Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1154549.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage, Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Shingeki_no_Kyojin_|_Attack_on_Titan
  Relationship:
      Armin_Arlert/Erwin_Smith
  Character:
      Armin_Arlert, Erwin_Smith, Levi_(Shingeki_no_Kyojin), Hange_Zoë, Eren
      Yeager, Jean_Kirstein, Mikasa_Ackerman, Petra_Ral
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Canon_Divergence, Alternate_Universe_-_Prostitution,
      Age_Difference, Blow_Jobs, Oral_Sex, Face-Fucking, Size_Kink, Size
      Difference, Cock_Worship, Hand_Jobs, Manhandling, Power_Imbalance,
      Dubious_Morality, Dubious_Ethics, Consent_Issues, Don't_Judge_Me, Porn
      With_Plot, Dirty_Talk, Begging, Masturbation, Anal_Fingering, Praise
      Kink, Names, Intercrural_Sex, Scars, Dreams, Nightmares, Suicide,
      Sickfic, Rape, Rape_Recovery, Rape_Aftermath, Murder, Trauma, Rape/Non-
      con_Elements, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional_Hurt/Comfort
  Collections:
      Shingeki_no_Kyojin_Kink_Meme_Fills
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-01-26 Updated: 2014-08-16 Chapters: 9/? Words: 34941
****** Delicate Boy In The Hysterical Realm ******
by alienchrist
Summary
     Erwin visits a brothel to blow off frustration. Who he finds there
     might alter the course of his life, and the war against the titans.
     Vacillates between unrepentant porn, angst and plot, and slightly-
     more-repentant porn.
Notes
     Originally written for the SNK kink meme here: http://
     snkkink.dreamwidth.org/524.html?thread=1172748#cmt1172748
     "First draft" updates will continue to be posted to the kink meme
     first, and here when I edit them to my satisfaction.
***** Chapter 1 *****
They didn't even make it to the bed the first time. Erwin had the slender blond
boy by the shoulders as soon as the door closed behind them. They kissed. Erwin
wasted no time plunging his tongue into that small, sweet mouth. The boy tasted
of sunlight. He tasted like he spent the afternoon playing in a garden instead
of holed up in a brothel, like they were sneaking away from an afternoon lesson
for a tryst and fuck Erwin wanted him. If there wasn't a corner in Hell for him
for all the lives he put on the line and lost already, he'd be roasting for
this one. He could tell himself the boy was the age of some of his finest
cadets to try and sleep better at night, but he knew that was a lie, and it
wasn't even one he really believed.
Good thing it didn't matter what he did. If humanity lived long enough to
recount its history of this time, Erwin knew he would be known as a bastard one
way or another. Maybe his accomplishments would be admired, but their terrible
price would always stain his accomplishments. But if he was already a bastard
for the good he'd done the world, there didn't seem much point in caring about
the bad.
The boy squirmed in Erwin's tight grasp, struggling on tip-toes, making
kittenish, hungry noises. His clever little tongue circled Erwin's. Erwin took
his chin in his forefinger and thumb and pulled him back, admiring his soft,
cherubic features. His hair was cut to the chin, his eyes periwinkle blue. He
looked like a little bird, with soft feathers and tiny, cute movements, like
his innocence was true, not feigned.
Erwin didn't know the boy's name. The madam told him it was Hyacinth, in
keeping with the brothel's flower theme. It was probably nowhere close to his
real name. The boy had to be called twice to respond. But Erwin didn't need to
know his name, real or not, to fuck his mouth, and that's all he really wanted:
a release. It's what he came to the brothel looking for, and Erwin staked his
reputation on getting results.
The boy licked at Erwin's fingers, suckling them greedily. His tongue and mouth
were a pink so delicate and vivid it was like a kick in the gut. The boy made a
little sound when Erwin moved his fingers in and out, pushed and explored and
tested, a needy noise that made his cock stand then and there. That's when he
knew they wouldn't make it to the bed.
Erwin shoved the boy roughly to his knees and unbuttoned his fly. He barely had
time to get his dick out before the youth was on it, licking flat-tongued and
messy over him.
"You're huge," the boy murmured.
"It's proportional," Erwin scoffed, "You don't need to act like you're
impressed."
But Erwin almost wanted to believe the boy wasn't acting when he stroked his
fingers over, such small fragile hands over his flushed, thick length. He
regarded Erwin with a look of awe. Erwin's cock was more than happy to accept
the look of praise by continuing to stand at attention. Erwin let the boy get
his dick nice and wet before pushing his fingers into his mouth again. It only
took the softest push for the boy to realize what Erwin wanted. He held his
mouth open, tongue slightly hanging, as if asking then and there to be
violated. There was a strangely blank yet rapturous look on the boy's face.
"Good boy," Erwin muttered, pushing his fingers in and out a few times for the
sake of a cursory test. They made a soft squelch. The suction was impeccable.
Erwin thought he must be trembling with lust. "Do you want my cock?"
The boy couldn't talk with Erwin's fingers half down his throat, but he did a
good job nodding. He whimpered like a he was begging.
Erwin thrust into that perfect combination of wet heat. Those bright blue eyes,
so keenly observant in the first moments they met, slid shut briefly as the boy
began to focus on his purpose. He didn't have to concentrate too much, as Erwin
urged him down his length inch by inch, until the boy's nose brushed curly
hair, and then let him go.
He told himself he would savor the sight of it. The boy watched him again, as
if trying to speak with him without words: look at what I can do to you. Look
at how I love doing it.
He only held out the first time, when the boy let him out of his mouth with a
wet pop. He could see the line of the boy's collarbone and the rise and fall of
his chest through the scoop of his collar. His white skin was flooded with rose
from the activity. The boy's mouth and chin were vibrant red, glistening with
spit and sticky pre-fluid. A line of spit connected them still, silvery like a
spider's thread. The boy licked his lips and wiped his chin idly with his
fingers, which really only seemed to make the mess worse. He still had that
dazed look, like the sex intoxicated him, like he needed more of his fix.
What a wrong thought. A boy who needed cock, his cock.
"You like that?" Erwin asked.
The boy nodded, biting his lip. He lifted his long, loose shirt to reveal the
fitted trousers beneath: his erection was clearly visible. Erwin stroked
himself in sympathy.
"This turns you on, doesn't it?" Erwin grasped the boy's chin with his free
hand, rubbing his thumb over his lips. That achingly pink tongue snaked out,
tried to coax the thumb into his mouth. "Are you just that hungry for cock?"
The boy glanced away. Erwin yanked him forward, rubbing the tip of his cock
over those swollen lips. When the boy tried to open his lips again, to lick, he
pulled away. The boy gave him the most adorably annoyed and indignant look.
"Did you want something? I think you'd better ask nicely."
"Pretty please can I suck your cock?" the boy asked in a honeyed voice, batting
his eyes.
Erwin found the impudence both endearing and annoying. He took the boy by the
hair, yanked hard enough to show he was serious but not enough to cause pain.
"You don't need to be sarcastic."
"I - I thought you wanted me to beg for it!" the boy stammered.
"You've been begging for it all night, with your eyes. You've been looking at
me like some men look at vine. Now your attitude's changed."
"Just do it already," the boy muttered. "You're bigger than most I've had. It
feels really amazing, having my mouth and throat that full. I love it." There
was something dark in the boy's voice, something almost painfully honest. Erwin
didn't understand it, but he didn't have to. He guided the boy back to his
throat. The boy parted his lips, and Erwin went in, splitting his mouth open
wide.
He watched those lips and cheeks stretch wide as he took him hard and fast.
Erwin took him rapidly and repeatedly, until he was more or less using the boy
as a sex toy, just rutting into him with no regard whatsoever. His hair was
soft in his fingers. His eyes teared up from the effort. He moaned like he was
being fucked for real.
"I'm close," Erwin warned, and that just made the boy moan more. He sounded
desperate: his narrow hips were moving, trying to fuck pleasure out of the air.
The force of Erwin's orgasm felt explosive. It had been a long time since he
got this sort of release, and it seemed to last longer than usual, holding the
boy in place as he filled up his throat with seed. Erwin watched the boy
swallow and thought about that semen just sitting in his stomach. He made this
innocent, Hyacinth, eat his spend.
He knew he had to do it again soon.
When he let go, Hyacinth slid back on his heels, sighing. Erwin could see he
was still quite hard.
On an impulse, Erwin grabbed the boy by the hips, lifting him up onto the
vanity near the door. He knocked a vase full of flowers off to the ground in
the process. Fortunately it didn't shatter, just splashed out its contents and
rolled away. Erwin didn't pay much attention.
He ripped open the boy's trousers. The top button went flying. His hand was too
big to fit between the fabric of his pants and the boy's dick, so the boy
wriggled out of them enough to make do. It was a clumsy, cursory hand job at
best, but it was sincere, and the boy was close.
He wrapped his arms around Erwin's neck and held on tight, panting and mewling
so much Erwin wondered if he was some broken thing. Hyacinth came quickly,
arching and taught and squeezing Erwin so tight.
Maybe he'd have to do more than fuck his mouth next time. It would be worth the
expense to bury himself in that tiny, tight ass. He bet he could make Hyacinth
come. Maybe even beg, next time.
Some sort of clarity came to the boy once their respective orgasms faded a
little. Gone was that needy, strung out expression. Erwin wiped his hands on
the towels laid out near the bed, and handed one to Hyacinth.
The boy fought back tears.
"Did I hurt you?" Erwin asked. In the back of his head he could hear Levi
mocking him for the concern. But surprise motivated his question rather than
compassion. Moments ago the boy had seemed so into all of it, so ready.
"You couldn't if you tried," the boy answered with a tiny, listless shake of
his head.
Erwin wiped off his now-limp cock and buttoned his fly, going for the door. It
should have offended him that a prostitute said something so bold and honest,
yet he appreciated it. The boy was the only attractive thing in the room. With
his purpose achieved the lavish room seemed drab and lifeless. If he stayed
much later the brothel's regular clientèle would start filling the parlor and
rooms and there was more or a risk of being seen by someone he knew.
"You have me for the rest of the hour," Hyacinth reminded him. "You won't be
discounted even if you leave now."
"I know," Erwin said, straightening his clothes. "But I have a lot of work to
do."
"I understand," said Hyacinth, smiling faintly and enigmatically. "Take care."
Strangely, Erwin felt as though he might mean it.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Erwin refused to think of himself as some kind of secret child-fancier. There
were stories, of course, of men with inappropriate obsessions: fathers, uncles,
brothers and cousins who did disgusting, irreparable things. Wallist priests
and teachers who couldn't keep their hands to themselves. Erwin wasn't that
kind of person. He was not a person to be loved or admired, but that had
nothing to do with his proclivities. He simply did not find a lot of time to
engage in sexual activity. Relationships in his early life inevitably ended
with disappointment, or, after he joined the Scouting Legion, death.
Erwin also wasn't desperate, in spite of his lack of entanglements. He wouldn't
have started going to the brothel if not for Levi.
It happened the third time in many weeks that Erwin asked Levi over to help
clean his office. The first two times, Levi went about it with gusto. The
floors and desk gleamed. The third time, Levi did not show up in his normal
cleaning regalia. He leaned on the door frame with his arms across his chest,
glaring at Erwin. Levi always glared at the world like every living thing was
beneath him, but it was rare for that disdain to be aimed at Erwin in
particular.
"You're frustrated and trying to clear your head. Cleaning obviously isn't
getting the job done. Get out of here, drink some vine and have a goddamn
orgasm already before you die of frustration."
"You're not serious," Erwin said.
"Am I ever not fucking serious?" Levi shot back. "If you don't have a bit on
the side, go find some. If you're squeamish about that, just hire a hooker. You
can afford it."
"That's inappropriate," Erwin protested.
"Because you're always so appropriate."
Erwin's upper lip twitched. Levi performed as a sickeningly effective and
surprisingly obedient subordinate. But he pulled no punches in private. He saw
it as part of his job.
And he would use that moment to remind Erwin just how bad his impulse control
could be. To everyone who knew Erwin as a commander he was the perfect portrait
of impregnable discipline. Nothing fazed him. Not a pip on his uniform went
unpolished, no strand of hair on his head out of place. But that was an
illusion, such as all powerful leaders project. The pressure bared down on
Erwin constantly, filling him with hairline fractures. The only way he knew how
to shake himself free of those cracks was to lose himself in something
anonymous, dangerous and physical.
Levi was an expert on seedy underbellies. He knew Erwin's well.
"Back alley boxing isn't the same as sleeping with prostitutes," Erwin said
calmly, as if that needed explaining.
"No," Levi said, admiring his nails. "For one thing, sleeping with prostitutes
is actually considered more or less expected of important people in Wall Sina.
Depending on the prostitutes, of course. For another, you might actually be
good at it."
"I've heard some of the women in those places were abducted from their homes in
the countryside, only to be forced to work in places like that."
"Seems like if their homes in the countryside were behind Wall Maria that they
lucked out," Levi said, sounding bored. "You're willing to throw soldiers, who
have pledged their hearts to our cause and spent years of their lives training,
out into a world where they'll be devoured in two bites without even blinking.
Pretending like you give a shit about some whores you don't know makes you damn
hypocrite."
"It's not like that and you know it," Erwin said.
"If you think it's so fucking bad, you can apologize to all the poor little
whores when we beat these titans and make a world where no one's stolen away
any more," Levi sneered. "But you've got it all wrong. I've known plenty of
whores, and their lot in life is better than it might've been if they'd done
anything else. What kind of life's in store for a girl whose family sells her
for the money, huh? In this life, they get to choose their clients, and have
fun on the job. Our soldiers don't even get to choose how they die, and most of
them don't find the work that fun."
Sometimes Erwin wanted to ask Levi if he had any shame at all, but he was
pretty sure he already knew the answer.
"Anyway, I don't care what you do. I'm just sick of your constipated
expression."
Erwin remained silent. Levi started to leave.
"So where should I go?" Erwin finally said.
"Well, the Garden's the cleanest, and it has the best selection for your
tastes."
"My tastes?" Erwin raised an eyebrow. As far as he knew, that part of his seedy
underbelly remained unparsed by Levi.
"Petite and delicate guys. Not just smaller than you, but a lot smaller."
Erwin prayed a blush was not creeping up from his neck, or if it was, that it
would not make its way to the tips of his ears. "It's not what you think."
"I don't think anything, except that I'm glad you never tried to put a move on
me. I'd have shanked you and then I wouldn't have gotten this sweet-ass job."
"You're too bulky. And you're not my type, personality-wise." Which was a
delicate way of saying Levi's personality was fucking terrible. Erwin knew Levi
would understood exactly what he meant. "I wanted you to keep fighting on my
side. That's all."
"Whatever," Levi said. "Just don't recruit any hookers. We've got enough
aberrant types as it is."
 
Not long after that Erwin started visiting the Garden, a mansion at the corner
of the nearest city. He went at odd hours so the other whore-mongers of town
wouldn't see him. In spite of what Levi said, Erwin knew being caught at a cat
house wouldn't help his reputation. As a commander, he needed to be something
bigger and more important than human, something titanic in his own way. Needing
a tender touch now and then, even if it was in the groin region, made him far
too much a man.
Besides, he heard rumors that the likes of Pixis and Zackley frequented the
Garden at nights, and the very idea of making eye contact with either of them
in a place like that threatened to make him impotent forever.
When he first visited the Garden, Erwin experienced a brief era of denial,
ignoring Levi's observation of his tastes and going for what he thought anyone
would want if they came there. Curvy women with breasts he could smother his
face in, well-hung specimens of men oiled and glistening. There were massages,
and blow jobs, and sex. After each experience, Erwin felt sated, and it cleared
his head enough to go back to missions and tough calls and blood on his cloak.
But at night, alone in his bed at HQ or in his tent, he replayed the memories
of those encounters with a sense of sick emptiness, as if a hole opened in his
stomach to drain all the pleasant memories out.
It wasn't enough. That was the complaint that came to mind. But what exactly
would be 'enough'? Erwin was used to sleeping restlessly. It's all he deserved
for the brave soldiers he threw away as if they were nothing more than the
sketches of their formations on paper. Enough would be whenever he got to
breathe his last wretched breath. Enough might never come.
After a particularly fruitful foray outside the walls (Hange named the new
subjects Lariat and Jimmy), Erwin found time to pace his office, chased by
miserable thoughts. He could pass the time with Levi, drinking an entire bottle
of vine and subjecting to himself to various vulgar insults over chess deep
into the night. Or he could work out that frustration in a possibly more
effective way.
That day he went to the Garden and, clearing his throat in a tentative way no
one in the world ever heard him do before, asked to see the younger workers. To
Erwin's relief, the madam told him she did not deal in children, that all of
her workers were old enough to join the military and therefore adults in the
eyes of the law. The younger ones were just as varied as their more mature
counterparts. Some eased into their roles and seemed perfectly at peace
lounging in front of a perfect stranger, others looked a bit like children who
got into their mothers' rouge. Erwin nearly gave up on the endeavor, ready to
resign himself to being called fuckface by drunken Levi all night when he saw
the little blond boy in the corner.
Hyacinth, as the madam called him, was not concerned with Erwin's attention the
slightest. He stared out the window pensively. The sunlight turned his hair
gold. There was something about the boy, a sweetness, a purity Erwin
immediately craved. He wanted to taste it, like a jealous urchin eying a pie
set in a window to cool before a nobles' feast. He knew nothing at all in him
deserved to touch something as gorgeous as that boy, yet all he had to do was
pay.
The madam called the boy twice to pull him from his reverie. Hyacinth crossed
the room with an elegant, careful stride. Most wouldn't notice the pains he
took to look as if he didn't walk to cover a limp, but that just endeared him
to Erwin even more.
"Me?" Hyacinth said, raising his eyebrows and offering his hand. "Very well
then, let's go."
The boy's hand was warm and soft. He used his thumb to draw tiny circles on the
inside of Erwin's palm. He could make out the straightforward yet intricate
black lines of the Garden's emblem - a chrysanthemum - tattooed on the inside
of his right wrist. Many of the workers bore this tattoo.
"Aren't you going to tell me how great you're going to be?" Erwin asked as
Hyacinth silently led him upstairs to one of the customer bedrooms.
"Is it necessary for me to do so?"
Erwin almost laughed at the boy's words, diplomatically stated yet so blunt in
intent. "No. Of course not."
'Hyacinth squeezed his hand. Erwin wanted to fuck him right then and there in
the hall.
They did make it into the room that time, but not into the bed.
 
