A/N: (I took many liberties with this story and while I did read up on the Middle Ages, I'm not an expert uwu. If there are any errors, plotholes, anything out of the ordinary please do let me know! ) This is for RivaMika Week on Tumblr and dedicated to all of you waiting ( on or off alerts) on Panacea. While this isn't exactly Panacea, I hope this makes up for it in the meantime. Enjoy RivaMika week! (^▽^)

She was always careful to keep her distance from him.

If Mikasa was honest, she would say she reveled in the strange, grappling motion in her chest whenever she caught sight of him in the castle. But she was not. She knew, that if word got around she was attracted to that knight, her father would have her head.

If she wasn't about to be married off to that prince, to the south west of their kingdom, the worst he could do was isolate her in her room. But with alliances as strong as thread these days, desperate times call for desperate measures.

In short, Mikasa loathed that knight that came with the name Rivaille.

Her father never really treated her as his own. The king knew, that for his reign to be secure, he needed an heir. A male heir. When Mikasa was born , it caused the death of the Queen. The death was of no hard matter to her father, after all she was only a vessel, a means to obtain more power. It was her role. But when he was handed the small child, crowned with thin, dark hair, he saw nothing but a failed future; he handed Mikasa to the maid and left the room, a harsh bang following after his wake.

Mikasa worked twice, thrice as hard, in all her studies and lessons to compensate for her being a female. Every night after her lessons , she would drag herself to her room, sweating and exhausted, but she would willingly do it day after day.

She also dressed in light, nondescript fabrics, most of the time covered in a red cloak, instead of opting for ornate and heavy materials. Mikasa also kept her hair short, much to the disgust of most of the castle; maybe if she dressed in less than feminine garments, her father would acknowledge that she was good enough to be called his child, his Mikasa, his Princess of the Shiganshina Kingdom.

Her lady-in-waiting (though rather young) , Sasha, knocked twice on Lady Mikasa's door. It was an hour before breakfast was set and she knew Mikasa would like to be on her best when with the King.

" Lady Mikasa, please wake up. Did you sleep in your clothes from yesterday again?"

No answer. She went in.

"Lady Mikasa, are you alright? Please wake up." Sasha gently poked the blanket-covered body. "The kitchen has prepared colored jellies also for today. The smell of the pies were heavenly! If I could just smuggle the smaller ones! That squire Connie promised me—"

Mikasa peeled the covers away and slid out of her bed. She went to her dresser and sat. In a minute, Sasha would erase all evidence of her muddy, sweaty self from the night before.

" Please tell the kitchen to make chicken pie for later. After breakfast."

" My talk about pie made you that excited, Lady Mikasa? "

Mikasa slowly smiled. " Happy Birthday, Sasha."

Sasha clapped her hands. " Oh, I cannot wait! The berries were just picked yesterday and, oh, forgive me, Lady Mikasa. I'm finished, the King would be back from his walk in a few minutes though. Better hurry!"

Sitting to the right of her father's usual seat, she placed her hands on her lap. Soon enough, she was quietly reciting the poetry she read in the castle's library two days ago.

" Father, good morning. "

His knife ran back and forth across the meat, his rings shining with each motion. " How old are you, Mikasa?"

This was , the second? third?, time her father addressed her by her name in her 17 years of life. Internally, with as much grace as she can, she was screaming with glee. Her face betrayed no emotions however as she answered the King's query.

"You are of age then. I've wasted too much time. I thought you were younger." How couldn't he? He hasn't attended a single one of her birthday parties—

" You will meet Prince Jean from the Kingdom of Trost . Having them as an ally would be beneficial should that bastard Erwin choose to attack."

It's amusing as if she was only meeting this Prince Jean over tea but she knew the truth far too well. She would marry this stranger, in the name of strengthening ties with neighboring kingdoms. She knew nothing about him. Was he smart? Was he a person of high values? But all of that was superficial; they, as two separate persons, are not significant in this case. What was important was the legal, suffocating bind as one.

Mikasa nodded, finally realizing her role in the life of her father.

She was nothing more but a pawn. A shell, a reminder, of what could , and of what should have been.

Mikasa always loved jelly, but as the King's chair scraped against the marble, his steps asmall punch to her gut, she discovered her plate was as clean as before and her utensils didn't move an inch.

