A/N: My little gift for Rivahisu Week Day 1: Canonverse; Prompts - Cloak, 'Make a promise that I cannot regret, as long as I can see you but in secret.' (I mean; the entirety of Zero Eclipse could be a prompt for this damn fic lol).

Between: An Epilogue

Between You & Me

Levi's breathing was steady and relaxed; a stark contrast to the howling winds outside. Historia curled up against the warmth of his chest, both of them hidden away from the rest of the world beneath her bedsheets.

"Please. Don't go," She murmured, already half drunk from weariness.

"Shhh." Levi's fingers ran through her hair absently, his breath tickling her brow.

Sleep claimed her easily, and with it, came familiar dreams.

There was a field, upon the brow of a hill. On all sides, wooden fencing ran; a marked edge to her lonely existence. The sun sat high in the sky, beating down upon her back as she worked, forking hay into stacks.

This was the place she'd spent her childhood, and yet, it wasn't home.

Historia wiped her sweat-slicked brow with the back of her hand. It would be really nice to just stop and get a drink. But she couldn't; the stacks weren't done yet, and they wouldn't let her pump the well for water until they were. So she toiled on.

She was unsure how long it had been since she'd begun when finally, she heard them again.

Those voices.

The ones that came every time, without fail.

Her grip tightened on the handle of the fork, and she froze.

Their jovial conversation was indiscernible, their laughter distant, when the peaks of their caps crested the hill, beyond the fence.

Historia wondered whether, if she could only stay still enough, the group of older boys might not notice her. Too late to run anywhere now, anyway. Not that there was anywhere to run in the field. She'd not even completed a full haystack yet that she could duck behind.

"Oh - look who it is!"

She should know by now. They would always catch her.

She felt her limbs tremble as the boy's mocking voice reached her. She wouldn't look at him. She couldn't.

"Haha - she must wait here on purpose, you know. She likes it when we come and visit her. We must be her only friends in the world."

Historia squeezed her eyes closed, clenching her jaw against the children's cruel comments.

Please. Just go away. Leave me alone. I'm better off alone.

"Yeah! I heard her Mama doesn't even love her. Tells everyone she wishes she'd never been born."

A heavy thud beside her foot finally caused her to tear her eyes open, her vision blurred with moisture.

The rock stared back at her accusingly, as a tear tracked down her cheek. You don't belong here, it seemed to say to her. No-one wants you here. People would be happier if you'd just disappear. She lifted her head just in time to see the second come flying at her face. She ducked. It buried itself in her half formed stack.

Now she'd have to start again.

"Hey! Stop being a weirdo. Come over here and talk to us, you coward!"

Historia tried to find her voice. She wanted to yell at them, to tell them to stop, but the words just wouldn't come. Every time she tried, the tears just came harder.

She lobbed the pitchfork aside, sinking to her knees. She drew one final lungful of air, and opened her mouth to try again.

"Who are you calling a coward?"

The voice that cut through the air was not her own.

Her head snapped up to see the group of boys scattering and squealing, just like frightened pigs in a pen, as moss-green material whipped and whirled around them.

This was not how her dream usually went.

This … was new.

The figure beneath the cloak was so much smaller than the boys, hood pulled low over their features, their fists a blur as they struck out repeatedly.

Something seemed familiar, though.

The crest at their back. The image of wings; one dark, one light.

She knew those wings.

The Wings of Freedom.

The older children ran screeching down the hill; all grazed cheeks and bloodied noses. Historia simply stared, wide eyed, as the small figure adorned with the green cloak watched them go, their back to her.

Then they turned, and the hood fell back.

Historia watched, transfixed, as the boy beneath the cloak bared his teeth. He couldn't be much older than her. Raven hair fell across his severe brow, his face smudged and dirty, and suddenly, he was no longer wearing a green cloak with those familiar wings emblazoned across it. It had transformed into a tattered, hooded, grey jacket. He rolled up the sleeves as he looked at her.

"Those fucking cowards with their shitty stones won't bother you no more."

She blushed at his crassness; even the farm hands wouldn't use such language. But there was something warm in the way that he regarded her. Something she felt like she recognised. She didn't need to fear him like the other children.

"Thank you."

He leaned against the fence. "What's your name?"

"… Historia … um. Just Historia." She took a tentative step forwards. And then another. "What's yours?"

She was at the fence before he could answer.

He turned around properly, so that they were facing one another, and seemed to study her for a long moment. Up close, she could see the silvery edges to his grey irises. She felt as though he were sizing her up - trying to decide whether she was worthy of his truths.

Finally, he reached out a hand across the fence, the rough pad of his thumb sweeping away a tear from her cheek.

"Levi. Just Levi."

"Levi ...?"

Historia woke to calmer weather and bedsheets beside her that were empty and cool. She blinked away sleep, and it was replaced with the memory of her dream. Her fingertips met her cheek, where his thumb had grazed her skin, and she found herself smiling fondly.

She wondered if this would be how the story went for her, from now on.

Her smile faded to heartache, though, as her eyes fell on the vacant pillow next to hers again. Had he left already?

Or … perhaps it had all just been a dream?

The soreness between her legs told her otherwise.

When their eyes met again, it was over breakfast, in a room full of people. A room full of children.

He didn't say anything out of the ordinary to her. He greeted her in his usual manner, eyes unreadable. She did her best not to blush profusely in his presence. She was quite sure she failed.