A night after he met Hyacinth, Erwin found himself restless again. He didn't
have the time to go all the way to the Garden and pay another visit. Instead he
found himself revisiting the memories. The fevered sounds the boy made, the
velvet heat of his mouth, the way Erwin's cock looked so huge disappearing past
those plush lips. And his eyes, blue and clear as the sky, pupils large with
desire.
The tension built in Erwin's balls. Without thinking, he unzipped his fly and
began to masturbate in earnest at his desk, an activity he'd never once
considered in his years of having that office. He imagined the boy beneath the
desk, sucking him off while Erwin sat through boring reports. He wondered how
much it would cost to purchase such an amazing little nymph. More than he was
willing to spend. The idea of actually buying a person was a bit too much.
With a spit-slick palm and a firm grip, Erwin worked himself to completion,
coming to the mental image of splattering the white all over that boy's face.
So intense was his orgasm that his hips nearly lifted from the chair.
After cleaning up, Erwin quickly retired to his room, giving himself a cursory
wipe-down before changing into his nightshirt.
He slept deeply and without interruption.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Four weeks passed before Erwin return to the Garden. Erwin's life amounted to
many days of this: Soldiers eaten. Plans drawn and re-drawn. Letters of
condolences dictated but not read. It tired him, but being tired didn't stop
the sun from rising or titans from shambling, so he stayed the course.
Erwin returned the first day he could shirk duty even a little. He found
Hyacinth sitting by the same window as before, gazing out. He looked like a
flower blooming to face the sun. Erwin's fingers twitched with the need to
pluck him.
He walked up to Hyacinth without going through the madam. He sat next to
Hyacinth's perch on the window seat. The boy didn't seem to take notice until
he drew that close. Erwin found that charming. What sort of thoughts occupied
him so thoroughly that he didn't care whether or not a customer approached?
"Good afternoon," Hyacinth said pleasantly, his long lashes fluttering as he
quickly overcame any signs of shock. Today, he wore a blue to match his eyes.
His sleeves were long and wide at the end, creating an atmosphere of softness
sweet as bluebells. Erwin wondered if Hyacinth chose his clothes, or if all of
the workers were dressed to show off their assets every day before work. It was
an eerie thought, imagining these young folks standing in a row, waiting to be
dressed like a parade of motley dolls. Isn't that how most men must regard
Hyacinth, just a doll in a toy trunk, waiting still and silent in the dark
until he was taken out to be played with, dirtied, his ribbons mussed?
(What made him so different? He came back expecting Hyacinth to be there, and
here he was, waiting, posed.)
"Good afternoon," Erwin said, "How have you been?"
"You don't have to pretend you care, you're paying me," Hyacinth reminded him
with a gentle smile.
"And if I do care?" Erwin challenged. His own question surprised him.
"It's very boring here," Hyacinth replied in a tone that seemed to apologize
things weren't more interesting. This probably worked on most people, but Erwin
sensed how he deliberately dismissed the question.
"That seems unlikely," Erwin said.
Hyacinth said nothing more. He raised his chin, lips closed.
Erwin vividly recalled how Hyacinth looked with his lips and chin painted with
spend. He reached through that memory and grasped Hyacinth's chin, not kissing
him so much as forcing their mouths together. They met awkwardly, with the
clack of teeth, but Hyacinth tilted in just the right way, offering the depths
of his mouth.
Hyacinth sucked on his tongue, whimpering. Erwin touched the nape of his neck.
His hands were large enough to fit right around his throat, though he would
never do such a thing. At least not now. Not without asking.
It was Hyacinth who broke the kiss, cheeks pink, narrow chest rising and
falling with slight exertion. He straightened Erwin's collar, smoothing it
beneath his fingertips. Such a natural, domestic movement, as if they knew each
other well, as if they were truly lovers. Hyacinth showed him affection when he
certainly didn't need to, especially since Erwin probably pissed him off with
that earlier probing.
"Please go make your arrangements with the madam. I'll be waiting in my room
for you."
Erwin stood up. Hyacinth caught his hand before he left. A small, slender hand,
so tiny in comparison to his, but Erwin felt the roughness of old calluses in
his palm.
"Do you have any requests?" Armin asked. "An outfit, someone I should pretend
to be, a nickname I should call you?"
"No clothes," Erwin said. He pressed a kiss to the inside of Hyacinth's wrist.
It was the side without the tattoo, pale and sweet as milk, but marred with the
raised flesh that comes at the end of a sharp blade: an ugly vertical line
those sleeves hid before, white.
Hyacinth stared up at him, his tongue poised under his teeth in a word halted
before being given breath. He said nothing, but withdrew his hand.
"No make up," Erwin said after a pause. He realized what must have been
carefully hidden the last time they were together. "Be ready to take me. I'm
afraid I can't stay long today."
"Alright," Hyacinth said. He never broke gaze with Erwin, but his eyes filled
with tears. Erwin left before he could see them fall.
Tears were nowhere to be seen when Erwin returned to Hyacinth's room. Hyacinth
lounged on the bed, feet kicked up, immodest and comfortable as a cat. Erwin
even caught him mid-yawn, though the boy slipped into a more fetching pose when
he realized he wasn't alone.
"There you are," Hyacinth said with a smile.
"Here I am," Erwin said. He settled down next to Hyacinth to kiss him.
The scar was not Erwin's business. He decided that after making his
arrangements with the madam. Many soldiers in the Scouting Legion used their
scars as a road map of stories, jumping from brag to brag like children on
rocks across a stream. But Erwin had enough scars of his own to understand the
worst wounds were not stories volunteered.
It wasn't his place to worry or wonder about Hyacinth, any more than it was
Hyacinth's to worry or wonder about him.
They were two men with an arrangement. Right now that arrangement involved wet
tongues and his strong hands gripping small shoulders. Hyacinth kissed him with
fierce abandon, swallowing any possibility for conversation between them. Erwin
matched his hunger then quickly surpassed it. While Hyacinth's fingers remained
in his hair he touched the body he demanded to see naked. Hyacinth was slender,
still growing. His nipples were adorably small and pink against the larger pads
of Erwin's thumbs. Hyacinth whimpered and pushed into the touch. Erwin growled.
Pulled the boy closer.
Hyacinth really was so small in his arms, so like a doll. Erwin's fingertips
grazed scar tissue on his back. Whip lashes, most likely, but were they
punishments or clients games? Was there that much of a difference?
Not his business. Hyacinth did not tear up or flinch in any way. He seemed to
breathe out sex as he slid his hand over the outline of Erwin's dick through
his trousers. He smiled at Erwin, urging the larger man to roll onto his back.
"I remember this. You're big. I want to lick it again."
"Right," Erwin muttered. He tried not to roll his eyes. He knew better than to
flaunt such things, not to place too much stock in compliments. Even of this or
that lover called him big, it could be a complaint as much as a compliment.
Those sort of words were meant to pad his ego, coming from the mouth of a
prostitute. Still, he didn't interrupt. Erwin hadn't visited Hyacinth for
honesty.
He certainly felt big when Hyacinth unzipped him and pulled out his cock with a
look of enthusiastic anticipation unmatched by a child on his birthday. The boy
truly looked cock hungry, his eyes half lidded as he worked Erwin into full
hardness. Hyacinth clearly took joy in being methodical, spit-slicking his
hands to work Erwin up and down as he toyed with Erwin's foreskin and sensitive
tip with the point of his tongue. Now and then he'd disappear between Erwin's
legs to lick his balls. A simple but underrated pleasure in life, having one's
balls licked and sucked by someone who looked so innocent.
It seemed like only moments until Erwin was fully hard. His sex was great and
ruddy against the sweet, softness of Hyacinth's pink cheeks and lips. When
Hyacinth opened his mouth and welcomed Erwin in, it was a heat and pleasure
like the home Erwin never knew.
He was deep down in the boy's throat when he was overwhelmed by a lust like
fire. It was a perfect moment: the look on his face as Erwin slid down his
throat, like there was nothing he could want more. Erwin pulled Hyacinth off
him by the hair, only barely showing restraint. Hyacinth staggered back.
"Was that not to your liking?" Hyacinth asked, admirably calm. "Did I--"
"--I need to fuck you. Now."
"Right. Of course." Hyacinth looked slightly stunned by Erwin's seriousness.
"On your hands and knees."
Hyacinth obeyed.
"How are you for lubrication?"
"You told me to be ready to take you." Erwin found Hyacinth to be quite slick,
stretched too, easily accepting of Erwin's exploration. Hyacinth bared down on
the strength of his fingers, wiggling his hips until Erwin's fingers touched
that place of want.
Hyacinth let out a whine as he speared himself, as if Erwin denied him
something he wanted by only giving him his fingers. Erwin worked lubricant over
himself, though lost focus in watching Hyacinth fuck himself like Erwin was the
sex object.
"You want my cock, don't you?" Erwin realized. In this words he felt a feral
power, one he only indulged in once before - the last time he spent with
Hyacinth.
He lined himself up between Hyacinth's soft cheeks, rubbing himself off between
them. This was already heaven, soft, Hyacinth quivering beneath him. He could
see a few faint notches of the boy's spine, and a flurry of barely-visible
marks over his back and shoulders. But the body beneath him did not cower. The
body beneath was poised to take him, and Erwin wanted to fuck him until he
screamed.
"Yes," Hyacinth murmured. He sounded sincere, though not proud to say it.
"I'm going to," Erwin said in even, measured tones. "I don't know and I don't
care who else, what else you've taken, but you're going to remember being
fucked by me."
"Yes," Hyacinth muttered. This was a word from deep in his gut, equal parts
need and shame. "Do it. Hurry."
"I will," Erwin said, kissing the dove-perfect nape of Hyacinth's neck. "But
not today."
Erwin saw a blush keep up Hyacinth's neck from around the place he kissed.
"You're not joking, are you?" Hyacinth asked, disappointed.
"No," said Erwin. Instead he withdrew and clumsily shucked his pants. He was a
little glad Hyacinth hadn't moved from the bed to notice him fumble. Erwin
found lubricant in a stoppered bottle on the nightstand. A considerate touch.
He poured more of the oil over his dick and then spread nearly the rest of the
bottle's contents between Hyacinth's splayed thighs. He took his time enjoying
the sensation of the softness between Hyacinth's perfect, hairless thighs. He
squeezed one thigh and Hyacinth got the hint, closing his legs around Erwin's
sex. He worked himself up and down on Erwin's cock like it was a pole, so large
in scale compared to him. Their sexes slided against each other, Erwin nudging
Hyacinth's balls and the base of his cock with each movement. Sometimes they'd
mingle, length against length, and sometimes the mess of lubrication and heat
and sweat led to more chaotic bumping and sliding. Hyacinth wasn't fully hard
at first, but he soon responded to the heat of Erwin's flesh by making heat of
his own.
Hyacinth panted from the exertion, working himself on Erwin's dick as Erwin
thrust between his legs. Sweat began to puddle at his lower back. Erwin
couldn't quite bend to lick it, so he licked over Hyacinth's neck and shoulder.
"I thought you were planning to take me," Hyacinth panted.
"I am taking you."
"You're playing semantics. Why don't you want to fuck me?"
"I do very much want to fuck you," Erwin grunted.
"And yet this is what you do instead."
"Because I want that to be something you want so much you're willing to earn
it." Erwin wished he could see Hyacinth's face.
Hyacinth went quiet. He reached for the pillows further up the bed and propped
himself up on them, elbows and arms. "You think I don't want it?" he finally
asked.
"You were ready to cry before."
"I thought you were going to be rude." When Erwin didn't say any more, he
added, "What do I do to earn it, as you put it?"
"Be patient."
Erwin comprised his life with quick, brutal moves and long, protracted periods
of planning. Conserving movement and making sure action was meaningful was his
strong point, even if he met criticism for wasting resources. As if he didn't
know the bulk of his 'supplies' were human lives. He wanted that pleasure with
Hyacinth, but he feared just how good it might be. Whatever this was, this
spark, it was a bright thing in his life. One of the very few.
Kill a spark too quickly and the darkness afterward seems all the blacker.
Whatever it this was, he did not want to end things prematurely. He did not
know if his heart could take it.
"I have plenty of time," Hyacinth pointed out, "You're the one in a rush.
Reports to file. Meetings to attend."
"Right," Erwin said. He kissed Hyacinth's ear.
"That tickles," Hyacinth laughed. There it was again, that illusion of
closeness, as if they cared for each other. There was no reason to. Erwin
pulled out, rolling onto his back.
"Give me your mouth again." Hyacinth crawled over. Erwin stopped him by
grasping his shoulder. "When you do, I want to think about how that's going to
feel inside you, stretching you out. I want you to touch yourself."
Hyacinth nodded again, and opened his mouth.
Erwin thought about how it looked, disappearing between his legs before. He
thought about the wet, sucking perfection Hyacinth engulfed him in, the ease of
which he gulped him down without gagging. He meant to take it slowly, but his
hips hitched.
Here he was again, fucking this sweet boy's mouth, his sweet throat. His
fingers grasped his hair tightly.
And Erwin knew there was plenty wrong with using a boy like this, someone so
much smaller. When the thought crossed his mind the need only became more
violent. The pace grew quick and uneven, and Hyacinth choked a little. Erwin
immediately let go. Hyacinth coughed and sputtered, wiping at the shine on his
lips and chin with the heel of his palm.
"You're not done yet," the boy rasped, out of breath.
"Straddle me."
Hyacinth obliged him, straddling his dick. Erwin liked the slight of them
pressed together, both hard. Small and large, just like their bodies, nestled.
"Tell me about how you want me."
"I want you inside me, filling me," Hyacinth said, with a note of question in
his voice.
Erwin pushed into Hyacinth's still-slick hole with three fingers, hooking them.
Hyacinth hissed something out that was probably a curse. Sweat formed on his
brow as he began to move against those fingers, thighs shaking. He grimaced
from the effort, but seemed to get what he want.
"Oh, there," he gasped out. "Right there. When you fuck me you won't just
touch, just press, I'll feel it every time."
"That's right," Erwin murmured. "Just tell me all of it."
"I know you," Hyacinth shuddered, "We're not supposed to use names but I do.
And I know I'm the only one you've come to twice. And I only. I only want you
to come to me. I'd consider it an honor to serve you, if it helped you in any
way. If I can't be out there myself then at least I can help you work through
your - hh- frustrations..."
If even a little more blood could have traveled to Erwin's brain, he probably
would have been surprised. As it was, he thought his balls might burst.
"You're a nice boy for a hooker."
Hyacinth bit his lip. "I'm really not."
Erwin brought him closer, held him almost tenderly. "You are, though. You're a
very good boy."
Hyacinth might disagree verbally, but he very much responded, pushing himself
against Erwin's fingers, trying to gain more purchase, hopelessly aroused.
"Good boy," Erwin rumbled, and Hyacinth truly didn't seem to be able to help
himself, hips snapping.
"Please," he gasped out, "If you don't stop saying that, I'll--"
"You know my name, don't you?"
"Smith."
"My name."
"Erwin..."
"Tell me you're a good boy."
"I'm a good boy, Erwin," Hyacinth whimpered, his eyes brimming again.
"Now tell me your name."
"Armin," said the boy, a few tears slipping down his cheeks.
"You're a very good boy, Armin."
Armin sobbed, bouncing on Erwin's fingers and rolling against his huge cock.
"Come for me like a good boy, Armin," Erwin said.
Armin came hard. He wailed into Erwin's shoulder and painted their stomachs
white.
Erwin's orgasm was secondary to that magnificent display, quiet in comparison.
They lay there, catching their breath as the hot and sticky between them began
to cool. Armin was still crying silently. Erwin wiped his tears away with his
thumb.
"Are you okay? Did I hurt you anywhere?"
Armin sniffed. "I told you before, you couldn't hurt me if you tried."
Erwin doubted that was true, but didn't want to say anything that might imply
he'd ever want to hurt Armin. He stroked Armin's back.
"It hasn't been easy on you here," Erwin said.
"That's not for you to worry about," Armin said, a sudden chill in his voice.
That's what Erwin kept telling himself. That's what Levi told him. This was the
opposite of what Erwin had intended, coming here. He only wanted a chance to
blow off steam, to vent his frustrations, as Armin said. He could not afford
anything straying his gaze. Whatever this spark was, it was better subdued now
before it truly became some sort of problem or addiction.
"I'm coming back soon," Erwin said.
Armin nodded wearily, wiping his eyes with the corner of a pillow. He smiled,
no longer crying.
"It's customary for frequent clients to bring along gifts," he said. He
stretched out on the bed, drawing little shapes in the sticky spend on his
stomach absently. "You know, to make sure they remain in the whore's favor."
Somehow, it made Erwin deeply uncomfortable to hear Armin refer to himself that
way. "You shouldn't call yourself--"
"I am what I am, just like anyone else you paid to visit here," Armin said
firmly. "Bring me newspapers. They don't even have to be very new, I just
want... I want to know what's going on outside the walls of this place."
"Of course," said Erwin as he hunted down his pants. He had to turn one leg
right-side-in. "Is that really all you want? No flowers, special foods,
clothes?"
"Books," Armin said, "Anything that's been published in the last six or seven
years."
"Books and newspapers," Erwin said. If he tucked his shirt into his trousers,
it almost hid the bit of spattered spend that ended up on the shirt. "Right."
He wondered when the change happened, when it was that Armin started giving him
instructions.
"I suppose you should bring me something else, too, like a trinket or honey
cake," Armin said. "For appearance's sake. You can't let the madam know you're
bringing me anything to read. She'll make off with it."
"Understood," Erwin said. He bent over to kiss Armin on the brow, smoothing
fingers through his hair.
"Kiss me again, like you mean it," Armin breathed.
Erwin did. He tasted himself on Armin's tongue. The kiss ended too quickly.
"Don't die out there," Armin said as Erwin opened the door.
"I won't," Erwin said. He never promised such a ridiculous thing to anyone
before, yet he said it with a small smile.
The war hadn't changed. There was no more reason to hope than there had been
the first time Erwin visited the Garden. Yet he made his way with a spring in
his step, like he was half his age and his cares were feather-light.
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Not two days after Erwin's last visit to the Garden, Levi invited himself over
for a night of chess, name calling, and too much vine. The game moved slowly,
or at least it did forty-five minutes ago. At this point it would be fair to
say it had come to a stop, but neither of them were ready to admit it. They
were deep in their cups and deep in conversation. The chess board acted as a
final barrier between them, making it easier to share their thoughts than being
face-to-face. It was warm enough that they only played by lamplight, no fire in
hearth.
Levi spent the first half of the evening complaining about his elite squad,
then praising them, then complaining that they were so worthy of praise. Then
he started in on Erwin. How he seemed less constipated and pissy lately, was he
getting his rocks off, had he caught the clap yet?
Normally, Erwin was able to share the details of his sexual life with Levi in
the same frank manner the Scouting Legion discussed their bowel movements. That
night, he found himself unable to come up with the right words when he spoke
about Armin. He stalled with various indifferent thinking noises and finally
said, "There's a boy I've seen twice."
"Smaller than me?"
"Around the same size, maybe slightly taller. Less muscular."
"I fucking knew it."
"Don't flatter yourself by thinking I recruited you for your looks, Levi."
Levi was drunk enough to try lapping the last drops of vine from his glass with
his tongue. Erwin shook his head. "You're an animal."
"Said the boy-fucker."
Erwin went quiet, staring into his glass.
"Don't sulk. I hooked you up with that place as a fucking favor. If I really
thought you were a degenerate I would've strung you out and taken your job by
now."
"The joke would've been on you if you took my job."
Levi shrugged, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Erwin remained quiet for a
minute or so. He finally said, "Do prostitutes often commit suicide?" Erwin
didn't want Armin on the top of the list of people who were dead because of
him, either by his action or inaction.
"More often they fall to the vine, or they catch a filthy disease and die from
it. Or some sick fuck strangles them and throws them in the river and the
Military Police knock on some doors but no one ever gets arrested. Or they have
a kid and that kills 'em, though I guess you're not at much risk of that."
"He cut himself, on his wrist."
"Well, shit," Levi said that ever-so-expressive monotone of his, "I'd slit my
wrists if I had to suck your dick, too."
"It was an old wound," Erwin quickly clarified, choosing to ignore Levi's blunt
comment. "Scar tissue, probably over a year old." He was plenty familiar with
the structure of scars.
"You're fucking this up for yourself, aren't you?" Levi sighed, rubbing his
temples with his forefinger and thumb. "You're worried about the brat. Since
when did Erwin Smith give a shit about other people's lives?"
Erwin did not reply. He rested his chin on his hand and studied the board. The
pieces seemed to breathe in the flickering lamplight. He couldn't remember
whose move it was. He was pretty drunk, too.
"He's what, eleven?"
Erwin grimaced. "Fourteen or fifteen."
"Plenty of recruits die at that age. You're fine with that."
"You know," Erwin said, his voice dropping to a dangerously low growl, "That's
not the case."
"You accept it, though. It's necessary."
"I know where you're going with this," Erwin said very, very slowly. "He's a
civilian. It's different."
"Is it?" asked Levi. "He's a part of this war. Everyone is, whether they know
it or not. He just happens to play a more direct part. His cock sucking is
gonna help us win the war by keeping you nice and happy."
"Not if he dies in that place." Erwin hated not knowing what he should do. When
it came to the war, none of the decisions were easy, but the intended outcome
was clear. Erwin did not want Armin to die, but he could not afford to get
entangled in a scandal with some brothel. Would Armin even thank him if he did?
He assumed that Armin hurt himself because he wanted to get away, but what he
chose to do to his body was none of Erwin's affair. For all Erwin knew, Armin
inflicted the scar before he ever started working at the Garden.
Really, it wasn't fair of him at all to assume Armin wanted to die simply
because he was a prostitute. As Levi pointed out, some were in the trade by
choice. Some considered it the best of many options.
Then again, the scars on Armin's back suggested he had been beaten thoroughly.
More than once. He also walked with a limp he worked hard to cover.
"You're worrying way too much about a person you're paying to stick your dick
into." Levi rudely interrupted his thoughts.
"You keep throwing it in my face that I'm a hypocrite," Erwin said, "But if
it's my duty to fight for and protect mankind, isn't he part of that?"
Levi said, "If that's the case, you could always ask the kid to marry you.
You'll have to pay a shitton bullshit dowry, especially if he was a top earner,
but if that's the way you want to go..." Levi sank down into his chair. "Some
folks in the neighborhood owe me favors. It can happen."
"I meant it when I told you I never wanted you sinking to that place again,"
Erwin said.
"Yet here you are, pining over your child bride-to-be like he's some fucking
lost prince in a fairy tale, locked away in a tower. You're worrying about him
and you haven't even had true love's kiss or whatever."
When Levi said it, the whole thing sounded so tawdry and ridiculous. And it
was, wasn't it? Erwin would do well never to go back to the Garden.
"It wouldn't look good for me to marry a prostitute. But the boy seemed rather
intelligent, he'd make a good assistant."
"And hiring a non-military rent-boy to assist you would look better." Levi
didn't need to swear. He didn't need to emote. He perfectly communicated his
disdain through his complete lack of expression.
"I'll figure something out."
"You'd better. Seeing you all worked up is hilarious, but it's gonna stumble
right into pathetic and sad if you keep it up." Levi reached across the board.
"Check mate."
"...Is it even your turn?"
"I don't fucking know," Levi said. "But I win."
 
