Oruo - Place

He didn't see Petra until he almost stepped on her.

And he definitely wouldn't have seen her if that bolt of lightning hadn't struck when it did.

It was a close call, just barely avoiding her outstretched leg, which left him stumbling across the kitchen flagstones to avoid the dark shape on the floor. And he might've screamed, too. He had a habit of doing that, giving what he liked to call a 'startled shout' and what his brother declared 'screaming like a sissy'. Oruo swore as he stubbed his toe against the leg of a table and sorely regretted leaving his boots behind. "Dammit! Maria, that hurts!"

"Are you okay?" Petra's voice asked from out of the gloom.

Instead of answering, Oruo fumbled for one of the candles he was sure Eld had left there the night before and struck a match. "What are you doing down here?" He asked irritably, finding the young woman huddled by the cupboard, dressed in a long white, linen nightdress and the pair of woolly, blue stockings Gunther's mother had knitted for her last year. "It's the middle of the night, Pet."

The tin mug of water clasped in her hands spoke for itself, but it didn't account for why she was crouched on the floor. Or the pink stain in her eyes and cheeks. "I just had a nightmare, that's all." She answered, smiling a smile he saw through as easily as a clear window. She was fooling no one, and seeing the doubtful look on his face, Petra lowered her eyes to her mug and tightened her fingers around it. Leaving the candle on the table, Oruo carefully lowered himself to floor beside her. The young woman scooted to the side somewhat, clearing her throat, knowing what was coming.

He chose his next words carefully, as well as the tone and the way he carried himself. Petra was a woman, after all, and a proud one. If she picked up on any of the usual scorn in his voice, she would clam up tighter than a wolf trap and stubbornly refuse to speak. Anya had been the same way, and so was his little niece, Lily. Granted, raising the subject right now at all was an unwelcome approach in her mind, even from a friend, so he was somewhat out of bounds anyway. But what else could he do? If he just left her there, he wouldn't be able to sleep, too busy worrying about her and wondering if she was all right or if she planned on staying in the kitchen till the dawn.

"What's wrong?" He asked as gently as he could.

Petra set aside the cup and lowered her head onto her her knees. "It was awful."

"The nightmare again?" He asked to clarify. There was always the chance she was crying for a deceased friend, either a fresh loss or an old one. Jochim's recent death in Wiese Town had hit her pretty hard, as well as few presumed dead Garrison friends she'd had in Trost. Or Levi might have said something to her. He was being unusually waspish with all of them lately, though Oruo suspected that had something to do with the latest expedition's death toll and the events in Trost and Jaeger's trial. Maybe Petra herself had lost her temper with someone, unlikely as it was, and was feeling bad about it in retrospect.

She nodded her head. "Yeah. It was the nightmare."

"Ah." Oruo leaned his head back against the cupboard.

Some of their female comrades used to whisper about it. The sisterhood among the Scout women was a tight-knit group that surrounded Petra with soft words and gentle embraces whenever she woke up screaming and crying in the barracks. Hange once theorized it was the trauma of her near-death experience, being swallowed alive by a titaness and later the loss of Shiganshina, that had opened a door in her mind, unleashing a torrent of violent, blood-stained visions behind her eyes. They'd become few and far between in recent years, growing so infrequent Oruo had honestly thought—and hoped—they'd stopped altogether. He knew she wasn't hiding it; she didn't have those awful dark circles under her eyes, or that haunted look in them, anymore. Tonight's episode was, by all accounts, just a brief relapse.

Even so, he couldn't ignore the way she was shaking now.

"Was it that bad?" He was answered by a sharp intake of breath and a few words he didn't understand. Petra shook her head and wound her arms around her legs, but he didn't ask her to repeat herself. "You can tell me."

Slowly, her head rose and she stared into the darkness. Outside, the storm raged on, thunder rumbling angrily and pounding invisible fists against the wall of their shelter. Oruo waited without a word as the seconds gave way to a full minute. Then five. Petra inhaled as though she were about to speak, but the words died in her throat and the quiet stretched on. Ten minutes now. His back ached from sitting on the cold, hard floor, but he didn't move. Fifteen. He began to wonder if she intended to say anything at all and if her silence was her hint for him to scram and leave her alone. Petra picked up the mug again and sipped at her water.

Almost twenty minutes had gone by before her voice came in a whisper that was only audible by a whisper's breath, "I dreamt….I was a standing in an open field. The sky was dark red and streaked with lightning and went on forever. The soil was so soaked with blood it was almost a swamp and my feet sank below the surface. Everyone around me was dead and those who weren't were fleeing for their lives, but I stood there and stared as the titans came, no Walls to stop them. And I could not run. Everyone was screaming, but I could not turn away. I saw you and Levi and Gunther and Eld. All of you were riding toward me, calling out to me and holding out your hands, but I didn't take them." Her hands trembled, fingers flexing regretfully. "I wanted to so badly, and yet I didn't even try. One by one….you all rode by.

