

"Ohhh, really?" Hange presses, eyes gleaming. "Because she looked a little flushed when she told her maids 'nothing happened.'" She makes exaggerated quotation marks with her fingers.

Levi pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath.

"What was that?" Hange sing-songs, leaning in.

"I said drop it." His voice is flat, but not as sharp as usual—more defensive than cutting.

Hange studies him for a long moment, her grin softening into something closer to genuine curiosity. "You care about her, don't you? More than you're willing to admit."

Levi's eyes flick up, briefly meeting hers. For once, he doesn't immediately deny it. Doesn't deflect. He just shrugs, a quiet, stubborn motion, and mutters, "Doesn't matter what I feel. What matters is she's not dead and we still have a functional royal family."

Hange folds her arms, watching him like she's just caught him with his hand in the cookie jar. "Doesn't matter, huh? That's a load of crap and you know it."

Levi pulls his coat tighter, avoiding her gaze. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, please." Hange rolls her eyes so dramatically it's a wonder they don't fall out of her head. "You've been glued to her side for over a week. Nanaba told me you carried her out of the palace fire, and don't think I don't notice the way you look at her."

Levi's lips press into a thin line.

"Levi." Hange's tone softens suddenly, sharper wit sliding into something more earnest. "I've known you for years. You don't look at anyone like that. Not me, not Erwin, not anyone. But you look at her like—" she pauses, searching for the word. "Like you'd burn the whole damn world if it meant keeping her breathing."

The muscle in Levi's jaw ticks. He finally lifts his eyes, meeting hers, and there's something raw there—unshielded, unguarded. "And what good would it do to admit that? You think that'll keep her safe? That'll stop anyone from coming after her? From using her against me?"

Hange leans closer, lowering her voice. "I think pretending you don't care is the worst mistake you could make. She's not stupid, Levi. She feels it too. And if you keep bottling it up, you're just gonna hurt her more."

Levi exhales through his nose, long and slow, as though the weight of her words is pressing down on him. His fingers twitch against his sleeve before finally stilling.

"...I kissed her." His voice is barely above a whisper, as though saying it aloud might undo the fragile moment. His eyes flicker away almost immediately, as if ashamed. "I shouldn't have. She almost died and I— I just needed to know she was still there. That she was real."

Hange's grin stretches ear to ear, though she keeps her tone quiet. "So it did happen."

"Shut up." His voice is rough, but his shoulders sag like he's surrendered something heavy.

"Don't worry." Hange pats his arm, surprisingly gentle. "Your secret's safe with me. For now. But for the record?" She smirks. "About damn time."

Levi glares, but there's no fire left in it. Just exhaustion, and beneath it, the faintest flicker of hope.

Hange finally drifts toward the door, still grinning like she knows a secret she'll never let him live down.

"Get some rest, Levi," she chirps, stepping into the hall. "And maybe, I dunno, try smiling once in a while. It won't kill you."

The door shuts behind her, blessed silence settling over the room. Levi exhales, scrubbing a hand down his face. Peace at last.

A knock sounds immediately.

Levi's head drops forward with a groan. "For fuck's sake..."

This time, when he yanks open the door, it's not Hange but Erwin. Straight-backed, as immaculate as a man could look after weeks of fighting, his sharp eyes scanning Levi before he even crosses the threshold.

"Busy?" Erwin asks mildly, already stepping inside like the answer doesn't matter.

"Apparently not," Levi mutters, shutting the door harder than necessary. "First Hange, now you. Do I look like a tavern?"

Erwin doesn't rise to the bait, simply folding his arms. "I'm here because we don't have time to waste. You realize the longer the South goes without a coronation, the more unstable things become."

Levi slumps into the nearest chair, rubbing at his temples. "She nearly died the other night. Maybe give it a little bit before talking crowns and politics."

Erwin's gaze sharpens, though his voice remains calm. "Levi. As much as I'd like to ignore it, you know we can't. The North hasn't fallen quiet. Kenny's death won't erase the men he commanded, and already there are whispers about fractures in the South's nobility. Without a coronation, those whispers will become riots. Whoever sits on that throne needs to do it soon—or everything we've fought for will unravel."

Levi doesn't answer right away. His eyes drift toward the window, out to the city where smoke still curls faintly on the horizon. His fingers tighten against the chair's arms.

Finally, he mutters, "So you want me to shove her out there, half-healed, so vultures can tear her apart?"

"She's stronger than you give her credit for," Erwin says, quietly but firmly. "And if you're serious about protecting her, you'll let her stand where she belongs. Beside you. As queen."

The words hang heavy between them, heavier than any blade. Levi's jaw clenches, because as much as he wants to argue, some part of him knows Erwin's right.

"...Tch. I asked if I could get a break," he mutters finally, eyes closing as if to block out the truth pressing down on him.

But Erwin just lays a hand on his shoulder, steady, unyielding. "Not yet, old friend. Not yet."

Levi let out a long, slow breath through his nose, eyes still closed. "You don't pull your punches, do you?"

Erwin didn't move his hand from Levi's shoulder. "You wouldn't respect me if I did."

