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She sits on a white horse, her left hand holding a blade aloft like a banner. The air is thick with steam, and when she yells, a man's voice leaves her mouth, confident and strong. Giant, naked humans charge at her, the land quaking around her. Soldiers fly around them with strange mechanical contraptions strapped to their waists.
She's been having these dreams as long as she can remember. A man, in the old world. A leader.
The dreams change, but there is a constant: another with her, always. A small man with a permanent scowl. When she turns to him, she feels throat-tightening admiration that brings tears to her eyes. He's at her side on the battlefield, fighting the naked monsters. He sits across a desk from her in an office, offering suggestions in clipped sentences. She feels those swells of admirations at the oddest times: when he insists on dusting her room, or shows her a torn patch with stylized wings, or makes a mess of a giant training dummy.
As she ages, the dreams become more mature. The men are her first sex dream, frantically groping each other in a small wooden room. She tastes sweat on her tongue, feels a glow she doesn't understand.
Once she's old enough to appreciate them, she enjoys the sex dreams the most: it seems to be the only time the two men feel any real joy. Sometimes, they're sad, tears streaming from their eyes, though neither mentions them. Sometimes, they're delicate, handling each other as if their skin might break. Other times, they're violent, fingernails raking into flesh, slamming that hurts. They cry each other's names, voices cracking with strain, as if those names are deepest profession of love they can share.
The names always dissipate from her memory before she awakens.
And so, she lives in two worlds, one waking and one asleep. She refuses to keep them separate. Every waking moment, she walks through both worlds, reliving the dreams from the night before. As she feeds the chickens and collects their eggs, she hums and spins in place, recalling a dance the two men shared in fancy suits. She doodles the small man's face in the margins of her schoolbook during class -- and, when she's older, in ledgers and shopping lists.
She wants a waking love like the love in her dreams. She wants to wander, to see the old world where the dreams take place. She wants to know more about her dream self, about the small man, about their world.
The night of her twenty-first birthday, she awakens with a vision of the walls, hears her dream-self's voice:
We'll meet here. When the titans are a distant memory. When our time is ours.
It takes her twice as long to do her morning chores; she keeps pausing to feel the eastern wind on her face.
"I want to go to the old world," she says at dinner.
"You're weird," mutters Zara, preoccupied with spearing as many beans as she can with her fork.
Papa just stares at her, his face sad.
"Zara's old enough to help out now," she insists, "and Aunt Penny is just down the way. I won't be gone long."
He's still sad, but he nods. He's seen how many times she's reread her worn encyclopedias and history books. He knows how much the past means to her.
There's only one person in town willing to take her: Devin Summers, the boy from the next farm over. They were best friends as kids, before puberty made their relationship awkward. She hasn't seen him since school -- he went away to college, and she stayed on the farm because Mama was sick. The gossip around town says he became a teacher, so she can't fathom why he's going to the old world, but she's grateful.
When a knock sounds at the door, Papa holds her close and, even though he doesn't understand why she's going, whispers his love and well-wishes.
She says she'll be back soon, but she's not sure. Maybe she'll take one look at the old world, and the gaps will fill themselves in, and she'll feel like she's finally home. Maybe she'll feel nothing at all, and it'll have been a waste of time.
She opens the door, and Devin steps into the room.
He's taller than she remembers, tall enough that his dark hair brushes the doorframe. His shoulders and jaw are broad; his eyes are narrow, but soft. His grin is soft, too: lopsided and warm.
"Been awhile," he says, and her mouth is dry.
They settle into the carriage. She insists on sitting up front with him, because it's going to be boring as hell in the back by herself. She has her books with her, but she's read them so often, she knows them by heart.
They leave the village behind. Once they're out of the valley, the land flattens into wheat fields, the roads flattening with them. Soon, the carriage is quiet enough for them to talk.
"Not many people head back to the old world," he says, glancing at her. His hands look nice holding the reins. His grip is familiar, but she can't recall ever riding with him before.
"Hey," he says, and she realizes she's drifting between worlds again. She blinks, and he grins. "You're still a daydreamer, aren't you?"
"I'm looking for something," she says. "At the walls."
"Oh? What are you looking for?"
"Don't really know."
The silence must get awkward, because eventually, he takes it upon himself to fill it, chatting about his studies. He took a job teaching in a small city south of the walls. "Biology, mostly. I find anatomy and physiology fascinating. I'll be teaching physical education on the side, too."
Now she notices the muscles beneath his fitted shirt, and she remembers having an uncomfortable crush on him when they were ten and he was the fastest runner in school. "You always were good at sports."
"I guess." He shifts and squirms a bit, as if the compliment has made his shirt scratchy. "What about you?"
"What about me?"
"What are you studying?"
