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It was a normal day in Paradis after humanity had become a mortal enemy, and honestly, Jean was getting tired of cleaning up the mess Eren had caused with the Rumbling.
He always made a point to say that when he went to see him in prison below the capital, always reminding of how much of an idiot he was.
He was furious with Yeager, maybe would be for life, but yet, he always came back to talk to him, because - although Jean would never admit it - he was happy to know that this broken man could still be the sulky brat who cursed him back instead of someone who had lost all his humanity to a genocidal plan.
When Armin, or rather Commander Arlert, called him to his office that morning, which was so seemingly peaceful in a reasonably calm week, he sighed heavily. It was obvious that no one in the world was planning to leave the Eldians alone anytime soon. It was only when the last rays of the day shone behind the Mountains and the first stars twinkled in the sky that Jean ran out of excuses to give to the cadets who had been reminding him of the meeting so insistently.
Living in peace was all he wanted, and it was all he would never have.
Sometimes he still thought about the engagement ring he bought in Marley just for the sake of it, for the expectation of one day kneeling down and asking someone to intertwine their life with his, and which he still kept in his trunk of belongings that was starting to get small, a whole life stored under his bed.
His footsteps dragged along the hallway like stones on the way to the commander's office. If he remembered correctly, he hadn't seen Armin in almost a month - “Commander Arlert, Jean. It's not that difficult”, he corrected himself in his mind - and that brought a bitter taste to his mouth for some reason he couldn't quite name.
He just... got used to his comrades with him, always around, always laughing, always being loud and childish. It was strange to see how they all ended up growing up, changing, discovering that life was more complicated than killing Titans.
Deeper than the regrets of inconsequential choices.
Jean shook his head to shake off the thoughts that were barely taking shape. It was no longer time to regret not having moved to the interior or accepted early retirement.
He hated his choices, but he would be much more unhappy and frustrated if he hadn't made them. And if there was one terrible place the soldier would rather be than on any large farm, it was there, dragging himself down that hallway, serving in the Survey Corps under Armin's command.
He tapped his knuckles on the wood and waited for the “come in” in the soft tone that the blond never seemed to leave behind. It was an appreciation that the soldier hated to have, the trait that blue-eyed boy would never lose, even if he became a man.
His commander - His Armin - was the constancy that kept him anchored, like a ship at sea.
When he heard the confirmation, he opened the door just enough to pass through and entered the office. Armin sat behind the desk, his hair - Now growing long again - was partially tied back, leaving strands of his bangs loose and creating a shadow over half his face as he kept his head down, writing something on his desk.
Jean braced himself for the attack that came in the next instant, when the commander looked up at him with his sea-blue eyes and his serious expression softened until it dissolved into one of those smiles the soldier had seen all the time when they were cadets.
His chest tightened at the sight, as it always did.
— Jean, I've been calling you all morning, you know?
— I was busy. — He replied, lifting his chin, trying to sound convincing, as he closed the door with his foot and leaned against it, crossing his arms.
— That's what I heard…— His gaze made it clear that they could see through his lies. He tried not to focus on how well his former division mate knew him. — Don't you want to sit down?
— Are you about to give me bad news, commander?-- He asked ironically, pulling up one of the chairs in front of Armin's desk.
— You don't have to call me commander.
— It's a matter of respect –- Armin knew Kirstein was being ironic again.
Jean saw him laugh and rest his clasped hands under his chin instead of maintaining the correct posture in his chair with his hands resting on the tabletop.
— And since when do you respect hierarchy? — The soldier just laughed briefly, turning his head to stare at the windows and bookshelves to his right.
“And how could I not call you commander when you look so much like them? When you being the commander is all I've been thinking about for a year?”
He didn't say any of that.
— Touché. So, what brings you here, Armin? — They both sighed as if mirroring each other, adopting more serious postures.
— You know there hasn't been a squad captain since the restructuring, right? Captain Levi, obviously, can't fight anymore, and his former squad was disbanded and scattered among several troops. You know that too…— For some reason, the blond man seemed anxious.