"Tch. Respect's overrated," Levi muttered, shrugging the weight of Erwin's grip away. He leaned forward in the chair, elbows digging into his knees, staring at the cracks in the stone floor as though they had the answers.

He hated this part—the politics, the parades, the titles. It was all posturing, the kind of pomp and spectacle he'd spent his whole life despising. But when he thought of her, standing alone before the wolves of court, his gut twisted. She was brave, yes. Stronger than most. But he still hated the idea of forcing her into it so soon after everything.

"...Fine," he muttered at last. "I'll talk to her. Tonight."

Erwin's brows lifted, the faintest approval in his gaze. "Good. She'll need to hear it from you, not from me—or anyone else. She'll trust you."

Levi scoffed. "Trust, huh? She'll probably think I'm just pushing her into a cage."

"She'll know the difference," Erwin said firmly. "The two of you didn't survive all this just to doubt each other now."

Levi looked away, jaw tight.

The door creaked open as Erwin prepared to leave, his voice steady but not unkind. "You've always been quick with a blade, Levi. Now you'll need to be quick with honesty."

And then he was gone, leaving Levi in the dim silence of his chamber, the faint smell of smoke still lingering. Levi sat there a long time, unmoving, until at last he dragged a hand through his hair and muttered, "Shit."

Because Erwin was right. He'd have to tell you. Tonight.

~

The evening crept in with heavy shadows, the palace corridors hushed after a long day of repairs and whispers. You were seated by the window in your chambers, a book open in your lap but unread, your thoughts too loud to let the words sink in.

A knock broke the silence. Not soft this time, but firm—measured. You knew it was him before you even spoke.

"Come in."

Levi stepped through, coat in place, expression as unreadable as ever. But the way he hovered just inside the doorway, the way his eyes flicked from you to the floor and back again—something about him looked... unsettled.

You closed the book, setting it aside. "You look like you're about to sentence me to death."

He exhaled through his nose, almost a laugh, but it came out heavier than that. "Not quite."

You raised a brow, but didn't move as he pulled the chair from earlier closer, lowering himself into it. His elbows rested on his knees, hands clasped tight, like he was bracing for impact.

"There's something we need to talk about."

Your stomach dipped. "That sounds ominous."

His gaze finally locked on yours, sharp, unflinching. "The coronation."

The word hung in the air like a stone. You swallowed, waiting.

Levi's jaw flexed, but his voice stayed even. "Erwin's right. We can't keep putting it off. The North's still restless, soldiers are scattered, and the court down here is getting impatient. If we don't make it official soon—" He broke off, his hands curling into fists before he forced them to loosen again. "If we don't, someone else is going to try to claim the throne for themselves. And I'm not letting that happen. Not to you. Not after all this."

Your heart hammered, torn between dread and warmth at his words. He was doing this for the kingdom, yes, but also for you.

"...And what about you?" you asked softly. "Do you even want a coronation?"

Levi blinked, as if the thought hadn't been allowed to surface until you voiced it. His lips pressed into a thin line. "...Doesn't matter what I want. It's what needs to happen."

You searched his face, the honesty there under the steel. And for the first time, you realized—he was scared, too. Scared of what came next.

You leaned forward, elbows resting on your knees to mirror him, refusing to let him bury himself behind clipped answers and tight shoulders.

"It does matter," you said firmly. "You matter, Levi. If you're going to stand up there with me and rule, I need to know what you feel about it. Not just what's convenient for the kingdom."

His gaze flicked away, to the firelight dancing low in the hearth. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, with a sigh that sounded like it'd been clawing at his chest for years, he finally spoke.

"...I don't want it." His voice was low, gravel edged. "The crown, the throne, the politics—all of it. I never wanted it. All I've ever done is fight and try to keep the people I care about alive. That's it."

Your throat tightened. "Then why—"

"Because." His eyes snapped back to yours, sharp and raw at the same time. "Because if it's not me, it'll be someone worse. Someone who won't protect them. Who won't protect you."

Your breath caught.

His hands flexed against his knees, knuckles whitening. "I'm not my father. I'm not a king. I don't know how to give speeches or charm nobles or smile when I hate every second of it. Half the time I'm not even sure I deserve to sit next to you." His jaw worked, as if forcing the words out cost him. "But I'll do it anyway. I'll do it because you need me. Because if I can keep this place from falling apart—and keep you safe while I'm at it—then I'll wear the damned crown."

The silence after was deafening, the kind that made every heartbeat sound like thunder in your ears.

You reached across the space, your hand settling over his clenched fist. His skin was warm, still faintly buzzing with that inner fire you'd come to know.

"I don't need a king, Levi," you whispered. "I need you. And if you're by my side, I can handle the rest. We can handle it together."

Something cracked in his expression then, so slight you almost missed it—the barest tremor in his brow, the flicker of relief in his eyes.

For once, Levi didn't pull away. He let your hand anchor his, his fingers curling slowly around yours.

Levi's hand tightened around yours, his thumb brushing once—hesitant, deliberate—before he let out a low breath. His voice was rougher now, stripped bare of all the clipped edges he usually hid behind.

"You don't get it," he muttered. "This isn't just about crowns or palaces or keeping you safe. It stopped being about duty the second you—" He cut himself off, jaw clenching, as if the words themselves were a battlefield he wasn't sure he could cross.

