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Levi hadn’t left the room for hours. Or days? He had lost track of time.
Not that he cared about something so trivia like that.
He barely moved from his spot even though there were many things he should be doing. Showering, shaving, meeting someone- anyone. But, no. He couldn’t bring himself to care. He could feel his body ache for staying in the same position for too long. He was sure he could smell himself too.
But his mind was occupied with the movement of his fingers. A cold metal ring, with a small diamond set in it, and the engraving inside. The same words were engraved on his own.
Together we fight and together we complete each other.
Levi pressed his lips, trying to stop his jaw from trembling. He closed his eyes, fighting back another wave of tears.
So how was he supposed to face this world without you?
That was the only question mattered to him. And at the same time, he knew he would never find the answer– not after he had learned what it truly meant to be alone.
It wasn’t the first time he had lost someone in his life. He still remembered the day his mother died Back then, his uncle had to take care of him, teaching him how to survive, how to fight – how to live as a soldier. That was what shaped him into the man he had become.
He also remembered losing his closest family after that– Isabel and Furlan. Sometimes the sensation of loss still haunted him.
But back then, he had you to comfort him. You were there to stand by his side. Not just as his friend, not just as his lover. But as his equal. His partner.
Well, now he had a new nightmare. And it was far worse than before because this time… he didn’t have you.
Levi let out another shaky breath as he heard a soft knock on the door. He didn’t bother to respond. Hange and Erwin knew he needed privacy. They would leave him alone.
Well, he didn’t expect the person outside to actually dare enter their -his chamber.
He looked up with a frown, his eyes sharp with a mean glare. He didn’t want to see anyone except the one who would never walk through that door anymore and he-
He blinked several times, stunned. Standing in the doorway was the last person he would have ever expected to see. Then again… maybe he should have.
“Long time no see, Levi.”
Levi continued staring, too shocked to respond to his greetings.
Shock. The first emotion he had felt outside of anger, sorrow, and grief – the emotions he had been drowning in for the past few days.
“I’ll take it as a yes,” the man said.
For a brief moment, Levi wondered what he had missed – he hadn’t even heard Zeke Yeager asking him if he could come in.*
Zeke Yeager. Another soldier, like him and Y/N. He and Y/N had been close - close enough to make Levi jealous. The two of them had been on the same team, long before Levi was transferred. Their level of synchronization had been just as good as his and Y/N’s.
Zeke took a seat next to Levi, a small smile on his face as he watched Levi turn his head away from him.
How dare he invade their bed? But as quickly as the thought came, it was gone. It didn’t matter. The bedsheet would be changed sooner or later. The ring and the promise mattered more.
Being apart from you was what mattered.
Levi didn’t acknowledge Zeke’s presence. He turned his head away, eyes fixed on your ring, as if the other man wasn’t even there. The air in the room was heavy, thick with something unspoken.
Zeke, for once, didn’t push. He just sat beside Levi, close but not too close, as if aware that one wrong move could set him off. For a moment, silence stretched between them, a barrier neither wanted to break.
Then Zeke spoke. “You know… Y/N used to hum before missions.” His voice barely audible but it made Levi’s fingers twitched. He said nothing, but Zeke continued anyway.
“Not loud enough for everyone to hear. Just a quiet little tune, a unique language, like a nervous habit. A prayer if you want me to call it.” A small, almost wistful smile tugged at his lips. “I asked her about it once. She said it helped her focus, gave her something steady when everything else felt uncertain.”
Levi clenched his jaw. That sounded like Y/N. Something small, something seemingly insignificant—but undeniably her. His Y/N. He had heard it, hadn’t he? That soft, almost imperceptible humming, the way their hands had always tightened around their gear before take-off.
He also had asked her once and she had said that it was like a prayer, a hope to successfully complete the mission.
Zeke didn’t mock Levi’s passive attitude, didn’t gloat, didn’t wear that infuriating smirk Levi had come to associate with him. He just kept talking.
“She had a weird way of tying her boots too. Always double-knotting the left one first. Said it was a superstition—if she didn’t do it, something would go wrong.”
Levi’s breath hitched.
Because he had seen that too. Had even teased Y/N about it once, calling it ridiculous. And she had just grinned, shoving his shoulder playfully, telling him “You’ll thank me when we get out of this mission alive.”
But now she was gone.
His fists tightened around the fabric of his pants, nails digging into his palms. It felt like Zeke was peeling away layers Levi had buried, forcing him to remember things he didn’t want to. Things that hurt too much.
Zeke exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I think you know that being in the same team, sharing the same missions with her, made me aware of how much she rambled about you all the time.”
Levi finally turned to him, eyes narrowing. “What?”