Jean had never seen him like this since he took office, not since the big plan. He allowed himself to feel a little happy that Arlert still felt comfortable showing himself that way to someone other than Mikasa.
He saw him take a deep breath before continuing.
— The reasons for the dissolution were completely legitimate, of course, but the threats are still out there, and an elite squad is increasingly necessary…— His blue eyes stared into Jean's brown ones, as if all the hope they had once had in the world was still there, hiding deep in his brilliant mind. — I want to restructure the special operations squad, and for that, we need a new captain, someone skilled who can guide people, who has empathy, discernment, and understands what is good or not for our peers.
— Uh, I see! You want to know my opinion? — Exclaimed Jean, placing a hand on his chest in a dramatic gesture that Armin could only laugh and roll his eyes at. — Wow, commander, I had no idea you recognized my brilliance in this way. Not that you couldn't see from the beginning, of course, that my mind was the most brilliant in the entire scout regiment, took you long enough to notice that, but I am honored, I accept my destiny as your advisor. I dedicate my heart to you, Armin Arlert!
Kirstein wondered for a second if he had gone too far and upset him, seeing a blush spread across his delicate face, before his former comrade began to laugh even more.
— The most modest in the entire southern division, as I well remember. — Making people laugh - Making Armin laugh - was one of the prides Jean held closest to his heart.
— As always, of course… — Replied the taller one, before regaining his composure. — Seriously now? I believe Mikasa has been doing better in control since Eren was imprisoned. She has distanced herself from him. Her ability is unprecedented, and she cares about the squad more than anyone else. Reiner has regained everyone's trust since he returned. I can't say whether it's safe or not to let him in control of anything, but it's something to consider. He has skills that are difficult to replicate, and his need to redeem himself can be seen as a confirmation of his commitment. Connie may not be the smartest strategically, but he has something inside him, a potential that even he may not know he has, I really believe that. He would need to be trained to better understand the more theoretical and technical aspects of the job, but if that is done, I can guarantee it would be a pleasant surprise.
The leader stared at him with a blank look, as if his words were going over his head in a strange way, which made him afraid he was talking a lot of nonsense or didn’t understand the intentions he had bringing him there.
— But of course, these are just my opinions. — He added, getting up from his chair with the intention of leaving. — Do what you think is right... You always know what to do — Added the soldier, quietly.
He was about to turn his back and walk toward his much-needed rest when…
— What about you?
He looked at the shorter man's mouth, as if he had just spoken an unrecognizable foreign language.
— What about me?
— What if… I made you captain?
Jean's world shook and spun as if it were about to fold in on itself and explode like a thunder spear. He laughed in almost discomfort, looking at the serious Armin who stared back at him with nothing but his endless patience.
He couldn't be serious, right? Jean was nothing more than a soldier to lose in battle and honor with a beautiful tombstone or a future lunatic to be retired on disability after seeing too many things and losing his legs.
He was the leader of a single mission, not a captain.
Armin, with his giant head, almost falling under the weight of his own brain, had to see that too.
— Walls, Armin, I never knew you were the joke type. You can't get enough of surprising us, can you? — His tone was as playful as it could be, but the blond didn't move, static like an old statue of Erwin.
Same perfectly combed blond hair, same well-pressed uniform fitted to his body, same penetrating, unblinking eyes that made him seem barely human.
Soldier wanted to scream at him to say something and end his panic.
“Please tell me you see me for who I am. You've always understood me so well...”
— I'm not joking. — His tone wasn't cold, just steady, with a slight inclination toward consolation, like a tree leaf on a windless day in the Trost district.
Familiar monotony.
— Armin… — It came out almost like a plea for him to stop with the unfunny prank
Arlert stood up from his chair, leaning briefly on the tabletop, on the side where Jean had been sitting before.
He must have confused your plea for seriousness with a plea for explanations.
— I've been thinking about this for a long time… — He paused briefly, motioning for the other man to step away from the door. — Since the attack in Liberio. You had become a commanding officer shortly before, I remember, and you led us perfectly.
