To say Eren was shocked was certainly an understatement. He took great, calming breaths as Levi explained it all.

"Now don't go getting all high and mighty, Yeager," he said. "It's all just a ploy on Erwin's part. He's apparently been talking you up for months, ever since he visited last fall. Of course, it's all fucking nonsense. You've never even had any formal training, right? Though I suppose that's part of the appeal. I hear those pigs in the interior, the king included, get bored with all their riches and their finery." Levi sneered. "Apparently the idea of having a solider, titan-child, and Humanity's Hope—oh yeah, you're "Humanity's Hope" now, brat. What a pair we make, huh?— having you cook the Midsummer feast is quite… exciting to them. That's apparently what pigs consider entertainment nowadays." Taking up a pen Levi brandished it at Eren like one of his swords. "What it all comes down to is that the king had decided to personally fund our next expedition if you agree to cook, which you do, and if you succeeded in not fucking it up, which you won't, we'll all come out the better for it. Got it?"

Eren nodded. Then shook his head. He nodded again.

"I'm cooking for the king?" he asked.

"Oh for fuck's sake, yes. Get out. Go plan a meal. Erwin said it was seven dishes. Or was it eight? Some absurd number, I'm sure. Fucking hell, Eren. Do us all a favor and sneak some food for yourself. If you don't come back at least three pounds heavier I'm crowning you as the most stupid child that's ever entered into our ranks."

"Yes… sir?"

"Damn straight, 'yes, sir.' Hop to."

None of his friends were allowed with him on such a trip, but that didn't mean they didn't send him off with a bash worthy of the military police. There wasn't much food involved (who'd dare cook for Eren on such occasion?) but Jean managed to get his hands on a whole damn crate of vine (no one knew how, Eren suspected Pixis) and Connie cleared out the castle's basement for them to party in (the one and only time he'd willingly clean). The entire time they were sneaking away Eren heard the Corporal's voice in his head—"We don't drink, brat"—and his vision was filled with horrific possibilities. But Jean and Mikasa were more than strong enough to drag him down, protesting as he was. Eren still might have found a way to put a stop to the fun if he hadn't caught a glimpse of Levi while they were skittering away. He was hidden in the shadows of an adjacent hall, just leaning there, waiting for them. Or rather, waiting for Eren. As they passed he looked to the crate and then held up a single finger, an ambiguous gesture that Eren nevertheless understood: Just this once, Yeager, it said. Only. Once.

Eren smiled brilliantly until Levi was out of sight.

Since then he'd heard hear muffled footsteps above them—the rest of the Special Ops, staying alert all night to compensate for the 104th. Eren supposed that was their sendoff gift to him. For hours he and his friends been hanging around, drinking, with no one coming to tell them off. It was one of those wonderful kinds of nights.

"You're cooking for the king!" Armin gushed. He waved his vine bottle for emphasis, spilling a bit on his tunic. "The king, Eren! Do you have any idea how great this is?"

Jean snorted. "Don't tell me you think it's an 'honor,' squirt?"

"Wha—? Oh no. No, no, no." Armin shook his head wildly. "Ew no. The Corporal's right. They're all pigs."

"Fat pigs," Sasha giggled.

"That's not nice, Saaasha." Krista slurred. Laughing, Ymir kept trying to give her pigtails but Krista wouldn't stand still. She wandered over to Armin, pointing at him sternly.

"Not pigs. They're… they're… chubby sows," she said. Brightening, Krista drank happily. "Chubby sows! So much nicer!"

"Sows are the girls," Jean protested.

Ymir grinned. She finally caught hold of Krista and dragged her back into her lap. "Well that works our great then yeah? Fucking MPs."

"Did you—" Sasha hiccupped. "Did you just insult us?" She waved her hands in front of her breasts. "Us girls, Ymir!"

"Ew. Whatever."

"Guys!" Amir spilled more vine to get their attention. "Listen—listen—sweet Sina no one ever listens to me. Noooo. This is great for strategy. Think big, guys! The king will pay for this mission, yes, buuuuuut this will also establish a link between the survey corps and the royal family! Who knows what else they might provide us with? Funding for more horses or funding for more swords or, or…"

Sasha's giggles developed into sobs. "Funding more food."

"Eren's cooking them food they're not going to give us food, Sasha! The vine's gone to your head."

