Chapter 4

She knew she wasn't a coward for dodging the draft. In fact, though she'd historically been less inclined than her brother to give into strong feelings and intense judgements, she felt immediately that she was in the right. There was a certain difference between risking her life for what was right and throwing herself into something she knew would get her killed. Still, Elvan felt miserable for leaving Eren and Mikasa with no notice at all. She just… didn't want to explain exactly where she was going.

"Alright, put your name down there," the soldier in front of her said, reclining lazily in his chair. He was Garrison, and judging by his lackadaisical attitude, he wasn't one of the failures from Wall Maria who would be punished for their cowardice by joining civilians outside the Wall for the Operation to recover their lost territory. "You're required to report to Karanese district in three days. Once there, you will pick up your uniform and be transported to training camp with the rest of the recruits. Finally, a reminder that all failing trainees will be sent to the effort to regain our lost territory. Now scram."

Elvan headed off without another word, though she was sure to grab a pass out of the basket by the flap of the tent before she left. Normally, entering or exiting gates—which she'd have to do twice to get to Karanese—cost an expensive toll that supposedly went to the upkeep of the walls. Luckily, she qualified for a pass, which allowed her to pass through the gates without being charged under the guise of military business.

Except it wasn't really a guise, was it?

She felt sort of lucky that she'd even managed to get far at all. Elvan knew that with the state she was in, it was a miracle she'd even passed the physical. Some of her muscle mass had been eaten away, as had the thin layer of fat that had always cushioned her body. It had all sort of melted off. Besides that, she appeared not to have slept in weeks.

If the doctor had said so, she'd have been forced to admit that it was basically accurate.

However, she'd gotten the feeling that her recruiters were kind of desperate. For one thing, it was a well-known fact that wealthy citizens of the interior had been terrified by the loss of Wall Maria and suddenly had much more confidence than usual that it was necessary to have a strong military that actually did their job and guarded the Walls. But the majority of the Garrison had been stationed in Wall Maria, and most of them hadn't made it out. Many of those who did were going to be sacrificed in the Operation. Elvan found that she was much less sympathetic for them than most of the civilians, since escaping Maria as a trained soldier necessitated leaving vulnerable, less capable civilians behind. People like her mother.

Basically, the general consensus among all classes was that Wall Rose needed to be better defended than Wall Maria, and that troops should at least pretend to be prepared for an invasion. But with many soldiers having died or being dead men walking, they needed some fresh meat to replace them. If that meant allowing scrawny brats from the outer towns of Wall Maria who'd been starving in the ghettos of Trost for weeks, so be it.

That's what she figured, at least.

Elvan rubbed sleep out of her eyes as she hurried through town. She'd barely given herself any time at all, even though she had hurried there. The worry that others might have discovered the simple solution to the draft problem and overwhelm the Training Corp before she had the opportunity had overcome her. She'd left almost the minute she dreamed it up. As it turned out, she needn't have. Still, it was late in the season to sign up. If she'd waited much longer, Elvan probably wouldn't have been able to sign up anyways.

Three days to get to Karanese district—talk about crunch time. She didn't have a horse or anything, so she'd have to use what little money she had to get there. Luckily, a carriage ride would get her just out of the gates in about a day, so if she left now, she'd be able to sleep the following night. She hurried, almost at a run, towards the gates, pass gripped tightly in her hands.

She wasn't going to see her brother or adoptive sister for a long time, and possibly not ever. But they would be better off like this anyways.

Elvan supposed that most soldiers probably went into training looking forward to it. After all, her presupposition was that people joined the military because they either wished to join the Military Police or because, for whatever reason, they thought it was a good idea to join the Scout Regiment. Or perhaps some had joined for larger rations, and had only resigned themselves to years of tough training before they could ensconce themselves into the relative safety of the Garrison.

She wondered, though, how many people were like her: forcing themselves even at the very last second to show up to training, how many people were revolted at the idea of ever being involved with the military, how many people had hated the idea even before the Wall crumbled before them and the horror of the Titans was exposed to them firsthand. How many people had seen that threat at all. How many people had no choice but to be here. Elvan wondered if she was the only one.

The wondering didn't last long. When she arrived in Karanese two days later, the streets leading up to the canopy where she would present her pass, be registered, and then transported to the encampment were already crowded with other young people and some of their parents. Notably, most of them were younger than her, and probably not the "adult" of the household. This wasn't too surprising. The ambition of many young children in Shiganshina had been to join the Training Corps, graduate high in their class, and flee to the safety of the inner Walls, especially Sina. It was no great shock that after what had happened to Maria, children in Trost were scrambling to do the same thing. Looking out at their small faces, she felt ill.

"Form orderly lines!" shouted a man's voice in the distance. She looked around but couldn't seem to find a line to join. Instead, Elvan gripped her pass and shuffled closer to the unorganized masses. Around her were mostly twelve-year-olds and a couple of adults.

A child looked up at her. He was alone, and so small, only a little larger than Eren. He had huge blue eyes and a mess of dark hair. He stared at her unblinkingly until he looked away. "What regiment are you gonna join?" he asked, practically shouting over the throng.

"Who can say," she replied, pointedly not looking at him.

