Rivaille x Reader: Estranged [4]

It had commenced with a kiss, but neither of you had anticipated the way it ended in the manner that it had. The memories of the disastrous path echoed briefly in the mind’s eye of Levi as he observed the young man before him, looking pale and the vitality he exuded long gone. A woman of decent complexion and a hair of red had nervously entered the room, handing her superior the desired documents he ordered and left without another word. A light breeze swayed the drapes and the nervous boy felt the light draft cool his nerves.


Weiss Wrage was, for all intent and purposes, a huge egotistical young man who loved showing off his acrobatic skills. However, in audience of the small man, who bored into his soul with appraising eyes, nearly made the silver blonde boy regress to the child he had been before joining the military. Which wasn’t too long ago, he left without saying a word. He sat uncomfortably in his seat, doing his best not to slouch as Levi leafed through some documents. It was customary to obtain a potential recruit’s background and history, but for the teen in question, very little was available. While Weiss did his best not to fidget, he observed the immaculate office, admiring the cleanliness. Upon closer inspection, the meticulous way of tidying that seemed to be done in the corporal’s room was reminiscent of the older woman back home who took over the orphanage. After a light clack of paper hitting against the desk in an attention grasping manner, Weiss sat erectly, bracing himself once the stern man leaned and rested his elbows on the oak desk.

Levi intertwined his hands, pressing his lips against an index finger. He spent a good minute to appraise the young Weiss who, having no more than two pages of background documentation, continued to pale under his scrutiny. The boy had come from an orphanage situated in Wall Rose. Child population in orphanages had skyrocketed after the assault on Wall Maria and it was rumored that the original owners in Rose had abandoned their establishment. After reading Wrage’s papers, he never realized he’d find the name of the guardian somewhat familiar. He couldn’t quite bring himself to believe it. The name was an alias, one he had known been used by someone in his previous line of work. It wasn’t the same alias, it was tweaked slightly, but Levi couldn’t assume the bearer was someone he once knew.  At least, he didn’t want too.

When the velvet skies finally faded to black, Levi switched on the oil lantern, without moving his sight from Weiss.

Once enough sweat had beaded down the boy’s temples, the corporal decided to break the silence then. When he spoke, he swore the boy had taken a huge breath of air.

“Weiss Wrage, can you tell me what you were doing earlier this afternoon?”

Weiss couldn’t help but to avert his gaze. An inclination only a child would do. Sometimes the corporal wondered if the age of 12 was too young to recruit, but the human species were dwindling. The force had no choice. He took back the documents and looked them over, already feeling Weiss’ eyes follow after his every movement.

Even though he pretty much memorized the contents by now, Levi pretended to peruse the papers, but really his attention lingered over the familiar name.

“I was practicing the art of climbing and jumping, sir,” Weiss finally said, after a hard swallow.

Levi withdrew the papers from his face, lowering it back down on his desk. It took a good fight to tear his eyes from the name.

“And where did you learn such an art?”

Weiss timidly looked away again. He answered Levi regardless. “Well, you see...” he took a moment to gather his thoughts. “A young woman taught me after I found her running up some walls one afternoon, holding a bag of, what I know now, were stolen goods and promised she’d teach me if I didn’t tell the owners.”

The muscles in Levi’s jaws tightened.

From behind the small field of light the lantern provided, the corporal’s dark eyes flickered with emotion. Thank the gods that Weiss Wrage was incapable of innately having the acumen of an adult at his age.  With a nod, he dismissed the recruit. When asked of punishment, Levi only shook his head, although it did prompt the boy a pleading.

“Why do you insist on a punishment?” Levi asked, surprised.

“I did something wrong, I clearly need punishment otherwise I won’t live myself with this... guilt.”

I guess she was very impressionable on Wrage, the dark-haired man thought. The memory amused him though his lips remained tight. “Fine, you can sweep every office,”

“Thank you, sir,” Weiss was about to close the door until his superior advised him to be thorough with his office. Or else.

“You took some time with that recruit,” Hanji noted when she entered five minutes after the boy had left. She looked away from the door and met her acquaintance’s eye, surprised to find an expression she had never seen. As a scientist, the woman had an eye for detecting any changes, even in her human counterparts. It was safe to say, anyone else other than the singular observer, would not have been able to detect their captain’s misted eyes.