"Yeeeup."

"This is important." Armin insisted. "Like, really really important." He knelt down beside Eren. "You're important."

"Ah. Thanks, man." Eren covered his mouth, hoping that Armin wouldn't see him laughing. Despite having Levi's one time permission he still hadn't felt comfortable drinking too much. It was much more fun watching everyone else deteriorate anyway. Even so, Eren was about to sneak the vine away from Armin when he felt an arm encircling his waist and found one Mikasa Ackerman very, very close. She stared at him for a while and then turned her look upon everyone else. She lifted her bottle.

"Eren is important," Mikasa announced and then drank. That, apparently, was that.

"…Thanks, Mikasa. I think."

"You don't need to thank me, Eren."

"… Right."

Jean shook his head, pushing himself unsteadily to his feet. "Eren this, Eren that. We all know what's gonna happen here," he said. "Eren's gonna go off and cook all this fucking fantastic food—food we won't get a chance to try, I might add." Sasha whimpered. "Then he'll come back, brag brag bragging about his efforts, yap yap yapping about meeting the king. We'll high tail it over the walls in another month's time to become food, but I've got a feeling we'll all make it back just fine. Then no doubt Eren will be credited for that too."

"Hey, asshole. Whatever happened to that nice Jean who promised to get me to the sea?"

"Shut it, Yeager. I ain't done yet." Jean examined his bottle. "Gonna need more vine for this." He tipped it back and drank deep. "Listen up because I'm saying this once. You're spectacular—ah shut it! Sometimes. Just—shuddup. You're gonna be spectacular with this feast business too because if you're not I'm gonna kick your ass from here to Wall Maria."

Eren stuck out his tongue. "You know, Corporal Levi said something very similar."

"Did he? Well there you go. Do well so you can impress your shorty boyfriend."

"Wait—that's not—Levi's not—"

Jean raised his glass. "To getting Eren Yeager laid!"

"YEAH!"

Eren buried his face into his hands. "Oh sweet Sina."

The next day Eren had only a slight headache from his misadventure but the trip soon made even that forgettable. The interior was everything Eren had imagined it would be and more. Everywhere he saw people who were dressed cleanly—if a bit simply—and whose hair had obviously been washed recently. There were no beggars and certainly no rats. The paving beneath their carriage was so smooth that Eren periodically snuck glances out the window, half convinced that they weren't actually moving. Really, he was torn between standing in awe of what humanity had managed to accomplish despite its setbacks and recoiling in disgust at the men who could keep all this for themselves. Eren watched as a lovely woman pulled water from a well. It sparkled in the sunlight, fresh and cool, and unbidden questions rose to the front of his mind. Why did her children get a cup then and there while he, Armin, and Mikasa had been forced to boil all the water they'd drank?

Eren sat back against the cushions. Commander Erwin quietly wrote reports in a hand slanted from the carriage's rocking. He didn't seem bothered by what was around them. Though then again, if rumors were to be believed he'd grown up in the interior. Food, clothes, books, a position of power… and yet he'd joined the most dangerous branch of the military, and had even taken on Levi as his right hand man. If their camaraderie didn't prove that two people from different worlds could get along then Eren didn't know what would. And surely, if a man from the interior and a man from the underground city could become close, then a man from the underground and a boy from the slums could too?

"Okay there, Eren?" His head shot up. Erwin was quite literally smiling down at him, standing as he was outside of the carriage. When had they stopped?

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

"Not to worry. It's easy to get nervous your first time visiting, but you must believe me when I say that those of the interior are just like you or me."

Climbing down the first thing Eren saw was a man the size of four Corporal Levis waddling past.

"… Right, sir. Just like us."

"I'm… cooking here? I'm cooking here. Commander…"

Erwin didn't even bother confirming these portions of Eren's monologue anymore. He'd done that throughout the entire trip: "We're taking this carriage? I'm wearing these clothes? We're stopping here? Commander, I don't think we should actually touch that…" Eren's eyes were a tad bit wider now though, so Erwin gave him a swift pat on the back. The poor kid stumbled forward.

"What? You thought the king had his meals cooked out of a scullery?" he asked.

"What I think…" Eren said slowly, faintly. "Is that killing titans is a whole lot less intimidating than this, sir."