"I'm gonna join the Military Police," he said with appropriate bravado for a child.

"I'm sure," she said, biting her lip. This kid would be a full-fledged member of the military when he was fifteen. This was an unbelievable fact that she'd known all her life. Confronting it now felt strange.

"Don't sound so doubtful!" The kid kicked her in the shin. "I'm Freddy! Remember me on Graduation Day!"

She looked down at the muddy footprint on her dress and glowered down at the kid, who took an immediate step back. "Are you trying to get into trouble before you even get your uniform? Cut it out."

He looked momentarily sorry and then started jabbering about the Military Police more. Between that and his good health, she could tell he was no refugee. She looked around for any adult who looked like him, but saw none. That probably meant they'd given their consent for him to join back in their hometown and he'd been transported here without them with other kids whose parents had done the same thing. In Trost, some refugee parents who were having a difficult time feeding their children had signed them away months in advance. Those kids would probably be arriving in wagons within the next few hours.

Ahead of them, a line seemed to be forming. Elvan pushed through the throng to get as close to the front as possible. She had high hopes that if she went through the registration process quickly and made it to camp early, she'd have access to food and water sooner. And hopefully she'd have more opportunity to abandon her meager possessions in a decent bunk before many other people arrived.

Slowly but surely, she did creep towards the front. There was a lot of yelling and crying going on. Men yelling at kids, parents crying as their children were loaded into carts to be whisked off to training, kids shouting their goodbyes. She itched for quiet. All the childlike voices brought her back home. Not to Trost, but her real home, bickering with Eren and chatting quietly with Mikasa. Being with her mother. Arguing with her father.

What a strange feeling. Do I miss Dad?

She tightened her grip on the pass and felt it crumple. There was no going back to those days. She knew there was no use thinking about it.

But it was too late. Elvan's mind was stuck back in Shiganshina. She could see herself walking through the streets, greeting her neighbors. She recalled Eren and Mikasa running off to join Armin, the joy on their little faces too much to contain. She remembered walking beyond the pastures to some old, abandoned properties by the Wall, sitting of the roof and watching the sun disappear over the top of Wall Maria as her friends caught up with each other.

She remembered the thrill of running along the rooftops and garden walls, leaping between them and feeling, for a short moment, like she was flying. They'd been much too old to be playing around on abandoned property in those distant days; Elvan had been of marrying age and most of the boys probably should have been working. But they always found the time to meet up for a couple of hours. Those had been moments that she'd anticipate for days on end. And as they drew to a close, she'd go into one of the abandoned houses and hurriedly change out of Garrett's old clothes and back into her gown so she could rush home and avoid trouble.

Elvan suddenly felt ill. Garrett. What had happened to him? Even if he'd survived, he'd be sent out in the Operation and die. And she didn't dare hope that she'd see him in the sea of new trainees. She wouldn't look. Not for him, and not for the others.

She trembled. Her vision seemed to narrow, and she had to force herself to keep breathing. There was the feeling, out of nowhere, that she was going to cry. It was something she hadn't done since that day. It certainly wasn't something she could do now.

A hand fell on her back. She gasped in surprise and snapped to attention, noticing that the person ahead of her had taken several paces and they were almost to the front. Catching her breath, she managed to bottle it up and push forward. Clearly, mulling over the past had been a mistake. I should have known I couldn't do that anymore. I can't survive if I'm not in the present. I have people to provide for.

Instead, she decided to focus on the person ahead. He was short, but not twelve-year-old short. More like "my parents wouldn't sign the consent forms so I had to wait until I turned fifteen" short. If her guess was right, he'd be eighteen as a soldier. Practically an adult. That wasn't too horrible. It was definitely less depressing than all the twelve-year-olds' parents who were apparently willing to let their children risk life and limb.

That was a small comfort. Elvan's great fear was that Eren would never change his mind. He'd want to join the military and eventually the Scouts. Looking back on that last conversation with their father, she wondered if Grisha would have signed him away at twelve. Not that it mattered anymore. I won't. That gave her and Mikasa four years to change his mind about it.

In four years, she'd have been a soldier for at least one. Maybe she'd have some money saved up—enough to rent them a nice place somewhere, or even move them into the interior. Maybe. If she could make it into the Military Police.

Deep down, she knew that Eren wouldn't be satisfied with settling in the interior, but Elvan needed the hope. Maybe, she told herself as she stepped to the front, something will change four years from now.

There were two men under the canopy she'd wound up in. One sat at a desk in front of a stack of paper and the other was standing. He glared at her as she walked in. "Your pass," he grunted.

She handed it over. The man quickly looked over the contents and set it in a basket full of other passes.

"Your name?" said the man at the desk. He looked scruffy and unshaven. He had the look of the drunken Garrison soldiers who'd manned the Wall in Shiganshina.

Managing to push back the rage that was suddenly bubbling to the surface, Elvan said, "Elvan Yeager. From Trost, sir."

He quickly leafed through his pages and scanned through a list before glaring up at her. "You're not on here, Yeager."

"I enrolled three days ago," she explained, heart pounding. Would they send her back? Was this plan really going to flop last minute like that? "I was one of the last."