Mikasa fled to the small clearing at the back of the castle. There was rarely any activity here, save for when the horses are fed and trained. She went to the last stable where her dear horse, Elis, was eating a carrot. She pet the horse gently, trying to convey through actions the waves of turmoil inside of her.

After grooming Elis, she mounted with a confident grace and went out in the direction of the river.

Mikasa didn't understand herself. All she wanted was to be acknowledged by her father. Countless lessons have also taught her the roles expected of women in society. Now that the chance presented itself, she found herself wanting to back track and choose another road.

She didn't work herself tooth and nail for this! Never was she the type of person to quiver; constant fear of faltering while around her father made sure of that.

She heard the gush of water and coaxed the horse to stop. She sat down on the grass and smoothed her hand over a rock while she continued to mull over her present problem.

She was intelligent, and a force to be reckoned with on a fight. She was a descendant of one of the oldest blood lines of royalty, she trained under excellent superiors and she did not form bonds with influential people for nothing.

She was the best in everything she set her heart into.

" I'd be damned if I give up without a fight." She growled, throwing the rock hard. It did reach the other side, but rather flew than skip.

"I doubt you can win with that horrible aim."

Mikasa breathed sharply. " Who are you and what business do you have?" It was a mistake, baring her back to a stranger, but she didn't want to face the speaker. Not yet.

" If I were your enemy, I could kill you, you're in a very vulnerable position right now." The speaker's hands trailed to the hilt of his sword.

"Not if I had a say in it." She stood and faced the speaker in a smooth movement, drawing her sword, only to find the man had his drawn as well.

"Speak, woman. Who are you and what are you doing on castle grounds?"

The nerve of him! How dare he threaten her!

" I asked you first. Therefore you should answer first." Mikasa replied.

The man blinked. " I am in no obligation to follow your orders. Draw back your sword."

After the ordeal with her father, Mikasa wanted nothing to do with people in general for a while. She wanted to be alone to think over her future course of action. Surely, there could be something she could do instead of being a measly puppet.

That little monologue of hers cost her the advantage of the upperhand in this current stand-off with this short knight ( he was around her shoulders; while he wasn't tiny, he was annoying therefore he was short in Mikasa's eyes) .

If Mikasa was expressive, she would have hissed or bared her teeth. But she barely squinted her eyes. She ran her eyes from his clean haircut to his shiny boots then back again, just to make her vexation clear. The next thing was a low kick from her and soon, the clangs of swords echoed around the place.

And that was how Mikasa and Rivaille ( it took a sword to the neck and a boot to to the chest for his name) met. It was far from romantic, but he helped her vent her aggravations, and Mikasa was grateful, as much as her scorn would allow , for Rivaille's appearance.

Rivaille, Mikasa learned, if he wasn't irritating, was actually pleasant company. The two of them were in the castle's garden. She was treading a dangerous path if her father found her loitering instead of educating herself on the recent developments in the arts and sciences, but Mikasa never felt more alive, doing something that would most likely have the King hate her more.

" Rivaille, how come you didn't recognize me when we first met? "

" I don't concern myself with the affairs of the castle. I only serve to fight. "

"Surely you would have heard of the King's family?"

" You should ask Yaegar that. He does have a loud mouth, maybe he has."

They continued to walk at a leisurely pace, and she wished Rivaille didn't end the conversation there. Though it would definitely be unlike him to do so, she wanted a few more moment's reprieve before she was sucked back into her mind where nothing but problems and planning existed.

She only felt his fingers ghosting over her ears before she found herself alone on the path.

It was a forget-me-not nestled between the hook of her ear and her hair.

Mikasa was confronted by Sasha a week later. It was only about time.

" Lady Mikasa, you are about to be married! To a prince, no less! I do not understand why you associate yourself with a measly knight." Sasha crossed her arms at her chest.

" I.. I don't need a reason or an excuse to spend my time with whatever or whoever with. Please do understand. "

" I'm only concerned for your well-being, Lady Mikasa. You might get into something you cannot handle."

" I can handle Father."

" I'm not talking about your father. " At Mikasa's confused look, Sasha pointed a finger at her heart.Wrong, it was two inches off, Mikasa thought. " I meant this. Matters of this aren't taken lightly, Lady Mikasa. "

"I'm not a fool." Though she thinks she said that more to herself than to Sasha.

Sasha smiled a smile, that spoke of wisened experience though that would have to be false; she was only a couple of years older than Mikasa after all. "Just take care of yourself, Lady Mikasa. " She took her leave after.