The last days of summer tumbled into autumn before Erwin could make time to
visit the Garden again. The days he was not leading troops beyond the walls he
was begging, scraping, cajoling for funding. Sometimes Erwin felt like a
prostitute himself, prostrating to nobles who had no idea what his soldiers
faced out there and didn't care. It was frustrating. He thought of Armin often
as the colors of the leaves changed, wondering if the autumn light would light
up his hair a different shade of gold.
Erwin visited in the driving rain, wearing an old gray cloak and feeling more
like a thief in the night than a hero rescuing a prince in a tower. He didn't
see Armin waiting in his usual spot by the window. A redhead boy who could be
no older than thirteen approached him, asked him if he would like a drink.
Somehow he managed to the offer of a drink into something suggestive, and
Erwin's stomach flipped.
"I'm looking for a boy, Hyacinth," Erwin said, allowing the red-haired lad to
lead him to a seat and pour him a glass of vine. The boy tried to drape across
his lap, but Erwin crossed his legs quickly and the boy draped on the arm of
his chair instead. "Does he still work here?"
"Hyacinth," the boy repeated lazily, "Blond hair, blue eyes? Always acts like
he's so much better and smarter than everyone?"
"He has blond hair and blue eyes," Erwin said, "He seemed quite nice to me."
"He's here, but he ain't taking customers."
Erwin thought the whole world might have stopped. Was he too late? Had Armin
done something drastic?
"Is he sick or hurt?"
"Sleeping off a wild party."
Erwin recognized the boy's toothy grin. It was the smile of someone reveling in
someone else's pain. Anger filled him, sharp and illogical. Erwin took a
breath. Armin didn't need him to defend against the pettiness of his
contemporaries.
"Can you please ask the madam if I can see him? I brought him some gifts, as an
apology for not coming to visit sooner."
The redhead shrugged and flounced off to get the madam. The madam was a matron,
her hair as gray as the autumn sky pouring rain. She would have seemed motherly
in any other context, but her warm words always struck Erwin as being
insincere. Their deals were always vaguely worded, but Erwin did not believe
for a moment she didn't recognize him from before. Something about him worried
her today. "That boy is not actually one of our workers, he's just the son of
one of the other workers lending a hand."
Erwin recalled that Armin recognized him. The madam was probably just trying to
avoid getting into hot water with the law if she had any idea who he was, as if
he'd have the nerve to admit he came to the Garden and witnessed such a young
boy offering himself.
(Not offering himself, not really: being offered.)
"I've talked to him before, I only wish to talk to him again."
"I'm very happy that you wish to see Hyacinth. I'm afraid he's a bit under the
weather today - nothing too serious, just a cold. We've already had our
physician check him out. I'll ask him if he's up to visitors."
"Wait. Tell him..." Erwin wracked his mind for a way to identify himself so
that Armin would know it was him. He couldn't risk admitting his own identity,
nor did he know if many people knew Armin's real name. "Tell him I brought him
presents because he's been a very good boy."
Creepy, Erwin thought, but anything else might be too close to identifying
himself and his career.
Fortunately, the code worked. The madam asked to see the present, insisting it
was best she kept track of valuables in the brothel, lest petty jealousies get
the better of the workers and items go missing. She was disappointed by the
gift of two honey rolls and a burnished bronze bracelet, and stared down her
severely straight nose at them. "You may find that doesn't impress him, but he
has told you to go ahead. We have brought him down to a visiting room to meet
with you. But be warned, if he's not in the mood to be of service... We will
take it quite seriously if you upset him, charge you whatever we like in
damages, and have you banned from the brothel."
Erwin didn't know whether to be relieved the brothel was willing to defend its
workers somewhat, or horrified such a policy needed to be in place. He didn't
have much time to think of it. When he opened the door, his thoughts were
filled with Armin instead.
Armin looked ill. Watery eyes, red nose, and sniffling. But Erwin thought he
also saw the trace of bruises on his neck before the collar of his nightshirt
started. Was that really none of his affair?
"Erwin!" Armin whispered hoarsely. Erwin sat next to him on the bed. Armin
threw his arms around him, and the whole scene felt domestic in a twisted sort
of way. Erwin could be like the soldiers in his army, for once, coming home to
visit a sick little brother, or something like that. Instead, the reality was
that he was bringing contraband reading material to a young, teenage
prostitute. "Don't kiss me, I'm sick," Armin said.
Erwin kissed his forehead, his cheek. Armin smelled of sweat and herbal
medicine, with that summer-sweet scent he remembered so well beneath. "The
madam said it wasn't serious. Is that true?"
"It's probably a cold rather than consumption," Armin said, "I've been resting
all day and I think I'll be up to working tomorrow. Will you be able to visit
then?"
"Probably not." Erwin stroked Armin's hair. His fingers felt big and clumsy in
those fine strands.
Armin leaned into the touch like a cat being petted. "Is it true you brought me
presents?"
Armin clapped in rehearsed delight over the bracelet, and immediately put it
on. The honey cakes he frowned at in their white bag. "They smell delicious,
but I'm really not hungry. Put it on the table and I'll give them to the other
kids later."
Armin hugged Erwin's arm, briefly and sincerely. "It was very kind of you to
think of me after so long."
Erwin could not admit that he thought of Armin frequently after they met,
during every rare moments he was both alone and not preoccupied with the war.
"Those were the decoys, like you requested." Erwin's civilian clothes were
simple but tasteful: a button-down shirt, brown as oak, black wool trousers and
boots. He kept things ironed and pressed in such a manner that perhaps it was
no surprise he was read as military by the brothel workers. He made note to
work harder at hiding his nature. He unbuttoned his shirt, which made Armin
raise an eyebrow, until he showed what he carried in beneath: Several
newspapers, rolled up in tubes and tucked with a book, all wrapped against him
in gauze so it resembled a sort of middle-aged paunch and made no noise. "This
is my real present."
Armin brightened like a cloud break in a deluge, blinding and gold. He looked
precisely his young age as he gathered up the newspapers and book in his arms,
hugging them to his chest with grateful tears in his eyes. "Thank you, Erwin,"
he whispered. "This is better than what I could have dreamed."
Erwin tried to remember what he dreamed of when he was fifteen. Seeing the
outside world, perhaps, or defeating the titans. Or had there been more
romantic pursuits at the time? It seemed so long ago. He was certain nothing so
common as a shabby book and some printed words would ever be something worth
dreaming of.
"May I?" Armin asked, gingerly unrolling one of the newspapers.
"By all means," Erwin said. "I only wished to see you, I'm not going to make
demands of your body in such a state."
Completely absorbed in his reading, Armin did not reply. Erwin noticed the
article that so held his attention was one about him. His most recent failure,
according to the presses. Erwin did not interrupt him until he found Armin
poring over the list of those missing in action.
"Looking for someone? If you have a name, I could find them on my roster."
"No," Armin said easily, putting the paper down. "...Don't you think those
journalists are a bit hard on you? Not just anyone could do the work you do.
Everyone knows now, the Scouting Legion is heroic. They kill tons of titans! I
hear people talking about it all the time."
"I give them a bare-bones description of the operations, and a list of those
missing," Erwin said, "If they come to the conclusion I'm incompetent, I
understand why. Besides, there will come a day when they sing our praises and
claim they always supported us in their hearts. That's how these things go."
Erwin did not add that he probably wouldn't be around to see this praise.
"Why don't you tell them more about what you do, then? Wouldn't everyone feel
better if they knew what you were doing out there?"
"It might make some people more confused and frightened, thus it's classified."
"But if people knew the truth they might also be more supportive, and more
people would join the legion." Armin looked thoughtful. "I can't see why it
should all be top secret, unless you think there's some risk..." Armin broke
off mid sentence, staring at Erwin wide-eyed. "That's it, isn't it? You think
there could be a security risk. That the titans could get information from
behind the walls."
Erwin maintained silence.
"When I think about it, it makes sense. After all, the colossal titan and
armored titan appeared where the gates were. Of course, Shiganshina... It
existed to draw titan attention, yet it was also a weak spot. The only way they
could know that is if they were intelligent enough to understand the design.
Maybe someone's been sending them information... but that doesn't seem
possible."
"All that we truly know about the titans is how little we know," Erwin said
grimly.
"I'm right though, aren't I?"
Erwin continued to say nothing.
"I am."
"You're really very smart," Erwin said. "Why is a mind like yours being wasted
in a brothel?"
"The time I spend with you is wasting my mind?" Armin's sharp voice didn't
match his smile.
"They don't even let you read," Erwin said, "Why? This place must be driving
you mad."
"I find things to do," Armin said lightly, "Or, you know, people."
Erwin's shame grew so enormous he thought his lungs might collapse beneath the
weight. Of all the ruthless, unfair, disgusting things he ever did, this is the
single sin that stared him back in the face. He could not avoid its gaze by
keeping his own eyes ever-forward.
And yet he would look it right in the eye without a care for it. Had to.
However wrong it was of him, he wanted to kiss Armin's breath away, even while
his nose was red and running. He wanted to feel Armin's snug, taut heat, hear
the sounds he made when he was rightly and thoroughly fucked. He wanted to be
lost for awhile in the flame of lust that engulfed them while they were
together. He wanted Armin's thoughts to be of nothing but him, if only because
he seemed so happy when they were.
Because none of this mattered. Someday, probably soon, Erwin would be dead. He
would either be cold in the ground, or more likely in a titan's belly. All that
would be left were his accomplishments, if any them were worth remembering. The
right and wrong faded away too quickly. All that stood would be a legacy,
either success or failure. Not in the eyes of the newspaper, or any whore's
personal opinion, but humanity as a whole.
"Please don't look at me like that," Armin said, stroking Erwin's cheek, urging
his face toward his. He kissed Erwin's brow, his cheekbone. "I don't need your
pity. I earn my keep in this place and live comfortably. I'm not depending on
someone else's kindness here, and I'm even helping the cause by helping you.
Considering the rate of unemployment among the non-enlisted refugees, I'm doing
well."
"So you're a refugee from Wall Maria," Erwin said.
Armin undid the first of Erwin's buttons. "May I undress you?"
"I told you I didn't come here for that," Erwin said.
"Of course you did. You didn't know I was sick. And how un-patriotic would it
be for me to turn you away, turn this away?" Armin groped Erwin through his
pants, his smile and touch knowing. "I can't let you fuck my mouth and I'm not
in the mood to let you have my body, but I'm sure we can come to a compromise.
I haven't seen you naked yet. I don't think that's fair. Lay back and let me
see you."
Erwin gave in. Armin obviously didn't want to talk more, so he let the boy
undress him. Luxuriated in the feeling of those small hands tracing over his
muscles. He couldn't ignore the look of awe Armin gave him, more than sexual
fascination, it was clear he admired Erwin. This was part of his role that made
Erwin entirely uncomfortable: he was not someone to be admired. Not as Armin's
pink tongue lapped over hips nipples, or his thumbs rubbed over his hipbones.
Erwin allowed Armin complete control, hardly touching him except to push his
hair out of his face, or offer his handkerchief when he sneezed.
("Here," Erwin said.
"I'll wash it and give it back," Armin said.
"It's fine," Erwin said. "Just keep it."
"No," Armin said, "You have to come back for it.")
He was not someone to be admired for doing these things.
Armin studied Erwin's body with his tongue and fingertips. New color flooded
his cheeks as he rubbed undid Erwin's belts, got his underwear off with his
trousers. He didn't go for Erwin's cock immediately. He smoothed his fingers
over the line of his hips, and backwards, groping his buttocks.
"You have a really nice ass," Armin snickered after several silent moments of
touching and squeezing. He particularly liked the little dimpled bit, rubbing
small circles there. "I mean really, really wonderful. I suppose this is not an
ass that just sits in a chair and does paperwork all day." He laughed so hard
he made himself cough, putting Erwin's handkerchief up to his face.
"I'm glad it meets with your approval." Erwin replied with surprising
sincerity.
"You're really handsome, and you have a nice ass, and a really nice dick."
Armin wrapped his fingers around Erwin's thick, half-hard length. His length
responded with natural enthusiasm toward the attention. Armin leaned over to
lick the tip, then paused, mouth open. He looked up at Erwin, strangely
serious."You won't let anyone else in this brothel have this nice ass and dick,
will you?"
Erwin began to respond, "I w--"
Armin interrupted, "If I find out you've been with anyone but me, I will become
concerned. It may place unnecessary strain on our current arrangement."
Erwin completely believed the threat. Armin lathed his length tip to root with
his tongue, cupping and toying with his balls all the while. This treatment
lacked the intensity of their brutal face-fuck sessions, but Erwin found
instead of feeling that urgency he was content. Armin's attentions made him
feel pampered, looked after. And while he ought to know better than to believe
him, he liked hearing how much Armin wanted him. Armin went about his task
serenely, his gaze admiring as ever.
Eventually Armin sat back on his heels to rest his jaw and blow his nose. Erwin
touched his hip. How strange it was to see the boy still clothed, though it was
only a night shirt that stopped past the knee. Armin swam in the soft fabric,
but sometimes Erwin thought he saw fingerprint bruises on his neck, wrists and
legs, though they might have been idle shadows.
He tried not to think of it. His own body had its share of bruises from
fighting and hours on horseback.
"Will you touch yourself for me?" Armin said. "I'll help you."
He put the newspapers on the bedside table and handed Erwin the scented oil to
help the job along before cuddling up next to him on the bed. He watched Erwin
handle himself, much more slowly than he did on his own. Armin laid his hand
over Erwin's - so small in comparison to his, but Erwin let Armin guide his
pace. Armin leaned over and lapped at his nipple as their hands moved over him
together. Each time Armin quickened the pace he would back off just as Erwin
began gasping, in the guise of applying more lubricant. It was an unnamed game
of endurance, one Erwin knew Armin would win by default. Just when Erwin
thought his balls might explode from the pressure Armin sank back down between
his legs. He rubbed Erwin's sticky cock head over his lips and tongue,
displaying that vivid, gut-wrenching pink. Armin jerked him off with every
intent to empty Erwin into his mouth. Erwin obliged. White escaped from Armin's
lips down his chin. Armin used the handkerchief to wipe him away.
"I guess I'll wait till next time to try out your ass," Armin said, holding up
two fingers.
Erwin cleared his throat abruptly.
"You look tired," Armin quickly changed the subject.
Tired wasn't quite the word. Erwin felt relaxed, warm, like he could sink into
the feather mattress.
"Close your eyes," Armin murmured soothingly, "It's alright."
"Just for a few minutes," Erwin insisted, and drifted off.
 