The two men made eye contact. Finally, desk man replied, "In that case, it's possible your records haven't arrived here yet. If you haven't enrolled and your records aren't found, you'll be removed from training the instant you're found out. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," she said, feeling relieved even as her pulse continued to pound in her ears.

Then, he started to look suspicious again. "How old are you?"

"Seventeen, sir," she answered.

"Old for a recruit," he muttered, but wrote her name and some notes between the lines. "Benton, give her a uniform."

"She's fucking tall," complained the other man.

Desk man was beginning to sound irritated. "By the Walls! Give her one of the men's. She's a woman, she'll tailor it."

Benton grunted, but he reached into one of a few crates at the floor and pressed a set of folded clothing into her hands. "You'll get spares if you continue training," he said. Then, he pointed out of the canopy in the opposite direction of the lines. There, there was another wagon, this one with only three others in it. "Get in there and wait. Once it's full you'll be transported to the training grounds."

She was still for a moment, and desk guy snapped. "Hurry up about it!"

After all, the faces of those around her were all the same. When they'd received their uniforms, scratchy white fabric and stiff jackets, smelling strongly of heat and mothballs, there had been eager, excited faces or ambitious eyes trapped years into the future. When they'd been told that they would be experimentally trained at an accelerated pace, since the government wanted to be prepared for another attack, there had been some cheerful whoops, but mostly alarmed faces turned determined. It seemed that everyone here was the same. Willing. They'd planned to be here, and probably for much longer than three or four days. Given the number of twelve-year-olds present, some of them were in a dream come true.

They'd probably be disenchanted quickly.

Now, she and the overzealous stood in the cold, sun beating less than helpfully against their shivering bodies. She forced herself to stay in the awkward salute, right fist over her heart and the left hidden from view, instead of curling in on herself to avoid the cool. It really wasn't that cold; she was just nervous. Or, to be more honest, terrified. This had never been a part of the plan for Elvan Yeager, who resolutely argued against her brother's praise of the Scout Regiment and pretended to like stabbing her fingers in the kitchen because sewing was key to being the good housewife she was destined to become. The military was exactly the last place she'd expected to end up, and now it seemed like a death trap. Be successful or it was the Garrison Regiment at best.

Elvan deigned to be one of the ambitious.

There was a man screaming loudly at a row several paces behind hers, or in front since she'd turned around. Their instructor, Margram or something like it, was so tan that his skin clashed horribly with his sun-bleached hair. His skin was covered in fine lines and wrinkles, and he was quite easily separating the cowards from the more committed. The former group would probably chicken out by the end of the day. It was probably best for them, anyways, since a few of them had actually wet themselves.

Finally, a reminder that all failing trainees will be sent to the effort to regain our lost territory. Or perhaps not. They were Titan fodder if they left.

"By the end of these two years," she watched Margram scream, spitting passionately into the face of a very young twelve or thirteen year old, "you might make ACCEPTABLE TITAN FOOD! Row eight, about face!"

It seemed that this first day was going to be unbearably long.

Eren's body was sore from exertion. Long hours of continuous, repetitive motion had them cramping painfully. His hands had grown calloused over the months from picking up rocks and yanking stubborn, dying weeds from the frozen earth.

Someday, they'd be calloused from doing something far more useful. He swore it.

They'd be calloused from wielding the blade that would put an end to the Titans. His body would cramp because of all the Titan's he'd killed. And he'd sleep at night instead of rolling uselessly on his little mat, forever rid of the nightmares that plagued him at night. His mother and sister would no longer haunt him in his sleep.

He'd decided that Elvan really had gone off to battle, like Armin's grandfather. And like him, she simply hadn't come back. She'd disappeared so that she could train, or because she couldn't bear to face them before she died for nothing. That, Eren had decided, was why he had to put up with regret for the past months: regret that he had failed to say goodbye to her as he'd been dragged away to Armin's house.

Eren would kill the Titans for her, too.

"You need some sleep," Mikasa scolded him from across the room.

"I'm trying," he protested, tossing and turning almost rebelliously. His skin was briefly exposed to the cold air of the barracks and he shook, hugging the blanket to his body again. She was right, and he hadn't been getting enough rest lately. But it was hard to get any rest when he knew he'd be having those nightmares. And it was hard to even consider resting when his veins rushed with bloodlust.

"Oi, you in six. Get your fuckin' mail," said the woman who worked at the front desk. Eren was fairly certain she still remembered being yelled at by him the day Elvan had first brought them here. She never did anything, but she was rude enough that Mikasa seemed tempted to beat the stuffings out of her half the time.

He heard Mikasa shuffling and knew he wouldn't have to get up. He didn't really want to; after all, what could it be? Maybe they'd found proof of Elvan's death: a testimony from a survivor, or her head just outside the gates of Trost. He swallowed some bile at the image and curled in tighter. Perhaps it was something else, like some kind of new decree being out in place that would be somehow relevant to the families of dead 'soldiers'.

"Eren," Mikasa said quietly.

He opened his eyes, though he hadn't even realized they were closed. The shadow of his body was small on the wall, and the flickering light behind it was a sign that their lamp had been lit with one of their strictly regulated matches. Eren frowned—couldn't it have waited until morning? "What is it, Mikasa?"

