Petra knew that she should stop dancing with the same man. Lord Karl had claimed her for a waltz and a mazurka, and the musicians were about to strike up a quadrille. Breathless, Petra felt her heeled shoes touch on the ground. She giggled, putting a hand to her cheek. I'm flushed.

"One more?" The young lord held out his hand, took hers. Petra felt how small and delicate her fingers were in his grasp.

"I think people are talking," she whispered. Her eyes scanned the crowd. A collection of young, noble-seeming women in particular were glaring at her. In unison, they snapped open fans and fluttered them like a chorus of angry butterflies.

"Let them. Please. One more, and then I'll turn you loose." Already, Karl was leading her back onto the floor.

"Will you?" Petra curtsied as the music struck up, and Karl bowed.

"Well. I make no promises." He grinned, and the dance began. As they spun around one another, Petra watched the people. She saw Nifa, waving excitedly, and she saw Oruo scowling and snarling something at Gunther. She saw Commander Pixis over by the buffet table talking with Commander Zackly; both older men looked bored. But the one person she never saw, ever, was the captain.

When are you going to let this idiotic dream die?

Sighing, Petra turned back to her partner and let him carry her off to the center of the floor. Wherever he was, Captain Levi was undoubtedly thinking of anything but her.

He watched her from the shadows, tucked away in a doorway off to the side of the room. Levi let his eyes scan over Petra in that green puff of a dress. When the young, handsome, tall (fucking tall) man lifted her into the air, she threw back her head and laughed. He ignored the fucker dancing with her, and let the sight of her soothe him. She was a balm, a kiss on the bruise of his soul. Always had been.

Levi pictured walking up to this pretty boy and shoving him away from Petra. He pictured taking her in his own arms, and whispering to her that this all was his. Levi did not delude himself; he was no young woman's fantasy. When they'd first met, he'd got the impression Petra, well, liked him. (Stupid girl.) Maybe the title of Humanity's Strongest could get him some action if he wanted, but he had nothing to offer a woman beyond an experimental night of fun. He was short. He was ugly. He wasn't good with words. He didn't know how to fuck. He had no money. He had too many nightmares.

But he entertained the idea of suddenly owning this palace of a house with its legions of servants, all the gold and patterned china a woman could want. He imagined offering it to Petra, offering her something to make up for the disappointment a man like him naturally inspired. She was no gold digger, no mercenary; no, she was the sweetest thing alive. But if he could give all of this to her—silks, furs, servants, position—then she wouldn't feel she'd wasted herself on some grub from the underground. No woman in her right mind could want to keep him, especially not an angel like Petra. She had so many opportunities.

But if he could just give her something to make up for her time. Her body. Her love.

He pictured taking her by the hand and drawing her into a private corner. Touch me, he could hear himself breathing those words into her ear. He could feel her unbutton his shirt, slide her soft palms up the rigid line of his stomach. Levi could practically sense the gentle way her fingers skated across his chest, the sweet quiver of her mouth against his neck. His pulse against her tongue. Not even sex, no, just touch. He had not been touched, hugged, caressed since he was four years old. Sometimes, when he'd been twelve and living on the streets, he'd crouch against a wall and run his hands up and down his arms, trail his fingers against his wrists and palms, not to get warm, but to feel touch again. That was his life, craving someone else's skin against his own, being repulsed at the very notion of it in the same breath.

He'd bury her against him, feel the silk of her hair on his cheek. Her hands would explore him, stroke him, let him feel alive in his own skin just once. Just one time. Touch. Touch me, Petra. The words hovered on his lips, alone here in the dark.

Sometimes he heard her telling stories to the guys in front of the fire, late at night. Goblin stories, about lecherous little demons that snatched up young girls and trapped them in their thorny lairs. He thought of that, idly, picking her up and placing her in a tower here, locking the door and peering at her through the keyhole. His. All his. Seeing her laugh in another man's arms, it made him think murder. It made him hate himself even more than he already did.

"Hiya, Levi!"

"Shit. Fuck. Hange!"

The shitty four-eyes stumbled into the doorway, dragging a man and a woman behind her. The pair of them gazed at the gangly brunette with gleaming, awestruck eyes. Hange grinned at him.

"We're looking for a private location in which to conduct many limber—"

"Don't finish that sentence. Just go."

"Miss Hange, tell us more about your…experiments with the titans," the girl whispered. She molded herself against Hange, arm wrapped around her waist. Hange dragged the young man by his wrist, and led both of them down the hall.