A small chuckle escaped Zeke. “Yeah. More than you’d think. Always had some story about you. How stubborn you were, how you never listened. How you always acted like you didn’t care but would be the first to throw yourself into danger for someone else. Even after your accident, even when you’re not on the frontlines anymore.” He glanced at Levi, eyes unreadable. “She admired you, you know.”
Levi swallowed, throat suddenly dry. His fingers twitched again, but this time, they curled into a fist.
“I liked her too, you know,” said Zeke.
Levi’s body went rigid.
Zeke let out a humorless chuckle. “I knew I never had a chance. Since you came, she only ever had eyes for you.” He leaned back slightly, rubbing a hand over his face. “I thought maybe… if things had been different, if she hadn’t met you, if I had said something sooner—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter now, does it?”
Levi didn’t move, didn’t speak. He just stared ahead, his grip tightening around the ring still clutched between his fingers.
“She was incredible,” Zeke continued, voice almost wistful. “Brave. Smart. Stubborn as hell.” A small, sad smile tugged at his lips. “I would’ve done anything for her. But she never looked at me the way she looked at you.”
“That’s why, when you two got married, I asked the commander to transfer me to another team. Put me on the front lines more. And my little brother -you apprentice- ended up taking my place in the team.”
Levi finally turned his head, his gaze locking onto Zeke’s. The unspoken words between them hung heavy in the air.
“But at what cost? I still love her,” Zeke said, his voice quieter now. “I can’t forget her. Everything just feels… different without her. On missions, outside of missions. And when I heard the news…”
For once, there was no rivalry. No taunts. No smug remarks. Just two soldiers, mourning the same woman in different ways.
After a moment, Zeke sighed. “Guess that makes two of us who lost her.”
Levi looked away. His chest was ache, his throat tight. He wanted to say something—anything—but no words came.
Because no matter how much Zeke had cared for her… Levi was the one she had chosen. And now, she was gone.
Zeke reached into his pocket, pulling out a small envelope. He hesitated for a moment before placing it on the bedside table between them.
“I wasn’t sure if I should be the one to give this to you,” he admitted. “But Eren told me that Y/N wanted you to have this. She made Eren promise this would reach you, no matter what.”
Levi stared at the envelope. His heart pounded, a sickening mix of anticipation and dread swirling in his chest.
“What is it?” he asked, voice hoarse.
“You know what it is. Before the accident, you used to write them too – a farewell letter,” Zeke said. “Y/N wrote it before her last mission. Told Eren to give it to you if… that happened.”
Levi didn’t reach for it. He didn’t move at all. The paper sat there, taunting him, daring him to break.
Zeke didn’t press him. He just stood up, walking toward the door. “You don’t have to read it now,” he said. “But I think you should.”
He paused, glancing back at his longtime rival, “By the way, your daughter is beautiful. She has her mother’s unique eyes.”
And with that, he was gone, leaving Levi alone with the letter.
Alone. Once more.
For what felt like hours, Levi did nothing. He just sat there, staring at the envelope as if it might disappear. As if ignoring it would change what had already happened.
But it didn’t. Nothing changed.
The room was silent, save for the faint rustling of the wind outside. The candle on the bedside table flickered, its glow casting shadows across the walls. The longer he sat there, the heavier the silence became—pressing down on him, suffocating him.
Eventually, his fingers twitched. His breath came shallow and uneven. He reached for the envelope with shaking hands.
He opened it.
And as his eyes traced over Y/N’s handwriting, fresh tears spilled down his face.
Dear, my love
You know it is a cruel tradition, isn’t it? Writing a farewell letter, knowing that one day you might read it. I always told myself you’d never have to see this, that I would come back to you—to our home, to our love. But if you're holding this now… it means I broke that promise. It means I won’t be coming back.
If, by some miracle, I’m still alive and you’ve somehow stumbled upon this, please—destroy it. Burn it. Forget you ever saw it. Because words like these should only exist in a world where I no longer do.
We both knew the risks. We lived in the shadows of death, walking hand in hand with danger every single day. But we believed, didn’t we? That what we did was for something greater. For our people. For a future that we might never see but still fought for.
You, my love—braver than anyone I’ve ever known, stronger than you will ever admit—loved me. Me, who was afraid in ways I never dared to say out loud. For that, I owe you more than I could ever repay. And I’m sorry. Because if you’re reading this, then I have become nothing more than a wound that will never truly heal. If you resent me for that, I understand. If you hate me for leaving you, I will bear it, even in death.
But I need you to do something for me. I need you to live.
Please, take care of our little one. She won’t have her mother, but she will have you. And that will be enough. I know it will. Because her father is the strongest soldier I’ve ever known—not just in battle, but in heart.
Raise her to be strong like you. To be kind. To be fearless.
And if you ever doubt that you can do this without me—don’t. Because I believe in you, always.