"This letter is from Elvan."

He was up in an instant, the uncomfortably cold air forgotten. "Let me see it," he ordered. Is it some cruel joke? Did she write us before she died or is she…?

"Eren, we should wait. So you can be mentally prepa—" Mikasa began, her eyes brimming with concern.

"No!" he snatched the envelope from her hands and held it to the light. There, in Elvan's sloppy, rushed handwriting, in black ink, not at all faded—fresh—were their names, and hers in the corners. The paper was low quality. Eren could see the shadow of the letter inside, and something else too. He sloppily tore off the top of the envelope and yanked out the oddly folded letter, Something shiny flew across the room and hit the floor with a plunk—a few somethings. Mikasa hurried to pick them up and held them in the light. Elvan's letter had been folded to conceal the jangling of coins. "She must have gotten a job…" he breathed.

Mikasa began to neatly unfold the letter in his hand. It had some tears in it now, but was still legible. It was such a relief to see her tall, thin letters, all mashed together in whatever rush she'd been in while she while writing it. It was a joy to see where her hand had smeared the ink across the paper, and a joy to see her name neatly etched at the bottom.

But the greatest feeling arose at the date at the top of the page. February 29.

"She's alive," he whispered, holding the paper gingerly now, as if it was fragile and of great value. And it was, wasn't it?

"Did she survive?" Mikasa asked, sounding slightly angry. "And not come back?'

"She wouldn't have done that," Eren snapped, turning back to the letter. "Besides, there were only two hundred of them. We would have seen them." He remembered waiting with Armin in detail. No one had really had any hope, but Eren had stopped whining about it, at least. The survivors had hurried into the gates in clumps, sobbing and bleeding and bringing with them lice and disgusting smells. Elvan hadn't been there and the both knew it.

Mikasa was peering over his shoulder at the text. He almost couldn't make himself read it.

February 29, 846

To my siblings, Eren and Mikasa:

To start, I know that I owe you an apology. I must have left you in a horrible panic that day. Nothing I say can really excuse how I initially handled the news of the draft, so I can only say that I'm sincerely sorry, and offer what explanation I have. After leaving the shelter I collected myself and made to find a job as quickly as possible. I was very fortunate and stumbled across an opportunity the same day, but I was required to travel between districts. If I had stopped at home to warn you, I would have lost valuable travel time that I needed to get this job. Still, I know now that it was thoughtless of me not to send some kind of note or word so that you would both know I'm alive. You must be angry, and you have every right to be. I won't ask your forgiveness.

I will share some details in a moment, but first I need to address this pressing matter: your friend Armin has lost his grandfather. Before I left Trost I made arrangements with Mr. Arlert to accept responsibility for Armin in his stead. I know the three of you are close and I'm sure you've already done so, but if you haven't, please make sure Armin has food and hearth with you. I just recently signed paperwork to take custody of him, and I assume it will make its way to Trost around the same time as this letter. At that point you should expect to be moved together. I hope that in light of my new place of employment you'll be moved into the shared space where the Arlerts shared with other refugees in that church house—it should be much better shelter in the winter.

Finally, regarding our father: I have traveled in Wall Rose and to an outpost with no sign of him. I suppose he could be anywhere, but I had hoped I might spot him and send him your way. If he should appear, you will write me immediately.

I'm short on time but I do have these details to share with you. I am officially employed, and my position is a stable one. You can count on continuous financial support from me. In exchange I expect that you watch after your health and continue your education as much as possible.

My current position is a very minor one in service to the public. Unfortunately, it is also incredibly demanding work. I will write as often as possible and send my wages as soon as I receive them, but I don't expect to be able to visit you in person for the forseeable future. As of now I'm more or less bound to my facility in Karanese district. If I have the opportunity to leave long enough for a visit in Trost, I'll take the opportunity. In the meantime, please write when you can, so I can be assured of your health and safety.

Enclosed is an allowance. Hide the money. Do not carry it on you. Save the money for emergencies. I don't make enough for you to buy meat and milk and playthings. I make enough that if the government suddenly decides they want to charge you to live in those horrible tenements, or decides that you have to pay for your bread, you can do it.

In fact, you should invest in some protection against the cold with what I've sent you this time. I've heard that the military are giving the public access to clothing made from old and repurposed uniforms in order to raise funds. I'm not sure if and when those supplies arrive in Trost but you may be able to find cheap clothing there. If not, watch the markets. Mikasa is in charge of the money.

I've nonlight left to write by so please excuse the mess. Take care. Will write again soon. Expect more funds soon.

Elvan

Eren felt almost disappointed by the letter. It was too short and left him with a lot of questions. She had a job? What job? Was sending them all that money going to hurt her? Did she have a place to live now? What could she possibly be doing for the government? She had said before that she wasn't really skilled at anything special, so why would they have employed a seventeen-year-old with no real special ability?

"We need to find Armin," Mikasa said quietly, and Eren bobbed his head in agreement. He was so relieved that it was hard to be too disappointed in the letter. She was alive. And she'd allowed him to believe that she was dead for months, but…

She was alive.