All soldiers had nightmares. Erwin was no different. Most dreamed of grasping
hands and gnashing teeth. In this, Erwin was different. If he dreamed of
titans, no matter how innumerable and unpredictable, he still knew how to
defeat them.
Erwin dreamed of crossing the river of dead. On the far shore, a motley, milky-
eyed army stood waiting. Those withs arms enough to salute did so. He could
smell the spoiled, gag-inducing stench of body parts left in the back of carts
to balloon and grow maggots. They were waiting for him to command their ranks.
He knew he could turn the boat around. There was still time. He knew Levi
waited on the shore he just left, as did Armin now, too. But he could not bring
himself to look behind him. He pushed the boat forward through the ghastly
apparitions in the water, until his boat crunched on the ash of the far shore.
One soldier stepped out, broken-necked, half-eaten. "You're not welcome here,"
she said, "This is a place for those who died with honor."
"I'm sorry," Erwin whispered.
The soldier said, "You're really not, are you?"
A touch to his shoulder pulled Erwin from sleep. He sat up suddenly, and for a
moment all he saw was blood. It took him several moments to come out of the
post-sleep haze enough to quell his panic.
The brothel. Armin woke him up. He looked on apologetically. "You were having a
bad dream."
The newspapers were spread over much of the bed. Erwin recognized the sickly
sweet smell of make up, and realize the splatters of blood he thought he saw
before were from Armin. He spent the time Erwin slept drawing on the papers
with whatever he had on hand: in this case, red paint for his lips and cheeks,
kept near the lubricant just in case.
Erwin began to dress slowly. "How long was I out?"
"A few hours."
"Damn."
"You needed rest," said Armin, carefully putting the papers back together and
rolling them up one by one. He hid each in the bed frame. "Does it matter where
you got it?"
"That depends on who sees me leaving," Erwin said. Before he finished buttoning
his shirt, he picked up one of Armin's sketches.
They were charts. He recognized his own strategy there, though somewhat crudely
reproduced.
"Armin, this is brilliant. You were able to come up with this from what little
was said in the articles?"
"I extrapolated a bit on some of the numbers, but yes?" Armin said, as if he
didn't understand that was odd. And amazing. "I was just trying to see if I
could get a better picture of what happened in my head." He explained, ducking
his head sheepishly.
"You don't belong here," Erwin said. "I'll take you away from here. You could
live with me. I can't promise you a life of luxury, but your mind could be of
real use to the Scouting Legion."
"My body is already of real use here," Armin said, brow furrowing.
"You wouldn't have to debase yourself. You could aid this war."
"Debase myself? You mean like sleeping with you, which you've paid me to do?
How dare you say I'm debasing myself! Aren't you the one dragging the king's
army through the mud by patronizing a whorehouse?"
Erwin gritted his teeth and exhaled slowly. "Just the same, you could aid this
war. We are in desperate needs of minds like yours, minds that seek out and
utilize the truth. No one need ever touch you again. Even me, if that's what
you want."
Armin pressed his lips together so hard they turned white. "Just how do you
propose to get me away from here?" He asked without the slightest touch of
warmth. He crossed his arms. "I'm one of the brothel's top earners. They're not
just going to let me walk out on your arm."
Erwin fastened his last button. "I could - we could get married. I have
connections. It can happen."
"First you say you won't touch me, and now you want to get married? Which is
it?"
"What I'm suggesting would be a marriage in name only, as a means of properly
removing you from this place." Erwin undid his last button to breathe better.
"But... it wouldn't have to be in name only. If you wanted to..."
"So you're seriously proposing to me." Armin said with thick skepticism.
"...I suppose that I am."
Armin blinked rapidly. "Then please propose properly."
Erwin wondered when exactly he lost complete control of his life. He got down
on one knee in front of the bed. Armin scooted to the edge. He covered Armin's
hands with his.
"Armin," Erwin said slowly, "Please marry me. Let me take you away from here."
Armin did not speak. Tears flooded his eyes, then cascaded down his cheeks. His
nose began to run profusely. Armin freed his hands to blow his nose on Erwin's
handkerchief, then daubed at his eyes with his sleeve. "I wanted to hear
someone say that just once," he said.
"Armin..."
"I can't go with you."
"You're miserable here."
"I can't," Armin sobbed, scrambling backward onto the bed, covering his face.
"I just can't."
"I'm giving you a chance to leave these walls," Erwin said, completely calm.
Armin shook his head. His shoulders shook with the strength of his sobs.
"At least tell me why."
"It's not your place to worry about the likes of me," Armin said. "I'm not
going to burden you with my struggles."
"Armin, this place is killing you."
"And the titans could kill you. Life is uncertain!"
"You could be so much more than this." Erwin could be the calm in the center of
Armin's storm, used to standing his ground in chaos.
Armin looked up, his eyes still overflowing. "If you think I'm so wretched like
this, then just leave me alone. It's none of your concern."
"Armin--"
"Leave me."
"Armin..." Erwin stood. He hated not knowing what to do. He reached out for
Armin but came up far too short. He touched nothing.
"Leave me! Get out! GET OUT!" Armin's voice cracked with hysteria.
Erwin left before any more drama could play out. Sometimes a tactical retreat
was the only way to survive. He all but ran for the door, snatching his cloak
off the hook and wrapping it around himself tightly. The rain came down hard,
cold and ugly. Erwin let that black night swallow him and did not look back.
Chapter End Notes
     I still question having Erwin propose so quickly in this chapter, and
     might've scrapped it for this draft if I wouldn't have had to rewrite
     so much to make it work. I thought it was important for Armin to
     openly reject any notion of a "romantic fairytale ending" between
     them. To Erwin, Armin is a fix, a means to an end, and possibly
     something to take away the emptiness he feels, but his infatuation up
     until this point didn't necessarily take Armin's point of view or
     desires into account. He thinks he can always swoop in and fix (ie,
     control) thinks. The point being that Erwin's a pretty messed up
     individual, which I happily have had further confirmed by the manga
     since the time of writing.
     Also I really wanted to write Levi saying "Well, shit. I'd slit my
     wrists if I had to suck your dick too." It's probably my single
     favorite line in the story thus far. ;;;
***** Chapter 5 *****
Outside his window Armin saw a cold world, one sharp enough to cut skin. His
breath steamed the glass. He touched fingertips to fog. He could almost
remember what it felt like to be painfully cold. In his days as a refugee, he
could not imagine missing being huddled under makeshift blankets of itchy
burlap, teeth chattering. He fantasized about things he now had: a feather bed,
hot meals every day, adults who were happy to see him instead of just pinched
and gray. Now he wished he could run out, feel goosebumps raising on his arms.
The frost would burn his feet in their house slippers, but he wouldn't care. If
he broke a window or found the right moment, he could experience the cold for
awhile. It would almost be like being alive, until they brought him back to the
Garden, where the heat from the fires and the bodies were enough to sear his
skin away.
Armin rubbed the scar on his wrist absently.
The world through Armin's window changed with the seasons. The world of the
Garden did not. Seasons were interchangeable, just like the well-dressed
customers with their well-paying frustration. Not that Armin particularly cared
what they paid. The money didn't belong to him, no more than his body did.
Being top earner only meant he had a room with a fireplace. Not even his own
room, just one of the ones that didn't freeze in the winter. It meant milk
baths when he behaved himself, and baths of humiliation when he did not.
Armin forced himself from bed with a small whine of protest, flinching at the
chill of the floorboards almost more out of reflex than shock. He moved slowly
on cold mornings, stiffer than a man even twice his age had any right to be.
The cold hurt his leg and hips, stiffened toes and fingertips. The nightclothes
came off in inches of great effort.
Armin stood before the floor-length mirror entirely naked in his daily ritual.
Every morning he checked for flaws. New spots, rashes, bruises, bite marks, all
of them could be a matter of concern. Pubic lice were such a perennial problem
that one of Armin's favorite gifts from a client was a nit comb he kept in a
bottle of vodka too caustic to drink. Fortunately, there seemed to be no
evidence of little crawlies today. The bruises on his neck and wrists were
fading into yellow-green.
Armin wore his favorite green vest. It soothed his terrible mood. He couldn't
stop going over Erwin's proposal in his mind. It angered him, actually, to see
such a moment of weakness in his favorite client. The way he behaved was
laughable. But what truly angered Armin was that he couldn't bring himself to
take advantage of it. Instead he fell apart like the remains of firewood,
crumbling uselessly into ash.
He could have gotten away.
All these years Armin convinced himself he had no pride left to lose. What a
ridiculous time for that pride to rear its head.
Downstairs the other teenagers gossiped about him, like he couldn't catch on if
they all shut up and averted their gazes once he arrived. Armin took a few
sausages and pieces of bread and cheese from the table and went to sit with the
children. They tended to fight among themselves without supervision.
"How is everyone today?" Armin smiled at them. The children were the only
people in the brothel he gave a damn about, really, and sometimes he wished he
didn't. There weren't many, not as many as the place Armin used to work, but
even four or five were too many children to ever live inside a brothel. The
oldest of them was eleven. She would probably be going through puberty soon,
and work in the parlor where Armin did. The youngest was four. There were
younger children in the place Armin tried to forget, but even four was too
young for a brothel. "Sleep well? Violet, give that back to Yarrow. Heather,
you have porridge all over your face, here... Where's Orchid?"
Armin's heart sank. Rishi, named Orchid by the madam, arrived not long ago. He
was powerfully beautiful, with thick black hair and big, black eyes and a
swarthy complexion. Knowing what the slavers had been willing to do to get
Mikasa, Armin understood immediately what an investment to the brothel the
four-year-old represented.
"Madam Rose let a man take him home, I don't think he's coming back," said
Heather with tears in her eyes. Armin held a fondness for Heather - she was the
same age Mikasa had been when she joined Eren's family. Armin looked at
Heather's brown curls and freckles and struggled to remember Mikasa's face. She
was a distant memory, almost fiction.
"No, he's probably not," Armin said, stunned. He squeezed Heather's shoulder
and told her a bald-faced lie: "It's alright, though. I'm sure that man was
just going to adopt him, so he'll have a nice family. It's better he not live
here, don't you think?"
Armin ate his food slowly, then spent a few moments tracing out letters in
flour on the table for the children to mimic. If one of the teenagers caught
him at it and told Madam Rose, he wouldn't be able to sit right for a week.
When it came to his frequent punishments, Armin preferred to do something to
deserve them rather than wait how he might accidentally raise someone's ire.
Just before the business day was about to begin, Armin ducked into Madam Rose's
office. Armin noted the ledgers, she was looking at the budget for the rest of
the week.
Armin slammed his hands on the desk. "How could you sell Rishi?" he asked,
fiery with accusation. "I thought you said you weren't going to sell him until
he was at least seven!"
"Do you mean Orchid, Hyacinth?" Rose's eyeglasses had a dangerous glint.
"How could you sell him?" Armin repeated. "You agreed he would benefit from a
gentle introduction into the lifestyle, and be a good attraction for the
Garden! You agreed to let me look after him! Are you really so low that you'd
prefer the money in the short-term to what he could earn later on?"
"I don't like your tone, Hyacinth." Rose did not need to speak with inflection
to be threatening.
Armin barely kept his mouth shut. He swallowed that sadness down hard, buried
it in the pit of the stomach with every other cruelty. Sometimes he wondered if
that graveyard of hopes would turn into a tumor. Someday morning he might wake
with a swollen belly like one of the unfortunate girls, growing bigger and
bigger until his hate burst forth, splitting him in two in an explosion of gore
and malice.
"You're in a rather feisty mood today, aren't you?"
Armin lowered his head and said nothing, knowing better than to engage.
"That military man of yours took off into the night. Did you do something to
offend him? I'll be quite cross with you if you cost us one of our favorite
clients."
Armin bit his lip. If Rose caught on that Erwin had it in his head to marry one
of her top earners, she might ban him from the premises. "I asked him if he
wanted to spank me and he got awkward. I thought he'd go for it."
"Thistle said he heard you shouting at him to leave, so much his client became
disturbed," said Rose.
"I'm just playing with him." Armin slipped on another lie like a slinky,
familiar garment. "He's the kind of person who doesn't feel like he's
accomplished anything unless there's a struggle. So I'm making it as difficult
as I can for him before he loses patience, so he'll find me interesting. He'll
be back."
"He'd better."
"He will," Armin assured her with completely manufactured certainty.
"Drop this business with Orchid."
"I apologize for bringing it up," Armin said faintly. Orchid would not be
coming back, so fighting for his sake was completely pointless. Nauseated,
Armin briefly considered vomiting across her desk and ruining the ledger. Rose
would make him work a full day no matter what he did, so really, it would just
be a waste of the food. He decided against it for now.
"I expect you to be naked and in room number one in ten minutes. That brute
from the city guard sent a runner asking to reserve you."
Armin failed to hide his distaste at the news. Fortunately, Rose did not hide
her distaste at the thought of that pig in her business either, though her
dislike stemmed from the power the pig had over her business, and not for any
care over his habits or personality.
Armin once again considered vomiting. Still not worth it. "Do you think he'll
bring me a gift?" A gingerly-made joke.
Armin heard the slap and staggered before he felt the sharp sting of its
impact.
"Get undressed. No time for a bath. Go."
 
