A/N: AOT has ended. And I'm sad that I won't have to wait for a new chapter every month. That said, I just decided to contribute something to this fandom.
Paradis looked livelier than all those years combined when the threat of war was looming over them. The weight on his shoulders felt lighter, a burden he had been carrying for the past thirteen years, having been lifted tremendously.
The faces of the civilians seemed to glow under the bright glare of the late morning sun. Overhead, a blimp flew by, carrying with it the representatives of an unnamed nation, who had arrived on the lands of this once-considered dangerous island to negotiate peace talks, and to solve the issues facing by the vast number of orphans and refugees.
Arlert was going to be representing Paradis. Levi had no doubt that he would do great. He would succeed, considering the fact that the kid had matured over the years, having grown up from an underconfident teen to a young adult capable of securing diplomatic ties through sharp words laced with intelligence and logic.
This peace- he knew it was fragile and temporary. Peace was only just a fantasy. War, however, was reality.
But, for now, Levi thought that he could afford to relax somewhat, and let his guard down.
Nobody came out of the battle unscathed. If not marked by physical wounds, then definitely psychological ones. They sounded more painful and heartbreaking than a scratch or cut.
After all, emotional wounds, no matter how much healing was provided, was impossible to be remedied. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but had to be accepted regardless.
Levi had suffered from both physical and emotional wounds, but the latter hurt more.
He was alone now, the last of the Veterans. His comrades had passed away, placing their will and trust onto him. Levi had taken it all- the hurt and anger and guilt and remorse- and channeled it into his blade. With each enemy down, he felt that one of his fallen comrades' life had found meaning.
But, the truth about the origin of the titans was like a slap to the face. He no longer felt joy in killing them.You are reliving them from a cursed nightmare that they have no control of, he had reminded himself over and over again.
But, guilt still clogged at his heart. After all, no matter the reason, the good intentions behind each swing of the blade, he was still killing humans. It was a fact, and was never going to be erased. It was going to stay with him forever, a part of his self now, and a constant reminder to drown him in self-loathing.
It must be so nice, he mused, to be able to sit beside you all, toasting to our victory by the bonfire.
The thought was out of the blue, but nevertheless, a pleasant one, tinged with nostalgia and longing.
Heck, he was even willing to hear Hange's incessantly annoying ramblings about titan biology and their anatomy (even though it always grossed him out), if the opportunity to be beside his comrades and recalling days of the past when everything was simple, when they were all ignorant of the truth and fighting a losing battle.
When Isabel and Furlan were still alive, and the dream of living in the Capital, feeling the touch of warm sunlight on pale skin, was the only thing that mattered.