"We should write her back," Eren decided. "What took her so long?"

There was a long pause before his adoptive sister answered. "She probably just got paid."

That made sense. She'd disappeared just over three months ago, and as they were just now getting a letter from her, she'd probably sent it around a week before, as soon as she could. The prospect of not getting another letter until she was paid again maybe months later was depressing, but it, too, was overcome by Eren's relief and excitement. "I thought she was dead," he said, staring at the letter,

"So did I," Mikasa agreed. "Now get some rest. We can write her back tomorrow, after we get Armin."

Eren got very little rest that night, and he wondered if, somewhere, his sister was curled in bed, eagerly awaiting their reply.

March 7, 846

Eren, Mikasa, and Armin:

I am so grateful to have received your reply. Everything you wrote me was well-warranted; you're right that I should have contacted you sooner, and never left you in suspense in the first place. It should never have been your responsibility to worry about me. It shouldn't even be your responsibility to worry about yourselves… I worry constantly about the three of you alone, though I know you're self-sufficient enough.

I'm thankful that you're willing to acknowledge the urgency with which I had to accept my position, even though you were harmed by my quick departure from Trost. It's more consideration than I expected from you.

I can't share details of my work at this time.

Eren, I'm sorry you're so frustrated with the landfill work. And I know Mikasa is, too, even if she hasn't written it. I know it was fruitless work all winter, but maybe you'll be able to actually plant something soon. Work hard and earn your keep for now. Opportunities for more fruitful labor will arise as you get older. I've made some contacts here with connections in Trost, so if I hear of opportunities for any of you, I'll try to secure them. Please keep me appraised of your skills, and tell me about Armin's, so that I can keep an ear out.

I'm sorry to hear about the loss of Armin's grandfather. I was only ever distantly acquainted with the two of them, but I know that you, Armin, have been a great friend to my siblings, and I am indebted to you for that. Your grandfather loved you dearly, and when I spoke to him before leaving Trost, his top priority was ensuring that you were cared for.

All of you take care. I'm grateful for the warmth; with this weather there will be more food for you kids, and comfort besides. Make sure to drink plenty when you're working, and have fresh fruits and vegetables whenever you can find them.

Yours, Elvan

PS: Quit criticizing my handwriting, you little shits.

April 3, 846

Siblings:

Grateful to find the time to write you again so soon. If you've written back, I haven't received it yet, so I suppose I'll write again if there's anything to respond to. I don't have much in the way of updates, only some money for you, but I've found myself thinking of my family often. I'm surrounded by people here but at times I feel very lonely. I miss seeing your faces and being able to ask after you as often as I like.

People travel in and out of my workplace often, and I have the opportunity to engage with many well traveled people. I've asked about our father at every opportunity, but no one has heard from him. I'm beginning to lose hope that he'll appear… surely he would have known to look for you in Trost by now. Where else would we have fled?

Still, there are people keeping a lookout for him… perhaps he'll turn up. Keep an eye out.

Elvan

April 28, 846

Yes, yes. Name-calling is rude. I apologize. I'm afraid my coworkers' colorful vocabulary is beginning to rub off on me. I'm not where I ever would have envisioned myself now… sometimes I do feel like a very different person. Rest assured, though, that the three of you are my priority. I am still in service to you, as much as I can be.

I heard the harvest has been plentiful so far this year. I hope this means that you all will eat well, especially since you have money. Still, be mindful. Save some for the winter in case you need to purchase extra rations. Even in the absence of last year's supply problem, it's likely that the government will slowly reduce the aid they provide to refugees at no cost. In that case we'll have to find other solutions.

Elvan

September 29, 846

Enclosed are two scarves and a hat, hand-knitted by a friend at work who, for some reason, deigns to spend every second of our dwindling free time playing with yarn. I may think it's a stupid hobby, but I decided to take advantage of it. Eren, this teal reminded me of your eyes. Isn't it pretty? And really soft. It should be pretty warm, right? Armin, the blue's for you. If the fringes get in the way, just cut them off; apparently it won't screw up the scarf. Finally, Mikasa, the hat. Red to match your scarf. Hopefully these things will keep you warm in the coming winter months. It's already freezing where I am, so I've taken to wearing a little cap myself.

I'm working so fucking hard nowadays that my superiors are starting to notice. It's generally a good thing. With each day I draw closer to my goal. All the same, I feel like I'm wearing myself to the bone. Now that I've been doing this job for so long, it seems boring—at least until the bosses decide to throw us for a loop. Or whatever the hell that phrase is. Haha.

I really wish I could see you kids. I just had my first holiday. It was only a day long. My friends and I went to town, which is where I got all that yarn. Then we got back and went straight to bed. We got ten hours of sleep, an unprecedented amount for those of us insane enough to still be here!

You're right on the dot, Eren. It's physical labor.

Your sister, Elvan

February 15, 847

Eren, Armin, and Mikasa,

Hope you've been well. Going over a year without you three hooligans has been more difficult than I could have imagined. I know I've been derelict in my duty to care for you, since the distance means that there's only so much I can do. I wish that things were different… but it's only a matter of time now.

