Her pulse hammered at her temples and her hand instinctively gripped the side of her skirt, the soft fabric gathering into tense folds between her fingers. Her gaze snapped to the side, immediately spotting the silent man in the room.
Silver eyes regarded her back coolly.
She noticed the faint flicker in his stormy gaze, and her mind drifted back to a narrow alleyway late in the afternoon, a prickle of awareness tingling down her spine as a watchful stare lingered on her back. She remembered the feeling of the cool metal strapped to her inner thigh and how swiftly she had moved to press her fingers down on it.
Unlike that time, he was unarmed at the moment.
The realization didn't offer much comfort when she was fully sure that he didn't need a weapon to crack skulls open. His hands hung loosely at his sides, his muscles taut.
Her eyes flickered across his shoulders and dipped to his hands, conscious of any swift, abrupt movements.
She thought back to his lingering gaze from earlier times— how it drifted over her hip and the drape of the long skirt that fell down to her ankles. Perhaps he suspected she carried something there, and he was waiting for her reaction now.
Amelia exhaled shakily, realizing she was wrinkling her skirt in a white-knuckled grip. Her hold loosened soon enough. The fabric fell back to its proper length, rustling softly against her legs.
She forced herself to move and hurried deeper into the room.
Levi stepped back abruptly, his expressions impassive as she moved forward. Her footsteps echoed on the flagstones until she was near the two boys sitting atop the long table.
Simon sniffled loudly, his face damp with tears, and Theodore sobbed in hiccuping gasps.
"Simon," Amelia said gently, leaning closer. "Are you alright?"
The boy nodded shakily as fresh tears threatened to spill from his reddened eyes. Theodore nestled closer to him and set a trembling hand on his shoulder.
The table creaked under their weight.
"My neck…" Simon sniffled, biting his bottom lip to keep himself from sobbing. "It—it hurts, Miss Amelia."
Finger shaped bruises encircled the boy's pale throat. A sick knot tightened in Amelia's stomach as she stared at them. She resisted turning around to look at the hands that had caused them and stretched her arms out to the weeping boy before her.
"It's alright," Amelia murmured, sliding her arms around him before lifting him gently against her. "You're safe, Simon. You're alright."
He trembled in her hold, tucking his wet face into the curve of her neck. His shallow breaths came in fits and starts, hitching as he restrained from crying again. She could feel the heat of his cheeks against her collar, his tears dampening her neck.
A small hand gently tugged at the folds of her skirt.
Her gaze promptly dipped to Theodore as he paused beside her. He clutched the fabric of her skirt and buried his damp face against her hip. His eyes squeezed shut, hiccups rattling his small frame.
From behind, steely eyes bore deep into the back of her skull.
She faintly realized how frail these children were. A sour stench of horse manure clung to their ragged clothes, their limbs thin and bony. She was quietly reminded of a scowling boy lurking at the edge of a dingy alleyway, his bony fingers clutching a basket as he begrudgingly trailed after her.
Didn't he, she contemplated silently, see a reflection of himself in them too?
"…mama," Simon whimpered, his small voice muffled in the crook of her neck. Amelia nearly halted mid-step, glancing down at the boy in her arms as he clung to her tighter. "I miss my mama."
Fierce anger surged through her.
She refrained from whirling around as she pressed a comforting hand to Simon's narrow back.
"Theodore," she said firmly. "Open the door, please."
The boy immediately wiped his wet cheeks with the back of his hand and dashed towards the door. His small fingers fumbled momentarily with the latch, but he managed to pull the door wide open. Deep furrows creased his brow, his lower lip trapped between his teeth as he looked at her with concern.
Amelia stumbled slightly as she shifted the weight of the scrawny boy in her arms. She hugged him tighter, bracing him against her shoulder as he whimpered softly against her neck.
"Oi." A gruff voice huffed from behind—a presence she had been fully ignoring. "You might not be able to carry him all the way."
Heavy footsteps fell nearer, and a faint hesitance filled his tone when he muttered loudly again.
"Let me help—"
She clenched her jaw and pushed forward, crossing the threshold in a hurried stride.
Theodore swiftly swung the door shut behind them with an audible click. The noise echoed in the quiet corridor as he darted to her side, his small hand clutching the side of her long skirt in a fistful of fabric once more.
Lanterns hung above their heads, flickering brightly as their long glow stretched and distorted their shadows against the stone walls.
"I knew he was a devil!"
The nurse fumed as she doused a wad of cotton in a pungent smelling tincture. "To hit children, of all people. Only a devil would do that!"
Simon sat stiffly on the edge of the infirmary bed, flinching in pain whenever the nurse dabbed at the bruises blotting across his thin neck. Each press of the soaked swab drew a tight hiss through his clenched teeth.
Theodore sidled closer on the mattress, his green eyes darting back and forth from those fresh bruises. The old nurse muttered a string of quiet expletives under her breath as she soaked the cotton again and pressed it firmly to another tender spot on Simon's neck. He winced once more.
"What happened?"
The two boys looked up in unison.
Amelia's brows were scrunched together as she gazed down at them, standing near the foot of the bed.
Theodore nibbled nervously at his bottom lip, glancing away as Simon frowned at her.
"The fucker attacked me, that's what!" He spat, clenching his teeth so hard that the cords in his neck bulged. "Nearly choked me to death! I felt my neck almost breakin'—"
"Something must've happened." She grimaced.
