A/N: My submission for RW2015 got out of hand with word count. So I made broke it up into chapters and I might continue it past that.

Chapter One
The Instructor

She had been employed at the house for little more than a week and, to the best of her knowledge, things were progressing adequately. Her employer had rarely been seen to otherwise inform her that her services were lacking and her charges were as receptive as a child might be to their studies. It was her sincerest effort to assume her place without upset to the rest of the house. She had brought few belongings but for some dresses, two pairs of shoes, her essentials, and some books.

Not that the books were needed with the expansive library tucked away in the eastern wing of the estate. She had never imagined that a person might own so many or that they would possibly find the time to read even half. It was impressive in the same way as the rest of the house, a grand show of splendor with very little thought to practical taste. If she possessed such a fortune as Erwin Smith, Earl of Stohess, she liked to think it would be put to more creative use. It was a fleeting fancy to even imagine, however, since the chances of her rising in station were as remote as their location from the hustle of Sina where she had spent her childhood.

Petra Ral was the current governess at Lord Smith's estate and though she was contented as she might ever be, she was also restless. She could feel it in her heart when she looked at the trees or the gardens and whimsy scurried about with her imagination, but Petra was dutiful and would never let on that her thoughts were anything but proper. Dutiful was one of her more useful traits, she had learned after her first position, and Petra went through considerable effort to ensure that her perception was never anything but poised refinement. She kept her head down when the situation called and her voice civil even when her mind lashed. And despite a deep routed longing for what she could not name, she truly did love her work. It was only alone or during walks through the garden or even at night when she could read by the fading light of her candle that she let her most intimate wishes stir.

Mikasa and Eren were adopted into the household by the Lord's late wife. Lady Smith's actions had evoked the appropriate gossip and social upset, for a lady of such position would surely be more concerned with conception of her own and where in heaven did she unearth such interesting children and what would possess her husband, renowned and respected Lord Smith, formerly Captain Smith, to all such a unique display? Lady Smith had been the talk for months after the, then four and five years old children, had been officially accepted into the Smith household, but everything quieted at her sudden and tragic death a few months later. The children stayed.

Presently, Petra was with both her charges, though Eren would be returning to boarding school after the summer, Mikasa would stay on and would require more appropriate tutoring. They were gathered around the piano, with Mikasa seated on the bench beside Petra, who was scrunching up her nose at the sheet music.

"No, that isn't right." Petra's pinky hit the wrong note and halted her already slow progress through the song. She hit another note. "No. No. Not that one either." Petra set her hands in her lap with a huff and blew the escaped strands of copper hair from her eyes. "Well, let us hope your father has finally hired an appropriate tutor. I can speak three languages but the subtly of printed music escapes me completely."

"Can we be finished for the day? Mikasa isn't going to learn if you can't even manage an entire song." Eren swung his legs from the window ledge where he'd perched and started tapping his foot. A habit Petra had taken note to mean he was considering mutiny. Mikasa sat still as stone, but sent her brother a scathing glare.

Petra smiled sweetly. "You have just given me inspiration. Mikasa, let's scoot over and make room."

"What?" Eren sat up straighter. His leg stopped tapping.

Petra patted the now open end of the bench. "Three minds might be better than one."

His lips were drawn into a pout as he let himself fall onto the bench. His arms were crossed tightly against his chest and his posture slumped.

"Now then." Petra went back to the music. "I know I have this first part right." She played the first five notes. Eren and Mikasa mimicked. Then Petra reached for the next note and failed again, the sharp note ringing awkwardly off the walls. Petra had to swallow her curse—it wouldn't do to have the children relaying that their governess even knew words of that nature.

After a few more minutes of the three of them playing a repeated five notes only to miss the sixth, Petra was about to dismiss them both and be done with it. She had just risen from her seat, dusting off her skirts, when she noticed that they were no longer alone.

Starting, she held a hand over her heart. "Good gracious." She caught her breath, heart settling, and she realized that the man was a stranger, not a member of staff. She knew the servants well enough by now and he wasn't exactly dressed as one. Not a man of name and breeding, either, or she might have assumed he was one of Lord Smith's friends.

