Wistful

"Ral." A clipped voice announced.

Petra slowly turned her head, wincing at the pain in her neck, to see the rude nurse from earlier standing in her doorway.

"There's someone here to see you."

Why did she seem almost polite now? Petra raised an eyebrow. Yesterday, when Eld and Oruo had visited her, the woman hadn't even stopped, walking straight past her room with a brusque and bitter, "You have visitors, Ral." Had they come back already? Eld had promised later in the evening. Had something happened? Gingerly, Petra pushed herself upright, using only her good arm, "Send them in, please."

No sooner than she spoke, a most decidedly female figure all but pushed the nurse aside and swept into the room in a flurry of silk and ruffles. Had her leg not been broken in several places and her ribs a mess, Petra might've leaped out of bed in shock, but she could only stare in stunned silence at the gentlewoman now standing before her.

She was a rather plump thing, testament to a life of comfort she'd led since girlhood and the stress of bearing three children. Her long, dark hair was tied up in an ornate, and immaculate, chignon and pinned with a trio of dyed feathers. The dress she wore was the same, a royal blue and pure white garment that conveyed both wealth and beauty and was probably every bit as uncomfortable as Petra thought it looked. She was nothing like the thin, sickly girl she remembered. Then she supposed she herself wasn't the same either. Not with her long, auburn hair sheared off and cropped to make way for the bandage around her head. No doubt that alarmed the lady, but there was no way in hell she was going to remove it and make her injury worse. There were bruises, too, massive and ugly black ones that peppered her skin and darkened her eyes.

The lady eyed her with a horrified gaze, her delicate, gloved hands trembling, her pink lips parted to emit a distressed breathing Petra remembered from all their childhood years together. Hoping to calm her, she bowed her head in a cordial nod. "Lady Sokol." Zsófia said nothing, but she closed her mouth and a took a deep breath. Petra continued, "Forgive me for not standing, but I'm afraid I'm rather indisposed at the moment."

"Y-Your hair…" Was all the lady could stammer. "Gods, what's happened to you, my oldest and dearest friend?"

The sentiment caught her off guard and Petra could only remain silent as her childhood friend pulled up a chair at her bedside, automatically folding her hands in her lap, the way they'd been taught. The way they'd been trained. Before she could give it any more thought, she realized she ought to be offering the lady some form of reassurance and faked a smile. "It's not as bad as it looks, my lady. I've had worse."

Zsófia was not mollified, but she seemed to remember her manners and brought a gloved hand to her lips. "Forgive me. It's just…I was so surprised. I'd heard you were in the hospital, but to think…."

"I understand." Petra slowly nodded again. "I'm sure this came as a great shock to you." She could tell the lady wished to ask her what had happened, but societal etiquette seemed to dictate otherwise and she fell silent. Much to her disappointment. If asked, she would've gladly told her how she sustained these injuries saving the life of a friend and that Eld was was now home with his mother and Karoline and not in a heap of burning bodies. In fact, she would've loved to tell her how the man cried when he regained consciousness and thanked her through his tears and how Karoline and Evelyn had been bringing her all kinds of baked goods since their return to the East City. And it would've been nice to assure her the hair was damage from a previous incident.

Yet Zsófia bowed down to the annoying propriety of avoiding sensitive topics and faked a smile of her own. "Beyond that, though, you seem well. Are you well?"

I'm in a lot of pain and that damn nurse won't give me anything for it. "I'm fine. And yourself?"

Oblivious, Zsófia's smile became more genuine. "I've been well. My youngest daughter, Pia, just turned two actually."

Petra nodded. "And the other two?"

"Five and four," She hesitated. "Awfully fond of stories and sweets, like any children. Ábel like the dragons best."

"He's got good taste, then."

That teased a lighthearted laugh out of her old friend. "That's right, you always loved those stories, too. You never could stand those princesses, could you? Oh, no, Petra always needs a dragon to keep things interesting! Are there dragons out there, my friend?"

"What? No, I've never seen any." Casting a glance around to make sure no one was listening, she whispered. "I've seen wolves, though. Massive ones bigger than horses."

"No way!" Zsófia exclaimed, mostly likely thinking of the worn out, dog-sized taxidermic one in her grandfather's study.