The kitchen was, well, a kitchen. An actual, fully stocked cook's room that was about three times the length of the one the Corps' utilized, and easily twice as wide. That was saying a lot too, considering that Eren was used to cooking out of a castle's gallery. Still, he'd never had this many… supplies before. Counters the size horses dominated the room's center, littered with knives, spoons, and other odds and ends. Barrels lined the walls and, looking up, Eren could see various pots and pans suspended above him on intricate hooks. There were six ovens, three spice racks, an entire room—just visible in the left-hand corner—devoted entirely to meat. The sight alone made Eren's mouth water. As if the size and extravagance of the kitchen weren't enough, the whole room had an aura of chaos to it—but controlled chaos. There were at least twelve other cooks there, bustling about as they performed various tasks. They'd arrived just before the noon bell and no doubt these women were preparing lunch for the royal family. The fact that there was a lunch at all boggled Eren's mind. Soldiers ate small bits of bread when they first awoke and a slightly more substantial breakfast once the sun was high in the sky. You got on with water and whatever else you could scrounge up until dinner. This wasn't just astounding, it was unparalleled.

One woman ran past, nearly barreling Eren over. He spotted some strange, curved tool in her hand but he hadn't a clue what it was used for. Eren suddenly felt very, very small.

"Commander—"

"Listen up!"

Eren jerked at the sudden shout, as did every cook within the vicinity. Sometimes it was easy to forget that kind, gentle Erwin was their leader for a reason. The spell was quickly broken though and the women finally seemed to realize that there was an official standing in their midst. They dropped into mismatched but sincere curtseys. Eren had a strange desire to bow in response before Erwin's hand settled on his shoulder.

"This is Eren Yeager," he announced and some of the woman immediately began whispering. "He's the cook who will be heading this years midsummer feast." The whispers grew into a roar. "Millie? Millie Fryan?"

"Yes, sir?"

A straight-backed woman came forward. She had grey in her hair and the skin not covered by her long-sleeved dress was wrinkled like a raisin, but her eyes were as clear as any soldier's. She tucked the spoon she'd been holding into the front pocket of her apron and stood even straighter, arms clasped firmly behind her back. Eren could only assume that this was the civilian cook's version of a salute.

"Sir?" she questioned again. Her voice had a steadiness that came from much use.

"Ah, Millie. So nice to finally meet you in person. You received my letters, yes?"

"I did indeed, sir. Pretty hand you've got. I had the head maid translate them for me and wasn't surprised one bit to hear pretty words as well."

"You can't read?" Eren blurted and immediately shrunk back when her gaze snapped his way. Millie's answer wasn't unkind though.

"Never had much need for words, boy." She said. "Not of the written variety at least."

"Oh. But… what about recipes…?"

Her lips puckered sourly. "Now don't go telling me you rely on something like a recipe to cook with!"

"No, ma'am, but…"

"No 'buts' then. I've been cooking since I could stand on a rickety stool and reach the pots. Don't you go telling me about no 'buts.'"

"Yes, ma'am."

Erwin's head swiveled back and forth, clearly enjoying the exchange. He coughed politely into his hand. "Millie, as I mentioned before I'd like you to be the one helping Eren. He has full control over the menu, but he might need some assistance… adjusting."

"Of course, sir. Happy to help." The other women dropped into a final curtsey. Commander he may be, but the kitchen was as far from Erwin's territory as you could get. That gesture was clearly a dismissal. He began heading for the door as Millie turned to Eren. "Let's go, boy."

"G-go? Now?"

Strong hands settled on hips. "We've got three days to plan this thing, no menu yet, no ingredients ordered, all of this for the king, and you're asking, 'now'? Yes, now!"

Millie grabbed hold of the front of his shirt and marched off, Eren in tow. Panicking, he managed to catch a glimpse of Commander Erwin waving goodbye before he too was lost in the kitchen's steam.

"You think Eren's having fun?" Jean asked, brushing down his sixth horse.

Sasha tugged inconsolably at the mane of hers until he pulled away. "I bet he's snatching tastes of all kinds of great foods!"

"Or getting in good with the higher ups. Not like Pixis and Erwin don't already love him," Connie grumbled.

"Wonder if he's living in the royal castle."

"Bet he's got a fireplace in his room."

"And a featherbed!"