You leaned closer, eyes locked on his, refusing to let him retreat. "The second I what?"

His chest rose and fell sharply. And then, like the snap of a blade being drawn, he finally said it:

"The second I started falling for you."

The fire cracked loudly in the hearth, filling the silence that followed. Levi didn't look away this time—he held your gaze like it was the only thing tethering him. "I tried to ignore it. Told myself it was just circumstance, that I was doing what I had to. But the truth is..." He swallowed, eyes dark, burning. "I don't just want to protect you. I want you. All of you. And it scares the hell out of me."

Your breath hitched, heart pounding so hard you swore he must hear it. His grip on your hand was firm now, steady, as though he feared you might pull away.

You didn't.

You squeezed back, the corner of your mouth trembling into the faintest smile. "Then stop being scared," you whispered. "Because I feel the same."

Something shifted in him then, so subtle but so profound—a softening, a release of the tension that had been carved into his very bones. Slowly, carefully, like he wasn't sure he had the right, he leaned in until your foreheads touched.

The world outside ceased to exist. No palace, no crown, no war—just the warmth of his breath mingling with yours, the weight of his confession, and the inevitability of what came next.

When his lips found yours, it wasn't tentative this time. It was sure, reverent, the kiss of a man who'd finally let himself want.

Your lips barely parted before his tongue brushed yours, cautious at first, testing the waters, before he deepened the kiss. It was slow, deliberate, and all-consuming—like every ounce of restraint he'd held for weeks was unraveling in that single motion.

Your hands went to his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath his coat, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat sync with yours. His hands slid up your sides, tentative at first, then firmer, pressing you closer against him, as if he couldn't bear the distance anymore.

Levi's lips trailed down to your jaw, then your neck, each touch teasing, claiming. His breath hitched against your skin, low and rough, and the way his hands gripped your waist made it impossible to think, impossible to stop yourself from leaning into him, giving him everything he dared to take.

A shiver ran through you as he pulled back just slightly, forehead resting against yours, both of you gasping softly. "I've wanted this," he murmured, voice husky, almost pained. "More than I... should have."

You smiled against him, fingers tangling in the back of his hair. "Good thing I feel the same."

And then he kissed you again, deeper, hungrier this time, a kiss that promised fire and frost and everything in between.

When you finally broke apart, you were both breathless, flushed, and shivering from the heat of him, the closeness, the confession still hanging heavy between you. But for the first time in weeks, maybe months, you felt untouchable. Together, untouchable, and free.

Levi pressed a final lingering kiss to your forehead, muttering, "We'll figure the rest out later."

You only grinned, tugging him down beside you. "Later can wait."

And for the first time in a long time, he let himself stay. Right there.

Chapter Text

A few months later.

The day had come.

The morning sun poured through the high windows of your chambers, casting a warm glow on the carefully prepared room. Today was the day—the coronation—and your nerves fluttered like wings in your chest.

You dressed in a gown inspired by the northern traditions, the heavy fabric layered and embroidered with subtle silver thread that caught the light. It was a dress you would have worn back home, strong and practical in design, yet elegant enough for the occasion. To you, it felt right. If this day was to symbolize the union of the North and South, then you would honor yourself and your roots.

Levi entered quietly, his usual black attire replaced with the ornate southern style. Deep blues and golds framed him, sharp tailoring hugging his shoulders and chest. The uniform carried the weight of authority, each detail speaking of power and refinement, of a man born to lead. And yet, even with the gold embroidery and polished boots, there was no mistaking the Levi you knew—the same precise movements, the same controlled presence.

You found your breath catching slightly. He looked... regal. Commanding. Every inch the prince of the South, yet still unmistakably Levi.

He offered you a brief, almost shy nod. "We do this together," he said, voice low, meant only for you.

You returned the nod, fingertips brushing his hand. "Together," you echoed, the warmth in your chest spreading.

Beyond the doors, the palace hummed with preparation: courtiers arranging banners, guards standing at attention, and citizens already gathering outside, their whispers rising in anticipation. The day had arrived, and you and Levi would step into it side by side—symbols not only of a united kingdom but of a bond forged in fire, ice, and unshakable trust.

As you both adjusted to the weight of expectation, your hands intertwined, you realized that no matter what came next, you weren't alone. The coronation was about to begin.

The grand doors of the palace opened, and the sunlight flooded the marble hall, catching the silver threads of your northern gown and making them gleam like ice. You walked beside Levi, each step measured, heart hammering with both excitement and nerves.

The crowd fell silent as you entered. Nobles, soldiers, and citizens alike turned to watch the two of you—the symbol of unity between North and South standing at the threshold. The banners of both kingdoms hung proudly along the walls, red and blue weaving together like a promise. The walls were almost a promise of themselves - after all that destruction caused by Kenny, the last few months had been spent repairing the palace.

The officiant stepped forward, robes flowing, and began the ritual words of joining the kingdoms. The speech was formal, filled with hopes of peace and prosperity, though your mind wandered to the months you had endured—the wars, the betrayals, the magic that had awoken in both you and Levi. Somehow, all of that had led to this moment.