Simon huffed furiously, turning his glare to the wall instead.
Her gaze shifted to Theodore. His face immediately flushed under her pinning stare, and he stared down at his bare feet, quiet. Amelia sighed wearily, touching the side of her temple in an attempt to push back the headache that edged to bloom there.
"He wouldn't hit anyone without reason," she said calmly. "So tell me what really happened there?"
"That's just how those Underground rats are!" Simon snarled, his furious gaze snapping back to her. "Causin' trouble no matter where they go!"
Amelia stared at him.
The nurse paused her ministrations and glanced at her warily as Theodore's hand instinctively found Simon's elbow, his face pinched in worry.
Simon jabbed his elbow sharply into Theodore's side, earning a pained flinch from the younger boy.
"Ain't I right, Theo?"
Theodore immediately clamped his mouth shut when Simon shot him a withering glare.
"Y-yes," he stammered, nodding almost too eagerly. He kept his eyes fixed on the floor. "H-He attacked us first!"
"Oh, your poor souls," the nurse tutted dabbed more salve onto a clean cotton swab, pressing it gently against a particularly dark bruise. "A grown man beating up weak children. The Scouting Legion has truly gone mad."
Amelia's arms folded behind her back, her posture rigid as she searched their faces. Simon glared back challengingly while Theodore fidgeted in his spot, his eyes downcast.
"Are you sure that's what happened?" She asked skeptically.
Her brows knitted together as Simon glared up at her, his jaw tight. Theodore dropped his gaze to the floor once more.
Amelia sighed softly, watching the two boys avert their eyes from her searching gaze.
She couldn't file a complaint—not for something like this. Allowing the stable boys into headquarters had been a personal favor granted by Commander Shadis. To escalate this incident would do nothing but ensure they were thrown back to the stables again. Worse, it might offer Shadis the excuse to expel Levi from the Corps entirely—an outcome many higher ups wanted.
Her thoughts drifted to Erwin.
Him and his unshakeable faith and so, so much trust in a single man she'd offered her father's pocket watch as payment several years ago.
Maybe, her fingers curled slightly into her hands, it's best if he leaves.
There was a brief flicker of a large, bandaged hand behind her eyes, and she imagined how Levi would wield a blade, his knuckles tight around the hilt in the same grip she'd seen it back in the staffroom, his face pinched in concentration and rage. Did he look like that when he murdered people? When he sliced Titan napes? When he tried to kill Erw—
"I'll speak to the Commander," Amelia said firmly.
Simon absently rubbed the back of his neck and Theodore sat clinging to his side as she looked between them. "But you both need to tell me the truth."
Simon's scowl deepened. Theodore finally looked up at her, his green eyes wide.
"If the story isn't as you say," she said warningly, "both of you will be dismissed from duty. Permanently."
Theodore flinched, shrinking back into his seat as Simon clenched his jaw. Amelia clasped her hands behind her back, continuing to watch them closely.
"Let's try this again," she said calmly, "what exactly happened in there?"
Theodore opened his mouth before faltering. His shoulders hunched, and he looked at Simon unsurely.
"…I attacked 'em first."
Sky blue eyes shifted over to him, and Simon curled his hands tightly in his lap, sitting atop the mattress with fresh bandages wrapped around his neck. His voice was surprisingly rough for someone his age as he kept his glare on his clenched fists. "'Cause the bastard made Theo cry."
Theodore's face flushed scarlet under the weight of the confession, and Amelia blinked. "And how exactly did he make Theodore cry?"
"I-I'm sorry, miss!" Theodore stammered.
He wrung his hands together nervously, his fingers trembling a little. "I j-just couldn't keep myself in check—"
"Oh, stop fuckin' apologizin'." Simon snapped, jabbing his elbow into Theodore's ribs again. The boy winced as Simon muttered under his breath. "Makes you look weak."
Amelia's lips tightened, but she held her tongue as Theodore nodded meekly.
"I may have called him some shitty things," Simon admitted grudgingly, glancing to the side. "Guess he got mad over that or somethin'."
Amelia arched a brow. "And what exactly did you say to him, Simon?"
Simon hesitated for a moment. His eyes darted to Theodore who looked like he wanted to sink into the floor.
"I… might've called him an Underground rat," he muttered, quiet and reluctant. "And that he should've… died with the rest of his mates."
Theodore flinched visibly, his hands balling into fists at his sides as he remained quiet.
Silence filled the room for once.
The nurse had taken to the side, wiping away the counter with her back turned to them. Amelia assumed the old woman was openly eavesdropping on their conversation but she stared flatly at the two boys, her brows furrowing even more.
"Simon," her voice was calm. "Do you think what you did was right?"
His heated glare snapped back to her, but he remained quiet, fuming silently.
"Theodore, is that true?" Amelia asked, turning her attention to the younger boy.
"He didn't really mean it, miss." Theodore piped up, hesitating slightly as he peeked up at her. "Just got a lil' angry, is all."
"Angry or not, words have consequences," Amelia frowned. Her gaze lingered on Theodore for a moment before shifting back to Simon. "And violence isn't an acceptable response, no matter the provocation."
Simon scoffed, looking away again.