"I will! There are so many things I've learned about titan anatomy!" The three soon disappeared down the corridor. Levi rubbed his forehead, and went back to gazing onto the floor. He'd watched Petra like a creep for two dances now. He'd never wished for Oruo to come in and sweep her away before, but he wished it now.

She'd probably end up dancing the Marian with this puffed up boy; he knew how she loved that one dance. Sometimes he'd catch her practicing it in the months leading up to the gala. She was as light on her feet as you'd expect an expert in ODM and aerial combat to be. Occasionally, Levi wanted to sit her down with a cup of tea and ask, why? Why would someone as bright, as sweet, as friendly, as kind, as fucking optimistic as she ever want to actively court death? Why go beyond the walls? Petra was open-minded, sure, but she wasn't batshit like Hange. She didn't have grand dreams like Erwin. She wasn't irreparably broken, like him.

So why?

Maybe he was afraid she'd really meant it during recruitment several years ago, when she told him she'd joined the military to live up to his example. If she died, it would be on his head. Her blood on his hands.

But if he could keep her in this beautiful, gilded cage, maybe she'd settle her wings. Wings of fucking Freedom, shit. Then he'd never have nightmares again where she screamed his name helplessly as a titan swallowed her whole.

"Captain?"

Levi turned, found the storklike servant watching him. The thin guy blinked, followed Levi's former line of sight. Raised an eyebrow. Levi inwardly swore; he didn't want anyone to have an inkling of his affection—bordering on obsession, if he was honest—for his subordinate.

"Yeah?"

"Lord Siegfried—"

"Had better remember what I said," Levi growled. "About heads getting torn off."

"Lord Siegfried is with Commander Erwin in the study. They've both requested to see you."

Erwin. Fuck. Siegfried was good. Levi would give him that. He somehow knew that Levi could not, and would not refuse his Commander anything. Levi cast one last, quick glance at Petra. She was fine. She was dancing.

She was happier without him. One day, maybe she'd find a handsome young man and leave Levi's service, have a life out in the country with love and brats and everything.

Maybe she'd met that perfect, handsome specimen tonight.

Leave her, you goblin piece of shit.

"Fine. Take me to Erwin," he muttered.

"Captain. Thank you for coming." Siegfried didn't get up from behind his monster of a desk. The study smelled of vellum and mothballs. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting warped shadows along the walls. Marble busts of crooked nosed men scowled down at Levi from the shelves. The books looked thick and impenetrable; maybe it was having learned to read late, but Levi always felt vaguely threatened by large books. Erwin Smith stood before the desk, his presence the one thing combating the encroaching dark of this unhappy little room.

Erwin wasn't threatened by books, by lords, by anything. Seeing the Commander in his element here, Levi realized just how out of place he himself was when titans and violence weren't involved. He sidled up next to Erwin, content in his place. The Commander's shadow, where he truly belonged. What he was, at heart.

"Lord Siegfried has informed me of your conversation," Erwin said. His face did not betray emotion, but the flick of his eyes told Levi of secret anger. "I've expressed to him that I do not care for his…theatrical methods."

The older man held up his hands, a look of apology on his face. "I realize now that I was in error. My apologies, Captain."

"Fine. Thanks. Erwin, is that it?"

Siegfried gave a cough of surprise. "You're certainly informal with your address."

"Well, no one needs to explain shit to you." Levi fixed the man with a poisonous glare. "If that's all?"

Erwin sighed. "I would, however, like for you to listen to Lord Siegfried for a few minutes more. He has raised some rather interesting points."

Levi clenched his jaw. If it were Zackly asking him, he'd turn and walk out the door now, but it was Erwin. Every thought in the giant, golden-haired man's mind was five steps ahead of whatever Levi could envision. If Erwin wanted something, he usually had a reason, and it often was a good one. A gamble, though. Erwin was a notorious gambler with both lives and souls.

If he weren't also a genius, and the only real hope humanity had, Levi might resent that.

"Okay." Levi nodded. "Go ahead."

"As the Commander has said, I did not conduct this properly in any way. I do apologize sincerely for that." Siegfried rose from his seat, the firelight hollowing out his cheeks and shadowing his eyes. "But you see, I must move quickly and quietly. It's the only chance any of us has in this house."

"Well, that sounds bad." Levi folded his arms. "For you."

"My brother has succumbed to an illness of the brain. The doctors say he shall never recover, and for the past three years I have served as his regent, if you like. I daresay that under my watch, the Morgenstern family has prospered, and so have the vassals upon our estate. I know you consider me to be a spoiled, idle member of the elite, Captain. I can tell that much from you." The man clenched his fist, banged it on the desktop, upset a few pens. "But this estate and its people have been my life since I was born. If I'd been the eldest son, there never would have been such…well, such depravity. My brother was a great man in certain ways, but he was an immoral one." Siegfried shook his head. "A true libertine."