I hope that money I've been sending out is helping you when you need it. Tell me you're not spending right and left. Are you?

You're probably keeping Eren on the straight and narrow, aren't you, Mikasa?

Eren, I heard tell that the Scouts would be passing through Trost in a month or so. Keep an eye out for a few of them—they're famous and apparently very skilled. Apparently there's this hotshot called Levi who's a demon on the battlefield, as are the members of his team, the Special Ops Squad. He's apparently very little and should be easy to spot. Personally, I think half of what I've heard about them is complete and utter nonsense. I've begrudgingly learned in the past couple of years that when shit sounds too good to be true, it probably is. But I'd hate to deny you the chance to stalk them while they're in town.

X, Elvan

March 11, 847

To my family.

Eren, I understand that joining the Scouts has been a dream of yours for a long time. But you know that encouraging you wasn't my intention when I told you about the convoy. You know how I feel about them. They do brave work, but it's also stupid and reckless. The scouts have never made any significant strides and I doubt that will change anytime soon. I understand that you want to have an impact, but I don't understand why it has to be outside the walls. Why can't you go from the inside out? You're not a stupid kid; I bet you could make work improving the situation for refugees or something. Wall Sina will give us lots of opportunities.

As for you two, I have to say I'm a little confused. This is the first I'm hearing of your little pact and I can hardly believe that even the sensible among you are willing to throw away your lives. I was really counting on you guys to talk some sense into our little brother here. It's what Mom would have wanted. You know that, Mikasa. And Armin, consider spending less time on philosophy and more time on common sense. I'm really begging you. Besides, it's not like the military life even outside the Scouts is all that. You both know it.

Your sister, Elvan

April 12, 847

I'm begging you not to do it. All three of you. I know I betrayed you by leaving, but I'm doing my best. I miss you and it hurts. I won't be able to visit if you rush off to the military. Please hold off until next year.

XOX—Elvan

Elvan's letters seemed to change every time. As time went on, they got shorter, contained more foul language, and got a lot sloppier. Eren never thought he'd see the day when he needed Mikasa's help to read something his sister wrote, but it had happened rather quickly.

Around the end of 847, they even started getting her paycheck with nothing but her name. Eren wondered if her job was draining her of energy, or if she just didn't care enough to write them anymore.

It was odd to think that he didn't know who his sister was anymore. When he next saw her, would he even know her face?

Only days ago he had become a trainee. Only a few days after Elvan's final, pleading letter, he had decided to defy her directly. Eren had made a promise. He, Armin, and Mikasa would join together and stick together. It had to be that way, whether Elvan accepted it or not.

Mikasa had sent Elvan their new address in the interior of Wall Rose, where their camp would be, telling her to start sending her mail there around February. She probably didn't want to risk having Elvan send her hard-earned money to the Garrison Soldier at River House, who would probably open their mail if it started to accumulate and take the money instead of forwarding it to their current address.

They were trainees. Eren's heart pounded with excitement, He wondered if it would spring from his chest. He wondered if Mikasa could hear it from where she was seated, her face expressionless. "Hey," Sasha Braus asked, tapping his shoulder and pointing at his roll. "Do you want that?"

Eren shook his head and Potato Girl shrieked with excitement, pouncing on the poor roll like it was prey about to flee and devouring it in about a second flat. Eren could hardly force himself to eat in light of his excitement. How many times had he fallen on his face trying to balance himself in preparation for his aptitude tests? Too many to count. Even by the time it was discovered that his belt was broken, it was time to take the test without any prior experience with functional gear. And he'd still done it.

"EREN AND MIKASA—uh, YEAGER," someone shouted, causing giggles to resound throughout the mess hall.

"Since when were they married?" somebody giggled. Mikasa scowled, but Eren was too busy rushing up to grab the paper in Shadis's hand. A letter from Elvan, and surprisingly old. Its delivery must have been delayed significantly, and even then it must have been sitting at the shelter for weeks before it was forwarded. He read on:

September 23, 847

Visitors swarming work over the past week, Eren would like them.

Don't be stupid.

X Elvan

Months earlier

Something within Erwin was expecting someone who supposedly went by 'Elf' to be small and girlish. In reality she was taller than the average girl her age and had a very solemn look about her. Of course, she had been present in Shiganshina when Wall Maria had fallen. Her mother had died there and her father had failed to make an appearance since. The probability of this being the cause allowed Erwin to politely ignore her blank face and the concealed hostility in her jade-colored eyes. It wasn't a personal grudge—it couldn't be, in fact—and was something he'd be able to exploit.

People with the sort of talent that Elvan Yeager supposedly possessed were exactly the reason that each faction of the military was allowed to observe and instruct a group of trainees for a couple of weeks at a time. It was a chance to catch the attention of potentially powerful future soldiers. His faction—the Scout Regiment—needed it more than any other, but it was a government run system and they were allowed to observe the recruits no more than any other faction.

She was holding a rather dispassionate salute, and her eyes were glazed with neither the admiration or dismissiveness with which people usually viewed the Scout Regiment. Yeager looked attentive, albeit as though she thought this was a waste of her time and that she wanted to return to cleaning the camp bathrooms. "You ordered my presence, Commander," the girl said finally.