"We'll apologize to 'em, miss," Theodore said quickly. "We didn't mean for it to go this far—"
"Hahhh?!" Simon's head snapped towards him, his scowl deepening. "The fuck we will—"
"That's enough," Amelia cut in sharply. "You will apologize. If he files a complaint with the captain, the consequences will be far worse than an apology. Both of you will be removed from duty immediately."
Simon's glare faltered, and Theodore's face fell, his mouth clamping shut as he stared up at her with wide eyes.
"Look, I know that things got out of control there." She sighed, shaking her head. "But if you both want to stay in duty, you need to learn how to stay away from trouble. Make sure you apologize to him, alright?"
Theodore's shoulders dropped. "Yes, miss."
"Yeah, fine." Simon muttered, scowling down at his bare feet. "Whatever."
Amelia nodded, glancing at the nurse far from there as she walked towards the door. She reached for the worn brass handle and spoke over her shoulder.
"Both of you get some rest today," she told them. "We'll start fresh tomorrow."
She paused for a moment, glancing back at them. "And Simon?"
He looked up reluctantly, his brows furrowed.
"Work on that language," she advised, her tone solemn. "It doesn't make you look strong. It just makes you crude."
The boy muttered something back she couldn't quite clearly hear.
Amelia pinched the bridge of her nose, her fingers pressing into the dull ache that had formed between her eyes as she tugged the door open.
The chill air in the corridor greeted her as she stepped through, letting the heavy door fall shut behind her. She paused abruptly, blinking at the figure standing in the shadows ahead.
Levi stood leaning lightly against a stone wall. His dark eyes flickered over to her reluctantly, the lanterns above casting shadows across his grimacing face.
"…Is the brat alright?" He muttered, low and gruff.
Amelia met his steady gaze, her expressions schooled into coolness.
"He's got bruises around his neck." She said flatly, staring at him. "But he'll live."
Levi's eyes hardened, and he nodded stiffly.
"Right," he muttered, "kid needs to be careful with that big mouth of his."
She frowned at him, feeling that anger from before well up inside her again. For a brief moment, she could see him standing below her ladder again, a basket balanced in his hands as he caught books in mid air and cursed her out for throwing them down at him as he endured it all, staying with her till the very end of it. To have someone like him here— someone who couldn't control their emotions, who went into rage because of children probing at his wounds, who never went through mandatory Scout training.
Her chest tightened because just what does he really see in you—
Amelia shifted her weight, clasping her hands behind her back, and took a step forward. Her boots scraped against the worn flagstones.
"Sorry I was late," she said curtly, her voice stiff. "The rain slowed me down."
She gestured ahead with a lazy wave of her hand. "Come on."
Boots shuffled behind her eventually. Amelia continued walking forward as he trailed after her with clear reluctance.
"Shitty time management," Levi grumbled under his breath.
"Let's just get today's lesson over with," she said, not looking back at him. A loud sigh left her lips. "So we can both move on with our lives."
The corridor stretched ahead, dimly lit and lined with old wooden doors. She brushed her fingers along the smooth metal of the pocket watch hanging at her side. The chain glinted faintly in the flickering torch lights as she flicked the top open, glancing down at the time once before it fell back into place again.
They reached the staffroom door and she clasped her hand around the latch, holding the brass handle tightly between her fingers.
The hinges groaned when she pushed the door wide open.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Fucking brats.
Levi scowled at the back of her head as the door fell shut behind him. She was already striding towards the table as he lingered near the door, his arms crossed. He watched her round the table and halt promptly, her eyes narrowing slightly at the neatly stacked pile of books and parchments resting there.
Her sharp blue gaze snapped back to him, her expressions flat.
"You put them here?" She asked.
Of course, he'd put them there. After she'd carelessly dropped the whole damn pile on his freshly cleaned floor, he wasn't about to let the mess sit there.
"You made a mess," he said darkly.
Amelia slowly straightened, her eyes darting around the room as she gradually noticed the unusual tidiness of the space. He strode towards the table, seating himself down on one of the rickety chairs and leaned forward slightly. His hands rested lightly on his knees, his gaze flickering briefly to the table—back to the very spot where he'd pinned that brat down mere moments ago.
A frown tugged at his lips.
Her voice broke the stillness again.
"Did you—" she began incredulously, her brows knitting together as she looked at him. "Did you clean this place?"
"'Course I did," he muttered, his voice low and curt. "No way I'm sitting in a pigsty."
Her gaze burned into him, a look of unhidden amusement and something else he didn't really care to acknowledge. The weight of her eyes lingered on him a little too long but he ignored it fully as he reached for the pile of parchments set atop the table.
The coarse papers rustled noisily when he flicked them open, smoothing out the creases with the flat of his hand.
Levi grunted. "Let's get these shitty lessons over with."
He patiently waited for her to settle down into one of the chairs across from him.
His brows furrowed and he stiffened slightly when she sank into the chair beside him instead, the wood scraping against stone when she tugged her seat closer to the table.
The dusty scent of parchment and ink, along with the pungent odor of an infirmary ointment wafted off her clothes. He caught a glimpse of her hands as she tugged the rest of the parchments closer, her slender fingers smudged with faint traces of something dark that seemed permanently etched into her skin.
Levi squinted at the stack she placed before them. His sharp eyes narrowed when a familiar scrawl peeked through the top pages.
Faint realization dawned on him.
"Oi," his brow twitched. "Is that my—"
"Yes," she interrupted, arranging the parchments before him. "I brought back your reports."