“Was there something with the kid?” she asked.

He shrugged in a blasé manner, seemingly unperturbed by her inquiry and turned away towards the window.

“He reminded me of someone, is all,” And not another word was uttered from him that night. Other than urging Hanji to get the heck out, that is.

-----

The hand written text was illegible under the moon’s light, yet you stared at it as you played the sorrowful arias of a blade being sharpened. Flicks of hot motes jumped from the contact of steel against whetstone, steam crawling up the air and fading with the wind when it came. Moonlit caressed cheeks darkened under the stress when you placed further muscle into the tempering of an old sword from years previous.

This practice, you thought bitterly, was not the same when the people who knew the sign were gone. It felt like a futile effort for no one joined. At one point the sharpening of the blades was to honor the death of a fallen girl you had never known. Overtime it had grown to be of habit and whenever the men were in the gloom, they would head out back and play the screeched song of the damned. It occurred only when the emotions were at its depths. The practice was not often, but when it happened, everyone typically joined. Except for him. He had a different manner in dealing with pain. It had come into the form of cleaning.

He eventually become anal about it as the years passed.

Feeling the weariness weigh down your hands, you stopped from the therapy. Glancing up at the dark skies, you stretched feeling the bones snap along your spine and your neck when you rotated your head. They were loud and simultaneously painful. It did the job though.

You glanced down at your hands, slowly flexing them despite the burn.

“I don’t always think of you, but when I do, I wonder if you would have accepted who I am.”

----
The heat of the sun bore on your shoulders, tearing away at the skin to reveal the muscles and the bones that tied them. A cool edge of a blade was pressed against your neck, the wielder slowly digging into it. You peered down from the mighty wall, looking down at the many faces below.  A shadow of a bird flew over, its shadow expanding to that of a monster as it swept over the town’s square.

You wished you could follow.

“You beast,” the voice growled.

You remained silent. Eyes shut, skin steaming, a searing pain running down your veins. There was absolutely nothing you could do.

He had left, leaving you entirely alone to be dealt by the capable. There was no way he could do anything about it.

“….”

The blade began to dig deeper into your neck as you looked up, your neck arching against the blade and the tears finally rolling over.  The skin on your face slowly began to tear apart, steam sizzling upward like the remnants of a war torn town.

“What was that?” the executioner barked.

You dropped your head down once more.

This was it.

If you can’t do anything, I’ll do something.

The wielder urged you to turn about, leading you to the edge facing the vastness of a world forever inaccessible.

In defeat you raised your arms like a bird prepared for flight. You felt warm blood trickle down your spine when you stepped forward away from the blade.

Briefly, you remembered an image from a book you once read in youth. There was a ship, there was a plank that protruded from the side, and on the end of it was a man to meet his doom and at the start of it was a man holding the blade. The crewmen watched, some in horror, and some in glee.

Some would say it needed to be done for the greater good. Others would say nothing at all.

The real question was; how could one determine such a thing?

No, you wouldn’t go this way.

In a fleeting moment of fear, you escaped death. Side-stepping away from the blade, you ran in the opposite direction to meet the many faces below.  There was no time to hesitate. This was it.

You leapt from the wall to meet your impending doom. Head first and the collecting wind lifted your hair. The marble floors expanded in size, greeting you in its embrace until an Earth shattering ruckus reverberated throughout the walls and the people tumbled onto their knees.

Eyes shot open in fear you realized you were midway meeting the ground. You felt suspended in the air; it was as though time had frozen.

“____!” You heard Levi scream from afar.

“How is a Titan inside Wall Maria!?” many voices cried below.

You were confused. Your heart pounded loudly in your ears and you swore it would burst if you didn’t wake up. Yes, you were in dream, it had to be!  For when you sat up you realized you were held in the massive hand of a Titan.

Its large grotesque hand had burst from the Wall, catching you before you could meet death. There was a heart-stopping wail to follow and the chorus of hookshots puncturing the Wall for support whistled loudly.  