"Now that's just not fair…"

"You're right, shitheads. It's not fucking fair." Suddenly the 104th had a pint-sized, pissed off Corporal bearing down on them. He stopped in front of Jean, snapping up the brush he'd dropped when he noticed that Humanity's Strongest was just a step away. Said brush was smacked against his head—wood side.

"Ow!"

"You know what's also not fair?" Levi asked. "The fact that I've got a whole squad of snot-nosed, idiotic brats working under me and yet—still!—nothing seems to get done. Not the laundry, not the dishes—Springer, I just came from the downstairs bathroom and if you think that's 'clean' then you got trampled by a titan as an infant. I'm not taking a shit in there until every seat shines like the fucking sun. Understood?"

"Yes, sir!" Connie squeaked.

"The rest of you can redo whatever it is you think you accomplished this morning because no doubt it sucks. And you know what? After that, fucking do it again. If you lot aren't sore in places unmentionable by sundown then we'll be seeing how well cleaning gets done in the dark."

With that Levi left. Not stomping exactly but… heavy-footed.

"He's been a little upset lately," Armin ventured.

Jean sighed, rubbing at his head. "Eren needs to come home."

"Well he won't be coming home if he's got the King's food, a personal fireplace, a featherbed…"

"Then we'll kidnap him!"

"An excellent plan." All heads turned to regard Mikasa. She watched as Levi slipped back into the castle with what could only be described as a look of empathy crossing her face. She continued to stare long after their Corporal had disappeared and occasionally she nodded to herself. It was a long moment before she went back tending her own horse, but the others could occasionally hear the words "Eren," "home," and, at one point, "the Corporal would help" being muttered.

"Ah man. You know it's bad when those two agree on something," Jean whispered and there were frightened nods all around.

If Eren had any grand visions of being the star cook in this whole fiasco than he was sorely mistaken. While it was true that he had control over the menu and would be preparing the King's personal plates, all of that was only the end game. For the entire first day it was, "Do this, boy." "What were you thinking, boy?" "Boy! Haven't you ever cooked pears before?" "Now really, boy, don't go getting upset about it…" After only a few hours spent with Millie Eren was convinced that he'd prefer "brat" over "boy" any day.

He twirled his pencil morosely.

"What's all this moping for then?"

For all her snapping though Millie had a gentle spirit and—sometimes—a gentle hand. She soothingly toyed with his hair, leaving little streaks of flour. Eren half acknowledged to himself that he needed to get it cut. No doubt Levi would chastise him for it when he got back. The fact that he was almost looking forward to it had Eren sighing.

"I guess I'm just feeling a little... homesick," he admitted. Millie seated herself on the stool beside him.

"Can't right blame you, boy," she said. "You're a decent cook, far more than decent if you make me swear to it. There's sense in it after all. The King might have you here mostly for the talk you'll stir up, but he sure as heaven wouldn't entrust his feast to someone without at least a touch of skill. That being said, you might be able to cook, but you're not a cook. You hear me?" Millie took out one of her many rags and flapped it sharply at him. "I'm a cook, boy. Laurena over there? She's a cook. Been stoking the oven fires for nearly six decades and I'd wager both legs she'll be tending them for six more. You though? This ain't your life."

"I'm a soldier," Eren mumbled.

"Aye. A monster too from what I hear." Millie shushed him when he began to tense. "Did I say I take stock in everything I hear? Don't be a fool, boy. I've heard you called angel and devil and the military's puppet, but heaven help me if you're not just a boy." She resumed playing with his hair and this time Eren relaxed into it. "A little boy who's being asked to do far too much far too fast if you ask me. No doubt you'd prefer that this "honor" be said and done so that you can go back to your friends, am I right?"

"Yeah," Eren said thickly. He felt like he had syrup coating his throat. Millie eyed him knowingly.

"Pretty girl waiting for you back home?" She asked casually.

"N-no…"

"Pretty boy then," she said with a smile. "Well ain't that just sweet. So what are you doing sitting there, eh? Sooner this gets done the sooner you head home. Now, would that be our menu, oh esteemed chef, or are you penning poetry for that love of yours?"

That drew a dry chuckle from Eren. The idea of writing poetry for Levi was ridiculous. Might be fun to try someday though, just to see his reaction.

"Menu," Eren said and handed her the sheet, only to realize a second later how stupid that was. Millie eyed the paper dully.