"Didn't go to college."
"Oh." He looks disappointed. "You were always a good student."
"Family came first." She learned that from her dreams, too, two men clinging to each other, blaming themselves for deaths they couldn't control. Soldiers, mother, father. It helped her a lot when Mama passed. If two men that strong could see death after death and still feel pain, then it's alright she feels so much pain about a single loss.
After the sun sets, they set up camp alongside the road. When they were kids, they would lie in sleeping bags in the meadow, talking about whatever it was kids talked about -- she can't remember anymore. She hasn't thought about that in a long time.
It's warm enough that they don't need the tents, so they mirror their younger selves, unrolling sleeping bags in the grass. She points out constellations and tells stories about the mythology behind them. He talks about university. It's like they never stopped being friends -- almost eerily natural.
He must notice, too, because he says, "What happened with us?"
"We got too old," she says drowsily. Her eyes are heavy. "Everyone started trying to sleep with each other and we forgot to be friends."
He laughs, then looks somber. "I always thought you were pretty great."
She smiles. "Yeah, same to you."
Her eyes close.
Devin shrieks.
She sits upright and sees him thrashing.
"Hey!" She grabs his shoulder. "Wake up."
He launches upright, eyes wild, breathing hard. For a moment, his eyes fix on her with an expression so familiar that her blood turns to ice. Then it softens, and he's just Devin again. He rakes a hand through his hair.
"I get nightmares sometimes," he says, still gasping for air a bit.
"It's okay. I know the feeling." Her heart remembers to pump again, but too quickly. "If you want to talk about-"
"No, it's fine."
She's not going to be able to sleep now, but the sky is already starting to warm with the approaching dawn, anyway. "Would tea help?"
"Couldn't hurt. Thanks."
She starts a small cook fire and soon, they have tea. They sit silently together, sipping it, and somehow, this feels like a ritual. She has that warm, comfortable glow, and she's not sure if it's just because she's rekindling a childhood friendship, or if it's tied to the familiar expression.
"Why are you going to the walls?" she asks.
"Like I said, I'm teaching just south of there."
"Is that the only reason?"
Their gaze holds for a moment, then he looks away and stands. "We should get moving."
They're silent, for awhile, until she drums up the courage: "These nightmares you have..."
He shrugs. "I don't want to talk about them."
"Are they parts of the same story? Do they feel like they're tied to-"
"Lily," he says, turning to her, "I don't want to talk about them."
This time, the silence between them is uncomfortable. She closes her eyes and drifts to sleep.
~~~
"Promise me."
The pain in her right arm is excruciating, and her stomach heaves. The man is clasping her left hand, brow creased with worry. She tries to speak, but her throat is dry.
"Promise me you aren't going to die." The man leans forward until their foreheads touch.
"Promise me!" The voice is urgent, and her heart breaks for him, but she still can't speak.
All that escapes is a soft groan: "Levi..."
~~~
Her eyes fly open. At last, a name is hers: Levi.
She knows that name, and not just from the dreams. Why does she know that name?
"Stop the carriage."
"You okay?" Devin sounds genuinely concerned, in spite of the strange tension between them.
"I have to check something."
She throws open the carriage door. The encyclopedia lays the bottom of her bag, and she tears clothing and supplies out to reach it, strewing them across the floor.
"Are you making a mess of my carriage?" asks Devin in an awkward tone that's probably supposed to be humour.
"I'll clean it up later." She hugs the book to her chest and closes the door, then returns to her seat.
There it is: Captain Levi Ackerman, leader of the famous Survey Corps regiment of the old world military. The encyclopedia says he was an infamous thug in the Underground City, until he was taken into the military by Commander Erwin Smith.
Erwin Smith. The name rings through her. Erwin Smith, the thirteenth Commander of the Survey Corps. She has read this name so many times -- why is it only now so important?
There isn't much about him, either, save for the fact that he was integral in overthrowing a corrupt monarchy and leading humanity to victory against the titans. Titans are such ancient history that their very nature is vague, but she always pictured stone goliaths, not giant naked humans like she sees in her dreams.
As they drive, Devin sneaks glances at the book. "What are you reading?" he finally asks.
Proof I'm not crazy, she thinks, but it's also possible her imagination is just filling in gaps based on entries she read as a kid.
"History," she says. "It's funny we don't talk much about the old world. It was only a few hundred years ago, and some epic events occurred during that time."
"Yeah?" he says, wary. "Like what"
"You ever heard of Commander Erwin Smith?"
He pulls on the reins. The horses stop so abruptly she's afraid, for a moment, the carriage will tip.
"Devin?"
"Excuse me," he says, and he jumps to the ground.