Levi's hand brushed yours lightly, a grounding touch that reminded you he was there. You squeezed it back, and he offered the faintest of smiles, so small you almost missed it—but it made your chest tighten.

As the officiant finished the ceremonial blessings, a trumpet fanfare cut through the hall. Your eyes widened, and you instinctively looked toward the source of the sound. Northern soldiers suddenly burst through the doors, their armor glinting, weapons drawn. Chaos erupted in the hall.

Again?

Levi's eyes narrowed, flames licking faintly at his fingertips, and he moved instinctively to shield you. The soldiers hesitated, caught off guard by the sudden magical display. You didn't wait—ice formed along your fingertips, ready to defend, to distract, to protect the unity this day represented.

"Stay behind me," Levi whispered, eyes locking with yours, calm but fierce.

The ceremony, the crowd, the grandeur—all of it faded into the blur of action and survival. Together, side by side, you had become more than symbols. You were a force.

Even in the chaos, his presence was a tether, a reminder that despite the trials and the dangers, you weren't alone.

The scene in the hall was eerily familiar—soldiers storming through doors, a flurry of movement, shouts echoing off the marble. Your pulse quickened, a memory of the wedding day flooding back: the fear, the confusion, the helplessness as Northern soldiers burst in and Kenny had taken control.

But this time, it was different.

The Northern forces were disorganized, their attacks sloppy without a leader to coordinate them. Unlike that fateful day, they hesitated, stumbled, collided into one another.

A flick of your wrist sent a sharp spear of ice spinning across the hall, cutting a clear path toward the front of the crowd. Levi's flames arced alongside it, a wall of fire that corralled the attackers, forcing them into defensive stances.

"Keep them off balance!" Levi called, voice steady but urgent.

You danced through the hall, ice forming around your dagger tips, creating barriers, pinning soldiers' weapons, giving Levi room to move. You caught glimpses of him in motion, each step measured, each swing of his blade precise, his flames controlled and calculated.

It felt almost like a mirror of that wedding day—the chaos, the fear, the need to protect—but this time, you weren't powerless. You weren't just running away; you were a team, anticipating each other's moves. You had tricks now, instincts honed through the trials in the mountains, through battles fought side by side.

The Northern soldiers faltered under your combined assault, confusion spreading faster than fear. You could see them exchanging nervous glances, realizing their usual tactics weren't working.

Levi shoved one soldier into the ground, and another rushed you. Before you could lift your hand, Levi's blade flashed, dropping the man at your feet.

"Hey, I had that one!" you protested.

"Not fast enough," Levi snapped, eyes already scanning for the next threat.

You grinned, letting the ice flow around your hands, freezing door hinges and scattering weapons, while Levi pressed forward, flames carving safe lanes through the hall. Together, you were unstoppable—not just symbols of unity now, but a living, breathing force. And it was fun.

For the first time, you didn't feel fear. You felt powerful. And with Levi by your side, nothing could stop you.

It didn't take long. Within minutes, the hall that had erupted in chaos was silent again. The Northern soldiers—those who weren't unconscious—were forced to their knees, surrendering as the Southern guard swept in to bind them. The remnants of your ice still glittered across the marble floor, a frozen line of defense that had stopped more than one blade. Flames smoldered along the edges of the walls, fading to embers as Levi lowered his hand.

The two of you stood in the center of it all—back to back, breathing hard, yet unshaken.

Slowly, the murmur of the court began again. Whispers, awed glances, the distant sound of the crowd outside still chanting for their new king and queen.

You raised your chin, the crown of the North heavy in your braids, your gown still shimmering faintly with frost. This was not your wedding day. There was no fear hollowing your chest, no doubt about whether you belonged here. You had proven it with every shard of ice, every strike of your dagger.

Levi extinguished the last flame with a sweep of his hand, his face set but calm. His once-pristine Southern attire was marked now with streaks of soot, but still he looked every bit the sovereign. Regal. Commanding. A leader the South could rally behind.

Your eyes met across the space, and something unspoken passed between you. A promise, perhaps. Or simply the relief of knowing you had survived again—together.

"Are we clear?" Levi's voice cut into the hush, sharp and steady.

Erwin stepped forward from the crowd, his cloak of green and white immaculate even in the smoke. "Clear. For now." He glanced between the two of you, his expression unreadable but approving.

The silence stretched until the southern herald, brave enough to resume his duties, raised his voice once more. "Presenting—their Majesties."

The crowd outside roared as the doors were reopened, the people demanding the moment that had almost been stolen.

This time, though, as you turned toward the dais, as Levi took his place at your side, there was no fear twisting in your stomach. The North and South were watching. And they would see strength—two kingdoms bound not by circumstance, but by choice.

Together, you stepped forward, the coronation ready to continue.

The herald's voice carried over the throng of people packed into the grand hall and spilling out into the courtyard beyond. "Presenting Their Majesties—Levi Ackerman of the South, and (Y/N) (L/N) of the North—King and Queen of the Unified Kingdoms!"

The roar of the people surged again, rattling the walls. It was not the polite applause of your wedding day, stifled by doubt and suspicion. This was thunderous, alive, desperate for unity after years of fracture. These people just watched you protect them. They believed in you.

