Chapter Text
In a list of Hange’s priorities, sleep is placed somewhere near the very bottom. It is, in their opinion, highly overrated. Why waste eight or even more hours lying in bed when you can use that time to study scrolls, write notes, experiment with new potions or do a literally bazillion different things?
Two, at max three hours of rest is all that Hange needs, and even that sometimes they find excessive. There are so many unknowns in this world, so many mysteries unsolved, so much knowledge to be gained. Why do others insist on spending what precious moments gods lend them to lounge under heavy blankets is utterly beyond Hange.
They would have gladly traded that time to engage in something actually meaningful, if their body didn’t demand sleep so greedily, if Moblit didn’t look at them with such disappointment every time he found them blacked out over yet another scroll or in the middle of yet another experiment.
Still, as much as Hange loathes the concept of rest, sometimes, after weeks of grueling work, they can’t help but indulge in it. And what they loathe even more during those rare occasions is when someone dares to interrupt their slumber.
And that’s exactly what is happening right now, and though they love Moblit with all their heart, for not just his loyalty to them, but his understanding and kind nature, now, they want nothing more than to throw a pillow at him, kick or throttle him, whatever that will get him to stop shaking them by the shoulder and repeating in not just a demanding, but also annoyingly loud voice that they need to wake up.
“Mob,” Hange draws out sleepily, turning over to the other side of the bed, “go away already, please.”
“Hange,” he repeats, adamant in his refusal to yield, which— if Hange was conscious enough, they would have found curious and, maybe, even slightly worrying, but as of now – they simply couldn't care less. “You need to wake up. The King wants to see you.”
Hange peels one eye open, glances out of the window, finds that it’s still stark dark outside, closes it back again and huffs out, “Tell him to fetch for me in the morning.”
“This matter can’t wait until the morning. There has been an attempt on the King’s life.”
That finally gets Hange’s attention. Not only that – it also wakes them up, forces them to jump out of the bed so abruptly that they nearly collide with Moblit. They swiftly push him away, paying no mind neither to him, nor to the state they’re in. They stop just long enough to put on their glasses and find their slippers – they won’t be able to run fast enough or long enough across the rough stone floors otherwise, and then they’re out of their chambers, quick as an arrow, and just as determined.
In the back of their mind, they register Moblit hurrying after them and throwing a cloak over their shoulders.
“What happened? Where it happened? Who did this?” Hange demands from him, as they scurry down the stairs leading from their chambers. Gods, why are there so many of them, they wonder angrily, taking two of them at a time. What were they thinking when they chose to take up residence in the highest tower of the castle? Right, they remember, they thought that living in a tower would add to the aura of mystery around them. Clearly, they didn’t take into the account the possibility of falling down all these flights of stairs and breaking their neck right when their King is in danger and dire need of their assistance.
“I don’t— don’t know,” Moblit manages through his heavy panting. “All I was told was to get you. The King is in his chambers.”
Hange nods, absorbing that bit of information, and quickens their stride, all but jumping down the last three stairs and immediately turning into the hallway, taking such a swift turn that they feel a little dizzy. Their cloak flies behind their back, as they keep running, trembling candlelight illuminating their path.
They hope they’re not late, they hope that Erwin, their King and dear, dear friend is alright; if not safe, then at least sound. They hope that whoever is behind this is already caught, chained up and thrown in the coldest, deepest dungeon. And if they’re not – Hange hopes that they soon will be.
They’re ready to do whatever it takes to personally ensure that.
When Hange arrives at Erwin's chambers at last, they find it strangely quiet and abandoned. There are no guards keeping watch all around it, no panicking advisors or grim, determined jailors.
There is just Erwin, sitting on his giant bed, in a room that is illuminated only by a pale halo of the moon that shines from the open window.
Hange runs up to him without another thought, arms already outstretched to touch him, to cradle his face in between their hands to make sure that every part of him is unharmed.
So, it comes as quite a shock to them, when their arms are slapped away, quite forcefully, by a figure that steps out of the darkness.
Hange recognizes it immediately, and their mood worsens further, when they meet the steely eyes of the Captain of Erwin’s Kingsguard, Sir Levi himself.
“Don’t touch him,” he hisses out, coming to stand in front of Erwin in a protective stance. It doesn’t escape Hange’s notice that his hand falls on the handle of his sword.