He doesn't return for several minutes. At first, she thinks his stomach must be upset, but then she hears soft, shaking sobs from the other side of the carriage. Should she try to talk to him? She's confused, and anxious, and beginning to regret this whole trip.
When Devin returns, his eyes are bloodshot.
"Are you okay?" she says.
"Don't ever say that name around me again." He clicks at the horses, and they begin to move.
It's a ridiculous shot, but she feels a deep ache inside her, one that existed before she was even born. "Your nightmares-"
"Don't."
"Do they take place in-"
"Don't!" He looks at her with the intensity of the man she now knows as Levi, and she understands. It's that same look he wears in the dreams: fear. Guilt.
"You have the dreams, too, don't you?" she asks.
He looks away, his lip curling into a sneer. "They're just dumb dreams. You probably talked about this shit when I was a kid and it got stuck in my head."
Commander Erwin and Captain Levi.
She found what she was looking for, but he doesn't want to be found.
When they camp, he sets up a tent for himself and crawls inside it.
She lies on her back and folds her arms under her head. Maybe they really are just dumb dreams. Maybe she wants to be relevant, wants to be important, and her mind has concocted a history as Erwin Smith, the saviour of humanity. Maybe she talked about it when she was young, planted seeds in Devin's mind like he says.
Besides, what would it mean if she was right? Did attraction move through reincarnations? It's not like they would automatically find that deep love she's always wanted. They're completely different people now, living in a completely different world. She has nothing in common with the competent man who led humanity to victory.
Devin surprises her by emerging from the tent. He sits facing her, his brow furrowed.
"Your dreams," he says.
She waits.
He gathers his knees in the crooks of his elbows. "How long?"
"Since I was a little kid. Maybe three or four."
"Yeah," he says. "Me, too."
Goosebumps rise on her skin, even though the night air is warm.
He leans closer. "Tell me about your dreams."
"What about them?"
"Everything."
So she speaks, and he listens, and by the time dawn arrives, her throat is hoarse and he is very, very quiet.
There's too much to think about, so they ride to the old world in silence.
The walls have crumbled, the remnants thick with moss and vines. The gate is still standing. She dismounts and stands under the arch. She feels wind in her hair, hears the hoof beats of hundreds of horses, feels her vocal cords vibrate.
"I led armies through this gate." She touches the wall. It's warmer than she expected, as if it's alive. "I changed the future of the people within these walls -- of humanity. And now I'm nobody."
"You aren't nobody." Devin stands underneath the gate, staring up. There are glowing rocks here, jutting from the rock, and his face twists. "Erwin Smith took on his role because he had to, but in any other life, he would have been a teacher, a father and a husband. He never got a chance to be any of that. He would have idolized the life you live now."
She studies him. "Is that why you became a teacher? Because Erwin couldn't?"
He looks away.
How did I die? The words catch in her throat and refuse to surface. Was it that moment she sees in her nightmares, with Levi pleading with her to stay alive? Or was that moment merely an injury, one of many they sustained? He seems to know. He seems to carry considerable guilt about it. Maybe that's why she swallows the question entirely.
She steps into the ruins, and he follows. It's eerie here -- no breeze, no insects, no birds. It smells of wet earth and moss. Only foundations of buildings remain, but she paints in the missing parts from her dreams. There is the bakery that sold cookies, a rarity in a time of famine. There is the general store where Levi liked to buy his tea. The path to the old base is familiar, as are Devin's footsteps behind her.
"Shiganshina," murmurs Devin, as if it's just dawning on him.
"The first place the titans attacked." According to the history books, at least.
"I don't remember that," he says.
"I don't, either." It's strange, these fragments of memories floating between them, not enough to build a complete timeline.
They turn the corner. Only a single, cornered wall stands where the military base once stood, an echo of what she remembers.
"Do you remember anything between their deaths and your birth?" she asks, because this can't be the first lifetime they've met in all these years.
He settles into place beside her, arms folded over his chest, staring at the rubble. "No."
She presses her palm to the wall.
Devin steps closer. She feels his breath puff against her ear, feels its warmth seep through her neck, her torso, her limbs.
"You kissed me here," he says gruffly. "Pushed me against the wall in the shadows."
"I don't remember."
"We were having an emotional conversation."
"About what?" she asks.
"I don't know."
She turns to him. His breath smells like cinnamon, and his eyelashes are long and thick. "You're so tall."
"You're so tiny."
"And a woman," she adds.
"Yeah, I noticed that, too." He tries to smile, but his mouth twists. "I'm not him, Lily. I mean, maybe I was, but I'm not anymore."
"You sure keep talking as if you're him." She leans in a little closer. His body is warm.
"You know what I mean. It wouldn't be the same."
"No, it wouldn't. But maybe that's okay. I don't think they were ever really happy. I don't think they had a chance to be."