You stood tall, your gown of Northern cut and design flowing like water behind you, ice-thread embroidery glinting in the torchlight. A deliberate choice—your people's choice, carried with you into this palace of marble and fire. Levi at your side was the opposite: clothed in the deep blue and gold of the Southern court, the fitted lines of his ceremonial tunic cut perfectly to his frame, the rich mantle draped over his shoulders. He looked nothing like the man of casual black you'd first seen—but every bit a king.

The two of you walked the length of the aisle together, not pulled apart this time, not forced into separate roles or pitted against one another. Each step was deliberate, echoing across the marble, the crowd parting like a tide. You felt the weight of every gaze—Northerner, Southerner, noble, soldier—but this time you didn't falter.

At the dais, the High Priest of the South waited, robed in crimson and gold, flanked by aides who carried the twin crowns. Beside him, Erwin and Nanaba stood with quiet strength, their presence more reassurance than formality.

The High Priest spoke first, his voice heavy with tradition. "For centuries, the North and South have bled, divided by grief, by pride, by fear. Today, that division ends. Today, we see not two kingdoms—but one."

You inhaled deeply, steadying yourself. The crown of the North was brought forward—a delicate circlet of silver set with tiny shards of ice-blue crystal, shaped to mimic the jagged lines of your homeland's cliffs. It was your mother's crown. Levi took it in his hands. It matched beautifully with that silver ring from your father- which you couldn't ignore never left Levi's hand since you gave it to him. Since it was loose, he had moved it to his thumb. For a moment, your eyes locked. His touch lingered at the base of your braids as he lowered it onto your head.

The weight settled instantly, both grounding and lifting you. A strange warmth bloomed in your chest—pride, perhaps, or the echo of your father's wish, carried all the way here.

Then it was your turn. The Southern crown was presented—taller, heavier, gold lined with rubies. You took it carefully, fingers brushing over the cool metal, and stepped toward Levi. He knelt slightly, just enough to meet you. For a man so guarded, so immovable, the sight nearly undid you. You lowered the crown onto his dark hair, watching as it caught the light, glinting with fire.

When he rose, he didn't step away. He stayed close.

"King Levi and Queen Y/N," the High Priest declared, his voice carrying like a strike of thunder. "By frost and flame, by oath and blood, we crown you the sovereigns of this unified land."

The hall erupted. Cheers rose, echoing into the streets beyond. The people shouted your names together, over and over, the sound shaking you to your bones.

And yet, as deafening as it was, all you could hear for a moment was Levi, low at your side.

"You did it," he murmured, so quietly only you could hear.

You turned your head, crown gleaming, eyes meeting his. "We did it."

And for the first time, it felt true. Not a farce, not survival, not chance. But choice. Your choice.

The crowd's roar still echoed in your bones as the great doors of the throne room closed behind you, muffling the noise. The cheers became a distant hum, like waves against cliffs far away. You inhaled deeply, shoulders sagging now that the eyes of thousands were no longer fixed on you.

You were finally alone.

Levi walked beside you in silence, his new crown still perched atop his head. He tugged lightly at the edge of his ceremonial mantle as though it were strangling him. You almost laughed—he looked like royalty incarnate, but still, he was Levi.

The corridor was empty, lit only by tall windows spilling late daylight across the stone floor. When you finally reached a small chamber off the hall—your chamber—Levi shut the door behind you with a muted thud.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You leaned against the wall, the cool stone grounding you. The crown weighed heavy, your neck aching beneath it, but you hadn't yet found the strength to take it off.

Levi finally exhaled, almost a scoff. "Never thought I'd hear my name shouted like that," he muttered, loosening the clasp of his mantle. He pulled it off in one swift motion, draping it over a chair without care.

"They weren't just shouting your name," you said softly. "They were shouting mine, too. Ours. Together."

He paused, glancing at you. Something flickered across his face—something softer than his usual guarded stare. "Yeah," he said finally. His voice was low, steady. "Together."

You let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. "Do you remember our wedding?" you asked, lips quirking faintly.

Levi gave you a sharp look. "How could I forget?"

"It was nothing like this," you continued, pushing away from the wall. "The nobles wouldn't even look at me. The people didn't cheer—they whispered. I felt like... like I was being buried alive."

Levi's jaw tightened, but he didn't interrupt.

"But today," you said, stepping closer to him, lowering your voice. "Today, I felt like I was supported. Like they actually accepted me. And I know I don't really need to care about what other people think, but... it's still nice."

Levi's gaze lingered on you, steady and unreadable. But when he spoke, his voice carried a rough edge, like he was forcing the words out. "That's because this time wasn't just a performance." His hand flexed at his side. "It wasn't a tool for someone else's scheme. This time, it was real."

Your heart jolted at the admission. Slowly, almost hesitantly, you reached up to lift the crown from your head, setting it gently onto the table nearby. Freed of its weight, you looked at him—really looked at him, the man you had nearly lost in firelight, the man who had kissed you in desperation, the man who had just crowned you his queen.

You took a step closer. He didn't move back.

"Then maybe it's time we stop pretending when it's just us," you whispered.

Levi's eyes darkened, his breath catching faintly, but he didn't look away. For the first time since the ceremony, his hand moved—slowly, carefully—finding yours, his calloused fingers brushing over your palm.