Petra didn't say much else about her life as a Scout and instead asked about Earl Svoboda himself and if his memory troubles had improved any. Not so much in recent years. He kept forgetting where he put his ink wells. Lady Zsófia asked her dozens of questions for each one she had. Were the titans truly as frightening as the stories said? Was she married yet? Why not? Whatever happened to that one gentleman from the Survey Corps she'd mentioned in a previous letter? He seemed like a nice fellow, despite his….eccentricities was her word for it. Was a soldier's life trying? Was she happy? Throughout this, though, Petra sensed there was a question she leading up to, trying to find a convenient time and a tactful way to ask. Several questions, actually.

You want to know why I left. She thought. You may have stopped by to see me and greet an old friend, but I know you want answers, too. They all wanted answers. Matka, Tat'ka, Morgenstern, Émilie, Dani. That's all the letters ever held for her. Questions. Anger. Fear. Confusion.

Zsófia remained blissfully ignorant of her dark thoughts, chirping happily away about her lord husband and her dear old mother, then back to her children, and whatever other fancies came to mind. She brought up the time Petra had rescued Prince, the eagle, from the rabbit net, despite his struggling. And how they used to hide from Governess Leclerc and how the butler Raske would assist them on occasion. Oh, and that one time Petra ate too much apple pie and gotten sick on New Years. How they used to call Hazael Mr. Bark, stay up late reading storybooks, and sneak out at night to borrow other books from Earl Svoboda's study. Throughout all this, Petra fell silent, unwilling to interrupt the woman as she babbled on and on.

"And you must visit Svoboda Hall with me someday." Zsófia cried suddenly, startling her, "When you're better, of course. We can sit under Hazael's branches again or play piano together in the old music room."

"I'll be sure to do that." Petra smiled back, knowing this to be a lie. As soon as I'm better, I'll be returning to the Corps, my lady.

She's different from me. She 'd always been different, of course, separated by social class and all, but Zsófia was different more now than ever. She'd never seen the titans. With her family's money and status, she was free to live a comfortable life, safe from them. She didn't have to fight. She'd never know what it was like to watch her friends die, to hold them in her arms and comfort them as they draw their last breath.

She'll never see how beautiful and terrible it is out there.

By the time Zsófia was preparing to leave, having run out of stories to reminisce, the sun was close to setting and they'd had to light the oil lamp. "I should be going. I gave my children to Mother for the day, and there's no telling how much she's spoiled them." In rising from her seat, she paused, as though in thought, then asked suddenly, "Are you bored, Petra?"

She blinked. "I could use some distraction now that you mention it." From the pain.

"I'll bring you a novel when I visit tomorrow, then." The lady smiled.

Petra started and all but yelled across the room, "You're coming back?"

"But of course, dear." She said as though it were obvious.

"But your family…your husband—"

"Oh, I see my husband and children every day." Zsófia brought a finger to her lips in consideration. "I'll bring Imperial Cider and The Spider and Old Lace. You used to love those books. But I must be going now. I'll see you in the morning, dear. Who knows, maybe I can convince my children to come with me."

Petra forced a smile again. "I'd like that." Please don't. I'm not sure if I have the energy for a trio of toddlers right now.

Zsófia nodded her head and began to walk toward the door, waving over her shoulder. "Well, then. Adieu."

"Zsófia."

"Yes, dear?" She paused, eyes puzzled.

A hard lump formed in her throat. "I-It was good to see you again."

The lady smiled gently. "The pleasure's all mine. I've missed you. And you know," She turned away, "I've given it some thought. I understand why you left."

Petra felt a cold pit in her heart.

"And I forgive you." Zsófia's soft voice drifted back to her. "May your horse be fast and your wings strong, my friend." And she was gone, just as suddenly as she'd come, her delicate heels receding down the empty hallway.

Carefully, Petra lowered herself back onto her bed and rolled her eyes to look at the clock sitting on the nightstand she shared with the next bed over. Seven-thirty in the evening. Eld or Oruo would be here soon. They always visited her first before heading over to the West Wing, where Levi and Gunther and their other male comrades were stuck. She closed her eyes.

It was nice of her to visit.

She felt them water.

It was really nice of her.

-0-0-0-

Author's Notes: Note the color of Zsófia's dress.

I was trying to go for a light-hearted one here, but I fear I may have missed the mark and ended up with bittersweet. Better than nothing, I suppose, but…well, take what I can get. Next one should be a happy one, though. That's a goal. Something happier.

I've always liked the idea that wolves and other creatures beyond the Wall have a titan size of their own, through evolution of being unhindered by the human race or just freaks of nature. There's another story by DAIrinchan called Flesh Falls that delves into this more and it's awesome, so be sure to check it out when you get a moment.

Attack on Titan/Shingeki no Kyojin belongs to Hajime Isayama.