They drank tea. The children ate breakfast. His squad laughed and joked with her, so very much unaware of the illicit act she had committed with their Captain only hours before, as they all slept under the same roof amidst the raging storm.

She was aware of Levi watching her, every now and then, from the corner of her eye. Whenever she looked his way, though, his gaze was averted.

They'd all scraped their plates clean and consumed several pots of tea, when the Captain cleared his throat.

He surveyed his squad, gaze sweeping around the table. The children had been dismissed to the playroom with the help a while ago.

"No doubt last night's storm fucked up some of our hard work clearing the trees in the paddock yesterday. I suppose we'd better inspect the damage."

Beneath the table, Historia felt the warmth of a foot next to hers. His foot.

She bit her lip, looking anywhere but directly at him, lest she make it painfully obvious that something was different.

"Good idea, Captain." Jean nodded, his chair legs scraping against the wooden floorboards.

"Wait." Levi held up a hand. "Stay and finish your tea. Historia - you coming? You can tell me how you'd like to proceed with things, once we've given it all a once over."

She looked at him then. His brow twitched as he met her gaze calmly, and she knew her cheeks were pink. How did he always manage to stay so cool?

She nudged his foot beneath the table, giving him a small smile. "Of course."

She swore she saw the edges of his own mouth curve upwards, if only for less than a second.

They walked to the paddock in silence. The grass was damp, the air cool and clean as it always was after harsh weather. The small distance between them felt like a giant chasm to Historia. She wanted to step closer; to press herself against his warm side. But she daren't. She'd been the bold one last night. Today it was his turn - she wouldn't force anything on him that he didn't want.

So she merely pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders.

His eyes went to her. "You cold?"

They came up beside the fence at the edge of the paddock.

"Not especially," she replied, her hip leaning against one of the wooden posts. She surveyed the mess of broken twigs and branches displaced from the neat pile the scouts had made yesterday. "Doesn't look like anything too major," she commented, not looking at him. "Do you think we could fix up the play area before you leave?"

Suddenly he was right beside her. "Can't see why not."

She turned to face him. He was looking at her, too, his eyes searching.

She felt goosebumps rise along her neck. Her gaze dipped to his mouth; the memory of his chapped, insistent lips against hers resurfacing.

"You sure you're not cold …?"

His gaze was unwavering. She rose to meet it again. "Levi …"

He leaned in, his lips capturing hers instantly. A firm hand met her waist, the other cradling her face. For the briefest moment, as his thumb brushed against her cheekbone, she was reminded of the little boy in her dream.

She kissed him clumsily, their breaths mingling in a rush, before pulling back. Her nose knocked his. "Not anymore."

"Right. Good." He pulled her closer again, his fingers bunching the material of her dress at her hip. This time, the way their lips met was slower, a little more controlled. "Are you feeling okay?" He whispered against her mouth, and the hesitant tenderness of his words, coming from a mouth she was used to such severity from, made her knees feel weak.

"A little sore."

He brought his forehead to rest against hers. "Shit. Sorry."

She grinned. That was more like it. Her hand came up to cup his jaw. "Don't be. It was good. You were …" She tried to find the right words to explain, but after a moment, gave up and simply kissed him again, a little harder.

He sighed, pulling back, the pleasant warmth of his hand leaving her cheek. He glanced around furtively. "We need to be careful. What would people think of us -"

"I don't care," Historia cut across him. "Let them see. Let them think what they like."

"Historia …"

She took his hand in hers, her thumb brushing over his weathered knuckles. Even in his hands, his immense strength felt evident. She smiled at him, but he only looked troubled.

"I know you think I'm like this stupid fucking knight you've been waiting around for, that's going to be there to protect you and give you this damned happy ever after. But … it's not like that … I can't -"

"I know," Historia said simply.

He quirked a brow at her. But he didn't say anything further.

"Something occurred to me, last night. The heroine saves the day, right? In the book you gave me." As she looked at him, she thought back to her boldness. Back to the way she asked him … no; implored him to take her to bed. About the way it was her sure steps that he followed, up to her bedroom in the eaves. "Well. The heroine isn't waiting for the knight, after the story ends. She is the knight. She's her own damn knight, and she could have saved herself, as well as the little orphan, a long time ago, if only she'd been brave enough. If only she'd believed in herself a bit more. Anyone can be a knight, right? If they choose to be?"

He frowned at her, but his hand tightened around hers. "What do you want, then?"

She threaded her fingers through his. "Just you, whenever you can spare yourself. Just promise me, when everything is over, and you're done being the knight for everyone else, that you'll come back here. To us, in this farmhouse, and you'll just be yourself. Just Levi."

As Levi looked at her, those words she'd spoken settling in the quiet around them, he felt his chest tighten.

She was so fucking wise. How could a nineteen year old come out with such incredible truths? How could she make him, a man many years her senior, see things so differently in a mere instant?

He hadn't been wrong, last night. About what he thought he'd felt for her.

He had a duty to fulfil, for Erwin, and for all his dead comrades. But here … now … what she was asking of him. This was a promise he could make, without regret.

He would come back to her, always, somehow. Because he wasn't that little orphan anymore. He wasn't lost. He'd found his home - here, with her.

"Promise," he murmured. And then he kissed her again.

Fin.