"Elvan Yeager," Erwin greeted warmly, blue eyes fixed on her green ones. Her eyelids drooped and she frowned in disappointment. She'd probably hoped that the messenger was mistaken and that she was not required here at all. After all, she very likely intended to join the Garrison or the MPs. "Sit down," he ordered, gesturing at a padded wooden chair in front of his desk. The girl hesitantly sank down onto it, crossing one leg over the other and lifting her chin in a symbol of readiness.

It was rare—extremely rare—that Levi himself would express any interest in a trainee or even someone who was already a Scout. Generally, Erwin had to point them out, suggesting their talent for his undersized squad. The short man would reject the idea instantly, almost without fail. But Levi had gone out on a walk, irritated beyond belief that he was trapped with a bunch of 'shitty brats' and that he was expected to interact with them. He had refused to do any actual teaching with some of the other Squad Leaders, even though he was well aware that they probably wouldn't get a chance like this for a couple of years. Instead, Levi settled for going out for about six hours at a time and glaring at every person who had the nerve to cross his path. This time, though, he'd come back only an hour after setting off, and demanded that Erwin talk to a girl people called 'Elf'. "I may not like these stupid brats, but that doesn't mean I can't recognize potential," he'd confessed sharply.

Erwin had been trying to persuade Levi to expand his squad for quite some time. Levi, stubborn as ever, had refused. That he'd taken an interest in a trainee was hopeful, especially since Yeager could almost certainly been persuaded.

As it was, Elvan would have been called anyways. She was the top of her class and supposedly one of the most talented students most of the instructors had come across in years—though one absently noted that she was 'lacking in passion and often seems less than devoted to the future results of her training'. That could be remedied.

Overall, Levi's personal attention had changed not interest, but urgency. He would have tried to recruit her anyways. In light of this new development, he'd gone to a little extra effort to ensure that the opportunity was seized.

Elvan Yeager sat in that relative silence for several moments. Occasionally her muscles would tighten and then shift. A sign of restlessness. As a trainee, the likelihood was that the only time she sat so still was when she was sleeping. "I am Erwin Smith, commander of the Scout Regiment," he said, and Yeager seemed on the verge of smirking.

"I'm aware," she answered, not openly sarcastic, and gave a nod of recognition. "I'm not sure why the leader of the Scouts would require my presence."

Perhaps her attitude had caught Levi's attention. Erwin's mouth twitched into a slight smile, and his eyes sparkled with ambition. "Every faction leader has been told of you and your talent," he complimented. Without pause, he continued. Erwin preferred to be blunt, and Yeager hardly looked like she could tolerate idle chat anyways. "I want you to join the Scout Regiment."

"I've not finished my training," she replied instantly, though she looked alarmed. Good. 'In spite of her prowess in the field,' remarked another instructor, 'Elvan Yeager often appears socially inept. While gifted with the stunning ability to think on her feet, she seems oblivious to the feelings of those around her. The effects of this confusion seem to vary, though not the way one thinks it should…"

"Of course not," Erwin answered. "I've been told that you seem to rapidly master techniques, and that the time often seems wasted to you. As a member of the Scout Regiment, I could have you continue your training privately with another talented soldier, and at a pace better suited to your skill."

"I…" She would still deny his offer, but was unwilling to cause herself too much trouble. Erwin had almost backed her into a corner. If she had planned on joining the Scouts at any point, she couldn't deny the offer without looking bad and possibly damaging her future as a soldier. Since that wasn't the case, she was left with only one choice: admitting that she had never planned to join the Scouts in the first place. It would be a bold thing for a cadet to say to a military commander offering her a golden opportunity. If he perceived it as a slight, she risked being disciplined. "If I left training before graduation, I would lose my grades and my ability to transfer to other factions if I wanted," she finished slyly, apparently having regained her proverbial footing.

Erwin had to stop himself from chuckling. She apparently wasn't ready to give in just yet. Still, his rebuttal to the argument he'd wrongly predicted would work just as well—with a little padding. "We are more than able to preserve your grades. And I believe it is the ambition of your brother—" the girl's breath caught "- Eren Yeager to join the Scout Regiment upon his graduation? As his oldest living relative, I am sure you believe it is your responsibility to protect him." He watched the hostility in her eyes become steadily less concealed, although her voice remained under control.

"I did not join the military for my brother," she said. Her voice was under control, yes, but calm. The subtle sarcasm, the slight smartness—gone. She'd take a little bit more of a push, and then the Scout Regiment would have in their hands a strong, moldable trainee.

"And what of your… sister, Mikasa Ackerman, and ward, Armin Arlert? I believe they fully intend to follow him here," Erwin said, glancing at a file, his voice sincere. "Must they lose more family?"

Another sigh. That startled look seemed to flash across her face again. "I… it's my siblings' decision, which faction he joins, but I have my own life to be concerned about."

Even when he was trying to manipulate someone, Erwin knew that there was a time and a place for truth and lie. "It's true," he said mournfully, "that we cannot guarantee the preservation of every human life. But the more skilled people the Scouts have, the more of us return from each mission." Elvan frowned visibly, as if she doubted him, or thought that wasn't enough. "You could play your part in protecting your remaining family directly. As your only family, they must be important to you. And you seem to have very little faith in us…. who better to watch over them when they arrive but you?"