She spread the sheets across the table in a neat, orderly line and offered him a wry glance. "We'll start by figuring out how much improvement you need."
Levi's jaw clenched as her clipped words sank in. Improvement. Like he was some kind of raw recruit in need of remedial training. His sharp gaze dropped to the papers in front of him, his messily scrawled handwriting gazing back at him in uneven quill strokes.
"Your handwriting is terrible." Amelia muttered, her finger landing squarely on a particularly messy sentence. Her nail clicked against the parchment. "It needs to be legible enough for someone else to read. Looks like even you're struggling to read it right now."
Steely eyes reluctantly flickered over to her hand.
Her fingers were slender, soft looking unlike the callused hands he usually saw around headquarters. The pads of her fingers bore faint smudges, their dark edges bleeding into the lines of her fingertips.
"You'll be writing plenty of reports if you're going to work closely with the captain," Amelia continued calmly.
He shot her a sidelong glance.
There was an edge of firmness in her tone, sounding quite like the way she did when she addressed a room full of cadets. Detached. Professional. It was different from the playful, more casual way she usually spoke to him.
"So," she added, tapping the parchment again. "You'd better work hard."
"As if I need to deal with this crap," Levi muttered loudly. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. "No one needs a damn quill to slice off a Titan's head."
The woman beside him didn't bother looking up from the papers in front of her.
"I'm sure they don't," Amelia responded dryly. "But you'd be surprised how much damage a poorly written report can do. Your orders don't mean much if they're riddled with mistakes."
He scoffed, his gaze wandering away from the table in boredom.
His eyes caught on the faint smudge of bare footprints on the flagstones, dark against the freshly cleaned floor.
Those brats with their filthy feet. His fingers dug into his knees, the memory flickering vividly behind his eyes. He could still see that boy's face—smeared with dirt, shifting through shades of red and purple as he clawed at the firm arm pinning him down. The bitter taste of regret rose in his throat again.
"You don't have time to doze off."
A sharp voice cut through the haze of his thoughts.
"I don't have all day," Amelia frowned, holding out a quill his way. "Let's start with the basics first."
Levi's lips pressed into a thin line as his gaze dropped to the quill in her hand.
"That loud mouthed brat," he muttered under his breath.
Amelia paused in the corner of his vision, her gaze focusing solely on him as he stared down at the table. His brows scrunched together.
His fingers flexed slightly atop his knees, the memory flooding back with vivid clarity. The frail throat under his hand. The hot anger burning through his veins. Theodore's ugly, wrenching sobs echoing in his ears. His mind quietly reeled back to a moment where Isabel was smiling wildly, cradling a little bird to her chest. Her bright green eyes were brimming with hope.
Levi pursed his lips, brows furrowed. "Was he actually alright?"
She fell silent for a moment, her eyes flickering to him in mild surprise before she frowned.
"If you're worried about those kids complaining, don't be." Amelia sighed. "They'll apologize for their behavior soon enough."
Levi let out a long, frustrated sigh as he closed his eyes.
"That's not it," he muttered, exasperated. "I'm the one who should be apologizing."
He thrust a hand through his hair, tugging at the dark locks once as he slowly opened his eyes again and stared down at the worn table.
"They're just dumb brats." The memory burned in his mind as Levi frowned. "I shouldn't have done that to them."
The chair beside him creaked softly as Amelia shifted, leaning over the table to look at him. He felt the weight of her pinning stare on him once more, her voice a little lighter when she spoke this time.
"If I were you," she hummed, "I'd tell them that."
Levi glanced at her reluctantly, and found a gentle smile curving her lips. Her frigid tone had seemingly melted away, replaced by that casual air she carried so infuriatingly well.
She teetered forward, her arm lightly brushing his shoulder when she dipped the quill into the ink pot set away from her.
He instinctively inched away, watching her warily as she dipped the quill again. The ink pooled on the tip before she offered it to him.
"Here," Amelia smiled encouragingly, "how about we practice writing your name first?"
Levi scowled at her, snatching the quill from her hand.
"I know how to write my damn name," he grumbled.
A sheet of old parchment was laid out before him. Amelia leaned back in her chair, patiently waiting as he gripped the quill within his hand and hovered the tip over the coarse paper. He ignored the feeling of her eyes on him and pressed the nib down, scrawling his name across the parchment. The ink trailed behind jagged and uneven strokes of the letters.
Levi.
His name was scrawled messily across the paper. The ink had blotched and streaked where it had smeared against the flimsy parchment. He stared at it, lips pressing into a hard line as frustration simmered in his chest.
"Well," her amused voice broke through the silence. "Where's the rest of it?"
Levi frowned. "Hah?"
"Your name," she explained, leaning forward and tapping a finger beside the smudged letters. "Where's the rest of your name?"
"The hell are you talking about," he arched a brow. "This is my name."
"What I mean to say is that it seems kinda short," Amelia snorted. The ends of her lips curled upwards, and she seemingly held back a laugh. "Don't you have a last name?"
Irritation immediately flashed across his face, and Levi shot her a sideways glare.
"I don't remember you giving your full name back in the classroom," he fired back.
"Fair point," she admitted easily, leaning back in her chair. "Still, you'd want your name to look a little less sloppy."
Levi's scowl darkened, and he clicked his tongue in annoyance.