So that’s how it is, huh?
Hange looks at Erwin behind Levi’s shoulder, and Erwin emits a sigh. “Stand down, Levi. Hange is not an enemy.”
Levi, in fact, does not stand down. If anything, his grip on the sword only grows tighter.
“You don’t know that,” he says, not taking his eyes off Hange.
“Yes, I do. If it was Hange, who wanted me dead, I most probably would already have been.”
Erwin’s words, the amount of faith he has in them and their abilities pleases Hange. And what pleases them even more – is a scowl that makes its way on Levi’s pretty face, when he reluctantly follows the issued order.
Sending Levi a cheeky wink, Hange pushes him away and approaches Erwin just as they were planning on doing since the start.
He looks unharmed, his sleeping shirt pristinely white, with no bloodstains in sight, but Hange still takes time to observe him carefully, with as much scrutiny as room’s poor lighting allows them.
Only once they’re satisfied with their inspection, does Hange straighten up and ask a question that has been burning them from inside out as soon as they’ve learned about it.
“What happened?”
“Someone sneaked in, tried to put a blade up to my neck, I managed to knock it out, they ran away, and that’s it, basically.”
That’s is? Hange wants to shriek, to kick something, tear some of their – or, better yet, Levi’s – hair. That’s it? Someone tried to murder him, and that’s all that Erwin can say about it? That’s it?
“Where are they? Did you manage to get a good look at them? How did they escape? Did you already send people after—”
“Hange, Hange,” Erwin takes their hands in his, squeezes in what Hange guesses must be a reassuring gesture. It doesn’t really have the intended effect on them. “Take it easy, alright? They jumped out of the window, and no, I didn’t get a good look at them at all, it was dark and I had just woken up. They were gone before I even realized what just happened.”
Hange jumps up to the window, bends over the ceiling to look down – predictably, but still disappointingly, there is no one there. They can’t find a single clue either – no trampled grass, no footprints that would lead them to the culprit. Heaving a disappointed sigh, they climb back down.
Erwin watches them with a tired, but fond smile.
“No murderous ghouls hiding in the bushes?” he asks, and when Hange detachedly shakes their head, he heaves a content sigh and sits back on the bed, looking as relaxed as ever. “I can sleep peacefully tonight then. And you need rest too,” he adds, giving Hange a pointed look. The urge to protest rises inside them immediately, almost gets out in a form of expressive tirade, full of objections with solid arguments backing each and every one, but Erwin expertly puts a stop to this, raises his hand, pins them down with a hard look beneath furrowed eyebrows, and says in a voice that compels Hange to obey before they even hear the order, “I need you to take care of this, Hange, and I need you at your best. So, go, get some sleep, we will get back to it in the morning. There is no rush, the murderer has already escaped.”
Hange wants to argue, oh, they want to so, so much, but Erwin gives that sharp look, the one that tolerates none of their usual antics, the one that says, ‘either you do this, or I find someone else to do this instead of you’. The one that leaves Hange with no choice but bow and accept the issued command.
Erwin gives him a smile in return, grateful and proud.
“I’m counting on you,” he says, as though it wasn’t obvious. As though Hange would ever allow for him to count on anyone else but them. “Oh, and do make sure not to tell another soul about this. Only you, Levi, and,” his gaze flickers to the door, where between the cracks a shadow of Moblit flickers in a dim candlelight, “Moblit can know about this.”
Although they’re conflicted about this decision too, Hange still nods their consent. If it were up to them, they’d tell everyone about an attempted murder, get all knights of Kingsguard and Ministers on the lookout for the culprit, but Erwin’s approach, Hange has to concede, has its merits too. Alerting the court of the incident would most probably solve nothing and would serve to only raise chaos among its inhabitants. The noblemen would grow suspicious, and more devious ones would undoubtedly begin to scheme and conspire to put the blame on their political adversaries.
But if they manage to keep this secret only between them, Levi, Erwin’s Sworn Knight, who would find out about it sooner or later anyway, there was no way he couldn’t – considering he spends nearly every waking moment by Erwin’s side, and Moblit, who too would discover the truth quickly enough too, as he, in turn, spends nearly every waking moment by Hange’s side, they’d get a significant advantage – not only do they get to investigate freely, but they also are free to do so with the help of clueless nobles, who, lacking the knowledge of how lies can benefit them, are more likely to give honest testimonies.