"I'm hearing a lotta big words, but not a ton of point."

"Levi," Erwin said quietly. That was all it took to silence him. Levi crossed his arms.

"My brother is dying, Captain. The doctors say he has six months left, at most."

"So?"

"So. Once he passes, I do not inherit the estate. That privilege goes to his firstborn and only son, Karl." The man narrowed his eyes. "And Karl is…well, he makes his father appear an innocent lamb. The man knows no limits in regards to his perverse inclinations. He's a demon, Captain. He torments peasant women simply because he can. He gambles, is violent. He appears affable and charming—he truly is his father's son—but there's a vicious nature that lurks beneath that handsome façade."

"Okay. Sounds like a bad guy. I still don't—"

"Karl is twenty-five years old. You are thirty-four. The elder brother."

"A bastard. If that's even true," Levi growled, although it was looking more and more likely. Even he conceded that.

"The Morgenstern family has close connections with the king. With your record of service, it would be only too easy to have you recognized and legitimized." Siegfried quirked a smile. "Levi Morgenstern. It has a fair ring to it, wouldn't you say?"

Levi didn't answer that. "So you want me to be lord so that Karl doesn't take over and destroy everything?"

"Precisely."

"No offense, but I'm not exactly noble material. I'm not a fancy guy. Me running an estate is… I kill titans. That's it. I don't know people, and I don't like them all that much, either. Well, not your kind of people." Levi had seen too many thin, hungry faces in the underground. Too many men drunk and despondent, too many women bruised and taking whatever they could get. It didn't have to be that way. It was because of people like the Morgensterns that life was what it was within the walls.

"I would be only too happy to continue my role as regent, with your approval. Captain. Consider." Siegfried moved around the desk to stand in front of the two soldiers. "As one of the most powerful lords in the interior, you would be able to line your Survey Corps's coffers. Your Commander here would no longer need to come to our galas with hat in hand, begging for table scraps to clothe and equip his men and women."

Levi's gaze snapped to Erwin. The Commander didn't react, but he could feel the desire coiling off the man. Levi knew in his marrow how much Erwin hated cozying up to these people, how he hated laughing on the outside while scowling inside. To spare the Commander even one instant of pain, Levi'd walk naked into hell itself.

But this…

"You would be able to furnish your soldiers with the best, and I would continue to run the place with an even hand. The vassals on this land would prosper. And perhaps, with a seat at the king's council, you could advocate for the unfortunates in the underground. Make a strong, knowledgeable case for them."

His mother had been taken here, enjoyed, and tossed away like a used prophylactic into a trash heap. Levi's hands fisted. No more girls with their innocence ripped from them, no more boys beaten and hungry in the streets. Maybe he could… Maybe he could make them…

"The world is yours to take," Siegfried said, his voice a whisper. "Will you not allow me to give it to you?"

"I."

Levi turned from Erwin's side, went over to the window. He watched the torches flickering in the night. The moon illuminated the snow. All these lands, his. The house, his. The people, his to protect. The Survey Corps, cared for. Erwin happy. Petra…

His. Maybe. He felt like he was standing on a mountaintop, Siegfried beside him, the old man gesturing out to the snowy fields before him, the moonlight on the forests. All yours. I'll give it to you. The name. The money. The woman.

But his mother…

Personal entertainment.

"I can't," he said gruffly. Levi watched the grim ghost of his reflection in the windowpane. "I already know who my father was. Probably."

Kenny, picking him up and carrying him out of his mother's cold, dark room, her body stiff under the blankets. Kenny, his wide-brimmed hat, his bloodstained coat, his long, unsmiling face. Teaching Levi to hold a knife. Levi, trotting at the murderer's heels like a dog. Levi, naturally gentle, naturally soft, punching and kicking when instructed, beating the sensitive boy inside of him over and over until eventually the kid shriveled and died. Making himself into Kenny's image, talking like him, scowling like him, though never laughing and charming others in the same way. Kenny backhanding Levi, punching him in the mouth on occasion. The only touch he knew. The only touch he wanted. Just to please the man who'd saved his life, who had to be his father, because "I used to know Kuchel" could only mean one thing when your mother was a whore. Levi'd often thought he and Kenny looked a little alike, somewhere in the set of the eyes and the jaw.

Even if it flew in the face of biology and logic, Levi couldn't be Lord Morgenstern's kid. He wanted it to not be true in such a deep, painful way that he felt he could rewrite the language of his blood, scrape off the lord's name and scribble something new in there.

