"If I die young, bury me in satin."
~The Band Perry

When he first got the letter, he was nervous. Every letter from her prompted his nerves. Always, he would wring his hands about, wondering if this was the last one. He remembers her when she was just a little girl, hopping about on stubby legs and yelling at the boys who wouldn't let her join in their games.

She was so much like her mother in that way, unable and unwilling to take any disrespect. She was a strong girl who grew into a strong woman, and when she decided to become a soldier after Anabelle, his wife, her mom died, well, he couldn't stop her. There was a determination in her eyes unable to be snuffed. She promised him she would be one of the best. She promised him she'd try to join the military, give them a good life.

For years, he lived through her letters. Some of them were short, telling him of adventures with her classmates, her fellow soldiers and how weary she was. She was just a girl, after all. Still so young, always a baby to him. She had packed up her few possessions when she went, and he had stood by the door, watching her fold her few skirts into small rectangular bits of cloth, fitting them all in a tiny bag as neatly as she could. Her hair was long then, going down to her lower back. Bright, golden licks of hair that reminded him so, so much of her mom.

He missed her mom.

He'd miss Petra all the same.

But he let her take flight, let her go off into the world so she could become her own person. She was allowed to make her own choices. And he was there, hugging her tightly before she got into the horse drawn carriage that was half ready to take off without her.

"Be safe." he had muttered into the crown of her head, and she had smiled, clasping her arms around him just as tightly.

"I'll write" she said, an "I love you, papa" following after, and then she threw her satchel onto the carriage and stepped up, swinging her leg over and sitting down on the final seat available, waving him goodbye until he couldn't see her anymore.

He trusted his daughter and her judgement. Petra was his everything, really. Since Annabelle had died, the house was full of nothing but the two of them, and it was his daughter who filled the house with laughter.

When he returned to his home, it was void of chuckling.

He thought of all the outcomes, of all the reactions and winding roads her life could go on, and he cried. His baby girl, his daughter, the shining beacon of light in his world had just all but signed her life away.

When her letters came, he was, originally, elated. The short notes were full of tales of how weary she was but how hard she was working to make it to the top. They were full of an honorable strength, of a full feeling of pride. And then, she dropped the news upon him.

Someone had taken an interest in her. Or rather, in her abilities. She gushed about a Levi Heichou, waxing poetic about how he was the strongest soldier alive.

'Strongest hooligan alive', he protested in his response. Oh, he had heard about this Levi man. He was a trouble maker, no doubt! Who did he think he was, chasing after his baby girl with such an interest? But Petra told him, over and over in ink, kind and tender and gentle, that she trusted this man.

It took weeks for him to write her back after that. She trusted this man, this Levi, humanity's hope. He scoffed. He didn't care if he was the king! How could anyone deserve his baby girl? She was strong and smart, kind, beautiful, loving, talented. Of course he took an interest in her! At least he wasn't blind, deaf or dumb!

But he trusted his daughter, and if she was willing to follow this man, then he, as her father, had to believe in her.

That, of course, didn't mean that he wasn't about to give him one stern talking to when he met him! For months, Petra's letters grew more and more affectionate, until, finally, she told him, likely like a secret she kept under her tongue, that she would devote everything to Levi.

ONE STERN TALKING TO INDEED!

He waited with bated breath for the day she was to come back from her expedition. Usually, when she came back from them, she'd spend a few days with her teammates and would only visit when it was cleared, but he wanted to talk to this man, and he wanted to see his daughter in her uniform, proud and powerful.

Petra was named such for a reason after all. She was a rock, a foundation, the strongest of bases. He had no doubts in his daughters assets, in her skills.

So when he came and saw this man, he couldn't help but wonder where she was. Surely, she wasn't too far ahead, being an important soldier in an important team. She must have been off on some errand or something.

So, with a quick puff of his chest, he approached Levi, a short, muscular sort of fellow with the letter, carefully kept pristine. He wasn't ready to give Petra away! She was still so young for marriage, still had so much of the world to see and save and better and he would tell this man so.

But as he spoke, he saw the slump of this man's shoulders.

He watched as the corporals face turned grim, looking as if he had been swallowed whole with his sadness and suddenly, he knew.

Petra's father knew deep in his heart that she was not off on an errand.

She had made a gamble that ended poorly, and he felt himself fill with emotions he couldn't untangle from each other. The accusation on his tongue felt like poison, and he wanted to throw the letter in Levi's face.

"She trusted you."

"You KILLED her."

But he couldn't. Couldn't bear to part with her final message to him, with her last "I love you", with her penmanship or her promise. When he looks into Levi's face, he knows it must mirror his own.

Full of sorrow and anger and a deep thrumming sense of guilt and responsibility and regret.

He wonders if Levi loved his daughter like she must have loved him.

But deep down, he cannot bring himself to care. He lost his daughter, he will never be able to hold her, or hug her, or love her or adore her again. He will never laugh about her letters, or tell her "that Aurou fellow is no good, stay away from boys who make comments like that, Petra, you are too, too wonderful for that."

He looks down into the dirt and feels the rage sweep through his bones like fire.

"She dedicated everything to you."

The guilt in Levi's eyes couldn't dampen his bitterness.

The pain in the corporal's eyes could never burn away the hatred.

"You never deserved her", he says, jaw clenched tight.

And as he left, left without the body, left without the closure or the comfort or the daughter who brightened his day, he could swear he heard "I know".

But it would never be enough.

"Who would have thought forever could be severed by the sharp knife of a short life?"
~The Band Perry

...Don't kill me...