Dear Mother and Father,
Armin composed a letter in his head.
I have grown up strong and capable without you, just as you hoped. I have
joined the Scouting Legion in hopes of someday slicing open a titan and finding
your corpses. Training is physically taxing, but I have Eren and Mikasa at my
side and we often laugh.
Grandfather is very proud. We visit him often. He has a little book store on a
corner in Wall Sina. He is sweet on the fishmonger down the street, and combs
his beard out neatly on market day.
As always, I remain polite, kind and level-headed, always sure to listen to
others carefully when they speak, as you have taught me.
"I'm going to make you scream," said the pig.
"Please," Armin said with a vacant smile, "Be my guest."
Dear Grandfather,
I miss you every day. They would never admit it, but Eren and Mikasa do too. We
are planning another trip to your book store after graduation, before we
venture outside.
I know you worry. I promise we are staying out of trouble. I will write notes
on our journey so that we can write a book about it when I return.
"Don't look at me like that. Like you're better than me. How could something
like you possibly be better than me?"
"I- I 'm sorry?"
"You will be."
Do you remember that first time Eren and I walked home holding hands? You sat
me down with warm milk and honey and told me about the grown-up affections,
things you said I might need to know if I married one day. When I insisted I'd
never want to do those things with Eren or anyone else, you said that was fine
because I was so young, but someday I might find a person I wanted to share
myself with.
I've always taken your advice to heart.
"Look at you now, you're just like a dog in heat. Begging to be fucked. By
anyone, with anything."
"Please... fuck me."
I'm saving myself for someone I really care about. A lot of my friends in
training are messing around, but fifteen just seems like way too young to be
considering that kind of thing.
"Holy shit... are those tears? You're crying aren't you? So good I'm leaving
you in tears again, huh?"
"Yes, it's good.... it's so good..."
To Commander Erwin Smith,
Armin began his final imaginary letter in pig's rasping catch of breath, in the
pause between brutal thrusts.
I know it is not my place to say so, but I hope to meet you someday.
I think I could learn a lot from you.
Forgive my presumption, but I think you could learn a lot from me, too.
Armin couldn't think of what else to say. He broke past the surface of his own
benign fantasies and woke up to an ugly, painful reality, face-down in a
featherbed. Red-speckled sheets sheets, his hands pinned tied above his head
and the pig sneering down at him. The room smelled of sweat, blood and leather,
and more prominently of fear.
He hated how that smell always lingered in his nostrils.
Armin could tune out and endure the pain in his body, but the fear was a
different thing. All through their games, the pig was rough and careless with
him, and the minuscule protection Madam Rose extended toward her product as not
enforced. Someday, the pig might go too far.
Wherever Rishi was, he would be even more afraid right now, probably dressed up
in fine clothes in someone's basement. As the newest addition to someone's sick
collection, likely he'd be better fed and better attended to than most slaves.
But Armin doubted very much that luxury included not being brutally raped.
That word twisted Armin's stomach. He tried not to think it, because it made
him angry and helpless and there was nothing he could do to stop that word. He
shuddered, though for that thought or the feeling over the pig's hand on his
throat, pulling him up, he didn't know.
"I'm going to buy you from Madam Rose," the pig whispered in his ear. "I'm
going to take you home. I've had an eye on you since we first met. Wanted to
make you mine."
The pig squeezed.
"Oh, you tighten up nice when you're afraid."
He let go only when Armin was choking, swimming, dizzy.
"Madam Rose taught you well. I was right to relocate you with her. Wouldn't
have wanted to lose track of such a fine little boy."
"All this time, you were looking out for me," Armin murmured, voice dreamy.
"From the first time I ran away and asked for your help, you just wanted to
keep me somewhere you could be near me when you wanted."
"You got a taste of my cock then."
"I remember." He didn't want to, but he remembered vividly. "But Madam Rose
won't let me go. I'm her top earner."
"That's the beauty of it. She petitioned to purchase a noble title, since she
came into some money. She'll be giving up the life pretty soon, and pretty
little things like you will be back on the market."
The words were more of a shock than the pain of being fucked. Armin bit his lip
a long moment to keep from crying out. He could feel it yet not feel it: the
hands gripping his hips, the slap of skin against his ass, the ache of his
hands tied over his head, keeping him in this awkward position. His ass stung.
"So we'll be together always?"
"As long as you don't bore me." His lips were on Armin's shoulder. Armin wished
he were made of glass. He'd shatter into a million pieces and cut him to
ribbons.
The sound of Thistle's theatrically pretend moans wafted through the walls.
Armin went quiet, thinking.
"Please... I need to see your face. I need to wrap my arms around my new
beloved."
Armin could do sickly-sweet. Armin could bat his eyes.
He could have left last night. He could have left last night!
The pig undid his bindings. Armin's wrists were rubbed raw by the rope: the pig
preferred his toys uncomfortable, bleeding. There was nothing remarkable about
the man. He was average in build, his face might even have been considered
handsome if he weren't a vile abomination. In stories, the enemy was always
clear: titans, criminals, evil sorcerers. In his experience the evil of the
world came from ordinary people who cared for themselves more than others.
Armin scrambled to one corner of the bed when he was freed. He snatched a heavy
candelabra from the nightstand and swung it at the pig, hitting him in the
temple. The pig crumpled like a pile of pathetic old laundry.
Knowing he did not possess the strength to bash his skull in, Armin rolled the
unconscious pig over and restrained his hands over his head with the rope on
the bed frame. He watched the pig carefully.
(Armin begged him for help once on a rainy day. His feet were bare. He wore
nothing but rags, and was close to delirious from enduring sleepless weeks of
torment. He was elven. "Sir, you have to stop them, they're stealing children,"
he said. "They said if I ever ran they'd steal my friends as replacements.")
When the pig started to come around, Armin pushed a pillow over his head and
held it there with all of his strength and body weight, watching the man
struggle and thrash.
("Please, I just want to go home, I just want to go home, let me go home!"
"Back to Shiganshina? You're welcome to go. But if you want to stay here, you
have to earn your keep.")
Armin held the pillow down until the struggling ended. It was almost
disappointingly anticlimactic. A dull end for a dull person.
Armin admired the lavish bed, the roaring fire, and the sounds of Thistle still
going at it with his client loudly in the next room. The pig lay still. Armin
moved the pillow from his head and returned the candelabra to its rightful
spot. If he told Madam Rose he passed out while they were playing around, no
one would be the wiser. The Military Police would likely want to cover up the
fact one of their soldiers died in such a scandalous place, avoiding a full
investigation.
"Fuck me harder!" Thistle cried out in the room next to his. "Oh yes!"
Armin laughed, holding his sides, exhausted. He hurt from guts to fingertips.
He wanted to sleep. He could probably sleep for a whole year.
The robe waiting for him on the door was fluffy. Armin found the window
impossible to open with how his fingers were shaking, but kept trying anyway.
Military boots ascended the stairs with purposeful, almost angry steps. Armin
did not recognize the sound. Erwin's strides were heavier.
Had the pig come with a friend? Terrible people tended to travel in packs.
Armin's blood froze.
Behind the boots Armin heard Madam Rose's heels. "I told you, he's busy right
now - you can speak to him right after -"
"And I told you I'm going to talk to him myself, so tell me what room he's in
or I'm kicking down every fucking door down till I find him."
Armin flew from the doorway back to the bed, scrubbing at his eyes with the
hells of his palms, praying he could look convincingly tearful and shocked.
"No, no... here. He's in this room."
The key scrabbled in the lock. Armin never heard Madam Rose this fearful of
anyone, even the pig. Who could command that kind of respect from the likes of
her? The man's method of speech reminded him of Madam Rose's doormen, not a
respected member of the king's guard.
As the door flew open, Armin began to cry. The tears of panic were not entirely
an act.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" he wailed. "He... we were playing around and, and he
just... he said his chest hurt and he began convulsing and, and..."
Armin sobbed into his hands: mostly an act. He felt the glare of the deep-
voiced, crude-speaking man boring into the top of his head.
"Tch, gross," said the stranger. Armin peered over the top of his fingers. The
man was short, dark-haired, and wore the Wings of Freedom. Did Erwin said him?
"Who are you?" Armin asked weakly.
"I'm Levi, and apparently today I'm your boyfriend's errand boy." Levi looked
and spoke like he'd just eaten a huge spoonful of caster oil.
"What have you done, Hyacinth?" Rose asked, voice dangerously low.
"Hey," Levi said to the madam. Armin was not mistaken: Rose feared him. She
stood quite still when he spoke to her. "Go get his clothes. I'm taking him out
of here."
Armin stared at Levi. He felt single tear dribble down his cheek. He did not
wipe it away.
"But Hyacinth is like my child - he's an orphaned runaway from the collapse of
Wall Maria! The Military Police placed him in my custody years ago, just like
the other children here, I have all the paperwork."
"You're going to stand here in the doorway feeding me some bullshit when I just
asked you to get his clothes? Fuck, you're stupid." Levi drew one of his
swords. To her credit, Madam Rose disappeared before he had the chance to tip
it under her chin. Levi sheathed his sword, and crouched on the floor next to
Armin, looking up at him. In spite of the man's scary expression, it was an
oddly comforting gesture.
"What are you doing here? I told him to leave me alone." Even though Levi
introduced himself, Armin dared not speak Erwin's name within the walls of the
Garden.
"Yeah, well, you tell that asshole he can't do something and he just comes on
twice as strong. Can you walk okay? What about riding a horse?"
"I've never ridden a horse," Armin said. The room tilted, shifted out of focus.
"Look. I told him I won't marry him. He was being ridiculous. Someone like him
can't behave so unpredictably!"
Levi snorted. "You don't have to marry him. We've got it all worked out. You
can serve as a civilian advisor to the Scouting Legion so long as you keep a
low profile."
"And if I don't want to go?"
"Then I'll arrest you as a prostitute. I'm sure your boyfriend can pull some
strings so you're not stuck in prison. You'd be back in the refugee labor
camps, though. He was pretty fucking clear he wanted you out of here at all
costs."
Armin's bones ached, remembering the labor camps. "Where will we go?"
"To an inn, tonight. I'm not having you arrive to HQ like you are now, it'd be
a fucking embarrassment. I'll take you there in the morning after you've had a
bath. Besides, I don't want you fainting and falling off the horse because
you're all tired and hungry and shit."
"I'll go with you. I'll do this thing."
Levi threw a blanket over the pig's dead face.
Madam Rose returned with his clothes and a few of his other belongings, such as
his combs and hairbrush, in a satchel, and quickly excused herself. Peeling the
robe off his drying, bloody back was the worst of it. When Armin struggled with
his buttons, Levi grunted quietly. "Here," he said, quickly doing them up,
focusing on the eyelets rather than the sight of Armin's battered body. "We
don't have time for this shit." Armin thought that he sounded almost
apologetic.
"What about the others?" Armin said suddenly as they lit the stairs. Levi was
close but not touching, probably waiting to see if Armin would fall over.
"What about them? My orders were to come get you and only you."
"They--" Armin's words caught in his throat as he realized how stupid he must
sound. The Scouting Legion technically had no business coming for him, let
alone an entire brothel. Erwin was already abusing his resources terribly just
to get him out. Perhaps in the future he could use his freedom to stop this
whole terrible system somehow - but he knew Erwin would want him working on the
war against the titans.
All he could do was look after his own survival for now. If he argued with
Levi, the man might just turn around and arrest him.
Or leave him here.
Armin did not finish his sentence. Levi nodded.
"Why did he send you of all people?" Armin asked as Levi pulled on his green
cloak in the doorway, and helped Armin into a long, black coat that smelled of
Erwin.
"Fuck if I know."
But as the Garden's two beefy bouncers made way for Levi, all but cowering,
Armin think he understood.
Yet Levi helped Armin onto his horse with surprising gentleness. He was Armin's
height, maybe even shorter, but quite thickly and solidly built. Hoisting Armin
up was no problem, and the hands on his hips seemed mindful of the bruises.
"This gonna suck but it won't be long, so I don't want to hear you whining
about it," he said.
Armin said nothing, listening to the clank of horseshoes on cobblestone. He
could see his breath, but the cold was not painful as he imagined. He barely
noticed it over the rest of the excruciating pain in his body. Each bounce in
the saddle made him wince, but knowing he might not ever need to feel it again
made it bearable. He kept looking at the sky, the winking, chilly stars and the
light scrub of slate-colored clouds chasing the moon. He took in the fresh air
with great gulps to fill his lungs, so quickly and frequently the cold made him
cough.
The ride to the inn took mere minutes. Armin noted with irony that the
furnishings and mold-work of the building were not as fine as the Garden's, but
he would have volunteered to sleep in a scullery if it meant getting away for
good. Levi helped him down from the horse.
"I know you're pretty pissed at Erwin right now and I don't blame you. The
guy's a loser with shit timing. But do you wanna see him tonight?"
"He's here?" Armin's voice jumped an octave in excitement.
"You don't have to see him if you don't want to see his stupid, dumb ass face
right now. If you're too tired to deal with his shit, you can talk to him in
the morning after breakfast."
Armin deflated. "Do you think he wouldn't want to see me? With how I am right
now, I mean..."
Levi rolled his eyes. "Shit. Go inside already. He's upstairs in the room on
the far left."
Armin's legs didn't work fast enough. He almost fell running up the stairs, and
again when he threw Erwin's door open.
Erwin sat on a bed by the window, a book discarded face-down next to him. He
stood when he saw Armin.
"Armin..."
Armin wanted to speak, wanted to gush, but his tongue didn't work. His lungs
barely worked. He stood there, staring, chest rising and falling. Erwin would
surely know what happened just by looking at him. Would know without a shred of
doubt exactly how disgusting he was, how dirty.
Levi appeared behind him, giving him the slightest nudge so he was actually in
the room. "I'll get the help to draw you a bath. There's bandages and shit for
afterward."
Armin still stood silent. Everything in the room seemed ten sizes too big.
Erwin nodded to Levi. "Thank you."
Armin could hear the way Levi's lip curled in displeasure. "You owe me. Don't
do anything disgusting while we're here, I need my fucking beauty rest." Levi
touched Armin's shoulder. "I'm serious. If the old man starts getting handsy,
just call for me and I'll kill him. I've been wanting to for awhile now."
"That won't be necessary," Erwin said in a dangerous voice.
"Wasn't talking to you, shit-for-brains," Levi said before leaving, shutting
the door lightly behind him.
"Armin," Erwin said, approaching carefully. "You're hurt."
Armin fell to his knees. Erwin caught him before he collapsed to the ground
completely, holding him awkwardly, both kneeling.
Erwin's arms were strong and enveloping, Armin, tiny within them.
Armin broke apart with shuddering sobs. Erwin continued to hold him right there
in the middle of the floor. He tried rubbing his back, but that made Armin
flinch. So he mostly held the boy, petting his hair and smoothing it out of his
face.
Armin could not form words, even to apologize for the mess of snot and tears he
left on Erwin's shirt.
"You're safe now," Erwin murmured occasionally. He made sure not to shush him,
for what little he understood of what Armin had been through, a few tears were
surely expected. For years Armin conducted himself, kept himself alive and
together as much as he could as a mere child, a few tears might cleanse the
pain. In a way, being part of this was precious - whether consciously or not,
Armin shared this part of himself with Erwin.
Armin wanted desperately to believe Erwin, but his assurances only made him cry
all the harder. He clung to Erwin like a newborn child, red-faced, wet and
incoherent. He cried so hard he began to heave. Erwin had to quickly fetch him
a basin for his sick. The embarrassing display went on for the better part of
two hours. Crying, dog-like whimpering, more puking. Erwin put a blanket around
his shoulders at some point and moved him to the bed. Servants arrived with tea
and food but Armin only drank a bit of water.
"You'll be alright," Erwin kept saying.
"No," Armin finally croaked, when all other resources inside him were
exhausted. "This isn't... how could it ever be?"
"We'll try," Erwin said.
It didn't feel like enough to either of them.
***** Chapter 6 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
"Let's get you cleaned up," Erwin said. His tone of voice conveyed a falsehood,
that this would be a simple task.
Buttery light from the fire warmed and softened the rough space of the room.
The inn was neatly kept, the furniture comfortable if not luxurious. It meant
to serve what sparingly few traveling craftsmen, farmers, tutors and doctors
still traveled between districts. Erwin could have afforded something nicer,
but with finer things came more attention.
Armin lay half-curled on the bed, legs dangling off, blanket bunched around his
shoulders, most of the mattress unused. Even drawing his legs up enough to lay
on the bed fully seemed like far too much an effort. Moving, clearly out of the
question.
Armin made a stubborn noise of protest. Words? Also too much effort. His throat
hurt from crying, from years of opening and swallowing.
"Either I can do it or I can call a servant to, but we cannot afford to have
you take ill from your wounds right now."
"What if I want Levi?" Armin inquired. The corner of his mouth twitched, nearly
smiled.
Erwin paused. He could not be sure if Armin sincerely trusted Levi more, for
whatever reason, or if he was trying to get a reaction. Whatever the case,
Armin's comfort took precedence. "Then I will ask Levi." Levi, whom Erwin
already owed a fine bottle of vine for this ordeal, would probably complain
that he liked cleaning offices, but brats were a separate matter.
"You'd give up that easily? What if I seduced him in the bath? Don't you think
you'd better keep an eye on me?" Armin stretched out in that catlike way of
his, laying back in what might have been, under different circumstances, a
suggestive pose. But Erwin saw nothing but bones and bruises, defended by blue
eyes full of predatory keenness. Hadn't this boy been crying only hours ago?
"Do you think you need me to keep an eye on you?" Erwin asked, intentionally
devoid of inflection or expression.
"If I were you, I would," Armin said. "You've risked a lot to secure me, after
I said I wouldn't marry you. Don't you want to make sure I remain grateful and
loyal?"
"What I want," Erwin said flatly, "Is to know what you want. Tell me what you
want."
"What a shocking role reversal."
Armin attempted to sound cute, but Erwin heard the poison and anger that
sweetness covered. He took a deep breath through his nose and exhaled through
his mouth. "Should I get Levi?" Erwin imagined Levi in a comical night gown and
stocking cap, sleep-tousled and swearing. This comforted him.
"You'll do," Armin said with a shrug. Certainly an attempt to provoke this
time.
"Are you going to move?"
Armin shrugged again.
"I'll see about your bath."
Armin hadn't moved an inch by the time Erwin called a servant to reheat the
bath and prepare the room, nor when the servant returned a few minutes later to
inform him everything was ready.
"Are you going to move?" Erwin repeated. Armin lay with his blankets wrapped
taut around his shoulders and stared at the wall.
"We don't have time for this," Erwin decided, and scooped Armin up in his arms.
He thought Armin might yell and protest, in which case Levi would come running,
but he said nothing. Armin let go of the blankets around his shoulders, letting
them fall to the ground. He wrapped his arms around Erwin's neck. Erwin carried
him into the next room with ease.
Per Erwin's instructions to keep the bath room warm and bright, the staff
supplied a small brazier and many lamps. The steam and flickering light gave
the dented copper tub a hazy glow. In silence, they worked together to get
Armin out of his clothes. Armin braced the lip of the tub, looking both bruised
and luminous as he struggled to stand. Erwin noted old scars on his back,
already becoming familiar to him, along with new lashes, marks, and dirty,
sticky paths like snail trails.
"Can I help you down?" When Armin nodded and turned to him, Erwin took him by
the hips and ushered him down into the water.
Armin braced his shoulders as he stretched his legs out in the tub with a
shuddering sigh.
Erwin handed Armin a bar of creamy, lavender speckled soap. Armin took it and
began to scrub at his right arm listlessly.
"I wonder if I could scrub my skin off," Armin mumbled.
Erwin stared at the patterns the lamplight made on the wall behind Armin.
"I killed a man today," Armin's words rippled through the lake of their
silence.
"How?" Erwin asked quietly.
"He was a man from the Military Police. I'd run from the warehouse I was stolen
away to. I begged for his help." Armin ran the soap over his right arm in
repeated, jerking motions, never moving on. "He forced me to suck him off and
sold me to Madam Rose, then as a welcome he promptly raped me my first day on
the job. He told me I should thank him for getting me out of that warehouse."
Erwin remained silent. He plucked the soap from Armin's hand, and began running
it over his shoulder, then his back, mindful of the lash-wounds.
"And he was right, in a way. I would've died in the other place. It was filthy,
cold, and there was little food. Many did not live to see the age of twelve."
"Lift your arm."
Armin lifted his left arm, and continued, "But I suppose that didn't make him
less of a pig. That's what we call him. Called him."
Erwin scrubbed Armin's arm gently. "I didn't ask you who or why."
"You - oh, you asked me how." Armin's voice remained steady and precise, as if
recounting something from a book. "He was saying how he was going to buy me
from the madam, since she petitioned for a royal title with plans to get out of
the business. I told him I was happy and wanted to wrap my arms around him.
Instead I hit him in the head with a candelabra. While he was unconscious, I
tied him up and suffocated him with a pillow. I made up a story about how he
died from a heart attack while he was tied up and then Levi turned up."
"You just confessed a crime to a member of the king's army," Erwin pointed out
with a grin, as if calling Armin's bluff during a friendly game of cards.
"Are you going to arrest me?" Armin asked without a trace of fear. Good.
"Don't go repeating your story," Erwin said, and placed the bar of soap in
Armin's hand.
"You're not going to wash me? Don't you want to see if your goods are intact?"
"My goods are intact," Erwin assured him. "You've been making use of them all
day." He pressed a kiss to Armin's damp forehead to seal his point.
"What?"
"Even when you recognized you weren't physically strong enough to kill that man
by traditional means, you enacted a plan and carried it out."
"You couldn't have known that I was a murderer on top of a whore," Armin mused.
He worked the bar of soap in his hands into a lather, and began working the
lather through his hair. "I didn't know that until today."
"I knew you were brilliant. I knew you were a survivor."
"Things you typically look for in little boys in brothels?" The suds in Armin's
hair reminded Erwin of lace. A tragedy the boy rejected the veil of marriage.
"It would be best if you do not bring up the topic of where I found you. While
my soldiers give me my privacy, it could not be said that HQ is completely safe
from gossip."
"I'm too old and too crippled to be a new recruit," Armin said, ducking under
the water to rinse out the soap. When he emerged, tiny rivulets of gleamed on
his face. Finally, he took the soap beneath the water, staring at Erwin while
he cleaned all things hidden there. "They're going to ask what business I have
working for you."
"Not if Levi tells them not to."
"They'll just ask when they think he's not listening," Armin shrugged,
producing the bar of soap from behind him. "Are you sure you're not just
bringing me home to your men as a treat?"
"My men?"
"Oh, I should've said women and men. I'll fuck the women too, I really don't
care. I wouldn't mind fulfilling my duties in such a way. I admire what you do.
With support you're our first real hope of winning this war someday. I wish to
contribute however I can."
Erwin could not determine whether or not Armin was being serious. His words
were presented in the careless manner of a joke, yet this wasn't the first time
he spoke of servicing him out of patriotic duty.
"If that were the case, there wouldn't be much you could do about it now,"
Erwin said bluntly. The corner of Armin's eye twitched, but he otherwise
remained unnerved. "Don't worry. I'm not the kind of commander who shares
supper with his soldiers. Sharing you with them would be ten times as vulgar."
"And if I wanted to share myself with them?"
"Is that what you want to do?"
An eyebrow raised in challenge. "I might."
"I think you'll find you lack the time to organize such activities without it
becoming a disruption. Levi does not look kindly upon disruptions, and neither
do I."
"So, don't get caught at it, in other words."
"I'll remind you that you just confessed a murder to me, and are a known
prostitute. If you refuse to work for me seriously, I won't be motivated to
protect you from any charges that come your way."
"Is that a threat?" Armin wrinkled his nose.
"Not if you do your job."
"My job?"
"Research, at first. We'll need you up to speed what with what we've been
doing. Then, drafting formations. I want to see what you can do."
"I thought my job was going to be to sit in your lap and giggle during
meetings."
"You can be a really nasty kid when you want, can't you?" Erwin said, with more
fondness than surprise.
"Hm-mm," Armin sighed airily, "I wonder why."
 