"Risa!" she called before Eren could start apologizing. A woman with curls frizzed to twice their size ran over. "What do we think of our boy's ingredients?"

Risa gave him a little wave before taking the paper in both hands. Eren's tiny script easily covered both sides. He'd written down ingredients as he thought of them, not in the order they would be cooked or served, so Risa's eyes danced crazily.

"Cheese, grapes…" she read. "Good, good. Flour, yeast, a little sugar…" Risa looked up. "These are rather simple ingredients for bread…"

Eren straightened. "It's my mother's recipe. I know it may not seem much to the King, but everyone in the Corps praises it and—"

"Now, now, boy. No need to go defending your work. Not here." Millie nodded solemnly at him. She looked just a smidgen more impressed. "The King and his men can pour honey over it if they're looking for something fancy."

"Honey?" Eren asked.

Risa bounced on the balls of her toes, suddenly vibrant. "Oh, it's wonderful, Eren. So sticky and sweet. I heard that these tiny little animals make it, but there's not many of them left. It's very, very rare."

"And when exactly did you try honey, Risa?" Millie asked.

"I snuck a taste last season. You cannot make me regret it."

"What a naughty thing you are," but Millie laughed.

Eren could feel his eyes widening the more they shared. "It is as rare as coffee?"

"Much rarer, boy. Coffee will be served to everyone at this year's feast. Play your cards right and you might even be able to sneak a taste of your own." Risa winked behind Millie's back. "But come now. Am I to waste away here? What else have we to work with?"

"Butter, eggs, milk…" Risa continued, nodding. "We'll need plenty of those. Let's see. Peaches, apples, blueberries, raspberries…" Her eyebrows rose high. "This is quite a bit of fruit, Eren."

"Yes, well… I was thinking... fruit pies?" He looked to each of them for approval. "I've never actually made one. Well, not really. I took apple slices and stuffed them between shavings of leftover crust when I was six." Millie snorted. "But they've always sounded so amazing and it is a summer festival…"

Millie raised her hand decisively. "The King can afford it, boy. I also have it on good authority that he's terribly fond of pies. All sorts. You'll be sure to impress him with that."

"I need to impress him. He's promised to personally fund the next expedition beyond the walls," Eren muttered.

"And so you shall." Millie patted his hand. "Not that I like the idea of you going out there one bit." Her eyes suddenly had a sheen that Eren had to look away from. They were interrupted by Risa's startled laugh.

"Deer!" she cried. "Eren, we won't be serving the King deer." Risa snatched up the pencil to scratch that ingredient out.

"Why not?" Deer had always been a prized meat among the Corps.

"He'll be eating cow," Millie said dryly.

"Cow!"

"Indeed, indeed. I believe that a few are still raised every year and they're always slaughtered for occasions such as this." She shook her head at Eren's slack jawed expression. "Close your mouth, boy, you'll catch flies. You have to remember who it is you're serving."

"I don't know how to cook cow…"

"That's why we're here, ain't it? Risa?"

She was running through the list much more quickly now, one finger tracing her progress. "I don't know everything that you intend to make with these Eren, but it mostly seems—ah." Her finger stopped about four lines from the bottom and Eren stilled. "Lye?" She asked. "That's… not edible." She pulled a remarkably horrified face.

"It's not—that's not why—" With a frustrated noise Eren leaned forward. Sharing glances, the two older women edged closer to create a tight, private circle. Eren tucked his hands pleadingly under his chin. "I know, I know," he said. "It's not okay to steal from the King but I really don't know how else I can get ahold of it. I can't afford it, not even if I saved up for years and years and this has been the only thing I've come up with, the only thing he'll really like—"

"Boy." Millie interrupted. "What in the name of the three walls are you blathering about?" Eren took a deep breath.

"It's… for that boy." Eren cringed at calling Corporal Levi a "boy," but he wasn't going to get into how his crush was a man twice his age, and his superior to boot. "I've been trying to get him a gift for a while now. Something to… thank him. And to show him that I do care, even if he doesn't." That kept Eren awake some nights. Of what he'd do if, after all these months, Levi threw his gift back in his face. Not like his 'rejection' of the vine. If it was crueler and more… final. Eren shook his head. "I need lye," he said. "So I thought that maybe I could just… slip it onto the ingredient list?" He finished with a sheepish, slightly terrified shrug.