Maybe she was a fool. Maybe she's living a delusion that she's worth something. Who in their right, sane mind would associate with her anyway? She was a reject. A collapsed opportunity.

But the more time she spent with Levi, the more she found herself being slowly opened at the seams. She wasn't very talkative, no, but over time, Mikasa discovered facets about her life that surprised her; who knew there was actually something worth noting inside? Rivaille, in the span of time she had known him, knew her better than the people she grew up with. Mikasa bets that if he was the type of person to do so, he can write a book about her and her life in the castle.

Rivaille was a private person but she wasn't empty-handed either. He was an orphan, adopted and soon sent out to be a squire, and like fine wine, climbed across the ranks as time wore on. He often questioned Mikasa and her beliefs, but only served for her to hold on to them more. He wouldn't inflict a barb first, but if she provoked and persevered , they would hurtle insults back at each other like it was a natural thing to do. Mikasa was surprised when she insulted him in Latin, believing he wouldn't understand. Her eyes widened when she heard him cuss out her all her ancestors in fluent Latin.

Mikasa wondered, since she knew few, if none at all, knights who spoke Latin. Her face must have said it all when Rivaille spoke.

" My foster family... I picked it up while growing up." Mikasa nodded, satisfied with the answer.

Admittedly, they hated each other the first few times they'd cross paths. . Neither would hesitate to hurt the other, if only to prove they were the better one. Whenever the King would summon his Knights in a line , Mikasa mandatorily present beside him, she would purposedly step on his foot. Her feet were quick, hidden behind the hem of her gown.

A week later, she'd find one of her favorite dresses to train in with a beautiful, dirty, mark of a knight's boot in the lower back of the garment.

Soon enough, they were as familiar , though not quite as intimate, as lovers. They shared fleeting contact with each other, light and airy like the dresses Mikasa wore. Time would only tell when they would change into strong and confident touches like the armor Rivaille wears.

They resounded beautifully against each other, making up for the short time they have welcomed another person into their tightly guarded lives.

Neither would realize they were in too deep before it was too late.

He was careful to keep his distance from Mikasa.

The first moment he saw the woman sitting by the pond, her cloak pooling around her form like a grisly waterfall, he paid no attention. He saw her sword then, golden at the hilt and leather bound, and decided he approach. He wasn't an honest man, but he still had to play the part.

" I doubt you can win with that horrible aim."

It truly was damn horrible. Her face was minutely surprised but schooled it into a neutral expression, inhaling a sharp intake of breath. When she faced him, he tried to scourge his memory for information about a woman, about 170 centimeters, black hair cropped to her chin. Judging by her sword, she was knowledgeable about using one.

Let's see about that.

While she wasn't on his level by any means, she definitely knew how to handle her weapon. Her footwork was quick and often kicked in the shin or near the knee. When her sword reflected light, Rivaille smiled to himself. This must be the child of the King then though her outfit of choice was different for a supposed princess; it was plain and did not have many ornaments save for a few choice gems at the waist. The engraving of her name on the flat side was enough to confirm his hunch. The information they were given was close but not accurate enough.

She was a valuable resource and while he was not a lazy person by nature, he was just given an opening into the deeper structure of Shiganshina.

The moment Erwin took him under his wings, Rivaille was groomed to be a spy. He had no objections, after all he had no ties that bound him to anyone that would endanger them through his work. Erwin, when Rivaille first met him, wasn't a king then. Soon enough, after conquering the Karanese Kingdom, the people had a new king to call their own.

Hanji, Erwin's right-hand, sent Rivaille to be a squire in Shiganshina all the while discreetly training him as their spy.

Now that Rivaille was planted within the ranks of Shiganshina, he scoured for information deemed helpful. Strategy, trade, maps, anything vital to the coming conquest of Shiganshina. No one seemed suspicious of him in his entire career. They were all focused on spies outside of the force, like traveling merchants for example. In case he was put in a difficult position he cannot outmaneuver, he can always use the poisons he carried in his inner pockets. But that was the easy way out, and Rivaille didn't do easy as much as possible.

Not once has he faltered in his missions. He held no emotional attachment to his peers, with a slight exception of those back in Karanese, so he can easily eliminate targets within without no problem. But ever since Mikasa came into the equation, she was like a parasite worming into his system. The frightening thing was, the longer she was with him, the more he felt alright with her within his personal space; with each of her insults, challenges and questions, he feels a little bit of his true self reveal at her disposal.