And if, someday, your heart finds its way to someone else… if you find warmth in another’s arms, if you learn to smile without pain, please don’t let guilt stop you. You have my blessing, my love—because your happiness is, and always will be, my greatest wish.
But no matter where life takes you, no matter how many years pass, please remember this:
I loved you. I love you. And even after death, I will love you still.
Forever yours,
Y/N
By the time Levi finished reading, his hands were trembling. His vision blurred, the ink smudging where his tears had fallen.
The ache in his chest tightened, suffocating, unbearable. And yet, as he folded the letter carefully—as if it were something fragile, something sacred—he found himself moving.
Because Y/N was right.
There was still someone who needed him.
Then, without a word, he stood up.
Where would they keep her?
The hallway was dimly lit, the torches casting long, wavering shadows against the walls. He didn’t know where he was going at first—his feet simply moved, drawn forward by something unseen.
It wasn’t until he pushed open the door to Hange’s quarters that he realized why.
There, in the soft glow of candlelight, sat Hange and Erwin. And between them, wrapped in a small, woolen blanket, was his daughter.
She was sleeping—tiny hands curled into fists, her chest rising and falling in steady, peaceful rhythms. The very image of innocence.
His breath hitched.
Hange looked up first, her usual manic energy subdued. “Levi…” she started, but stopped when she saw his face. Erwin, on the other hand, sighed, rubbing his temples. “Levi,” he said, voice low. “Be careful. She’s just stopped crying after an entire day of—”
Wordlessly, he stepped forward, staring down at the small, fragile life Y/N had left behind. His daughter. Their daughter.
But then it happened.
The moment Levi’s gaze met his daughter’s, her tiny body stirred. A quiet, sleepy whimper left her lips, but she didn’t cry.
Instead, she blinked up at him, her mother’s eyes—Y/N’s eyes—glistening under the candlelight.
“She has her mother’s unique eyes.” Zeke had said. Of course, he knew that better than him. Levi was there when their daughter was born.
Safe.
That’s what she looked like. Like she felt safe just by seeing him.
Careful not to surprise her, Levi stepped closer, his fingers brushing gently against her tiny hand. She stirred, her little fingers curling instinctively around his.
“Did Liora miss her papa, hm?” he whispered.
Liora released a small, bubbly sound, her face scrunching—
Then, a soft giggle.
Hange’s eyes widened. “Woah, did she just laugh?” they exclaimed. “Moblit tried everything to make her laugh, but nothing worked!”
Levi swallowed thickly, his free hand ghosting over Liora’s dark wisps of hair. His daughter’s first laugh after her mama’s death… and it was for him.
“Papa’s sorry, Liora,” he murmured, voice rough with emotion.
Sorry that he had been gone too long. Sorry that she would never get to know her mother. Sorry that he hadn’t held her sooner.
But as she gripped his hand tighter, her tiny chest rising and falling in peaceful sleep, Levi realized something.
And for the first time since he lost Y/N, he felt something other than pain.
Something small. Something fragile.
Hope.
His daughter looked up at him, unwavering, unafraid. And Levi, who had spent his entire life fighting against loss, against grief, against feeling—finally let himself believe.
Maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t completely alone. He never would be.
That everything would work in the end. They would be just fine.
*the end*
Epilog
As the days passed, the weight of Y/N’s absence never lessened, but Levi learned to carry it differently. He kept moving—because that was what she would have wanted. Because Liora needed him.
But grief had never been a quiet thing for Levi. It burned, deep and unrelenting. And when Zeke returned a few weeks later, carrying a message from Eren, that fire only grew.
“The mission she died on,” Zeke said, voice grim. “It was odd.”
Levi narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”
Zeke exhaled sharply. “Eren told me… there were inconsistencies in the reports. Things that didn’t add up. He thinks Y/N was sent in with bad intel. Maybe even on purpose.”
Levi’s grip on his teacup tightened until the porcelain cracked.
“She was too skilled to go down like that,” Zeke continued. “You know it. I know it. And now Eren’s digging through old files, trying to figure out what really happened.”
Levi remained silent, but Zeke saw the shift in his eyes. That dangerous glint. The soldier awakening beneath the grieving husband.
“I thought you should know,” Zeke said, standing. He turned toward the door but paused. “You’re not the only one who wants answers.”
Levi didn’t respond. He didn’t need to.
As soon as Zeke left, Levi looked down at the letter on his bedside table—Y/N’s words still etched into his mind. For a better future… for us.
But there was no future without justice. No peace without answers.
For the first time since losing her, Levi felt something other than sorrow.
Determination.
He would find the truth. And when he did—whoever was responsible for Y/N’s death would regret ever crossing him.
The mission wasn’t over.
Not yet.