"It's not like I've had much practice," he muttered, glancing down at the mess of ink on the parchment.
"I can tell," she said lightly, her tone annoyingly casual.
He frowned when she plucked the quill from his hand, turning it over in her fingers.
"You've got some work to do. And for starters," she dipped the quill lightly into the ink pot once, her wrist steady. "Don't waste the ink. Office supplies aren't exactly easy to come by so only dip the quill when you're sure it's dry, alright?"
Levi watched her write with rapt attention. His gaze followed her hand as she deftly wrote away on the parchment, the letters flowing effortlessly across the rough surface. She made it look so easy, the way she moved the quill in quick, smooth motions.
"If you dip it too much," she continued, "you'll smudge everything before you've even started anyway."
His name appeared neatly beneath his prior messy scrawl.
Levi.
Amelia leaned back when she finished, setting the quill down carefully and looking at him with a satisfied smile.
"There." She said simply, gesturing towards the parchment. "That's what it's supposed to look like."
He glared at the neat letters, the perfection of them gnawing at his pride.
"Congratulations," Levi muttered sarcastically. "You know how to write."
"And now you do too," Amelia responded brightly, the teasing lilt in her voice only making him bristle more before she snorted in amusement. "Well, sort of."
"Tch." He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he scowled at her. "Don't act like I asked for a lesson."
"Oh, I know." Amelia hummed playfully. "But you look like someone who could use a little help."
Her writing was far better than he expected— unnaturally precise, looked almost as if it had been printed straight from a newspaper. The way she held the quill was unusual as well, balanced delicately against her middle finger. Her grip was steady as she wrote his name once more in an entirely different script.
"You need to hold it in a certain way," she advised, her hand moving gracefully as she wrote his name across the parchment again.
The letters curled into an elegant, flowing script this time. "Don't hold it like you're about to stab someone with it."
Levi's brow twitched at the sarcastic comment, his gaze closely focused between her hand and the thin piece of parchment.
His irritation fueled even more when the letters of his name turned smaller and more decorative, the quill continuing to scratch against the parchment. A realization dawned on him slowly— she's fucking showing off.
His scowl deepened.
Amelia kept writing, the script growing impossibly finer until she abruptly lifted the quill away from the parchment. Blue eyes peeked down at him, and he glowered back at her, frowning at the way she'd littered most of the parchment in different scripts of his name.
"I thought supplies were scarce," he deadpanned.
The hint of a smile touched her face, and Amelia held the quill out to him again. "It's not my fault your handwriting looks like chicken scratch."
His jaw tightened as he reluctantly met her amused gaze. She was smiling openly and it made his stomach twist with annoyance.
"Who taught you how to read and write?" She asked casually.
Levi snatched the quill from her hand, shooting her a dull glare. "None of your damn business."
"Well, whoever it was." Amelia mused, watching him awkwardly grip the quill again. "They forgot to teach you how to hold a quill properly."
"Shut up."
Levi's hand reached for the ink pot again. He dunked the quill into the black liquid, watching the nib soak up the ink before bringing it over to the parchment. His focus stayed on the paper, his jaw tight.
"Was it your dad?"
A fat drop of ink clung to the quill's tip for a moment before falling, splattering onto the parchment below. Levi stilled momentarily, his hand hovering mid-motion. He blinked and turned his head to look at her, his expressions flat. "Hah?"
Amelia leaned forward slightly, her blue eyes searching his face.
"The man in the hat," she said, her gaze solely trained on him. "Was that your father?"
His mind reeled back immediately. He was small again, standing under the garish glow of a lantern light as Kenny's heavy hand rested firmly on his shoulder, steadying him. His own hands were clenching the handles of a basket when a pistol gleamed under the flickering lights, aimed squarely at the Ripper—
His breath hitched.
Levi clenched his jaw and shot her a withering glare, his hand tightly gripping the quill.
"None," he bit out, stabbing the nib into the parchment. The paper threatened to tear beneath the pressure. "Of your damn business."
Her eyes peered at him curiously, and Amelia tilted her head to the side in contemplation.
"Sorry if I sound curious," she shrugged. "I didn't mean to pester."
Levi slackened his fingers around the quill, his shoulders tensed as she reached forward once more. Her hand brushed against the edge of the parchment as she gently took the quill from him again.
"It was a long time ago, wasn't it?" She dipped the quill back into the ink pot. "I still think about why you went off with a guy wearing a bloodied trench coat. He looked like he belonged in a murder scene from what I remember."
For some reason, the words stung.
His mind drifted back to those days, old memories forcing themselves forward. He thought of the basket he had carried that day, the weight of it digging into his hands. The first bite of garlic bread that lingered on his tongue, the sweetness of pie that followed. He thought of the library—the cool, quiet space. The way the round edges of the shelves dug into his spine as she'd cornered him there, soft blue eyes gazing deep into him, his breath hitching, his mind numbing as he breathed heavily.
The only time he'd felt something close to normal.
"I'd rather you keep it between us," she said breezily.
Her quill glided smoothly across the parchment. The ink barely had time to dry before she moved on to the next sentence as she wrote away.
His eyes shifted to the parchment.
"Y'know, what happened back then." Amelia said casually, the wooden legs of her chair creaking when she leaned back into it. "Especially the town library part."