Erwin woke up painfully hard. Since arriving in his thirties, he rarely woke
with morning erections. Such beautiful irony this problem would rear its head
the one morning he had to share a room with a troubled boy who spent the day
crying hysterically, and the evening alternating between attempting to anger
him or seduce him. Neither outcome came to pass, though some tensions mounted
when Erwin insisted on examining Armin's wounds before he climbed out of the
bath.
"I'm unclean, down there," Armin said, sounding strained. "I need a skin of
warm water mixed with some salt, to combat the chance of infection. Luckily
that part heals pretty quickly, though for the horseback ride it might be best
to use some padding."
Armin sank back into the bath, looking sullen while Erwin consulted the
servant.
"Did you want me or the servant to help you with this? Or should I get Levi?"
Erwin acknowledged Armin seemed a bit attached to the man.
"I'll do it," Armin said, sounding shaky. "I've done it plenty of times on my
own."
"Your hands are unsteady. I've given you three options. Choose one."
Armin's lower lip trembled. "I said I'll do it."
"I would never let one of my soldiers treat themselves if they didn't have to,
even the ones with field med training," Erwin said. "This is a point on which I
will not budge. You will have help with this, and be examined by our doctor
first thing when we get to HQ."
"The servant will complain," Armin said almost inaudibly. "Bad enough how I've
behaved all day, we can't give the people who work here more reason to gossip
about what's happened."
"Levi, then?"
"No!" Armin yelped. "I won't share myself with your men. You said you don't
want me to."
How could this be considered sharing himself? Erwin examined the genuine panic
on Armin's face, so different than the mask he'd kept in place during most of
their bath time conversation. Wounds like this must be difficult to share with
anyone. Even Erwin was hardly better in practice than the pig who inflicted
them. Yet he could not back down from setting a hard line. Judging from Armin's
prior attempts to find chinks in his armor and exploit them, it would not serve
him later to be gentle now.
Though he did wish to be kinder, Erwin never let sensitivity guide his qualms.
He could not afford to, even with Armin.
"That leaves me."
"...Do you have enough to tip the servant generously?" Armin worried his lower
lip. Tears began to form.
"Plenty."
Erwin ended up at the end of the tub, letting Armin brace himself on his arms
while the servant used a cleansing douche. As he held the fluid in, Armin
trembled and pressed his face into Erwin's chest, soaking his shirt with tears
once again.
"Does it hurt?" Erwin murmured, smoothing Armin's hair.
"I'm disgusting," Armin whispered.
"No," Erwin said with certainty, "You are the least disgusting person I've ever
met."
Armin nodded once. Erwin found himself overcome with an emotion: not pity,
compassion or tenderness, for these were emotions he never burdened himself
with and tended to banish on sight. He looked at Armin, pink from the bath,
marked with scabs of red and black and bruises purple and green, his mouth
pressed to a firm white line, and was filled with awe. He could only compare
the feeling to what he experienced the first time he witnessed the forest of
giant trees. Erwin felt dwarfed by a boy half his size and age.
But it was the memory of Armin holding onto him, utterly helpless and dependent
for a few stark moments, that followed him into sleep. His dreams were
confusing messes of twined fingers and blue eyes, and thus, he woke up hard.
A warm weight settled near his feet. Erwin felt the itch of a gaze boring
through his eyelids.
Armin did not give him time to decide whether or not to open his eyes. "It
occurs to me that I confessed to murdering my last client, a fellow soldier of
the king's army, and you did not seem the least bit concerned."
Erwin kept his eyes closed. "You have the right to fight and survive. If that
means killing someone who'd harm you, then it's necessary."
"How viciously pragmatic." A pause. "If that's the case, then there are a lot
of people who need killing."
"Find a way for us to defeat the titans and I'll help you track down every
person who ever touched you in a way you didn't like and kill them myself."
"And if you are among them?"
"That's why we wait until the war is over."
His blankets lifted. The mattress dipped only a little beneath Armin's scant
presence crawled in next to Erwin. "Oh," said Armin, sounding amused, "I didn't
think guys as old as you had problems like these." Light fingertips traced
Erwin through the tent in his nightshirt. "Do you have to pee?"
"Don't - you don't need to."
"Keep your eyes closed," Armin breathed as he dipped under the nightshirt, "And
you don't have to accept responsibility."
The wet sound of Armin spitting into his hand. He stroked Erwin to complete
hardness, carefully pulling the foreskin back so he could lick at the places
more sensitive, exposed. Erwin thought his touch seemed hesitant, maybe even
forced.
"You don't need to."
"Maybe I want to." Armin's mouth hovered near. A ridiculous notion: he was
speaking to Erwin's dick and not to him.
"You couldn't possibly want to, after yesterday."
"You couldn't possibly know what I want."
Erwin shuddered at the slow, almost pondering licks Armin worked over him.
"That's right, darling, just keep your eyes closed."
Erwin ran his fingertips along the nape of Armin's neck. His skin was smooth
and soft as finely buffed wood before being polished, warm and new. Intending
to map the notches of his spine, Erwin's fingers brushed the gauze dressing he
helped apply last night. Did Armin think he would not wish to see that? As far
as they were now (Armin sucking his balls, jerking him off with a fine steady
motion), it would hardly matter. Erwin knew his situation was shameful, damned.
But Armin insisted, and it was no sacrifice to surrender this to him.
He remained in the dark, though, while Armin sucked him off. The room filled
with those faint, lewd noises, and their mutual, uneven breath. There was a
certain earnestness about the way Armin welcomed him down his throat. Erwin
could feel the brush of his button nose in his pubic hair. He very much wanted
to see it, but his eyes remained screwed shut.
Armin hadn't forbid him to open them, but his urging rang true. Keep your eyes
closed and you don't have to accept responsibility.
Maybe Armin didn't want him to accept it either. He initiated this, though
Erwin couldn't follow his reasoning. If he opened his eyes, would this stop?
He didn't come in Armin's mouth. While nothing could compare to that velvet
heat, he found the alternative entirely pleasant: Armin wrapped the over sheet
over his tip to catch the spill as he brought him off.
"Yes, that's right, let it out," Armin breathed in his ear as he came. Erwin
turned to kiss him, just barely landing on the corner of his mouth. Armin
tittered softly, and hugged him close. Erwin found himself drifting.
When Erwin finally opened his eyes, he found Armin seated, fully clothed, on
the chair by the window. The winter morning light painted him in cool colors,
his hair as pale as wheat straw, his skin like dandelion milk. He held Erwin's
book on his lap but did not read it. Instead he stared out the window, the blue
of his eyes made less distinct by the gray sky.
"Good morning." Erwin could think of nothing else to say. "Are you feeling
better today?" Armin looked like a boy who was waiting for his friends to walk
him to school. He should have been, but had life not taken him to the brothel,
he would be working the fields or strapping on the harnesses of a soldier.
"I don't think I'll kill you," Armin said. "From the moment you entered the
Garden, I wanted you, in a foolish, selfish way, like a child coveting a toy."
Armin bowed his head, running his fingers over the embossed cover of Erwin's
book. It was an old tome full of fairy tales, nothing one might expect of an
illustrious commander, known for his effectiveness and brutality. Erwin enjoyed
most of all its meager hints of anti-Wallist subtext, and the beautiful
illustrations.
"Now you have me." Erwin slipped out of bed, splashing a bit of water on his
face from the basin and glancing at himself in the mirror. He would need to
send for shaving supplies and unpack his razor.
"Do I really?" Armin gazed at him intently, his eyes storm-colored, his
expression unreadable.
Erwin found great solace in the loud, irritated banging on the door that could
only be Levi.
"Come down to breakfast," Levi said, "Normal people have been up for hours
now."
"As if he's a normal person," Armin whispered, looking pleased.
Erwin called, "I must shave and dress."
Armin set the book aside and stepped over to the door. He did not cover his
limp. He opened the door a crack, beaming at Levi.
"Is there porridge?"
Predictably, Levi did not smile back. "Looked like they had bread, sausages,
lots of cheeses. Didn't see porridge."
Armin frowned.
"We can ask for porridge if that's what you want."
"With honey?" Armin smiled again. "Maybe a little fruit?"
Armin let himself out of the room, taking Levi's arm for support.
Erwin could all but hear a vein in Levi's forehead pop, his teeth clenching
hard. "Sure. Whatever."
Erwin listened to Armin attempt to draw Levi into happy babble as they headed
downstairs. As he unfolded his undergarments and stepped into his pants, he saw
his book fell open when Armin set it down. Right in the center of the book was
perhaps its most famous tale, the one of a girl who slept in a scullery and
devoted herself to a family that did not love her. A tree that grew upon her
mother's grave granted her a wish to go to a ball, where she met the youngest
princess and fell in love.
There was a note in the margin, fresh ink, smudged onto the page above it.
Erwin could see it was penned in a neat hand, he could only assume it was
Armin's.
The note simply read, Bullshit!
Erwin laughed. He could not stop for some time.
Chapter End Notes
     This is what passes for hurt/comfort for these two. :|
***** Chapter 7 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Needles of cold pricked Armin's cheeks. His body still ached from the torments
of life in the brothel and the violent expulsions of emotion the day before,
but he wore that pain like a cowl, a cloud of numbness separating him from the
world. He welcomed the contrast of sharp cold, nearly rejoiced in its
refreshment. Its immediacy felt more sincere than the recollection of bruises
and lacerations. With that cold came the promise of a fire, a bed and a
purpose. These discomforts proved the reality of this future, though he still
caught himself looking at Erwin over his shoulder for confirmation.
Erwin's high, pale cheeks were painted ruddy by the cold. His eyes echoed the
distant blue of the late autumn sky. Staring at him, sometimes Armin assumed
him nothing more than a fabrication, a dream of a man he read of long ago,
tall, intelligent and commanding, with huge, gentle hands. Older than him, yes,
but terribly young for all his accomplishments. This could be a man he dreamed
up, a comfort to replace the warmth lost by forgetting his friends' faces. He
would wake up in a few hours with head pounding from too much vine and Madam
Rose warning him to be ready for the next customer. The cold proved this worry
wrong, forcing a thin trail of snot from Erwin's nose, dripping in an
undignified way Armin would never have thought to fantasize about. One more
reason to be glad of the cold.
Riding with Levi would have made more sense, but Armin didn't let them make
that decision. Leaving the inn, he recognized Levi's horse from the day before.
He strode over to Erwin's horse instead, each step even and deliberate. Erwin
hoisted him up by the hips, and away they went. No words passed between at
departure.
The journey proceeded almost entirely in silence, save the clatter of horse
shoes and the jingling of tackle. This time, Armin safeguarded against bouncing
in the saddle by stuffing a cushion from the inn into his trousers. Not the
most dignified way, but between that, the beer with breakfast and his familiar
cloak of numbness the pain seemed distant.
They took a short lunch in the woods a few miles from a small village. No one
seemed interested in talking much, so they ate cold meat, bread, cheese and
apples, shared with the horses, and continued on their way.
Armin watched as the last vestiges of civilization bled into the red and orange
of autumn-colored trees. He drank in the little streams and flurries of birds,
even the dark, soft mane and ears of Erwin's steed. Everything sang with life,
yet he felt only his own constricted, tiny breaths and the ache of that initial
cold, desperately reminding him that he, too, was part of this world.
"You'll see the castle soon," Erwin said as the daylight waned, "It's an old
place, completely useless to the nobles due to its location, which is the only
reason we were granted it. But it is strong, built to withstand sieges."
Armin closed his eyes and listened, imagining the aged stone walls in the solid
strength of Erwin's arms and chest. For once, the thought of walls seemed a
comfort - something to keep things out rather than trap him. This was the
strength of walls built by his design: it might be Erwin's strength that built
this protection, but it was Armin's talents that drew in and utilized that
strength.
He tried very hard not to think about how Erwin and Levi would venture outside
Wall Sina in the spring, stripping him of this security, leaving him only with
cold stone and ivy to defend against the outside world.
"Gonna ride ahead," Levi said, "To tell the doc to expect another aberrant
type."
Watching him go, Armin asked, "Is he always so disapproving of you? Or am I the
cause of it?"
"Levi and I are realists. Soldiers." Erwin replied, as if that answered all of
it.
"I just want to remain on his good side," Armin said, making sure to laugh so
Erwin knew he was joking. As near as he could tell, he was on Levi's good side,
or at least Levi's not-bad side. Perhaps undeservedly so.
"Don't concern yourself with such things."
They slowed as they approached the gates of the castle.
"I need to learn how to fight," Armin said, his voice loud and abrupt.
"Of course. Once the doctor gives her permission, we'll have you on a regimen
that will include both comprehensive study and hand-to-hand. You're too old to
really learn the 3dMG properly."
"You mean I can't because of my leg. Don't try to spare my feelings." Armin
felt a wicked smile on his lips, his voice creeping up high and manic. He
barely restrained the urge to cackle.
"Soldiers are expected to have perfect reaction time, to utilize the 3dMG
intuitively after finishing their training. A typical recruit will have logged
in over five thousand hours of training at bare minimum. All of this is better
learned in youth, when reaction time, reflexes and physical capability are high
and habits and mentality are malleable. Disabilities can be worked around if
necessary, though it's not ideal. Missing your window, on the other hand, will
always put you at a disadvantage."
"I apologize for spending that time learning to suck cocks instead."
Armin did not turn to look at Erwin. He heard the length of his pause, counting
each moment of it. He watched the soldiers open the gate as they approached.
"If you do not trust my choice, I can drop you at one of the labor camps
tomorrow. I understand it is a hard life, but your skill-set would surely be
appreciated by the other refugees. You might not even need to work in the
fields."
Armin's smile fell off his face and shattered.
"I think it would be a betrayal to humanity to waste your potential that way.
Do you disagree?"
The walls of the castle were not yet wrapped around him, Armin thought
frantically. But just in a few moments, they'd be inside them, with the gate
locked behind them.
"I can't do this, I thought I could but I can't, you're wrong about me," Armin
said, slipping out from under one of Erwin's arms. Erwin steadied the horse
before he hit the ground. Armin tumbled awkwardly in the mud. He picked himself
up and thoughtlessly tried to run. He knew the futility of it: the day grew
dark, and they were miles from other civilization. He was a criminal twice over
at worse, an unwanted, unskilled refugee at best. Yet he tried to force his
lame right leg into the proper stride of running, ignored the scream of pain
through his battered body and the icy burn in his lungs.
He fell. Catching himself with his hands didn't keep the mud from his clothes
and face.
Hot tears sprung to Armin's eyes. Why haven't I learned better than to run?
Now Erwin's high, perfect boots were marred by thick mud, when moments before
they were messed only by a few splatters from the road. Armin could not see
anything but his boots from this place. Erwin placed a hand on his forehead.
"Feverish," he said. Relief washed over Armin - Erwin just granted him a
convenient excuse for his embarrassing outburst. "It's too bad we couldn't have
let you rest, but we could not risk discovery. Can you speak?"
"No," Armin said despondently. "I can't. Don't talk to me."
"Are you hurt anywhere?"
"Nowhere new." Armin tried without success to stand. Erwin caught him by the
shoulders, then carefully scooped him up in his arms.
"Medic!" Erwin called as he carried Armin back toward the gates of the castle.
A man with a bandanna led Erwin's horse inside the gates. A tall, bespectacled
individual ran over to them.
"She was with a patient when Levi came in. They're still getting a bed ready."
Armin squinted at the soldier curiously.
"This is Hanji Zoe. They'll be helping you get up to speed about titans, and it
will be their reports you'll be reading about our recent missions."
"Good to have you back, boss." To Armin, they said, "Can you sit up? Look at
me."
Zoe reached forward to take Armin's pulse. Armin elbowed Erwin's chest as he
attempted to avoid the touch. Erwin didn't flinch.
"Hey, easy there," Zoe said cheerfully. "I'm just getting your vitals so the
doctor won't have to. Struggling's just going to mean it takes longer in the
end."
"As far as I can tell, he's not concussed," Erwin explained. "But he's
suffering from wounds all over his body from an attack yesterday, as well as
long-term mistreatment, and possibly malnutrition. I believe he may be feverish
from complications. We treated the wounds as well as we could but it's possible
something became infected."
"And if there wasn't any infection before, he rolled around in the mud! Only
Erwin's cute little child bride could make this troublesome an entrance!"
Armin elbowed Erwin's chest again, deliberately this time.
"You will not call him that in front of the other soldiers," Erwin said.
"Erwin recruited me. I'm to be a tactical consultant." Armin did not stumble
over the title in the last, did not allow his voice to lack authority even
while being carried.
"Right," Zoe said, the lamplight obscuring their eyes behind the spectacles.
"Commander Smith has produced for us a civilian consultant as young as the
greenest recruits, who must be kept out of sight as much as possible. I'm
excited to see what has him so worked up about you, kid."
"Arlert. Armin Arlert."
Zoe guffawed. The light seemed to hit their face with total honesty. "Well,
Alert! You'd better rest up so I can work you to death as soon as possible!"
 
Erwin did not get a chance to see his new civilian advisor alone for weeks. He
read or heard updates on Armin's status, or stopped for a brief and clinical
chat while the doctor hovered nearby. Doctor Van Hout noted he looked her
straight in the eye and lied when she asked about old wounds, saying everything
from a poorly-healed fracture of his right hip and ankle to deep scar tissue
was from falling down the stairs clumsily. She did not think this a symptom of
denial, but a show of 'testing the waters', to see if she'd question his lies.
As usual, the doctor of the Scouting Legion simply stuck with the facts.
In spite of, or perhaps because of his panic attack before, Armin eagerly went
to work. He bunked with Petra Rall, having befriended her in the infirmary, and
could often be seen trailing her, Hanji or even Levi, a book open for notes. If
anyone questioned the lad's presence, they didn't bring their complaints to
command. Life continued as usual, with the bustle of soldiers making ready for
winter and secretly testing on titans. According to Hanji's report, Armin
hadn't demonstrated the least bit of concern for the creatures when they showed
them to him, instead launching into a series of questions about their upkeep.
An hour after sunset of another busy day, the first heavy snow of the season
drifted lazily to the ground. Erwin stepped outside for a bit of air, enjoying
both its brisk, crisp edge and its solemn silence. Armin walked near the gates,
making little puffs of breath against the backdrop of old oak and ancient
stone, scuffling along with uneven strides and hands deep in his pockets.
Though he could not officially wear the wings of freedom, he wore a tan uniform
over thermals, and a green without iconography. Armin poked the toe of his boot
in the snow as he walked along, leaning on the wall.
Erwin followed him, his heavy boots crunching the snow and frozen ground. Armin
smiled at him. He took Erwin's arm, brushing off a bit of dirt and snow from
his other hand.
"How are your studies? Hanji reports you're making quite a lot of progress."
"I have a lot of catching up to do. Memorizing facts is not difficult for me.
I'm eager to move onto the theoretical side of things."
Erwin let Armin lead the walk. They ascended to the stairs to the outside wall
with careful steps. Armin let go of Erwin's arm, standing a step ahead of him
at the top of the stairway. Even like this, Erwin stood taller.
"I didn't know whether I should visit you," Armin said. "If I should ever ask
to see you."
"You are my tactical advisor, you may visit me whenever you wish - in fact, I'd
like to see your observations on prior missions as soon as possible. I cannot
personally act as your tutor, but I trust you to act with discretion."
Armin wrapped his arms around Erwin's waist, face pressed to his shoulder.
"Why trust me? You've exposed me to this place's secrets without hesitation.
You brought me here without true, ample proof of my ability level, let alone my
loyalty."
"It would be unwise for me to trust you completely," Erwin admitted, "But your
own instincts would prevent you from doing something so foolhardy as attempting
to run or expose us."
"Because any friend I've made here would kill me in a moment on your command.
They trust me even less than you do. And you'd have me killed if that's what
the situation called for."
"I see I haven't underestimated your intelligence."
Armin's eyes glinted blue and gold in the sporadic, flickering lamplight.
"You're an awful human being." He spoke it more as a compliment than an
admonishment.
"We are all what we must be to win this war," Erwin said sincerely.
A pause, and Armin offered Erwin his hand. Ermin's hand enveloped Armin's with
warm strength.
"Do you care?" Armin asked as they walked along the wall's perimeter. The
forest lay still, black and white against the bruise-colored sky. Its silence
put Erwin to mind of one of his fairy tales, an enchanted forest beneath a
castle, where an old soldier fell in love with the youngest dancing prince. If
he reached out to snap a branch from a tree, would it cry out and warn the
world of their trespasses?
"What are you asking me?" Erwin considered the small weight of Armin's hand in
his, how Armin still pulled their movement and conversation.
"You might have appealed to my heart, to my humanity, rather than remind me of
how powerless I am. Don't you think my own feelings would be enough to keep me
here? I believe in this war." Armin stopped completely, raising his chin. Yet
his words were gentle, not defiant.
"Should I make you think you have a choice in being here now? I have no
business with your heart, nor anyone else's. You are simply an asset."
Armin reached out, brushing his thumb along the line of Erwin's cheek. "Liar.
You need our hearts, more than minds or skills or determination. And you know
that. Your biggest weapon is your illusion of good intention. Isn't that why
your first attempt to steal me was to appeal to sentiment?"
Erwin spoke no objection, though several fluttered to the tip of his tongue.
Armin turned his back to the forest, looking into the lit courtyard. Dita Ness
shuffled through the snow to the stables, probably double-checking the horses
were warm enough in their stable.
"I understand," Armin said. "I live like you do."
"Single-minded to your cause?"
Armin smiled serenely. "Alive, even having murdered my heart. Alive, and only
doing what is important so I might justify having done something so cowardly as
giving up what makes me human."
"Surviving is not cowardly."
Armin squeezed Erwin's hand. "Let me be the one person you don't need to lie
to."
Erwin turned, leaned down to brush his lips over Armin's forehead.
Armin said, "No, not like that." He pulled Erwin down by the chin, kissing him
firmly on the mouth.
Their lips were cold and dry. In Erwin's home and place of work, the kiss felt
out of place, almost obscene.
Armin ran his tongue carefully over Erwin's lower lip. For once Erwin wished he
were softer, his lips not chapped, his hands smooth enough to truly feel the
silk of Armin's hair against his palm. Armin said, "Take me to your room." His
eyes and smile glowed in the cold.
 
