Author's Note: Woohoo! Chapter 7! Okay, I think I have this pacing thing kinda down (but not really at all, actually). Thanks to Empryexl for the absolutely spot on and accurate review! I can totally imagine Zeke having a heart attack over that. Along with Keith. Hange's trying to take people out before their time. Also, you totally put all sorts of ideas in my head for potential Erwin/Zeke drama. So, that's happening now. You're clearly amazing. Thank you 3

Chapter 7

My dearest Cassandra,

As I feared, we're at war. I find myself with little time to write to you. I will as often as I can spare it. Five additional warriors have inherited the Female Titan, the Armored Titan, the Colossus Titan, the Jaw Titan, and the Cart Titan. They may be children, but they are fierce.

The Paradis Island Operation isn't far off now. I assume we'll take it up once the opposition has given unconditional surrender. Their forces have taken heavy losses. I do not see an opportunity for a counter strike.

We'll send warriors to infiltrate the walls. They will be made aware of your existence. Tread carefully, Cassandra. They are loyal to Marley. You should only disclose to them what you have written in your official letters.

I will write to you when I know more. I'll make sure you're safe.

I hope you're still smiling. It may still be a while before we are reunited. They will most likely keep me in Marley during the operation as a deterrent to enemy nations, but I swear, we'll see each other again. Until then, stay strong for me.

With love,

Zeke Yeager

It had been an hour and she had still not made up her mind. The sun had begun to set, giving everything around her an orange hue. Something had possessed her to travel this far, but now Fear was holding her back, whispering in her ear, keeping her from knocking on his door. She should have known what to expect. She always knew what to expect with Zeke. She could guess his reactions down to the flare of his nostrils. She had found herself with a similar ability to read Keith. Then why was it so difficult to know how her father would react to her presence? She should have known him better than anyone else. The man she met in Paradis looked like her father, smelled like her father, even had his mannerisms, but she did not know this man.

Cassandra took one hesitant step forward toward the house, clutching Zeke's letter to her chest. Maybe he wouldn't be upset because it wasn't a social call. She had come to deliver important information. He needed to know.

"Hey!" She froze at the sudden call, turning to meet the source: a young boy, no older than eight. His jaw hung open, his emerald eyes were wide with surprise. He suddenly smiled at her. "You're with the Survey Corps!" he remarked excitedly. She stared back at this boy like he was a mirror. Their eyes, their hair, their skin, it was all the same. Except…his face was round and long, much like the woman her father had married. Her face was slim and angular, much like her own mother's. "I'm going to join the Survey Corps, too!" There was no mistaking it: this was Eren, Grisha's new warrior.

"What's your name?" Cassandra asked, tucking the letter into her jacket pocket.

"Eren Yeager!" His smile never left.

"Can you fight, Eren Yeager?" she asked.

"Of course, I can!" Eren replied haughtily. He put up his hands in the sloppiest positioning that Cassandra had ever seen.

"Show me." she demanded. He swung at her, and she easily sidestepped his clumsy movements. He tried again, and she tripped him with embarrassing ease. He fell to the ground and grabbed his scraped elbow.

"You're really good…." he mumbled, staring up at her. It didn't make any sense. He was so bad at this. The Grisha she knew would never have allowed such incompetence.

"Who taught you to fight?" Cassandra asked.

"Huh?" Eren stood. "No one. I learned it myself." No, it didn't make any sense at all.

"Your father never trained you?" she pressed. He shook his head. Emotions began to boil inside of Cassandra. She wasn't sure what she felt. Was it relief for this child who would not be subjected to the same torment that she and Zeke were? Was it jealousy that he was receiving the love that she had so craved from her father? Cassandra laid her hand on Eren's head. "Keep practicing, Eren Yeager." He called out to her again as she left, but she wasn't in the mood to stop. No, the man that she had met in Paradis was not her father, and while she knew it was wrong, she was jealous.

I met Eren. He's not a warrior. He's just a child. A normal, healthy, happy child. His father is just a doctor. His mother is just a housewife. There is nothing abnormal about his world. There is no special purpose. There is no greater mission. He's just a child.

How could he do this to us? How could he treat us like this? Were we not worthy of his love? How could he leave mom? Was her bloodline all he cared about? Didn't he love her? Why is he such a monster?

Cassandra sent the letter back to Zeke, unable to bring herself to write any more than the bare necessities. She was not in the mood for pleasantries. She was not in the mood to do anything but curl up and cry. She was moments away from the sweet release of her bed. Her doorknob was in her hand when Erwin opened his door.

"Cassandra, you're needed in a meeting." He was resolute, shutting his office door before she could respond. She was grateful that her hair often obscured her face from those around her.

"Yes, sir." she whispered to the ghost of the man. It took her only a few moments to regain her composure. Unfortunately, she was a soldier, and that meant she did not take precedence over the mission. She was dispensable.

Erwin sat by his open bedroom window, listening to the soft, muffled whimpers and sniffles coming from the adjoining room. Her window was open, too. He had stirred awake in the middle of the night because of the heat, hoping to relieve himself of it with the cold air. He hadn't expected to overhear Cassandra's most private moments and be so consumed by them that he wouldn't return to his bed. His arms were numb from the frigid chill of dead night now. He tried to imagine what the girl would look like in a fit of sobs, but he couldn't. All he saw was her perfectly composed demeanor.