In dream, one couldn’t see their hands, but you surely could see some part of your arm. The flesh that burned away matched the Titan’s. You turned around to meet its huge ocular. It looked right back at you. A chill slithered down your spine. And before you knew it, you were swept away in the arms of Levi.

He held you close, his nose against your temple and he whispered something incoherent.

“L-levi! Watch out!”

The dream ended by making contact into a wall of a building. Jumping out of bed, you fell over to the side, crashing into the side table without realizing it. Surprised still, you propped yourself right back up and sprawled your arms and chest onto the bed, gripping onto the sheets for dear life.

Like an animal you scanned your bedroom, searching for the predator. Nothing was there, and then you looked to your arms, rubbing at them, feeling some bumps, but you made sure the skin wouldn’t shed off. Alas, you relaxed, retracting your arms so to bury your face in them.

What a nightmare. The possibilities.

“Momma?”

A creak of the bedroom door swung open, at the frame of it stood a little boy. His hand clenched against an eye, he looked to you tiredly with inquisitive eyes. He resembled Levi, albeit with brown hair. You wondered if that is what your child would have looked like if you and Levi hadn’t ended in the way it had.

Then again, you remembered that such a thing couldn’t happen. It never would. Not in this world, that is.

“Momma?” little Erik asked groggily. His dark brown eyes searched the room in the same manner Levi had. The exact same way when that particular heist went wrong, the one where he fought like hell to make sure you would escape safely. The one where afterwards he said he wouldn’t look after you ever again.

What a lie, you mused, thinking how in the end he did manage to keep that promise, after many failures.  

“Todo está bien,” you reassured him, knowing he would understand. You unsteadily got onto your feet, wiping away the wrinkles and headed over to the child. In close proximity you could see the dark line between his throat and collar bone, where the vital artery laid somewhere. The memory made you cringe.

He went for your hand and you took it, warming his cool hand and led him out.  

*
On the night of graduation, an Eren Jaeger admonished his fellow peers on their cowardice. The precursor of his fury was engendered by the urging of a young Thomas, who told him there was no point in fighting the Titans. It was a futile attempt, and the blonde wasn’t the only who reciprocated the same sentiment.

Sure, there were the few who bristled beneath their fear and joined the Jaeger boy, but there were a few who didn’t require such a morale boost. Weiss Wrage, a scar down his eye after a year of five, was one of them and sat farthest from the room. He was closest to the exit, but he paid little attention to what was going on. Before him was a cup of spirits, pen, and paper. To the best of his ability he scrawled some letters, hoping it would arrive to the caretaker in time before he would arrive.

In the beginning, after a harsh run-in with the glorified Levi Rivaille, the boy’s convictions had turned. He wanted to join the Military Police, although not for the same reasons as everyone else. Well, not exactly. The difference lied in the fact that he wanted to move his orphanage there, so they could be protected. He wanted to protect his family and give himself up instead. It changed after many counseling under Levi, who urged him to join the Scouting Legion.

“If you want them to be protected, your contribution to outside the Walls would be of great value to us.” The short man had said one night long ago. It was out in the training ground, hanging on the wire when Levi found him. Weiss nearly had a concussion if he didn’t steady himself in time.

“Pull yourselves together and FIGHT!” Jaeger shouted, leaving the room with everyone stunned. The silver-blond young man hadn’t noticed until he felt a blade of wind brush against him after Jaeger and his friends in tow had left.

He wrinkled his nose, pulled back his gangly silver locks, and tried to finish the letter.

How bothersome, Weiss thought, straightening out the paper. Perhaps he would have to write again on a clean one, the one staring back up at him was wrinkled from the edges.

He sighed.

“I’m not prepared for this, not yet,”

Weiss closed his eyes, thinking back five years previous when the commencement of putting things together started.

Maybe that’s why she didn’t want me to join the military.

*
“I’m glad you survived!” a young recruit crowed, hopping out of his seat from the lunch table.

The other boys familiar with the flying daredevil greeted him, being quick to make him spill the beans of what happened.

Weiss joined them in hesitation, still feeling his heart throb from excessive pulsations. One of the guys already brought him a tray, saying it was only because he survived the presence of the famed Levi.