"And what if I don't?" Levi deadpanned, meeting her eyes with a flat stare. "Pretty sure that asshole brother of yours would love to hear just how respectable you really are."
Amelia raised her brows in amusement.
"You think I'm scared of Erwin?" She snorted, setting her quill back into the ink pot with a soft clink. She rolled her wrist, easing out the tension from her fingers. "I'm guessing you weren't the brains of your little bandit crew."
He shot her a withering glare, his hands twitching menacingly under the table.
Amelia leaned her elbow on the wood. She rested her chin atop her knuckles, looking at him curiously.
"I wonder," she mused aloud. "If he'd believe me over the Underground thug who tried to kill him in Titan infested territory."
Silver eyes narrowed at her, and Amelia smiled knowingly, shrugging her shoulders.
"He seems to trust you though," she continued, idly tapping a finger against the table. "He's keen on keeping you here at least."
Levi held her gaze. "Why?"
"I'm not really sure," she admitted honestly. Her eyes glanced back up at him again. "But he's got a real knack for bringing out the best in the worst people you'd ever meet."
"And what's your specialty?" Levi found himself asking, his voice laced with barely concealed sarcasm. "Besides teaching grown men how to read and write."
The corners of her eyes crinkled in amusement.
"I'm his sister," she grinned faintly. "That's enough of a specialty for me."
Levi stared at her, his frown deepening. He studied her carefully, searching for something beneath the causal ease of her voice.
"You two aren't exactly alike," he muttered under his breath.
Amelia shrugged and tapped a finger near her temple. "Is it 'cause his eyebrows are so big?"
Levi snorted loudly. He shifted in his seat, throwing an ankle over his knee. "It's 'cause of how you speak."
"Speak?" She echoed, her brows knitting together. "You mean my accent?"
Levi tilted his head, regarding her with a look of pure boredom. She hummed, idly dragging her legs under the table as she considered the thought.
"Erwin does have more of a," she searched for a proper word. "Mitras accent, doesn't he?"
"Like he's been holding in his shit for a long ass time?" Levi commented flatly. "Sure."
He glanced at her when she snorted again, her nose wrinkling in faint disgust before she shook her head.
"He needs to sound like that," Amelia folded her arms on the table. "In his position, he has to act all polished and formal. It's so people know he's someone to be respected and obeyed."
"And you?" He questioned. "You don't wanna be respected?"
"I'm a teacher," she answered simply. "I need to sound more like the common folk so it's easier for students to approach me."
Levi scoffed, shooting her a wry glance.
"Must be real hard for you, eh?" He muttered. "Forcing yourself not to sound like a rich piece of shit."
"Not really," She smiled at his jab, unfazed. "If it gets my point across, I don't mind being flexible."
Levi stared at the parchment, his eyes tracing the smooth strokes of the dark ink. The words she had written were neat and simple, not a single blotch in sight. His fingers twitched at his sides, his hands slowly balling into fists.
"That's all it is to you topsiders, isn't it?" He groused, staring down at the paper. "Would do anything to reach whatever fucked up goal you've got."
He waited for her to say something, but she didn't.
Instead her head tilted towards the quill resting within the inkwell, and Amelia spoke almost dismissively.
"Write over what I've written," she instructed. "It'll help clean up your awful handwriting."
Levi exhaled sharply through his nose, grabbing swiftly for the quill. The ink pot wobbled slightly from the force, and he barely steadied it before bringing the pen over to the parchment.
"You're holding it wrong again," she remarked pointedly from beside him.
He clenched the quill between his fingers, his grip rigid and tight. "How the hell do I hold it right then?"
"It's not a knife, Levi." Amelia sighed loudly. "Don't hold it with your fist."
He turned his head, shooting her an irritated glare and she regarded him with mild exasperation. She slowly lifted her hands, reaching over the table before she paused.
"Is it alright," she began gently, "to touch your hand?"
Levi offered her a wry glance.
"Don't remember you asking for permission before," he snorted.
"This is a professional setting," she explained, her hands dropping back on the table. "It's proper decorum to ask for consent before touching someone, even when helping them."
Levi snorted in amusement when Amelia set him with a pressing look.
"You should be mindful of this," she advised, clicking her nails against the firm wood. "Especially when you start training your subordinates in the Corps."
His expressions darkened instantly.
"I'm not training anyone," Levi snapped. His eyes fell down to her hands and he clicked his tongue in distaste. "And keep your hands to yourself. They're fucking filthy."
Amelia blinked at him.
She slowly lifted her hands, turning them over with newfound curiosity. The warm glow of the torches illuminated the dark streaks staining her fingers, the stain caught in the creases of her skin.
"My hands are filthy?" She echoed, arching a brow.
Levi scoffed, his lips curling in mild disgust. "The hell is all that dark shit on them then?"
"Motor oil," Amelia answered easily, wiggling her fingers in the air.
The smudges caught the dim light, staining the tips of her nails and the pads of her fingers. She grinned faintly, glancing at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes, and Levi's brows scrunched together, unimpressed.
In a flash, her hands were thrusted closer to his face, her palms out and fingers splayed open.
The reaction was instant.
His body tensed as Levi jerked back in his chair, the back legs scraping noisily against the floor. His balance wavered for half a second, the chair teetering to one side dangerously before he caught himself.
"Oi!" He hissed. "Back the fuck off—"
"It doesn't come off easy," Amelia grinned widely, drawing her hands back and turning them over on the table. "Even when I scrub at it, it still takes a few days."