What could make a goddess cry? He wasn't sure he wanted to know. It had to be something awful. It was unclear how much time had passed since he first heard her, but it had been a while. He slipped on a shirt and made his way to her office. Her soft sobs continued, indicating that she had not heard him enter. He knocked on the door of her adjoining room.

"Cassandra?" Her voice stopped immediately. There were no more sniffles, no more sobs. He opened the door slightly. He heard the light but quick pitter patter of her bare feet against the hardwood floor.

"Stop…." The door pushed against the weight of her body, unable to move any further. Her voice was low, raspy. It was nothing like the silvery words that were usually spun by her tongue.

"Okay." Erwin leaned against the wall next to her door, sliding down until he was seated on the floor. He could see her doing the same through the thin sliver of opening he had managed to create. He saw her bare shoulders poking through her black hair, and the light grey of her pajama pants and tank top…but not much else. "What's wrong?" She didn't answer him. He examined her further, following her arm down to the ground, where it uncomfortably held the bottom of the door, keeping it from opening any further. Erwin moved closer to her. He wasn't sure what had his executive officer so low, but she had always taken care of him, and he wanted to do the same for her. He put his hand on top of hers. Her fingers twitched in surprise. He gently stroked them with his thumb, and they sat together until the sun came up.

It was an unusual way to spend his nights, but Erwin felt compelled to do it. He kept his windows open, waking out of sound slumber when he thought he heard Cassandra stirring next door. Some nights it was just his imagination, and after laying in the silence for a satisfactory amount of time, he would drift back to sleep. Other nights he would hear her soft cries and sit outside of her room, holding her hand through the barely open door, never once asking to see her face. It didn't bother him. The lack of sleep or the way she kept him, literally, at arm's length. He was beginning to feel the famine lift. He was beginning to feel well-fed again. He was realizing what it meant to satisfy his craving for her.

My dearest Cassandra,

Have I ever told you about the night you were brought home?

We had spent a long time talking about the arrival of my new sister. When mom went to the hospital on the night you were supposed to be born, she didn't come home like she was supposed to. Neither did father. Eventually, our grandfather decided to check in on them.

The men came home the next night, explaining that both you and mom were sick. They needed to keep you at the hospital, and I couldn't go visit.

It took almost half a year to bring you home. When they did, you would cry all the time. No one could quiet you down. Except for me.

I would sit with you at night and tell you stories until you fell asleep. You must have recognized my voice because you wouldn't let anyone else hold you. You would cry, and kick, and scream as loud as you could until whoever was trying to hold you handed you back to me. Then you'd smile and look up at me with your big green eyes.

I felt so alone before you came along. But, eventually, nothing else mattered. I had you, and you had me. We were all each other needed. No matter what came, we would find a way to get through it together. We would be the heroes of our own stories.

And remember: monsters never conquer the heroes.

With love,

Zeke Yeager

Much like any other addiction, Erwin always found himself vying for more. Months passed, and one midnight meeting turned to five, turned to ten, turned to twenty. Placing his hand over hers wasn't enough anymore. He felt brave. All of the sudden, he began to hold her hand, gingerly running his thumb across the knuckles of her fingers. Then he began to lace his fingers with hers. Her hands were soft and small. They felt fragile. Like gold-leaf. he thought to himself. And suddenly, he wanted to hear her silvery voice again.

"Do you believe in gods?" he had asked her one night, absentmindedly thinking of the walls that contained them.

"What do you mean?" He looked over and noticed her head had turned just a little in interest of what he was saying. He could see just a bit of her chin as she leaned her head against the door.

"Divine lawgivers. Righteous deities. Just overseers." Erwin explained. "Ones that keep the evil at bay."

"No." she replied, turning toward him a bit more. Even in the darkness, he could make out the brilliance of her one visible green eye. "I don't think there are gods protecting us."

"Don't let anyone in the Church of the Walls hear you say that." Erwin joked. A gentle smile appeared across his lips. "They'd spend hours preaching to you, and interrogating you about your views."

"It wouldn't take hours." Cassandra met Erwin's gaze for the first time in their midnight meetings. Then, in the most delicate and beautiful silvery tone he had ever heard, she told him, "It is just people."

"Just people?" Erwin inquired.

"It is just people who hurt us, and just people who heal us." She turned away and he heard the distinct crinkling of paper. "And it is their small acts of kindness, of love, that keep evil away. That's all." Erwin nudged the door open just a bit more and caught a glimpse of a faint but perfect moonlit smile directed a parchment in her hand. He felt empty when she returned her gaze to him without the smile. It tore something deep within him. Was he not the source of something so lovely? If not, what was? Who was? The pain overcame him, and he suddenly realized Cassandra was an illicit drug. A few moments in the presence of a smile meant for someone else had left him squirming for more. Erwin was feeling famished again. Why couldn't this goddess show him mercy? Why had she chosen him to torment like this? It was cruel.