— I had no idea you noticed me so much, Commander — Kirsten joked, trying to lighten the mood a little, so lost in his own internal storm that he didn't even notice when the blond man blushed slightly beneath his pale skin.
— What I mean is that you have a rare spirit of leadership, Jean. You are thoughtful, you care about innocent lives, but you are not afraid to do what is necessary when it is necessary. They trust you, and more than that…— Armin's footsteps were still as light as they had been the day he saw him practice his moves for the first time, his posture open, with no preparation for an imminent attack. And when his still somewhat small hand touched Jean’s shoulder, his fingers were as soft as those of someone who had picked up more books than weapons.
That was always Armin Arlert.
The softness of a fruit that falls to the ground with a brief breeze, deliberately, to create another tree, with roots much stronger than the first.
It made his heart beat as if he were running from titans again, feeling the adrenaline rush through his veins like an electric shock.
— I trust you, in what I know you can do.
It was almost impossible to look at him without seeing a hope that was rarely found in the world today. Armin, his friend, his companion, the most annoyingly intelligent man he knew, had hope in him.
Jean hated himself for wanting to live up to his expectations, even if it cost him everything he had ever wanted.
— Armin, if you expect me to do justice to Captain Levi's greatness, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but- — The taller one tried, desperately searching his mind for even the slightest justification to make his superior realize his mistake.
Kristen would do whatever he asked, but he didn't want to see Armin regret it.
He didn't want to see him have regrets as big as those of the soldier he was trying to appoint captain.
— I don’t. — His voice was like a quick, precise cut through the air, confidence shining through in his words.
— What?
— I don't expect you to be anything except yourself.
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Sleep came to Armin shortly after Jean left, promising to give him an answer about the captaincy once he had thought it over. The commander knew that his old friend considered himself incredibly skilled, but that deep down, he was terrified of responsibilities that involved others.
Being responsible meant that people would follow him, and if anything happened to anyone in his squad, he would blame himself for the rest of his life.
He knew that Kirstein was capable of fighting with all his strength for his soldiers, respecting them as equals, learning about their strengths and weaknesses, and understanding the importance of each one. He respected Armin during the time they went on missions together, even though he wasn't even close to his level.
The commander knew it was the best choice he could make, but his heart ached just knowing that he would put his friend - His Jean - in that position, in the pain which he understood so well.
The blond man slept leaning on his desk over some papers and his fountain pen, which created an ink stain on his cheek as he thought about the cruelty he was forcing himself to do, his reason and his emotions fighting each other with scythes. His sleep was so restless that even his accumulated fatigue was not enough to wake him when the sun was already beginning to rise behind the mountains of Paradis.
He awoke when darkness still enveloped the world, as everything seemed to be since the Rumbling, in a lack of candles and the light they brought. The candelabra behind him had wept until only wax and shadow remained.
He guessed it was between two and three in the morning by the faint light of the moon and the night creeping through the curtains. He dried what he could of the paint on his cheek with a tissue and organized the papers that had not yet been stained into a pile. With a clearer view of his desk top, it was impossible not to see a small red velvet box. He reached for it with fearful fingers, looking for any sign of someone's presence.
He was completely alone.
He turned the box, which had no inscriptions or labels, between his fingers, looking for a sign of use, a sender, anything, before opening it. Inside was a beautiful gold ring with a blue stone in the center and two smaller ones resembling diamonds on either side. Inside the band, a letter and a dot were engraved, like an abbreviation.
J.
Underneath the ring holder, the tip of a folded piece of paper glistened like a ray of sunshine. Armin picked it up, went to the window, and opened it.
The handwriting was flowery in the capital letters, like a drawing, and rounded in the smaller letters. It read:
I accept to be captain of the special operations squad and, by doing so, I put my life on the line to honor your choices, Armin. I trust you and your judgment with all my heart.
Keep the ring as a symbol of my conviction. You don't have to wear it if you don't want to.
He stared at the ring in the soft light of the night and sighed deeply as he placed it on his left ring finger, almost testing it, testing the strength of a commitment.
The size was so perfect that it seemed to have been made for him.