Levi glowered at her as she reached forward and plucked the quill from his first with practiced ease.
She held it between her fingers, twirling it slightly. The feathered tip swayed slightly with the movement.
"Watch how I hold it," she nodded towards her hand. "There's no Titan to slay here."
Levi grunted but kept his gaze trained on her hand, watching the way her fingers naturally cradled the quill. Her middle finger supported it lightly as she guided each stroke across the parchment. His gaze traced the smudges of oil on her fingertips, dark against her pale skin.
"The hell do you do with motor oil anyway?" He grumbled.
"I help out with the Corps' equipment sometimes," Amelia answered easily, dipping the quill back into the ink before offering it to him again.
He glanced up at her, skeptical. "ODM?"
"Only when they need extra hands." She nodded. "They need help with the mechanics when they're setting out for an expedition."
Levi scoffed, taking the quill from her. "You're a mechanic now?"
"I prefer the term engineer," she corrected, her lips curving in amusement before she shrugged. "But it's a pretty male-dominated career, so there's not much room for me in it."
Levi arched a brow. "And teaching isn't?"
Amelia hummed, watching as he hesitated before pressing the quill to the parchment. He slowly traced over the words she had written.
"It's not easy being a teacher either," she admitted honestly. "Back when my father was alive, there weren't many female teachers at all."
A distant look flickered across her face. She leaned back in her chair, arms folding loosely under her chest. "Even now, there aren't a lot of jobs women are allowed to do."
"They recruit them into this suicidal cult just fine." Levi commented sarcastically.
He half-expected her to snort. She frowned instead, tipping her head slightly as she considered his words.
"Well," she said. "The Corps doesn't discriminate as much as the rest of the Regiments. They're always short on manpower so they'll take anyone who's willing."
Levi noticed the subtle, solemn shift in her tone. He kept his eyes fixed on the parchment, continuing to write as he inquired boredly.
"Then what do women here usually do?"
"Teaching is becoming more accepted," Amelia responded thoughtfully. "There's also midwifery. Some run shops if they have a male relative to help them with it."
She tipped her head back, staring up at the ceiling. "But mostly, it comes down to marriage. You get married, or you're left on your own. And if that happens, well, a lot of them just turn to prostitution."
His quill nearly tore through the parchment.
The ink smeared slightly where his grip had tensed. He exhaled through his nose, forcing his hand steady. He wasn't quite sure if she noticed, but when he glanced up, her eyes were studying him with quiet curiosity.
Levi frowned and went back to writing. "Yeah?"
"Yes," she sounded more focused now, the weight of realization settling into her tone.
Levi faintly realized she was doing that thing again— where she chose her words with great precision, watching him intently for whatever reaction they'd raise out of him.
He absolutely despised when she did that. It made him feel like he was being dismantled piece by piece, pried open by nothing more than her thoughts. As if she was taking him apart without ever laying a finger on him.
"In the Underground," Amelia continued carefully, "that's a pretty common profession for women, isn't it?"
The torch lights flickered against the stone walls, stretching their shadows long across the room. Levi shifted slightly in his seat, keeping his expression carefully neutral, but something must have given him away because she was watching him more intently now.
"It's not their fault," he said at last.
His quill scraped against the parchment, filling the silence. "They're just trying to live."
"That they are," Amelia murmured, her gaze falling to his hands.
His fingers were tense, copying her words in slow strokes.
"I'm not saying it's wrong either," she added gently. "I just hope the workplace down there is safer than what I've heard."
"How the fuck can it ever be safe?"
The words came out harsher than he intended. He hadn't meant to spit them out like that, but the anger lacing his tone was impossible to smother.
Amelia brushed off the ire in his tone.
"It's safer in the professional brothels in Mitras," she said easily. "From what I've heard, the madams there ensure their employees are treated with respect and care."
Levi stared down at the parchment, his fingers tightening around the quill. The ink smudged slightly under his grip, and his mind shuttered back to a memory. The suffocating darkness of a cramped wooden closet. The loud creaking of a sagging bed frame and a man's guttural grunts heavy in the stale air. His stomach churned violently.
Bile crawled up his throat. His muscles tensed, his grip on the quill growing tighter—
"Good job."
His gaze immediately dropped to the parchment where he had written the sentences over and over again in neat strokes.
Amelia peered down beside him. "You've got the style down pretty well."
She reached forward, gathering the parchments and setting it aside before sifting through the stack for something else. "Let's get to reading now—"
"Have you been there?"
The question left his lips before he had fully decided to ask it.
Amelia paused, a look of curiosity flickering through her blue eyes as she turned back to him. He watched her closely.
"To the ones in Mitras," he clarified.
It took her a moment to register what he was asking.
"Yes," she said after a beat, tilting her head. "One of my friends works there, so I visit whenever I go to Mitras."
Levi bit the inside of his cheek, the faint taste of copper seeping onto his tongue. His gaze lowered to her hands as she pulled out a lengthy sheet of parchment from the stack, her tainted fingers smoothing the paper over the wooden surface.
He arched a brow. "Is this a—"
"Newspaper," she slid it toward him with a soft rustle. "You're going to read through all the circled articles and be ready to discuss them afterward."
His eyes narrowed in annoyance. "'Course, I am."
