The Last Waltz
The year was drawing to a close, and with it came a sense of anticipation that electrified the air.
Invitations had been sent out for a Grand Ball hosted by the palace and the government—an extravagant year-end celebration for all soldiers who had survived the recent horrors wrought by the titans. This soirée was also a tribute to the brave members of the Survey Corps, who had miraculously returned after the arduous task of reclaiming Wall Maria. Set for the last evening of the year, precisely at six o'clock, the ball required all attendees to don their finest suits, evening gowns, and long dresses.
Hanji and Armin were among those tasked with organizing the Survey Corps' participation in the ball's opening ceremony. It would be a waltz, and Levi, despite his stoic demeanor, felt a flicker of confidence. He couldn't help but recall the late-night practices he'd shared with Petra Ral in that very same spot where Eren and Mikasa stood now. It was a bittersweet memory from a year ago, one he would never admit to anyone.
"Ugh, this is so nerve-wracking," Eren mumbled, staring apprehensively at Mikasa. "Why do I have to hold your waist like that? It feels... weird." He made a face that only underlined his discomfort.
Mikasa, flustered and fighting back her own blush, tried to mask her reaction to his touch but couldn't completely hide the pink creeping into her cheeks. Meanwhile, Jean cast jealous glances at Eren, wishing he could be in his place. "What's so special about him anyway?" he muttered under his breath, not looking quite as composed himself as he rehearsed his own dancing steps with Sasha.
Sasha, meanwhile, looked bored, tapping her foot in impatience. "I wish it were Connie I was dancing with. At least then I wouldn't feel so… stuck."
Connie, who had dejectedly opted out of the dance, grumbled to himself about being unable to tell left from right. "Forget this," he said as he slumped on a nearby bench, much to Hanji's approving chuckle.
Levi, who had been observing the spectacle of awkwardness, scoffed and shook his head in disbelief. With a purposeful stride, he approached Eren and Mikasa.
"Let me show you how it's done, you brats," he announced, grabbing Eren by the shoulder and gently pushing him aside.
"Follow my lead, Ackerman," Levi instructed, and soon he and Mikasa glided gracefully across the floor, each movement fluid and confident. The noise in the foyer softened as everyone turned to watch the surprising display of the usually stoic captain.
Eren, now lingering in the corner like a wallflower, felt his mouth fall open in disbelief. His embarrassment was palpable, almost comical, as he realized he couldn't muster a graceful step. He watched as Levi danced with the elegance and assurance of a seasoned partner, a sight he never expected to see.
"Hey," Levi whispered to Mikasa, lowering his voice so only she could hear. "If Eren makes a fool of himself during the opening ceremony, I'll drag him outside the palace myself. Make sure he learns how to dance properly."
Mikasa shot him a half-glare, her annoyance simmering beneath the surface. Still, she simply nodded in agreement, her loyalty to Eren overpowering any frustration she felt.
After a few more flawless spins and twirls, Levi returned Mikasa's hand to Eren, who instantly blushed a deep crimson under the weight of the captain's intimidating gaze.
"Learn it properly, dimwit," Levi scolded Eren, his tone sharp but oddly motivational. "And make Erwin's soul proud."
At that, Jean couldn't help but snicker, drawing Levi's ire. The captain shot him a fierce glare that caused Jean to straighten up, his earlier amusement quickly evaporating. "Focus on your dance steps with Sasha. You're no better than Eren."
"Y-Yes, Sir," Jean stammered, his cheeks burning with humiliation, while Sasha gently patted his shoulder in sympathy.
With the young soldiers back to their dancing practice, Levi turned and made his way toward the palace, intending to discuss that curious letter from Historia he'd received the previous day. As he walked, he looked up at the sky; a regretful gaze flickered when the realization hit him square in the chest that last year was the last waltz he could have with Petra. But then, he couldn't help but carry the anticipation of what the night would hold, both for the Corps and for a new year on the horizon.
Author's Note: I wrote this short story over a decade ago and posted it on Tumblr. Just sharing it here with an enhanced narrative.