So, this is it then, Hange concludes, they can do nothing now, but get back to their room and rest. And although it physically pains them to slow down now, with all that adrenaline still rushing through them, they have no other choice. They doubt they could fall asleep again, naturally, not after this kind of turmoil, but— it’s nothing that a simple sleeping potion cannot fix.
“I’ll be going then,” they announce to Erwin, already shuffling back to the door. Before they touch the handle and get back to Moblit, they turn around, curving their lips up in a weak, but still passable recreation of a smile. “See you in the morning?”
“Sleep well, Hange. I need you fresh and full of vigor.”
Well, that definitely won’t be a problem, Hange muses, as they stagger back to their chambers.
Most of the days, vigor is all that they have.
Moments after the door after that four-eyed freak closes, Levi’s patience runs to its end. His capability to keep his mouth shut disappears without trace as well.
He turns to Erwin sharply, awarding him with an even sharper glare.
“Are you serious about this? You bargain your very life on this lunatic?”
Erwin’s voice, when he answers, is so low and cold that Levi almost feels a gust of chilly wind run past his ankles.
“That lunatic, as you have called them, Levi, is one of my very few advisors. A person I trust readily and unconditionally. You’d be wise to do so too.”
Erwin’s words, no matter in what deep voice he utters them, leaves Levi unconvinced. He rolls his eyes, the fire of indignation igniting even further.
“Trust them ?” he snorts. “The one that the whole court calls Mad Hange?”
“Since when do you listen to what the court has to say?”
“Since what they say is backed up by what I witnessed personally. That four-eyed nutcase is exactly what people say about them. They’re unstable, completely unreliable and—”
“And the smartest person of this court, if not the whole kingdom. Hange might act a little unconventional, regarding some life aspects, but they’re good at what they do. Excellent, in fact. And if you don’t like them, that’s fine, but you have to respect them. And learn to trust them too. You’re my Sworn Knight, Levi, and there is no else I would ever give this position to. I entrust my life to you, but someone is conspiring against me, and it’s not just my life that is in danger. The whole kingdom is at stake. I need not only protection, I need to know who is doing this and why. There is only one person who I know and trust enough to dig up the truth. And it’s Hange. And if you have some objections to that, then…”
The rest Erwin leaves unspoken, but not unclear. If Levi is so scornful of Hange, he can be replaced. He might be considered the best knight in the entire kingdom, but Erwin doesn’t need the best one to protect him. Only the most loyal.
But it’s not that bit that Levi fixates on, it’s the implications of Erwin’s words that concern him most. After all, his disdain for Hange is well-known, if not that obvious. But if Erwin makes such a big deal of it now, then…
“Please,” Levi, generally utterly averse to begging, feels his opinion on it rapidly changing. “Don’t tell me that I have to work with them.”
“You need to, Levi. Hange can – and will – identify the threat, but it’s you who has to eliminate it. With no witnesses, of course.”
It doesn’t make sense, Levi wants to say, he’s not suited for this line of work, he’s a knight, for damn’s sake, not an assassin, but, loathe though he might to admit it, he can see where Erwin’s logic is coming from. The threat must be dealt with, and by someone, who will keep it in the dark, by someone loyal and without ulterior motives.
And there is no one more suited for that than him. And, unfortunately, than Hange.
Levi rubs at his brow, feeling the impending headache. He hates whoever is behind this already. Not just for putting Erwin’s life in danger, but for putting him in a team with damned Mad Hange.
But ‘Protect and serve’, the motto of Kingsguard says. And as its Captain, Levi has no choice but to follow it.
He has to protect and serve, even if it means working alongside a complete nutjob, whose mere existence not just bewilders, but disgusts Levi to the core. And the worst part of this conundrum is that he has no choice but to rely on them. The smarter and more capable they are, the faster they identify the culprit, the sooner he can kill the bastard, the sooner it all ends.
To rely on four-eyes… it sounds like the beginning of a nightmare, the one Levi can’t unfortunately wake up from. But what else can he do? It’s not like he can disobey.
Protect and serve, Levi repeats in his head, as he returns to his post outside Erwin’s chambers, protect and serve.
Oh, how he hates his job sometimes.