Amelia ignored his tone, tapping a few lines of ink on the page.
"I've already read it," she said. "I highlighted the difficult words and wrote their meanings right on top of them for you to review."
Levi's lips curled into a faint sneer. He shot her a dull look, dragging the newspaper closer with one hand. The ink smudged faintly against his fingertips and the charcoal textured words felt gritty beneath his touch.
"You made sure to baby it up for me, huh?" He groused, miffed.
Amelia shuffled around another stack of parchments. She reached for the quill and dipped it lightly into the ink pot, the feather brushing her hand.
Levi turned his head, sparing her a questioning glance.
She smiled faintly. "I'll be grading papers while you read."
He frowned and looked back down at the newspaper spread atop the table. The fine print blurred before him before he forced himself to focus, tracing the words with his eyes.
Silence filled the room.
There was the occasional rustle of parchment and the scratch of a quill as he sat reading the charcoal text. His brows furrowed as he read through the paragraphs slowly, a scowl marring his face when words like "waste of taxpayer money" and "reckless sacrifices" stood out sharply among the highlighted text.
He shoved the paper away roughly. "This is the shit they write about us?"
Amelia glanced up from her grading. She tapped the feathered end of the quill against her cheek as she leaned back in her chair.
"That's what they think," she said simply. "A lot of people don't see the point of what the Corps does. They think the money could be spent on something safer, more… productive."
"Productive," Levi repeated flatly, frowning at her. "Hate to admit it but they do have a damn good point."
He watched carefully as Amelia stood from her chair, gathering the papers she'd been working on into a neat stack.
"That's not true at all," she said after a pause, her voice awfully calm. "Most of them have never seen a Titan. They've never been outside the Walls. To them, the Corps is just a drain on their resources."
Levi glanced back at the lengthy parchment.
"Does it really matter," he muttered. "Doubt the Scouts need public approval anyway."
Amelia smiled wryly.
"Maybe not their approval but certainly their money," she elaborated. "The Corps needs their support. Without it, they wouldn't have the resources to do what they do."
She peeked down at him, a thoughtful look on her face. "People are scared of what they don't understand. Maybe if they knew what the Corps really does, they'd see things differently."
"And what exactly does the Corps do?" Levi snorted, leaning back in his chair. "Besides collecting Titan fodder."
Blue eyes sharpened immediately.
For a moment, she didn't speak, only stared at him with cool, critical eyes. Her frigid gaze shifted to the embroidered insignia on his breast pocket, lingering there momentarily before snapping back to his face.
A frown marred her lips.
"Do you really think that?" She asked, her voice flat.
Levi arched a brow because of the ire in her tone.
"Because if you do," she pressed, heat in her gaze. "Then you would admit that your friends died out there for nothing as well?"
His stare hardened. He said nothing, only watched her in silence as a heavy frown curled his lips.
"Some people like to live their lives as sheep," she met his gaze evenly. Ice seeped into her tone, and Amelia frowned. "They'd rather stay inside and live in fear than to face the actual truth of the world."
Levi remained still, his foot propped over his knee as she pushed her chair back and stepped near the table.
The flickering lights casted deep shadows across her face as Amelia leaned down, her braid sliding over her shoulder as she gathered the rest of the notes and books into her arms.
"Well, that's enough for today." She muttered petulantly, brushing the braid off her shoulder. "We'll pick up tomorrow."
He watched as she turned and walked for the door, her footsteps quiet against the flagstone flooring.
Amelia paused when she reached the doorframe, probably realizing her hands were full. Levi leaned back in his chair, one arm stretched over the newspaper as he waited for her to glance back at him. He half expected her to politely ask for help. Or maybe she'd awkwardly return to the table and set the pile of parchments down to free her hands.
Mild amusement flickered across his face when she pivoted on her heel, pressing her back against the door.
Amelia stared at him briefly, wordlessly nudging the latch open with her elbow.
The door creaked open on its old hinges, the loud sound echoing in the stillness of the room. She shifted to the side and used her foot to nudge it open the rest of the way.
"You should apologize to those kids," she said loudly, not bothering to look over her shoulder as she stepped through the doorway and out into the corridor.
"A Scout beating up little kids." He heard her snort. "Now that's something they should write about in the paper."
The faint echo of her footsteps gradually faded down the corridor.
A cool draft seeped into the room, rustling the corners of the newspaper pressed beneath his stretched arm. His eyes instinctively fell on the highlighted words marked across the parchment.
With a low grunt, he stood and grabbed the newspaper off the table.
"Tch." He rolled it up, tucking it under his arm. "Damn woman."
The door creaked again when he reached it. He paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as he glanced down the empty corridor where her footsteps had faded into silence. The faint scent of parchment and ink still clung to the air as he tugged the door shut behind him with a firm stood still for a moment before pulling the rolled newspaper from under his arm.
Levi squinted down at the fine print.
The harsh lighting of the corridor made the small, cramped letters difficult to read. He scanned the text once more, his lips thinning into grimace as he read the same irritating words again— "reckless sacrifices".
The side of the parchment crumpled beneath his tense fingers.
His mind worked through the marked words and phrases as he traipsed down the dimly lit corridors. The faint sound of his boots echoed off the stone walls as he made his way forward, his eyes trained on the rustling newspaper in his grip.
A\N: as always I love hearing your thoughts! thank you for reading .3.