She told about her life in the castle, and the information she gave away wasn't the type to be found in books or a seasoned spy. It wasn't just plain facts; hers came with the emotional baggage of a daughter fitting in a mold for a son; her father was stressed with the title of being King, was far too busy, too disappointed to even find a mistress in the hopes of conceiving a son. He was stuck with her forever, Mikasa told him one day.

She told him more about the King in a few minutes than if he was going to sneak and use stealth.

" Why were you angry the day I met you?" He might as well ask her and follow her lead.

" I felt useless. I trained every day in my life so I could prove to be useful to my father. Even though I know the obvious use for a woman, a part of me was expecting him to say that I'll lead his army, or I was going to be part of his private council or I was going to be his heir. I love Father, but it takes too much effort. " Mikasa exhaled. She walked further until they came to a bench.

" For a person who says they're not a fool frequently, you define it perfectly." He lowered himself by a bit, a subtle invitation for her to rest her head on his shoulder.

" Then please, tell me what to do, o wise one. "

"You aren't useless. Far from it. It isn't your fault either. The problem here is you were so busy being someone else, you neglected yourself. "

" I guess you're right. I... I don't even know who I am anymore. " Mikasa rested her head on his shoulder.

" You're damn annoying, an insect I want to trap repeatedly under my feet, a smart-ass, " Rivaille said.

Mikasa scoffed. "You act like you're much better. "

Rivaille paid no heed to Mikasa and continued, "... a brat far too stubborn for her own good, a flower I want to keep for myself but at the same time show off to everyone else." He felt her stiffen underneath him.

"Rivaille, this isn't f—" He cut her off.

By this time, he turned and took her chin between his fingers. "And a woman I've fallen for."

By this time, Rivaille realized they would never be together. It wasn't because she was royalty and he an orphan, not was it because she was set to be married to a prick soon, but because she trusted him with her soul and he found the nerve to use it against her and her family.

The opening led to an end he wasn't sure he wanted at all.

Mikasa didn't see Rivaille for a week straight. Admittedly, she was busy with the nearing trip to Trost, and didn't find enough time to personally seek him wherever he may be. Deciding to find him for herself, she found him outside, sitting on the bench, his muscles very tense as if he was anticipating an attack from an enemy.

"Hey." She whispered.

He didn't answer at first , opting to curl his fingers into a fist.

"Rivaille, are you alright?" Mikasa gently titled his chin , forcing him to look at her.

" We can't be together. "

" I know. "

" You're getting married off. "

" I know. I told you. " He ignored the pang in chest. His fingers uncurled and cradled her face into his hand. Mikasa leaned closer and touched her forehead to his. Her eyes fluttered closed.

"We could've been great." She smiled softly.

Rivaille swallowed. It was now or never. " Mikasa, you can't trust me. I'm a spy for King Erwin."

" I— What?" Upon hearing the name, Mikasa pulled away from him as if she was burnt. He has to be lying. He has to.

He cannot afford to ruin this by letting his emotions run free. In a blink, he was a stoic, young man. He was back to Rivaille, the spy. He was back to the heartless, dirty person that he truly was.

Mikasa understood the moment his eyes turned more heated. " I trusted you! I thought my father was bad, but god, you actually said you love me? " Mikasa pushed and punched hard on his chest, on his shoulders, on his arms. Good. He needed to feel pain. He deserved it.

" What did I do to you to deserve this? What did you even want from me? " Tears were flowing from her face now; he didn't have the right to say this anymore, since he was the cause of it, but she was beautiful.

" I don't understand, Rivaille. Enlighten me, tell me—"

Mikasa abruptly stopped, not of her own will but by a sudden descent of a pair of lips. Everything unspoken poured out into the kiss; soon their hands would find comfort in each other's for the first and last time.

When they separated, Rivaille brought Mikasa as physically as possible but nothing quite touching except for his hands on the sides of her face.

" I love you, but I don't think I could forgive you. " Mikasa breathed.

" I won't justify my actions . But I want you to know that you were worth it. Every single moment , every chance of getting caught, was worth it. "

Mikasa's limbs felt heavy but took it upon herself to move away from him. She turned away and faced the direction of the river.

" Please leave and never come back. I've given you enough about our kingdom to last a lifetime. Don't you dare invade Shiganshina while I'm here or else we'll have a repeat of the incident at the river."

She smiled to the ground. " I won't hold back either."