Risa shook her head at him. At first Eren thought he was being told a resound 'no' but she only said, "Why would this boy of yours want to receive lye? It's not a very romantic gift."

"No. You don't—I only need the lye for—"

Millie silenced him with another wave of her rag. Her other hand covered a smile. Eren and Risa turned to find that she was actually laughing. "Don't mind me," she said. "I'm just pondering the fact that I've been living amongst a band of thieves." Risa scowled. "Eren?" He jerked at her use of his name. "Risa's right. I don't know how a boy with a passion for lye won your affection—"

"Noooo—"

"—but who am I to judge? Would you believe I'm a romantic?"

"Not in a thousand lifetimes," Risa said with a giggle.

"Hush your mouth, child. Eren. You'll have your lye. Why not? I'm an old woman whose seen a lot of odd little things. I was born in a cage and I'll die in a cage. I've spent my life feeding others, but were I ever to step outside that cage I myself would become the food. Real funny, ain't it? And in all this ridiculousness there's an equally ridiculous boy who rumor says can grow meters high, he's cooking for the King, and he's got a boy of his own back home whose got a fetish unlike any other." Eren blushed a brilliant red but didn't bother opening his mouth this time. "Lye? Not strange at all. Least not in comparison. And like I said, boy, the King can afford it."

"Thank you, ma'am." Eren muttered.

"Don't go thanking me, boy. Cook!"

It was with some trepidation that the messenger boy approached Corporal Levi's office. After all, he'd only just ridden into the Survey Corp's castle and already he'd heard three people—shouting, crying, and whispering respectively—discussing the Corporal. When he'd asked a group of older soldiers where he could find him they'd all adopted varying looks of pity. A man with a rather square face shook his head wildly, only succeeding in biting his tongue, and while two others efficiently tipped his head back (did this happen a lot?) a kind woman lead him upstairs. She'd pointed out the door… but when he'd turned to thank her she was already gone.

This little boy—twelve years old, with the same freckles as his father—considered himself rather smart. After all, he'd taught himself how to read and write, entered the training corps, and within a month had convinced his superiors that he could best serve humanity by acting as a scribe. He'd been working under Commander Erwin for the last seven months and he didn't regret a moment of it.

Until now.

The door was closed and the boy knew, like a rabbit knows to avoid the fox, that it would be a fool's act to open it. Nothing good would come of it, he was sure. The instinct sang through his blood, so strong that he began shivering despite the heat of the day and the cloak still donning his shoulders.

So the boy did the smart thing. He slipped the message beneath the Corporal's door and then fled.

Levi was in a right foul mood when a bit of paper was shoved beneath his door, though really, he'd been in a right foul mood for days. There had been shifts in his routine that were just too damn large for one small brat to have caused… so Levi just ignored them. So what if he'd been a little harsh on the greenhorns lately? They needed a good kick in the rear. So what if there was a new layer of grime on the third floor windows? No one else cleaned as well as he did anyway. There was no cause to ponder Hanji's bored expressions, or how all the food tasted disgustingly bland, or that fucking terrifying moment when Ackerman had tried to hug him (at least that's what Levi thought she was going for. It could just as easily have been an assassination attempt). He deliberately chose not to think about how he'd gone down to the basement every single fucking night, only to turn around once the meaning behind taught, pressed sheets and a table gathering dust sank in. They were reminders Levi didn't need… and he certainly didn't need reminding of just how much this was eating at him.

"You're a hopeless fuck," he growled and got up to check his mail.

The letter was from Erwin, though it lacked the official seal signaling Corps business. Instead, Levi found a short note written in the Commander's favorite blue ink:

Levi,

I know you've vowed never to attend the Midsummer Feast—"You won't find me eating out of their ass-crack troughs," was it?—but I thought maybe you'd reconsider, just this once. I've reserved you a seat.

Erwin

P.S. Eren says hi.

"He said no fucking thing, you ass." Levi muttered. Except he probably had. Maybe. Stupid brat.

Levi made to tear up the note… but stopped. The rip might run through Eren's name and, foolish as it was, Levi didn't want that. Defeated he closed his eyes and instead folded the note carefully, tucking it into his desk.

He called for Eld to saddle his horse.