"No," he says softly. "They didn't."
The unspoken words hang between them: this could be their chance.
Maybe she should take a cue from his dream and push him against the wall, but there's no hurry this time. They don't have titans breathing down their necks; they have a teaching job and a farm.
"Let's walk around some more," she says softly. "See what we can remember. We can take all day, try to figure things out."
Now that she knows the dreams were small parts of something real, she wants every moment of them.
But by the time the sun sets, her stomach is growling, and her brain is all twisted up. Every fragment they pieced together left them with more questions, more gaps neither of them knows. She feels she knows Commander Erwin Smith even less than she did when she arrived.
Devin builds a fire and heats a couple cans of stew, then sits beside her.
"You think they ever did this?" he asks. "Camped outdoors, just the two of them?"
"Doubt they had time."
"Yeah." His mouth sags into a frown, and he looks like Levi again. "I pity them. They were surrounded by death, and made so many difficult decisions we can only imagine. And yet..." He trails off.
"You felt it, too, right?" she whispers, staring into the fire. "In the dreams. The strength of the bond between them."
His brow furrows for a moment, but then he gives a soft chuckle and looks down. "The impossible standards no real-life relationship ever lived up to. Do you know how difficult it is to tell someone you're leaving them because they can't compete with your feelings for a man who's been dead for hundreds of years?"
"Yeah," she says, "I do."
He looks up, and their eyes hold, and the heat of the fire has nothing on the warmth in her chest.
~~~
The soldiers huddled in front of the funeral pyre, and though Erwin felt a personal responsibility to each of them, one made his heart ache the most: Levi, hunched and small, arms braced across his chest.
Erwin stood beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. The man looked up at him, then back at the flames, silent.
"They gave their hearts to-"
"Don't give me that speech," said Levi, face twisting. "It doesn't change a thing."
"No, I suppose it doesn't."
For several minutes, the only sounds were the crackling flames, the soft sobs of the others around them, and the thud of Erwin's pulse in his ears.
"This one hurt." Levi's voice was barely audible. "We were so close."
"They caught us off guard."
The small throat bobbed. "What do we do now?"
"What we always do: come up with a new plan and try again."
They fell into step as if by unspoken agreement, pacing toward the abandoned base. It was strange to look back at it now, to think how different things had been between them a mere five years earlier. Erwin glanced at his Captain, enjoying the swell of warmth that filled his chest. That, at least, was one constant.
Once they were safely out of sight, Levi whirled to face him. "How many times do I have to watch you barely escape death, you asshole?"
Erwin gave a soft chuckle.
"Why the hell are you laughing? This isn't funny. I'm sick of watching you charge headfirst into-"
"Levi."
"You don't get it."
"No, I do." Erwin pressed his palm into the corner of the foundation. "Not many of those soldiers out there were with us when we had to abandon this base. Over time, almost everyone we've known has ended up in a titan's stomach or on one of those pyres. We both know I'm overdue to join them."
Levi folded his arms over his chest, looking away.
"I don't particularly want to die," said Erwin. "At least not until I know the truth about this world. But if I do-"
"Stop talking about this."
"Levi." Erwin ran a knuckle along the narrow jaw, hoping to convince him to make eye contact, but the man's mouth only pinched tighter, his lips white.
Quietly, Erwin knelt down in front of him. "Give me your hands."
"What are you doing?" asked Levi, eyeing him.
"Making a vow."
A slender hand reached toward him. Erwin gripped it. Their gaze held.
"I promise you, Levi: if we're separated in this lifetime, I'll find you again in another."
The hand jerked away. "You know I don't believe in that shit."
"I'm not sure I do, either, but it's all I can offer. If the soul exists, I promise mine to you."
Levi's lip curled. "Sentimental bullshit."
"I know."
Their gaze held for a moment, then Levi held out his hand again. "Stand up."
Erwin clasped it and rose to his feet, then leaned forward, pushing Levi gently against the wall. Their mouths pressed together. Wiry arms wrapped around him, fingers clawing into his back.
When the kiss broke, their foreheads rested against each other, their breath warm and damp between them.
"We'll meet here," whispered Erwin. "When the titans are a distant memory. When our time is ours." Maybe it was a ridiculous prospect, but it gave him a swell of hope.
Levi's voice was soft: "Yeah? So how will I know it's you?"
Erwin pressed his palm into the centre of the small chest. "We'll feel it here."
"You're full of shit."
"Most likely." Erwin kissed his forehead, then stepped away. "We should return to the others."
As they walked side-by-side toward the pyres, he cast a glance back at the old base, wondering if this was the last time he would ever see it.
The western wind hit his face, and for a brief moment, instead of ash and burning flesh, he smelled the sweet scent of wheat fields.