"Captain," Siegfried began. Levi turned, glowered at him. Didn't look at Erwin.

"I'm not his son. Even if I am, I don't want to be. At least if I were the son of some underworld piece of shit, it'd be no hard feelings. Right?" He wasn't expressing himself well—he was bad with words—but he did his best. "Because it was fucking awful in the underground. Guys get drunk and screw because they've got nothing left to live for. Nothing to give a woman besides ten minutes in bed and a squirt to finish. But if some fancy ass lord drags a girl out of that hell, fucks her, and then dumps her…when he's got all the money in the world, could give her some help…that guy's a pig. A pig like all you nobles and your fat, greedy… I'd rather be some whore's and murderer's kid than that guy's upstairs."

"I am offering you something that benefits all of us. If you refuse, Karl will become the lord and do great damage to the people living here. He will come after you in any way possible if he knows the threat you pose to him. You have been dragged into this merciless game, Captain, and you cannot simply quit playing. You must win, or he will. Do you understand?"

"Well, he's lived twenty-five years without knowing about me. He'll probably be good to go for another twenty-five."

"And the people he'll hurt once he's in power? Can you live with those souls on your conscience, Captain?"

Levi sank into the black mire of his thoughts. He'd seen so many comrades off to their deaths. Furlan and Isabel, his fault, his fault for leaving them surrounded by titans in the rain. His pride, their downfall. So many deaths on his head, witnessed by him. He wanted to give all their deaths meaning, so they didn't suffer in this shit world for no reason other than bad luck.

More equipment for the Corps. A friend in power for Erwin. The people on the land and below the streets living better with someone on their side for a change.

But still…

Levi had lived most of his life by his gut. If a deal had felt wrong in the underground, if a patch of forest had been too quiet in titan territory, he responded according to his instinct. This…this all sounded too good to be true. And Levi hadn't believed in fairy tales since he was three years old.

Somewhere, there was a price. And he'd bet it was heavy.

"Fuck you. Fuck your offer. And fuck your brother," he growled. Without looking to Erwin for approval, he shoved open the doors and left. Levi paced down the hall, then stopped and waited. In short order, Erwin Smith materialized.

"Well." Erwin raised a huge ass eyebrow.

"Well. Sorry," Levi mumbled.

"Don't be. This situation is madness. You should be deeply suspicious of such a ludicrous offer." Erwin stroked a finger along his chin, the telltale sign that he was deep in thought. "I want to know what Lord Siegfried truly stands to gain. There's no way his altruism can be so…all-encompassing."

"Think what he said about that Karl guy is true?" Levi rubbed his temples; his head felt like it was gonna burst.

"I should speak with Pixis and Nile, see if they've heard talk. The great downside of the Survey Corps is that we spend more time with titans than people."

"Kinda what I like about it," Levi grumbled. Erwin smiled, shook his head. Levi watched him, looking for the first cue to act or react. "Tell me something, Erwin. If there were no strings attached here…would you want me to say yes? For the Corps?"

Erwin did not respond for a while. "I'm only human, Levi. I want to gain as much as I can for as little as I can give in return. The thought of never having to beg at one of these events again is intriguing. If there were no strings," he said, turning his gaze down, "what would you say?"

"I'll go into hell for you. I'll lay down my life for you, and I'll bleed every last drop in my body out if you ask for it." Levi narrowed his eyes, felt something move in his soul. "But…I can't disrespect her memory. That's not mine to sell."

"I see." Erwin didn't need to ask who "she" was. "I can appreciate that. Well. At the very least, let's see what we can find out about this Karl Morgenstern."

"He around tonight?"

"Mmm. Last I saw, he was dancing with Petra. He should be still in the—"

"Tall guy?" Levi felt gooseflesh erupt all over his body. "Reddish hair? Handsome?"

Erwin blinked. "Yes. How did you—"

"Erwin, I need to go. Now."

The Commander did not question Levi when he had that look in his eyes; Levi knew that he wore it now. "Go, Levi. Find me later."

Levi stormed down the halls, his heart a hammer in his chest. If Karl suspects you… Peasant women… Vicious… Sadistic…

"If he does anything to her," Levi breathed, the words not even a whisper. He tore into the ballroom and scanned the floor. The pair wasn't among the many dancers. He found the rest of his squad over by the side of the room, chatting amongst themselves. But Petra wasn't there.

Where the fuck is she?

And then, Levi caught sight of that green dress, her red hair, her little white shoulders. Karl Morgenstern had a hand on the small of her back, and he guided her through a doorway that led outside.

A curtain dropped behind them, and they were gone.