“He’s actually a short guy,” he began. “seeing him mounted on his horse is mere deception,” he lifted his hand to about his chest, “for he reaches to just about yay high.”

Some of the boys snickered in between bites.

“But he seemed to get the best of even you, Wrage,” a boy named Donnel said, leaning over his tray. He had come from some hunting village in Rose, well known to be fearless and therefore was one of Weiss’s followers in the arts of wall climbing. Unfortunately, his legs weren’t as strong as he had thought. Whenever he walked he’d limp from time to time. The other boys, Hans, Gunther, and Rikkert were more on the cautious side. Occasionally they’d participate, but preferred being on the ground.

“We’ll be flying all over the place with the 3D gear, why not get used to heights now?” Donnel had asked on a later occasion.

Their response lined in the area of physical conditions and avoidance of reprimand.

“It doesn’t matter,” Weiss blushed, stuffing the hard bread down his throat. He tried to look away from the boys yet their burning stares embarrassed him.

“So, what’s the punishment?”

“Cleaning, but I actually asked for it,”

The four boys blinked, exchanged glances, and glowered at their peculiar friend in an incredulous manner.

Rikkert, the one with few words, was the one to speak first. “What in the world were you thinking?”

The silver-haired boy shrugged. “I need to check something out,”

Later that evening under a pale moon, hands in his pockets and eyes focused to the ground, the boy kicked the dirt. Curfew would be announced soon enough despite the restlessness he had felt. In the first week his body, conditioned quickly to the schedule of the military camp, would have normally brought him to rest, but the events of the day made him worrisome.

Of course he couldn’t detect the singularities at first, though with further contemplation of the corporal’s manners made him suspicious. Was there something wrong with him that the man noticed?

Did the obscurity of his origins derail him? No, it possibly couldn’t. More than half the recruits were orphaned after the attack on Maria. It was something else. What was it?

He trembled like an emaciated tree branch, riddled with a wind of doubt assaulting him. When he arrived to the grounds, Weiss wondered if he should stay out here or head back before they could find out he was missing.

Oh well, doesn’t matter. He thought, gripping onto the pole of the balancing contraption as though to hold himself.

“What do you mean you want to join the military? Weiss, are you sure?” That was what she said a month after the attack. After a break-in by the refugees who were too wound up with stress and decided to steal from the orphanage. All in the name of food, to replenish themselves rather than the children who recently were taken in.

The scream made the drops of sweat cascade in rivulets. In the darkness of the shared room, all of the children were wide awake, but the bed beside Wrage was vacant. It belonged to a little boy by the name of Erik.

A girl from across the room urged Weiss to remain, but he dismissed her pleas and hurried out. A muffled cry drew him faster and he found little Erik held savagely in the arms of a crazed man.

The blade shimmered eerily beneath the light from the broken window, so did the man’s eyes.

He was crouched, face nestled in the boy’s hair, the blade already tearing into the child’s neck, and he glared at ____.  The man threatened to spill the boy’s blood dry and he would drink it if she didn’t relent.

It was on this night that Weiss gained full confidence on the new caretaker. Her style of dress betrayed the beast hidden beneath. Knuckles white, teeth grinded, her eyes flaming in a way that no flame could match in its flickering beauty.

“Fine,” she said in a flat tone. “Let the boy go and I’ll give you whatever you want.”

The man remained wary; slowly drawing his face from Erik’s and appeared to sample his options.

If there was one thing Weiss had learned in all his life; it was that a deprived man is vulnerable to all distractions. After her teachings of stealth and the art of being a squirrel, as she would call it, the silver-blond boy had already crept closer in the safety of the shadows.

He grabbed onto a piece of glass, gripped it, and bit back the pain. Unfortunately, in his attempt to crawl by, the other pieces of glass tinkled lightly. The hot night air fell drastically and a chorus of grunts and movement began all at once. The man’s knife dug slightly deeper, but once Weiss lunged towards him, he unlatched Erik and he ran to safety. Weiss was easily overpowered and pinned; however, the frightening moment lasted only a second when ___ forcefully pulled the man off and onto his back and proceeded to slam her foot like a raging bull against his chest. A sickeningly crack pursued after the sudden exhale of struggling breath.