Petra straightened and squared her shoulders. "Can I help you, sir?"

He was not very tall, but he stood with a casual confidence and a surety that made him almost imposing. His expression was not agreeable for having just startled a woman in a house that did not belong to him and given his nice, but not overly expensive suit, Petra was inclined to believe that he should know how to handle such a situation with more decorum. She was not impressed or cowered in any way, though she was starting to get agitated.

When she made her annoyance known on her face, he finally spoke.

"I'm the piano instructor."

Instantly, the sense of his comment clicked into her head, but that did not excuse his behavior. "And did you not think it appropriate to introduce yourself as such when slinking about and nearly scaring the wits out of me?"

He paused and shifted his stance, his expression never changed. "You're not the lady of this house." He said, as if this was excuse enough.

Petra's mouth opened and closed. She was about to snap right back when she remembered that the children were still with her, their interest clearly captivated by the conversation. Petra turned to them with as much softness as she could manage. "You are done for the day, you may be excused."

"Or." He said suddenly. "They are excused from your attempt at a lesson. I, however, was told to start today."

Petra's tongue grated on the roof of her mouth as she attempted to ground the choice words she wished to use into submission. "I was not aware that anyone had been hired. I do not even know your name."

"You want to know my name?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

She nearly threw up her hands. "Introducing oneself, with a name, is normally considered polite, yes."

"You never did." He said, to which her mouth fell agape once more. "I was given orders, from Erwin—"

"Lord Smith." She corrected.

Then he very nearly smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. "I was given instruction to start immediately. I wasn't aware that I had to answer to the governess about it."

Petra's eyes narrowed.

"You're welcome to stay and watch. You could do with some instruction yourself, given what I just heard."

"Overheard." She snapped.

He paused again, eyes appraising her, then he moved further toward the piano where she had been an obstacle. He hesitated when it was time to actually walk past her, even though the room was large and provided enough space to go around without the risk of touching. Petra was far to incensed to bother with anything else. With a purpose in her step she strode from the room in a flutter of fury and swishing skirts. It was less decorum than she would normally display, but her emotions were peaked and she couldn't be bothered to care when there was little risk of anyone of import finding her.

She went immediately to the butler to confirm this piano instructor's story. It was, of course, none of her business, but she possessed a kind, open nature that, usually, evoked the confidence of others. From the butler she gathered his name, Levi Ackerman, and some semblance of his appointment to the household. All that was known was that he had been in the army with Lord Smith and that his new position was likely due to their acquaintance in the service. It seemed there was nothing left to tell except that Mr. Ackerman was in need of work and had once been gifted with the pianoforte. What irked her most about their brief meeting was that he had been exactly correct when he said his business was none of hers. She had no need to know anything about him.

When that night she had trouble sleeping, not even a novel to placate her tumultuous mind, she had little choice but to accept that the whole exchange had gotten out of hand. Where there was certainly fault on his part, great fault in his manners and behavior, she was not entirely innocent. The thought was irritating since it worked at her conscious when she had no wish to feel guilty. As she turned over fiercely for the third time, her covers in a twist around her middle, she knew that apologies were in order if she were to keep their continued existence in the same house civil. Though she anticipated it might be harder in practice than in thought.

The following morning Petra woke with sun. She washed and dressed for her day and went to receive her breakfast in the little parlor of her room. The servants ate together downstairs, but Petra was not quite a servant. She, also, was not a member of the household and could not dine with them either. So she spent her mornings alone, happily, preparing herself for the day with quiet and some light reading. It would be another hour before she was required to begin the children's day and she huffed over her finished porridge since it was no longer reason to keep her from her duty. Rising from her chair she left her room and sought out Mr. Ackerman.

She imagined he would not be hard to find, but after twenty minutes of looking and inquiry, she began to lament that was exactly the case. There was precious time left to find him and if she didn't then apologizing would be all the harder later. It was best to see to it now.