Someone built a titan out of snow near the mess hall door. The details were
impeccable, a little bit of ink dribbled to make out its terrible teeth and
eyes popping out with a sort of blank rage. Eren stared at the figure in
distaste, wondering how anyone could possibly find time to put such an effort
it so close to their final evaluations. Especially since they surely knew what
the outcome would be. Eren scowled, making a first.
He walked into the mess hall a moment later, cursing and brushing snow off his
knuckles. "Who the hell filled that snow titan's head with rocks?"
"It wasn't a titan," said Jean Kirschtein, "It was you with that scary
expression you get. That's why his head was full of rocks."
Grunting, Eren got in line for food and slunk into his usual spot next to
Mikasa. Three years in training, he really should be used to Jean's crap. Ever
since their early days of training, Jean resented Eren, so they butted heads
constantly. Eren understood they were similar personalities, but couldn't find
a way to make that work into anything other than a grudging peace when
necessary. They were the definition of familiarity breeding contempt.
"You really should work on your personality if you're planning to serve the
king, Yeager," Kirschtein called over. "I heard the Military Police have epic
prank wars. Should be fun, if you can learn to take a joke."
Mikasa touched Eren's arm. Her dark eyes seemed to grow more obscure with every
passing year, as she retreated beneath the calm, still waters of her heart.
Only Eren could read the meaning beneath her surface, the words she spoke
without moving her lips. Don't.
Per tradition, Eren ignored the warning. "If you have that kind of drive for
something that pointless, you should use it to kill the titans! Not everyone is
here to waste their time!"
"Eren the hypocrite's at it again," Jean sang out. "If you want to become titan
food, that's your choice, but don't tell the rest of us what to do when you're
gunning for a life of luxury! "
"Like I give a damn about that! There's someone I've got to find!"
"Yeah, yeah, you just keep telling yourself that. Marco's serving the king, and
you're saving your friend. Convenient that it involves not getting within bite-
range of a titan."
Mikasa squeezed Eren's shoulder.
Eren clenched his fists, and sat back down. "What kind of idiot revels in his
own lack of pride?"
"Eat your food, Eren," Mikasa intoned.
Eren shoveled steaming-hot potatoes into his mouth without flinching. His eyes
watered. "Maybe I shouldn't join the Military Police. I don't think that's what
Armin would have wanted..."
Mikasa gave the exact same answer to this as she always did: "Armin would want
you to live. He saved our lives before, and helped us get by in the refugee
camp. If you join the Military Police, you'll live."
"But he could be dead," Eren said, stabbing a rough piece of roast with his
fork. He shoved it in his mouth, chewing savagely. "If he was alive, wouldn't
he have written us by now? He knew we wanted to enlist. He's smart. He would've
tried to find us."
"Maybe he couldn't. If they sold him as a slave..." Mikasa's gaze wandered to
distant, ugly memories. "We can't know what happened."
"Armin wanted to be free more than anything," Eren said, stabbing another piece
of roast. Mikasa sopped up a bit of his gravy with the heel of her bread.
"Armin wanted all of us to be free."
"But I could help humanity become free in the Scouting Legion. I'd at least
know I was doing the right thing, instead of throwing my lot in with a lazy lot
like Jean."
Mikasa nibbled her bread. "If you join the Military Police, you'll live," she
repeated. "And we might find Armin."
"You're right. Armin has to be alive. Without him, how would we even know how
to find the sea?"
Eren chased a bit of carrot around his plate with a fork, glowering. He brought
his fork down too hard without spearing it. It shot out from beneath the tines
of his fork, striking Jean on the back of the head.
"Hey! What hit me?"
Eren didn't look up from his plate. Armin would have warned him not to cause
trouble, that getting disciplined could cost him points. He manged to keep a
straight face until the fuss died down, though it robbed him of the opportunity
to gloat at catching Jean off-guard.
 
Erwin instructed Armin not to visit until after lights-out. They needed to
maintain some pretense of professionalism to the rest of the legion, especially
since Armin's unusual presence already evoked curiosity. Fifteen minutes after
the final lamps were snuffed, a soft knock came on the door. Erwin went to the
door with his small oil lamp. Armin stood leaning on the door frame, smiling in
his night shirt.
Erwin welcomed him inside, locking the door behind him. Armin threw himself on
Erwin's bed, testing its bounce. "Oof - I thought it would be softer!" he
laughed quietly. Armin stretched with hands clasped behind his head. Erwin
recognized the pose from their times in the brothel, though he'd been naked,
waiting, prepared for Erwin then.
"Well, Commander, I'm ready for you. Put the lamp on the side table. I haven't
a proper chance to admire your muscles."
Erwin did as asked and sat on the side of the bed. He undid the buttons to the
shirt he hadn't bothered to replace with his nightclothes. "How are your
wounds?"
"I wouldn't come here if I wasn't up for it. Take off your shirt."
Erwin pulled his shirt off his shoulders. Armin traced the muscles of his back,
the faint scarring from one of his 3dMg straps.
"Why are you doing this?" Erwin asked, almost accusatory.
"That's the kind of question you should've asked me before you agreed to have
me here." Armin laughed. He pulled his night shirt over his head. The faint
light from the lamp made Armin into a figure of gold, some artist's beautiful
ideal of youth at the cusp of adulthood. The wounds from weeks ago were healing
well, leaving faint scars hidden by shadow. Erwin's throat constricted. His
mouth went dry. Again, felt an unmistakable sense of obscenity. Like bad habits
and debts better paid in back alleys, Armin should have no place in his real
bed, in his place of work. This part of Armin should have been left back in the
Garden, with only his keen mind working for Erwin here in HQ.
And yet Erwin crawled over him, covering his mouth with heavy kisses licking
like slow flames.
Armin asked to be here. No, demanded to.
And if Erwin were as good and responsible as the image he attempted to
maintain, he would deny Armin's demand. Erwin could not understand Armin's
motives, though he knew they must be more complicated than lust. Yet he buckled
to his baser instincts, not wanting to think of that, wanting to lose himself
in the heat of Armin's mouth like he did before.
"Erwin," Armin whispered urgently. He looked up into Erwin's eyes, licking his
lips as he reached down to touch his own dick, already half-hard from a few
minutes of sloppy kissing.
"Armin," Erwin said. It shouldn't be so easy to say that name, he thought. He
should at least stumble and almost say 'Arlert.'
"Have I earned the honor of being fucked by you yet?" Armin asked. Erwin saw in
him the boy he'd only known in the brothel, saw Hycanith, eyes glassy and lost,
like a slave to the bottle staring down a fine vintage.
Erwin ran his thumb over Armin's lips. The boy parted his lips, licking and
moaning. Erwin felt his cock twitch powerfully.
"Not yet," Erwin growled.
"Why not?"
Erwin gently withdrew his thumb, rubbing is dampness over Armin's nipple. He
gently bit the other. Armin squirmed, squeezing his now-hard dick as if to
soothe it.
"Because I'm saying no."
Armin's hand stilled.
Erwin completely withdrew contact, sitting up. He could feel his erection
trapped heavy and hot against his leg, his trousers uncomfortably tight against
it.
Armin sat up as well, mouth set in a taciturn line.
"Either of us can say no. Do you understand that?"
"That's a fine thing for you to say now!" Armin said, tears forming in his
eyes. "If you grow bored of me, if I don't succeed as your tactician, you'll
just throw me in a refugee camp. I'm nothing if I can't further your plans.
With my injuries, I'll just end up like I was! I have to do this. You like me
like this, don't you? You need me to be this! I told you it's fine if I serve
as your stress relief!"
"I like you honest," Erwin said, daring to stroke some of Armin's hair out of
his face. "If you're doing this because you want to control me, or because
you're frightened, I don't want you to. I assure you I won't set myself back an
asset because of my ego."
"What if I'm no good as your tactician?" A few tears slipped down Armin's
cheek. Erwin wanted badly to kiss them away, but settled for brushing them away
with his thumb. "I don't mind it if I'm here just for your comfort. I believe
in your work. I'll do what I need to. J ust don't send me away from you. From
here."
"If you believe in what I'm doing here, why are you so convinced you can't
help?" Erwin allowed his voice to raise a little bit. "You say you believe, but
you don't believe what I see in your ability. I don't have patience for that
kind of person, Arlert. I can't change the trespasses that led me to you, and
would not want to. There are ways you can contribute. Hanji can use an
assistant, as can Doctor Van Hout, but frankly, you have not been here long
enough to know if you will amount to what I think you will. Trust me. Give it
time. You don't have to seduce me in order to maintain your place. I'm a
despicable person, just as bad as you must think, but I won't send you from
here unless you do something to betray our cause. I had you taken from the
Garden, you are my responsibility now. I don't shirk responsibilities."
Armin began to cry in earnest, placing his face in hands. The effort of
stubbornly holding in his sobs made his shoulders shake. Erwin rubbed Armin's
neck and shoulders. The spark from earlier had entirely dissipated.
"But you kept saying if I had no choice. You all but kidnapped me. I thought -
it is the same, it is the same. What will I do if I cannot be this? How will he
punish me if I can't perform?"
Erwin admitted, "I've been hard on you. We need you here. And... I wish for
your company as well, but I'd sacrifice your company in favor of your
contributions."
"How cruel. You should be telling me you yearn for my company. Do you treat all
your lovers so callously?"
"I don't have other lovers. Haven't in many years."
Armin chuckled, wiping his cheeks.
"If I apologized for the way I've treated you, would you accept it?"
Armin crawled into Erwin's lap. "No."
Erwin stroked Armin's back. "I won't apologize. Regret is against my policy, so
I don't deserve forgiveness. I don't expect it."
"You don't, do you?" Armin kissed him. It was invasive, harsh and punishing.
When he finally pulled back, he panted like an animal, growing hard against
Erwin's stomach.
He hopped off Erwin's lap, pulling his night shirt over his head. Erwin watched
him march stiffly to the door. "Please unlock this."
Erwin did just that, making every effort not to touch Armin.
"I might never come back here," Armin whispered with a nasty grin. "But I
promise you it's fine - if you beg me, ask me, even force me... I'm fine if it
ends up that way. I'll know I was right."
"It might be better if you never come back here," Erwin said evenly.
It would certainly be less complicated.
 
Petra awakened to the sound of Armin stumbling into his bed. She recognized his
limping walk, and promptly turned over to sleep again. She didn't drift off
quickly as she hoped. Just as sleep started to embrace her, the sound of
Armin's muffled but heavy breathing interrupted her. Sometimes having a
soldier's senses was no advantage.
Petra understood the phenomenon of masturbation. She'd been his age once, equal
parts potential and wild hormones, holed up with dozens of teenage girls during
her training days. Just the same, hearing it was awkward. She made mental note
to try and encourage Armin to have 'alone time' when he could be completely
assured of privacy.
Armin went silent only a few minutes later, or so Petra thought. Just as she
settled onto her back, she heard the boy crying, sobs shoved into the pillow.
Petra remembered that sound from her training days just as well.
 
No one witnessed Erwin masturbating.
He fucked his hand furiously, face pressed into the pillow Armin rested his
head on minutes earlier. The clean smell of the boy lingered.
He could not afford to lose to his desires now, not with Armin's opinion on him
at stake. He should be nurturing the boy's skills as a soldier, not imagining
his small form bouncing over him, his snug heat tight around his cock.
In his fantasies Armin kissed him like before, kissed him full of darkness,
shame and hate. He came hard.
 
Eren stared at the shape of the bunk over his head. He memorized the shape of
it over years of sleepless nights. He knew every rectangle, every metal bolt,
every line in the wood grain, but the shape of a bunk and the creak of the
mattress never felt much like home. The bunks, the classroom, the mess hall,
even the mountains, forests, lake and fields were nothing more than temporary
spaces. They were hollow. Each laugh, each word, each scrape of blades and hiss
of 3dMG would be replaced in a few months with new recruits. Yet he would not
forget the harsh shapes of this bunk easily. They would be with him for
whatever remained of his life.
Restlessness never seemed the plague the rest of the 104th like it did Eren,
save nights too hot or too cold. Eren once asked Reiner if he and Bertholdt
ever had nightmares about the titan attacks on their village. Reiner explained
that they definitely did, just quietly. They couldn't afford to disturb anyone,
back in the shelters after the walls fell.
Eren, Mikasa and Armin's shelter hadn't seemed a bad place in that respect. The
guards hurled abuses, but the refugees mostly left each other alone and were
willing to trade and cooperate. After Armin's grandfather left, Armin took up
his unspoken job of lulling the other two children to sleep with fairy tales.
When Armin disappeared, they no longer told stories. Eren told Mikasa how he
definitely, definitely was going to join the Military Police and find Armin and
bring him home, leaving out they had no home to return to. Sometimes, Mikasa
asked him if he remembered the girl with the radish-name, or the cinder-girl,
or the girl who fooled with witch in the house with chicken legs. They would
play at trying to tell each other, filling in the gaps, but it was never the
same. Sleeping without Mikasa near only compounded Armin's absence.
Sometimes when Eren closed his eyes he saw a knife sinking into a man's back,
or the frightened eyes of his mother staring back at him. Sometimes he yearned
to see his mother and only saw blood and her lower half. Sometimes he saw his
father's glasses glinting in lamplight, and that skeleton key in his fingers.
Sometimes he called out for his father, and his head burst with pain.
Sometimes he saw Armin, apple-cheeked and wonder-filled as he pored over his
grandfather's forbidden book. Sometimes he saw Armin, his arms full of bread,
looking wounded. Sometimes he saw Armin, clutching his grandfather's hat, tears
streaming down his face.
Sometimes he saw Armin bouncing with rare fortitude as they trudged to meet the
wagons that took them to the fields each day. The ground froze the night
before, and it would be unwise for Eren and Mikasa to keep functioning in old,
too-small coats. Armin brokered a trade with some other refugees, navigating
the transactions as shrewdly as a weathered merchant. He kept Eren's old coat
for himself, trading his and Mikasa's old ones for a few coins, and bargained
for two larger coats, promising help with letters and math for one coat and
half his month's rations for the other. "We need to hold on to as much money as
we can, though not so much others know we have it. Besides, it's fine I don't
grow more anyway, after all," he joked, "Then I won't need a new coat."
Mikasa shared a look with Eren. We'll have to share ours with him. His stomach
growled preemptively, but he nodded without hesitation.
"They also threw in some gloves for us! They're a bit threadbare, but they're
better than nothing, and they even had this extra set they found that I can
use. They're big and they smell of mucking stables but it's not so bad. They're
my favorite co-- damn!"
Mikasa and Eren blinked at him in mild shock at his curse.
Armin held up one green glove with a frown. "I'll be right back. I must have
dropped it in the shelter. Button up your coats! I'll meet you there!"
"They'll leave you if you're late," Mikasa warned.
"I won't be late. I'll run. I'll sprint!"
But Armin didn't return. As the last of the other refugees piled into the
wagon, Eren began to fret. "We should go check on him. He wouldn't be late!
What if he's hurt?"
Mikasa looked down the road in concern. "If all three of us miss the wagons, we
won't eat."
"Then you stay," said Eren, hopping off the cart. "You're as good as two of me
anyway."
Wearing that Eren-look (the one that always managed to both be powerfully
annoyed and a little bit lost, the one she got whenever the world threatened to
separate her from Eren), Mikasa hopped off the cart as well.
"Armin! Hey Armin!" Eren called when they were halfway to the shelter. His
voice buzzed, echoing off the narrow walls of the alley. Mikasa glanced behind
them, watching the cart rattle away.
"Why isn't he answering?" Eren muttered. Even though he took off before her,
Mikasa beat him there when they ran.
"There's no one here," she said, stunned, staring through the carelessly open
door.
"Where else would he be?"
Two filthy, green gloves sat in the center of the dusty floor.
"Eren, look," Mikasa said.
Eren said what he knew she was thinking. "He wouldn't just leave them."
Eren looked around, trying to see some detail he would normally miss. Armin
could solve mysteries like this, read scenery and people's hearts like the
books he so treasured. "This is weird. Someone left the door open. Armin would
never."
"Someone with grown-up boots. They forced the door open, too."
Eren, Mikasa and Armin were the last out of the door. The oldest among them in
left the shelter after the mission to retake Wall Maria was a young woman who'd
been with child at the time of recruitment. All of the rest were children.
Mikasa said nothing, but Eren could hear her parents' murderers in that
silence. Eren could hear her jaw clench and her knees lock. Eren felt rage
course through his veins like green fire. He needed to find Armin, but didn't
have the faintest idea where to start.
What would Armin do?
Armin took the time to go to Hannes during the evacuation of Wall Maria.
"We'll go to the police. They'll know where to look. Maybe we can still catch
up to whoever did this!"
But the police didn't care to help. Eren regretted the lost time immediately.
Why did he think these police would be any better than the guards who hurled
insults day and night? "Sounds like your friend ran off. Took the money from
your coats and ran. It's a common enough story."
"Armin wouldn't leave us," Mikasa said, voice growing dangerous. Eren realized
he didn't know what he could do if she lost her temper. Armin always worked to
calm both their flames.
"Well, we'll take a look around, but I'm going to tell you right now, it's not
priority."
"A kid is missing! A human being was kidnapped! How can you say that it's not a
priority?"
"A refugee with no parents probably ran off to seek his fortune. You said the
kid was smart. Maybe he thought he was too smart for the fields."
"It's your fault he lost his grandfather!" Eren shouted.
Mikasa grabbed him firmly by the arm. "We'll go look for him. Maybe they didn't
go far."
Just they were warned, the Military Police did not hold their case in priority.
In fact, they barely tried, and laughed at Eren's accusation of exactly that.
For a week Eren and Mikasa searched anywhere they thought kidnappers might
hide, even got kicked out of a few back rooms of taverns. A week after, Mikasa
searched while Eren went back to the field. Armin-in-his head commended the
decision. Mikasa was the stronger of the two, better in the fields, but she was
also smarter, more observant, less hasty than Eren. Eren broke rocks and swore
and got a black eye from one of the overseers for mouthing off one too many
times.
The snow began in the third week, and Eren caught a very bad cold. Mikasa
wished badly to nurse him, but went to the field to make sure they'd a little
food to keep his strength. Rumors circulated that some children in another
shelter ran off in spite of the snow. Asking around revealed they were all of
Eastern descent. The Military Police did not consider this a lead. The fifth
week, the refugees Armin made promises to demanded their end of the bargain.
Neither of them wanted to say it, but they knew enough of the slave trade to
understand Armin was likely long gone from their city by now.
Mikasa caught Eren's cold. Eren nursed her when he could.
"We'll find him, Mikasa. I promise. I'll do whatever it takes."
We'll be a family again.
 