"Maybe," he murmured.

Levi's hand was warm in yours, his grip firmer now as if anchoring you after the storm of voices and ceremony. For a long moment, neither of you spoke—the silence heavy, but not suffocating. The kind of quiet that felt earned.

"You look different," you said softly, searching his face.

He arched a brow. "That's what happens when you stick a crown on my head."

You gave a small laugh, the tension loosening in your chest. "Not just that. You looked... regal." You let the word linger, savoring the truth of it. "Like you belonged up there."

Levi snorted under his breath, but his gaze didn't leave yours. "If I belonged anywhere today, it was next to you."

Your heart fluttered—dangerously, recklessly—and you reached up, brushing your fingers along his cheek. He didn't flinch. Instead, he leaned ever so slightly into your touch, his eyes closing for a fleeting second before opening again, sharper, softer all at once.

And then he closed the distance.

His lips met yours without hesitation this time—no fleeting brush, no second-guessing. Just warmth and certainty, a promise sealed in fire and frost alike. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer, and you melted into him, the weight of the crown and the throne and the kingdoms momentarily forgotten.

When you finally parted, your foreheads rested together, breaths mingling in the hush of the chamber.

"Levi..." your voice trembled, but not from fear.

His hands tightened slightly at your sides. "What?"

You smiled against his lips, your heart swelling. "I think I could get used to this."

Levi's mouth quirked—almost a smile, almost a laugh—but softer than either. "Tch. Took you long enough."

You laughed, muffled against his chest, as he held you like he'd never let go.

Levi's kiss lingered this time, a slow drag of lips that made your pulse spike. It wasn't desperate, wasn't rushed—just deliberate. Like he was memorizing you. When he finally pulled back, your breath caught, his mouth hovering so close that it would've taken nothing to close the space again.

"Careful," you whispered, your hands still clutching the front of his jacket. "If you keep kissing me like that, I might start believing you actually like me."

His eyes flickered, narrowing slightly, though the flush at his ears betrayed him. "Idiot," he muttered. But his voice wasn't sharp—it was low, husky, like gravel smoothed by fire. "If I didn't like you, I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't..." He trailed off, jaw tightening, like the next words were fighting him.

You tilted your head, searching him, refusing to let him retreat. "Wouldn't what?"

Levi exhaled hard through his nose, eyes locked on yours. "Wouldn't care if you nearly got yourself killed. Wouldn't lose sleep over the thought of you not waking up. Wouldn't..." His hands twitched at your waist, pulling you fractionally closer. "...Wouldn't be kissing you like a damn fool right now."

Your chest ached at the raw honesty buried in his gruffness. You reached up, brushing your thumb along his cheekbone. "Levi..."

His gaze dropped briefly to your lips, then back up to your eyes. Something in him shifted—walls he'd been holding for too long crumbling under the weight of everything you'd both endured. His voice cracked slightly, but the words came out anyway, unpolished, unguarded.

"I tried not to. Hell, I told myself I wouldn't. But I can't keep pretending that I don't..." He stopped, swallowed, then said it, quiet but certain: "I love you."

The world seemed to stop spinning. Your breath hitched, your hand tightening against his jaw as if to anchor yourself in the moment.

"Say it again," you whispered, almost pleading.

His lips brushed yours again, the barest ghost of a kiss. "I love you," he repeated, firmer this time, the words trembling but real.

And this time, when you kissed him, it was fire meeting frost, fierce and unyielding, like you'd both been holding back far too long.

Your lips stayed on his, the heat of his confession still burning between you. When you finally pulled back, you didn't go far, your forehead resting against his. He was tense under your hands, like he half-expected you to laugh or push him away.

But instead, you cupped his face fully, forcing him to meet your eyes. "Levi," you breathed, your voice trembling—not with fear, but with the weight of what you were about to say. "I love you too."

For the first time since you'd met him, Levi looked completely undone. His eyes widened slightly, the breath catching in his throat as if he hadn't even let himself imagine hearing those words from you.

You smiled, watery but certain. "I don't care if it sounds reckless, or if the timing's terrible. I'm not going to wait to say it. I love you."

His hands tightened at your waist, pulling you closer with a sudden, fierce urgency, as though he needed to feel every word pressed into him. His lips found yours again—no hesitation this time, no restraint. Just raw, consuming relief.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead pressed to yours again, his voice was low, unsteady. "Tch... you couldn't have said that sooner? Would've saved me a hell of a lot of trouble."

You laughed, breathless, kissing him again just to shut him up.

Levi's kiss deepened, stealing the air from your lungs, grounding you in the heat of him. There was nothing careful in it now—nothing measured. His walls, the sharp edges and clipped tones that made him untouchable, were gone. What remained was a man starved of something he'd tried too long to deny himself.

Your fingers curled in his shirt, tugging him closer. The crown, the palace, the war, the blood—all of it slipped away until there was only this: his heartbeat hammering against yours, his warmth enveloping you like fire against your frost.

When you whispered his name, it came out softer than you meant, but it unraveled him. His mouth trailed to your jaw, then lower, and you gasped, tilting your head back as if offering yourself to the flame.