After another few minutes she happened to hear music from the drawing room. She followed the notes down the corridor and stopped in the open doorway of the drawing room. She could only see his back, his head lazily lilting sideways as he played a soft melody. It was such a sweet sound, it was hard to associate it with the man she had met just yesterday. Her breath was light and she endeavored to be as quiet as possible to not disturb the sounds in the air. And then the softer, sharper notes drifted and changed to something she could not describe. A tempo and hardness that wasn't at all unpleasant and as her eyes caught the open window it set her heart racing. She could run to this music. She could do anything. And Petra's imagination began to soar, as it did, but never in company, and she was too caught up to be shocked or otherwise that she was letting her thoughts get away from her while in the presence of practically a stranger.

And when the music suddenly stopped, she almost didn't notice. She leaned into the white painted doorway and gazed out the window at the expansive grounds outside, toward the thickening of trees at the edge of the sculpted lawn. She was quite lost until a sudden deep, crisp voice broke her of her fantasy.

"Can I help you, Miss Ral?" He said, though there was no playfulness in his tone, expression, or otherwise, she somehow perceived that he was mocking her, since that was her first question to him. Though, somehow, in that time he had come to learn her name.

"No." She said quickly, then with a sharp breath added, "I mean to say, I'm sorry about the other day. I…" She looked up into his eyes, though they were not far off in height, and paused. He was not traditionally handsome by any means, though there was something striking about his features that, had she never spoken to him, would be pleasant to look at. His ancestry was certainly not local, but he spoke perfect English without accent or inflection. It was odd that she was not exactly distrustful of him, despite what she thought previously, and what she saw now she could not explain except that her anger quelled some. "I am sorry for my hand in our original meeting. I can…well, I have to work very hard to keep my comments appropriate. I did not behave very decently, it was unfair to expect the same of you. Though," she added with a smile, "You were hardly the picture of decency either."

He narrowed his eyes. "You apologize then insult me?"

"That was not my intent."

He nodded.

"Well." She prompted.

"Well what?"

Petra shook her head, giving it up. He was not going to offer her an apology in return. Though she was hardly surprised. "By way of proper greeting, I am the governess, Petra Ral."

"Yes, I know who you are." He said.

Her eyes crinkled in the corners, because this exchange was proving just as tedious as the last and, yet, without her nervous all rattled and without the children present to be mindful of, it was more entertainment this time. "And I you. I had to ask the butler, which is very unconventional, but then I don't think you care overmuch. Mr. Ackerman."

He put his hands into the pockets of his trousers and said nothing to her teasing.

"It seems that we are both in want of lessons, Mr. Ackerman." She said, "I for my horrid piano playing. And you for horrid manners." Her smile was warm and she meant every word she said, though he didn't seem to be playing along at all.

The thin line of his mouth dropped. "Some can't afford tutors."

"Oh, but my instruction would be very cheap." She said and it was very forward of her. It would be frowned upon if she were talking to anyone else, but there was something freeing about his coarseness for it allowed her to speak without much fear of insulting him, even though she imagined she had ventured on a subject that he did not take lightly.

"I don't need instruction." He said through his teeth.

"Mr. Ackerman, if I can admit my faults, surely you can own up to your own." Petra's eyes sparkled and she felt her shoulders begin to twist playfully. Something was coming over her and she was not yet ready to stop.

He blinked suddenly, taking a step back from her. His hand was up, thin elegant fingers—musicians hands—and he seemed to need distance from her, though she had not approached him at all. Petra suddenly did fear she had truly insulted him.

"Is everything all right?" She asked. "I'm sorry if I let my words run away from me. As I said, I can be too…but I honestly didn't think I would upset you—"

"You didn't." He said quickly, then he coughed into his fist and cleared his throat. "I'm not upset. I don't get upset. This is a ridiculous conversation."

"Oh." She pinched the edge of her glove and rolled it around in her fingers, sucking her lip into her teeth.

He was watching her curiously, but she offered no other words as the situation slipped into awkward. Then she was suddenly quite mortified to be there at all. Then she noticed the clock on the wall.

"Good gracious, it's nearly eight." She exclaimed. Without a word of goodbye she fled the room to fetch her students. She was going to be late and they would surely notice. Eren would be incorrigible about it, too.