“Dios, my foot…” she staggered back, looming over the body to be sure that the perpetrator was certainly dead.

Her shoulders dropped, her head falling back as she released the tension from her body. A minute later, she drew her wild gaze upon Weiss who looked up at her in awe. The boy hadn’t notice his hand dripping a pool of blood on the wooden floor. For some reason, it struck Weiss that his new caretaker wasn’t quite who she was in that moment. It never occurred to him until he thought about it later.

She managed to recollect herself once she registered the situation by the cry of Erik.

“Gods,” ___ gasped and went for Erik.

Weiss glanced over the body, realizing only now that a man had died, in this establishment meant to be the home of the abandoned. Gingerly, he got onto his feet and ran out to call for help and the assistance was heeded.

A soldier, Weiss couldn’t discern whether he had recently imbibed or not, appraised the situation.

“These refugees… savages,” he had uttered, disdain contorting his features. No one paid him much attention.

____ had trembled in a seat, not of fear, but something else. Weiss would describe her trembling to the shaking of an animal trying its best not to react to its surroundings.

A nurse was able to accompany the soldier and tended further to Erik’s wounds.

“R-remove this body, please, I can’t keep the children in their room with this traumatic air permeating this home,” ___ had said. She ran a shaky hand through her bloodied hair, originating from Erik when she had pressed her hand against his wound and forgot to cleanse herself.

There was even blood on her face, her lips as well. At one moment she even licked her lips clean.

Weirdly, she wasn’t perturbed in the slightest, not at all. Weiss wouldn’t understand until later. It felt as though she was familiar with the situation, like she had—

“Wrage, what in the world are you doing out here?” a familiarly stern voice inquired. Shattering Weiss out from his reveries.

“Dios!” the boy nearly jumped out of his skin. Good thing he held onto the pole. His stretched shadow kept his attention, especially the other shadow that joined his. Ironically, it stretched out longer than Weiss’.

Levi inclined his head further, turning it slightly to see the boy’s face, but his silver locks obscured his perturbed visage.

“Dios?” the man frowned, acting as if the word was bitter. “Shouldn’t you say, Gott, instead?”

Weiss stilled. He knew the other tongue? Then that would mean—

“You look troubled, boy, maybe talking of home will make you feel better?”

The corporal’s offer hung in the air. He sighed. “I’ll escort you to the infirmary, but we will talk, soon.”

In the span of five years, Weiss Wrage would gather his answers.

*

“Momma?” Erik inquired one morning, making an attempt to tug at a chair next to you. With a smile, you helped him by sliding your foot against a leg and pushed it for him.

The atmosphere was genuinely pleasant. Curtains spread open wide a refreshing breeze weaved by, gracing the flowers outside like a gentle dancing partner.

The other children had already cleaned up after themselves from breakfast and you sat tiredly at the table, pulling your sleeves over your arms.

“Yes?” you replied, smiling at the child. Your smile wilted slightly when you noticed the curiosity in his eyes.

Erik tugged at his locks, hesitation evident in his plump features, but his question lingered in his eyes. They were focused on your arms. Despite his size, he attempted to touch your arm, specifically the sleeve to pull back.

“What is it, Erik?” you asked. You retrieved your arm an inch.

His lips fell into a frown. He tried again.

“Where did you get those marks?”

You looked down at your arms.

“I was in a fire when I was young,”

The brunette tilted his head slowly. He appeared to be trying to make sense of your answer. Like a weight and his mind the scale, he would bob his head to weigh a future response. When he came to an answer, Erik looked to you again.

“How’d you get out?”

You blinked owlishly at him. You leaned back into the support of the chair, the memory weighing down as your lids closed.

“Hmmm…” you hummed. “A small knight saved me,” you reopened your eyes yet you did not look back to Erik, instead you laid your gaze out the window.

Erik followed your gaze, tilting his head all the while.

“Would you like me to tell you about the small knight?”

His plump body straightened in the chair, eager.

“Please, momma.”

You smiled faintly, your gaze still out the window.