"My queen," he murmured against your skin, the words rough, almost reverent.

Your answer came in the way you pulled him with you, toward the bed, toward something inevitable.

The last thing you saw before the world blurred was his eyes—dark, intense, and burning with something you'd never seen in him before. Not just duty. Not just fire.

Love.

The night swallowed the rest.

~

Chapter Text

~Two years later.

The southern palace no longer carried the sting of smoke and war, its halls alive with the hum of rebuilding. Maps lay scattered across the long oak table, dotted with fresh ink and new notes.

Erwin's hand rested on one corner of the parchment, his expression as calm and unyielding as ever. "A quick summary... The northern roads are finally being reinforced," he said, voice steady. "Trade has begun again in three provinces, and food supply has tripled since last winter. Families are returning to villages that were once abandoned."

You leaned back in your chair, exhaling softly. It still felt surreal, to hear the words spoken aloud. Just over two years ago, the North had been starving under Kenny's grip, entire towns left to rot. Now... hope was seeping back into those lands, steady and undeniable.

Your heart lifted at that. It was what you had wanted most: not just victory, but healing. You wanted the people to have faith in the royals again.

Levi's hand brushed against yours beneath the table, his thumb giving the faintest squeeze. Two years ago, that small gesture would've been unthinkable for him. Now it grounded you, reminded you that progress wasn't just in towns and borders—it was in people, too.

Erwin glanced between you both, a small, rare smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. "It's working. Slowly, maybe—but it's working."

"And how are your duties going, Commander?" You asked the blonde man.

The Wings of Freedom - which had once been a band of only four young people, has now been appointed the official guard of your great nation, and with Levi busy as King, Erwin was naturally set as your military commander.

Erwin's eyes softened, though his posture remained the same crisp military line. "The guard is strong," he replied, his voice carrying the kind of calm assurance that could silence a storm. "The Wings of Freedom are no longer just a name whispered among townspeople—they're the shield of this nation now. Members are volunteering from everywhere. North, south, male, female... Our numbers have grown exponentially, and every new soldier goes through training directly under Miche and Nanaba."

You couldn't help but smile at that. "They must love that," you teased, picturing Miche's stoic presence drilling recruits until they collapsed, Nanaba swooping in with her sharp wit and endless stamina.

Erwin chuckled, the sound quiet but real. "Love might not be the word the recruits would use," he admitted. "But they respect those two. And that's what matters."

Levi leaned back slightly in his chair, arms crossed, expression unreadable as always—but you caught the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth. Pride, though he'd never say it aloud.

"It's fitting," you said softly. "What started as four people fighting for something bigger... now it's protecting the entire nation."

Erwin's gaze met yours, steady, thoughtful. "It's only fitting because of you both," he said. "If you hadn't united the kingdoms—if you hadn't survived Kenny—the Wings of Freedom would still be shadows on the outskirts of power. You gave us purpose."

A hush fell over the table. Your eyes flickered to Levi's, and for a fleeting second you saw the same thought in his: purpose goes both ways.

But Levi broke the silence first. "Enough of the sentimental crap," he muttered, though he didn't entirely manage to mask the warmth in his tone. He flicked his eyes toward Erwin. "Just keep the recruits alive. I don't care how."

"Of course, Your Majesty," Erwin said smoothly, inclining his head, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.

You let out a breath, the air of the room lighter now, the weight of years of progress pressing in but no longer suffocating.

You folded your hands on the table. "And about the North?" you pressed, unable to keep the tension from your voice. "How are the supply chains holding up?"

Erwin leaned forward slightly, pulling a small ledger from his satchel. Always prepared. "Better than expected. Since the mines were reopened, trade has been steady. Food distribution was trickier—most of the fields were left barren under Kenny's reign—but with irrigation from the South and the livestock exchanges we negotiated last winter, the shortages have stabilized."

You exhaled slowly, some of the weight on your chest easing. The memories of villages starved and hollow still haunted you, and it had been your personal insistence that every outpost in the North receive priority aid.

Levi finally spoke, his voice low, deliberate. "And the dissenters?"

Erwin's jaw tightened. "There are still remnants. Pockets of resistance cling to the idea of independence, and some whisper loyalty to Kenny's memory. But without a leader, they lack direction. We've contained them with minimal bloodshed. Most of the North accepts your rule."

Your rule. The words always sat strangely in your ears. It wasn't your rule—it was a partnership, a fragile, hard-won unity between North and South. Still, you understood what Erwin meant. Symbols mattered.

"And the borderlands?" you asked. "The villages nearest to the mountain?"

Erwin allowed himself a small smile. "Rebuilding faster than anywhere else. Perhaps proximity to the mountain inspires them. Or perhaps the influx of resources convinces them faster than any speech ever could. Either way, they're thriving."

Levi shifted, elbows on the armrest of his chair, his sharp gaze pinning Erwin. "Good. Keep it that way. We didn't bleed for this kingdom to see it split in half again."

Erwin inclined his head. "Of course."

For a moment, silence stretched, the kind that carried not discomfort but the mutual understanding of shared responsibility. The nation had endured fire, blood, and betrayal, and yet here you sat—still building, still standing.