"Then a man astride a white horse came at me, holding a paring blade and preparing to strike. And I wanted to run so badly, but I couldn't. Everyone was screaming for me to run away, but I didn't. I just stood there and let myself die." Her voice wavered on the last word and one tear escaped the corner of her eye, sliding down her cheek and jawline until it dripped off the end of her chin. "How could I do that? I didn't want to die, yet I stood there. Why didn't I move? I woke up when he swung a blade around to cut off my hea-"

She jumped, her thin shoulders stiffening as he wrapped an arm around them and pulled her close. "That's enough." Tears ran in rivers down her face and she bit her lip until it bled. "Hey, now, it's all right." He murmured, tucking her head under his chin and rocking her against him, a gesture that brought back his memories of Anya, and of Maudie. "Everything's fine, Petra. It was only a nightmare. You're safe here."

She drained the mug in her hands and put it down, then slowly wrapped her arm around him, gripping his shirt in her hand. Thunder roared outside, and an unseen wind blew out the wavering candle, plunging the kitchen into darkness.

Ah. He thought distractedly, brushing a hand over her hair. So that's why she was sitting in the dark.

"Oruo, what do you think happens to us when we die?" Her voice sounded so small, like a child's, devoid of her usual confidence, but she gave a weak laugh, as though she were trying to make the question sound trivial. Building a strong front and a brave face, one that wouldn't crack so easily over something as silly as a nightmare. But he heard her uncertainty all the same, and the echoing terror she'd felt.

She could try as hard as she wanted. She could never fool him.

He shifted a little, trying to alleviate the cold ache in his lower back. "Those of Greek descent believe the dead go to the Underworld ruled by Hades and Persephone. They're judged by their actions in life and sent to one of three places, similar to Christianity's Heaven, Hell, or Purgatory. Gunther's family worships the Walls, so their version of the afterlife depends on which of the Trinity is their patron saint. There are some who don't believe in the afterlife at all, and that we live on without our bodies, unseen by the living. Others believe that death is just another stage in life."

"I asked what you think happens." Petra muttered dryly. "I know you're an atheist. Do you really believe dying is like a candle burning out and that's the end?"

That was true but mostly because he didn't want to think about a life after death. If anything, the idea of an immortal soul sounded exhausting. Living forever and ever in some form of paradise or hell? The word monotonous came to mind, leading him to prefer death was like falling asleep and never waking up. Lightning flashed outside, illuminating the room long enough to see the trail of smoke from the recently extinguished candle. Yes. It was easier to believe once he died, it was over.

If he were to believe…. if there was any variation of heaven that he liked…. "The Scouts from the northern district are mostly descendants of men and women who fled a land they called Scandinavia, a region to the very far north. Their ancestors, as well as a sizable faction of northern folk today, believed those who died a brave death in battle were guaranteed a place in heaven, or Valhalla as they called it. Fierce valkyries would come down from the skies and guide them safely through the afterlife and they would sit with the king of the gods and fellow comrades for eternity. I like that version of the afterlife best."

The girl was silent, mulling over his words as she clung to him.

His back was screaming at him now. Oruo grimaced, unable to take it any longer. So at the next rumble of thunder and flash of lightning, he gently set her aside and rose to his feet "Come on. Let's get you back to bed." He said and helped her off the floor. "You'll catch a cold if you stay up all night."

Petra nodded in agreement, waiting patiently as he refilled a water pitcher, then following alongside him as he turned to leave. A grumbling roar of thunder resonated throughout the castle once more. They said nothing as they made their way back to the old servant's quarters, passing by the stairs that led to the great cellar. Part of him wondered if the brat was having trouble sleeping as well and considered checking up on him, but it was getting late, and he needed his rest. The light under the crack of Gunther's door had gone out while he was gone. The other two doors were unchanged: Eld's closed tight, while Levi's strangely ajar. Oruo frowned at this, reiterating his thoughts from when he'd passed it earlier. Usually Levi kept the door closed, not to mention locked.

Yet before he could contemplate the significance of this change, Petra wordlessly continued toward her own closed door. She put her hand on the tarnished doorknob and waited two heartbeats before turning her head a fraction. "Only men can have a place in Valhalla, you know."

"That's true." He leaned forward and kissed her auburn hair. "But so can the valkyries."

-0-0-0-

Author's Notes: Was just looking over this one tonight, saw it was almost finished and figured, "Why not?" Right? This one is actually one of the older ideas for Tavern Ventures. Although these two virtually did nothing but argue and annoy the shit out of each other, I always got the impression they were close friends.

The title behind this one is a reference to the Bible, specifically Revelation 6:1-2, which speaks of the White Horse of the Apocalypse (Death), hence the white horse and rider in Petra's nightmare. In this, Come carries the grim notion that, although she didn't know it, Petra was foreseeing her own death. And it occurs to me as I'm writing this note, the white horse and rider could also represent Erwin and Petra's fear one of his strategies may leave her as a sacrificed casualty. (Not that I'm saying Erwin is the one who struck her down in her nightmare; I'm just focusing on the symbolism here.) Another similarity to make is the Horseman of Death also represents conquest.

Shingeki no Kyojin/Attack on Titan is owned by Hajime Isayama.