Her lip twitched.

"The Titans have been allowed to take too much from humanity when they deserve nothing. They are mindless killers, yet they've been allowed to dominate the earth. Can you allow this to continue?" Erwin asked. "Knowing and remembering that the Titans are responsible for the death of your mother and thousands of other people? Aren't you interested in regaining your old home, or even seeing what lies beyond the world of Wall Maria? This world is a vast one. There is much to discover, but without the help of strong soldiers such as yourself, we will make no progress."

Her lip twitched again. She seemed to be deep in thought, considering what his carefully firm, honest voice had told her. She certainly wasn't blatantly against the idea now, even though she looked like she still wanted to deny it. "I joined the military so that I could avoid throwing my life away," she told him coldly, her eyes sparking with remembrance. She looked as if she wasn't all there, but Commander Erwin Smith knew that now was his chance.

"And spending your time as a Military Police officer, wasting the skills you've spent years trying to hone, isn't throwing your life away?" Erwin pointed out, keeping his voice devoid of aggression. Any of that and nothing else he said would matter. She was still against the idea of being a Scout. If he convinced her to do it, it would more than likely be in favor of honor or some other value of hers. "I know you likely intended to continue supporting your family for the remainder of your safe life in the interior. Your family, though, have made their own decisions, and if you wish to support them now, there's only one choice."

There was a long pause and the air between them filled with silence. The girl's breath had stilled; she wasn't even blinking. Only the increasing fervor of her white-knuckled grip on her military issued pants gave away any sign of movement or presence of mind. Then, just as she made to repeat herself, she let out a smooth exhale, unballing her fists and idly brushing the wrinkles from her clothing. "Will you allow me some time to give the idea consideration, Commander?" Elvan requested, her face carefully blank and closed off to the world. She didn't look panicked or upset any longer. Erwin, though, had become a skilled manipulator throughout his years in service, and could recognize his victory as clearly as if she'd already announced it aloud. Yeager had arrived holding him in barely-disguised disregard, and was initially so opposed to the idea that it hadn't even taken her a moment to disclose her initial rejection. Her sudden change of tune wasn't a sign that she was willing to consider joining the Scouts when she never would have considered it before; rather, it was a weak attempt to save face and regain power rather than giving in immediately and showing Erwin that he held all the cards, as he already knew.

"I'm afraid the Scouts depart tomorrow," Erwin said solemnly. "If you put it off much longer, you'll find yourself in a rush. Please make your decision."

Elvan Yeager gave the slightest, weakest nod of her head, looking more crestfallen than she must have intended. Her expression only fell forward when Erwin slid a piece of paper across his desk to her: a contract with her name on it, which Erwin had already signed. There had been no hope for her to escape the situation. Elvan had played into a trap, and the ending was already guaranteed. The outcome was only unexpected to her.

Bowing her head in a momentary display of weakness, the girl stood and drew a pen from the inkwell, signing her her own name with no hesitation, fully resigned. In a way, Erwin admired her. She didn't delay the inevitable by reading the contact, or pointlessly waste time in hopes of a reprieve. This was a young woman already wise to the ways of the world, and he was certain that she would adapt admirably. There was no other choice for her. There never had been.

As she replaced the pen, he reached out and took her hand to shake, which seemed to surprise her. Her grip was firm, however, and her deep green eyes quickly took on a sharp edge.

"Welcome to the Scout Regiment, Private Yeager," he congratulated with an easy smile, basking in his success. "I look forward to your service. You were recruited by one of our best; I'll be watching your progress personally."

She frowned as her hands fell to her sides. "Thank you, sir," she answered flatly.

"Collect your things, Private Yeager," he ordered, being seated and returning his attention to the remaining papers on his desk: all of Elvan Yeager's training records, instructor notes, and official records, all littered with his own notes. "Someone will be at the training barracks to collect you. You'll join the Regiment's camp immediately."

Another moment passed in silence, and then she held her fist tightly to her heart in a salute. "Yes, Commander."

There was no need to dismiss her further. By the next time he looked up, Elvan Yeager had already departed without another sound.

i know some of you follow my account and if that's the case you know i have been writing up a storm and actually posting lately for the first time since i last updated this story, spring 2021. it's been a while. i apologize. i won't repeat myself, but if you read either of the author's notes on my other recent updates, i briefly discuss why i stopped writing and updating.

specific to this project, i never intended to abandon it and have actually repeatedly returned to it month after month these past years. i still love the character and the story i have planned for her. i also have additional chapters written, and have since 2019. unfortunately, i was struggling immensely with this chapter, especially the letters, and even after repeated and extensive modification i have been deeply unhappy with it until today.

i went back to the document today for the first time in a couple of months and made several more changes. i think it is finally acceptable, at least enough for the story to move on. i would love to hear your thoughts and feedback. i have missed engaging with readers dearly since i first quit four years ago.

in any case, you should expect to hear from me long before another two years have elapsed. toodles, and thank you for your endless patience. —b.p, 10.26.2023