You leaned back in your chair, letting the final words of strategy and reports settle. The roads were rebuilt, the borders secure, the aid delivered. The once-fractured kingdoms had been stitched together with sweat, fire, frost, and unwavering resolve.

Erwin gave you a respectful nod, his ledger closed, the report complete. "That's the state of things, Your Majesties. The North is rebuilding. The South is stable. The people are being cared for. There's nothing left undone that we can handle from here."

Levi's sharp gaze softened slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing. "Then we focus on keeping it this way. No more surprises."

You allowed yourself a small smile, one that no longer carried the weight of uncertainty. "No more surprises," you echoed.

For the first time in what felt like years, the two of you could simply breathe. The kingdoms were safe. The people were safe. And the rest—well, the rest was yours to enjoy.

And somewhere, in the quiet corner of your heart, you already knew the next chapter of your life would be about more than politics.

~

The palace felt less like a fortress and more like a home. Sunlight spilled through the tall windows, catching on the polished floors and warm tapestries that now lined the halls. The echoes of war had faded, replaced by the quiet hum of daily life and laughter that Levi occasionally allowed himself to join.

You were in the morning light, brushing through your hair as Levi leaned casually against the doorframe, dressed not in ceremonial garb but in something simple, fitted, and distinctly him. He gave you a look that was all sharp edges softened by familiarity.

"You're up early," he muttered, voice still clipped but carrying a warmth he rarely allowed to show.

"Someone has to keep you from staying in here all day," you teased, smiling.

Levi's eyebrow quirked, the tiniest hint of amusement breaking through his usual stoic mask. "And you think that is your duty?"

You shrugged, tilting your head. "Among others." Your fingers brushed the sleeve of his coat, lingering a second too long. "Like reminding you to eat breakfast before you disappear into the council meetings again."

Levi's gaze softened, a rare flicker of affection in the depths of his dark eyes. "You're persistent," he said, almost as if marveling at the fact.

"And you like it," you shot back, grinning.

For a moment, silence stretched, comfortable and charged, as if the palace itself was holding its breath with you. Then Levi stepped closer, closing the distance just enough that you felt the warmth radiating from him. "Don't get used to this," he muttered, voice low, but his hands found yours with a firm, grounding hold.

"I already have," you whispered.

Levi's hand brushed your cheek, tentative at first, then with growing certainty. His lips found yours, slow and familiar, a kiss built on years of struggle, trust, and undeniable love. When he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, there was no pretense, no deflection—just him, and you, and the life you had carved out together.

"Finally," you murmured against his chest.

He let out a low, almost-gruff laugh. "Yeah. Finally."

The morning sun streamed in through the windows, warm and unrelenting, as if the world itself was blessing this quiet, perfect moment. Outside, the kingdoms were at peace. Inside, you and Levi were finally home.

And for the first time in a long time, everything felt right.

The two of you lingered in the quiet of the morning, Levi's hands still holding yours, neither of you rushing to break the closeness. His thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles, and you could feel the steady warmth of him seeping through, grounding you both.

You let your head rest against his chest, listening to the subtle rhythm of his heartbeat. "It's... nice," you whispered, "just being like this, no chaos, no danger."

Levi's lips pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice almost unreadable but carrying something tender. "I'm... not used to it either."

You tilted your head up to meet his eyes, finding that rare softness again, that fraction of Levi no one else saw. A playful smirk tugged at your lips. "You know... we've rebuilt kingdoms, fought battles, tamed mountains... maybe it's time to work on something a little smaller."

Levi raised an eyebrow. "Smaller?"

You smiled, a little shy now, warming to the thought. "Yeah... I mean... if it's something you want, I've been thinking about expanding our royal family..."

For a heartbeat, Levi said nothing, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, that stiff posture relaxed, his eyes softening further. "You really mean that?"

"I do," you said, nodding, heart fluttering in your chest. "I want that. I want... all of it—with you."

Levi's lips twitched, almost the hint of a smile. "Tch... you've got some nerve, suggesting that out loud."

"And you?" you teased lightly, "Do you... want it too?"

His gaze lingered, intense and unwavering. Then, with the faintest sigh, he leaned down, capturing your lips once more, longer this time, deliberate and sure. When he pulled back, he muttered, almost gruffly, "Yeah... Of course I do."

Your hands found his face, cradling him as you let the warmth of that confession settle around you both. Outside, the palace was alive with sunlight and a kingdom in peace—but inside, in this small, perfect bubble, your own little world was just beginning.

The sunlight poured through the windows, catching on the polished floors and warm tapestries, painting everything in gold. You leaned against Levi, hands entwined, hearts still echoing the quiet joy of the morning.

The kingdoms were safe, rebuilt, and thriving. The people were fed, protected, and hopeful. Wars were behind you. Chaos was behind you.

And here, in this small pocket of peace, the two of you could finally breathe, finally exist for yourselves, finally be together without the weight of the world pressing down.

Levi's fingers found yours, thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. "We made it," he murmured, voice low, steady, carrying all the unspoken words between you.

You smiled, pressing your forehead to his. "Yeah... we really did."

And for the first time in what felt like forever, everything was exactly as it should be.

The future was yours—together.

The End.