Eren opened his eyes, staring up at that unpleasantly familiar bunk. He let his
hand drop to his chest, clenching over his heart, almost like a salute.
"I'll find you, Armin. Just wait a little longer."
Chapter End Notes
     Eren, Mikasa and Armin's storyline in my head for this universe is
     basically Somewhere_Out_There only a kajillion times worse.
***** Chapter 8 *****
With midwinter came darkness and drifts of snow, deep and dangerous. Armin
spent 12 hours or more a day in his studies, only taking a few breaks to
stretch his legs by poking around HQ or following Hanji, bundled in oversize
coats. He found the work satisfying, and kept his composure well as he
discussed his analysis of previous maneuvers and early drafts of new ones with
Commander Smith. With Armin's exit from Erwin's personal life he found their
transition to subordinate and commander to go strangely well. Levi and Hanji's
apparent acceptance of Armin into their ranks quelled most of the questions
that might have followed Armin's arrival, and most of the soldiers ignored his
presence. Armin took meals with Petra when he could, and she helped him learn
to ride a horse when weather and schedule permitted.
Armin kept a journal of small observations, though nothing in it spoke of any
personal feelings, any reminiscences of the past or anything that could be used
against him, just in case Erwin or anyone else got curious. The only true
information in it was a collection of scratched lines in the back.
Were anyone to invade his privacy enough to ask, Armin would answer that he
marked down the days since he agreed to become a civilian advisor to the
Scouting Legion. In truth, he thought of these numbers in different terms.
One month since he was forced to have sex with the pig. One month since he
murdered the pig. One month since Levi came to the Garden, asking him to
abandon the children there.
No matter how much the number of these days grew, the distance between Armin
and those events never seemed any further.
On the longest night of winter, activities were suspended early for a feast and
a night of games, to be facilitated by an extremely annoyed and reluctant Levi.
Hanji worked the other workers into a froth until they convinced Levi to make
an impromptu a speech which amounted to "fuck all of you and your disgusting,
weird habits and dumb traditions". Many people exchanged small presents. Armin
sat by himself while the rest of the legion chatted and made merry, some still
lingering over the feast. Armin watched them with a small, detached smile,
drinking in their cheer and optimism. He nearly jumped in surprised when Petra
approached.
"For you," she said, pushing a small package of old newspaper and string into
Armin's hands.
"Petra! I didn't get you anything, I didn't get anyone anything! And you went
through all this trouble of wrapping it?" Armin's words fell out of him in a
nervous rush, spilling into the upper octaves.
"Don't worry about it, Armin. They're not exactly paying you a fortune, are
they?"
"They're not paying you that much either," Armin muttered, cheeks flushing. "I
haven't done anything to deserve this."
"You've worked hard. Just open it already, you idiot!"
Armin worked the knot from the bit of string, pulling open the package apart.
Inside the old, wrinkled newsprint sat a pair of soft gloves, knit with fine,
tight yarn in a spring green. Armin hiccuped, trying to force breath into
unwilling lungs.
"Try them on, check if they fit! I hope the color's alright, I noticed you like
that vest of yours in that color."
Armin tried one on obediently, stretching his fingers.
"These are perfect." (Nothing like the gloves that were too big, that smelled
of mucking the stables, left on the floor of the refugee shelter.) "I don't
understand. Did you knit them yourself, Petra?"
"Actually, it was Oluo," Petra said with a conspiratorial smirk. "You wouldn't
believe it from the clumsy way he gets around, but he's nimble with his
fingers. He usually gets overbooked with orders for the solstice - he'll do it
for the price of the supplies and the right to call in a few favors. But he
owed me, so I got to the top of his list!"
"Thank you." Armin barely fought the tears forming in his eyes. He would
consider himself lucky if this generous gift didn't cause him to have a massive
fit, the sort that forced soldiers into early retirement. He felt the past
reach for his ankle, pulling him beneath the roiling, black water of ugly
memory.
"Oh, Armin," Petra said gently, squeezing his arm. "Are you okay?"
"I haven't received a gift like this in a long time," Armin admitted. He wasn't
exactly lying. He hadn't received a gift without strings attached since being
separated from Eren and Mikasa. "I can't believe it, I didn't think anyone
would... I didn't even think to get anyone anything."
"You'll just have to make sure to get everyone great presents next year! I bet
a lot more people will want to suck up to you once we start utilizing your work
on the field."
Armin felt the tears slide down his cheeks. He could not speak his true
thoughts: that he did not want to be touched, even by a friend like her, that
he loved her gloves but hated what they reminded him of. He could not tell her
how he admired her stubborn optimism that everyone he might want to give a gift
to would be alive this time next year.
"Please thank Oluo for me," Armin said falteringly, wiping his face with the
heel of his palm, not wanting to dirty his gloves with his own tears. "I
couldn't bear to cry in front of him."
"He's not as bad as he looks."
Armin peered across the room, where the elite soldier was engaged in some heavy
debate with Gunther Schultz, covering him with a fine spray of spittle in the
process. His cravat waggled with each vine-soaked annunciation. "He's not?"
"Well," Petra smirked, "It would be hard not to be."
 
Erwin listened to the laughter and cheerful chatter of the aristocracy,
floating up toward cavernous ceilings like the hot air it was. One of his least
favorite duties as commander of the Scouting Legion was to attend fancy dress
events thrown by his sponsors. Even if it meant a day's ride and a day's work
lost, even if he didn't care for the company, even he should be with his
soldiers, bearing their sadness and blame for another abysmal mission. He would
far rather be at the solstice party thrown by his soldiers than adrift in a sea
of velvet and hypocrisy. Alas, he had an image to uphold; one of gratitude,
watching those beloved of the king and safe behind the walls bite into flesh
with loud, careless teeth that reminded him far too much of titans making quick
work of his soldiers. They were every bit as careless with lives, yet all too
happy to call Erwin a man leading futile lambs to slaughter. They did not care
to look to future so long as their own stomachs were full, straining their
belts and buttons.
He kept to one side of the event, occasionally danced with the daughter of this
or that politician or lord, and listened to the gossips and fears that
gradually loosed as cups were drained. He did not smile much, as that tended to
unnerve people, and he did not really want anyone to mistake his presence for
one of enjoyment. He worried a few drops of vine, warm in a crystal goblet,
listening to two nobles gossip.
"--Have you seen the Lady Roth?"
"Oh, she's one of those commoners who was granted a noble title? All for a
hefty donation, I'm sure."
"If they allow the likes of her, they'll allow simply anyone. Doesn't it mean
anything to join the aristocratic class any longer?"
Erwin might have held some modicum for the upwardly mobile Lady Roth under
other circumstances: she was a vibrant woman, unable to grasp how gaudy her
clothes were, how overly loud her laugh. She did not even have enough
perspective to understand she was being mocked, not welcomed. He might have
pitied her situation at least a little had he not recognized her as the former
madam of the Garden, one who kept young Armin captive, and put children even
younger than he to work. Most of all he might have simply ignored her presence,
but they locked eyes and he knew she could not be diverted.
"Is that Humanity's Hope, Commander Erwin Smith?" she asked in an extremely
unconvincing parody of shock. "Quick! Someone must introduce me!"
In the end the end it was the hostess of the party, Marquise Dressel who once
tried to donate old jewelry instead of funds to Erwin's cause, who did the
honors.
"This is Lady Roth. An entrepreneur, newly arrived to our way of life."
'Our', she said, as if Erwin participated.
"And as you must already know, this is Commander Smith. I am one of Erwin's
biggest patrons."
Which didn't really give her the right to call him by his first name, but Erwin
bowed anyway, as loyal as ever to the line of coins that kept his soldiers
armed, clothed and fed.
Lady Roth batted a fan in front of her face that would have been more suited to
a girl half her age. "Why, Commander Smith, I do believe we've met after all!"
The crowd, mostly content to completely dismiss Lady Roth, suddenly took an
interest. Each of them knew exactly what sort of entrepreneur the so-called
lady was involved with, and they were eager to hear what Erwin might have to do
with it. Erwin cursed his own indiscretion, even if it had gained him Armin's
brilliant mind: these were men and women eager to find any means to tarnish his
shine, to excuse their own failure to support his cause. His estimates on when
this information would get to the public were clearly too conservative. Erwin
bowed to her for exactly the appropriate amount of time and did not linger.
"Have we?"
"You took my favorite little orphan away! I cried for days!" Lady Roth's voice
raised at loud, theatrical intervals.
Erwin could feel the weight of a hundred noble gazes on him. He spoke
carefully. "I hired him to consult on strategy. The young man is a genius, in
spite of what he's been through. Not as your ward, of course, but in
Shiganshina, and the refugee camps, and having run away from captivity from
kidnappers as a child... You were so very kind to take him in after all of
that." Erwin left the hint of a blade in his last few words, sharp, pointed
toward her.
"Well, you seemed so fond of the boy." A volley back. "You visited him so
often." Erwin looked at her closely. She wore heavy, pancake white make up and
heavy rouge, though he could not see any sign of age or flaw it might be
covering. He assumed her to be older than him when they met, considering the
success of her establishment, but now he wondered if she was not much older
than he. She wore great, false eyelashes of dyed feathers, rimming hazel eyes
that mimicked the greenery of the decorations around her.
Not for the first time in one of these situations, Erwin wished for Levi. Not
necessarily his graceful way with words or social finesse, but his knowledge on
what it would have taken for a former brothel madam to ascend to this point.
For his knowledge on how she might have come by a cat house in the first place,
young as she seemed to be. He should have been paying more attention to the
woman all along. She truly kept her secrets close.
"Only impressed. At the age of 15, he's old enough to have been one of my
soldiers, should he have entered training at the proper time. When I first met
him in the marketplace that day, he spoke highly of you. I'm glad you were
there to help cultivate his mind."
"I'm glad to help in some small way," Lady Roth said. "Can we speak somewhere
private, so you might tell me how my darling boy is doing?"
Someone's unconvincing impression of a discreet cough echoed throughout the
ballroom. The crowd scattered like insects from under an upturned log. Erwin
offered his arm and found a quiet corner where they might remain undisturbed,
yet within sight of prying eyes. With this much scandal already suggested by
their acquaintance, the last thing he needed to do was be seen going somewhere
with her alone.
"I have a letter for Hyacinth," Lady Roth said, "I wanted him to know that he
always has a place with me if he tires of the military life, or the harshness
of his commander."
Lady Roth dangled the letter in front of him by her fingertips. Erwin held his
hand out, palm up, until she placed the letter there. The handwriting on the
letter indeed read 'Hyacinth', sealed with a red wax seal in the shape of a
rose. She must have been expecting his presence at the party and planned this
all ahead of time.
"You might have approached me during the after-supper gift exchange," Erwin
said. "It would not have caused a scene for either of us."
Lady Roth raised a perfectly painted-on eyebrow. "I might have," she said.
Erwin tucked the letter into the inner pocket of his jacket, covering his
heartbeat.
 
Armin woke to the sound of a horse moving through the snow. He bumped his head
against the window pane he'd fallen asleep against a few hours before. He
stretched gingerly. Each muscle of his legs creaked as he re-gathered his
blanket around his shoulders and searched for the book that fell from his lap.
After locating it and safely placing on the bed, he glanced outside: Erwin had
returned.
"It's a little cute, how you wait for him every time he's gone. But since you
won't be going on missions, you should probably learn not to worry so much or
you won't get any real sleep when spring comes."
Armin looked over to Petra, who seemed remarkably refreshed for all the vine he
witnessed her drinking last night. She sat bent over her desk, a pen in hand.
Another letter to her father, no doubt. Or perhaps thank you notes for the many
gifts she received. He wouldn't put it past her.
Armin wondered what reply she expected from him. He rubbed raised, smooth skin
on his wrist absently. "I'm not cute," he said, studying the movement of his
own thumb.
"Maybe the word I was looking for was 'pitiable'," Petra smirked. "Have you
ever considered someone a little closer to your age?"
"Are you hitting on me, Petra?"
Petra snorted, glancing out the window. "If you get your clothes on, you might
run down to meet him."
"I'll wait until he sends for me."
"He might not."
"He will," Armin said. "I just have a feeling."
Petra missed how Erwin looked up to the window for just a moment. Armin sent a
smile down to him. In spite of their distance, he was certain Erwin could see
and return it.
 
Erwin called Armin into his office a little less than an hour after he
returned. Not enough time for a bath, though he'd shaved and changed his
clothes. Armin also did his best to look as if this meeting meant nothing to
him, though he daubed a little lavender oil behind his ears and on his wrists.
Armin rested one hand on the desk, leaning into Erwin's space. "So, did your
resolve finally break? Or are you here to tell me some other whore from Sina's
taken my place?" He tried to turn to the lamplight for his most attractive
angle, but found himself distracted at the sight of Erwin up close. The man
still pulled his attention, no longer his client but not his commander either,
not really. Armin thought of pressing his lips to Erwin's high cheekbones,
memorizing the particular feeling of his skin and the taste of his breath. He
wet his lips, pursed them for the storm of surrendering kisses he was so sure
he'd see soon.
"Neither. I have something for you."
"Is it what I've asked for? Because if it is, you'll like how I'll thank you."
A slow smirk spread over Armin's features.
Erwin sat back in his hair, fingers clasped in front of his face. He could
smell Armin's lavender. It agitated him, being called back to that night and
the bath and the morning after. "I don't give those kind of gifts."
"Isn't that how we met?"
"I didn't think you romanticized those kind of things."
Armin's grin twitched. "No, of course not. I'm like you. I can't afford
sentiment."
"That's exactly what I need from you."
"Then why are you giving me a gift, exactly, if not for sentiment?"
Rather than reply, Erwin turned to retrieve his gift from its spot behind the
desk.
In front of Armin lay a cane of a polished black wood. Walnut, perhaps - an
expensive wood, for certain. It was the sort of fine thing lords with too much
money carried about, a small combat against arthritis or a bad knee, but more
of an accessory than a crutch. Inlaid right below the handle was a small silver
plate bearing the wings of freedom, and the initials E.S.
"You're giving me a crutch? A hand-me-down crutch?" Armin's throat seized. "No
wonder you haven't kept any lovers! Any lover would slap you for this sort of
gift!"
"I never said it was a gift, I just said it was for you. Pick it up."
Conflict danced over Armin's face. Forcing his hands out of fists, he picked up
the cane, testing its weight in his hands.
"Run your fingers under the handle. Feel that bit of metal?"
Armin pushed a small tab of metal beneath the handle. With a small click, a
small, very sharp blade extended from the bottom of the cane. It wouldn't be
good for much but stabbing someone in the foot or possibly hamstringing them,
but it could buy time someday. The weight of the cane wasn't too heavy for him,
though clearly meant for much-taller Erwin.
"Someone gave you this?" Armin asked, testing and re-testing the switch.
"A gift from my dear hostess last night, Marquise Dressel. Even when I insist
all I want from our patrons is funding, sometimes they insist on elaborate
gifts as a show of generosity. Because it's been customized, it's not much good
to try and sell second hand. I thought you could benefit the most from it,
until such a time as I may need it back."
"Do you expect to live long enough for your knees to give out or your arthritis
to pain you?"
"No," Erwin said frankly.
"I don't think Marquise Dressel thinks you do either. I think she wants to get
you arrested or something. Just imagine what they could accuse you of if they
found you with this someday."
"I don't attempt to understand the nobility," Erwin said, "It's just my job to
take their money."
Laughter bubbled from Armin. "In essence, you're their whore." Finally, he
tested the cane, leaning both hands on it and drumming his fingers. He looked
impish, a child with a dangerous toy.
"If that's what it takes."
"I like that you're not noble. Not in any sense of the term."
Armin felt Erwin staring at him, not mentally undressing him so much as making
a study. He straightened his back and lifted his chin, staring at some point
behind the taller man.
"I'm sorry if you felt my giving you this was an insult, but I wanted you to
have it. We can't give you a cloak, but I want you to know I consider you as
worthy of these wings as anyone else."
"So much for not being sentimental. I haven't done anything yet."
"Be worthy of it."
Armin thought of green gloves, still tucked away safely with his items in his
room. "I'm working on that. Is that all you wanted?"
"I want you back in the morning to go over plans for our first spring
missions."
"The ones departing from Trost, right?"
"Correct."
Armin nodded, curling his fingers around the handle of his cane. "May I ask you
one thing?"
"Keep it brief."
"Did you go blow off steam in Wall Sina while you were gone?"
"No," Erwin said. "Though that is not your business."
Armin leaned the cane against the desk. He hoisted himself atop the desk in a
smooth motion. He crawled across it. When he perched on the other side, he
grasped each tail of Erwin's bolo tie, pulling him closer.
Erwin didn't resist. Armin tilted his face up, close enough to kiss.
"It is, absolutely, by definition," Armin breathed, "My business."
Erwin dared not move. Any word spoken, any muscle twitch was sure to push his
lips against Armin's and that was not something he could do right now. Or ever
again. Heat rushed between his legs. If Armin looked down he'd find him
sporting half a stack, contradicting every word he spoke against being involved
with him.
He could cross this line again so easily. Armin kept pushing him, seeing if he
could gain traction, even control, of the situation. A better man would stop
things now. A better man would send Armin away to somewhere further within the
walls, to receive an education and better serve the king. A better man would
not be relieved at the prospect of this happening again, nor disappointed at
the thought that it could end any time.
But Armin stopped, swinging his legs around to the other side. A few papers
fluttered off Erwin's desk. Ignoring the mess he made, Armin made rather a show
of adjusting himself before hopping off the desk. He took the cane with him,
clicking against the polished wood as he left the room without being dismissed.
Erwin bent down to pick up the papers Armin knocked off the desk. He unlocked
his left topmost drawer of the desk. Inside the drawer sat Lady Roth's letter,
seal broken. Erwin stowed the papers above it and locked the drawer, tucking
the key out of sight for the time being.
Darkness fell early this time of year. He could see the snow outside
illuminated gold by his window, meandering slowly from the heavens, silent and
alone in the black until disappearing into all that white.
***** Chapter 9 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Spring approached. The world pulled back its cloak of white, revealing the bare
shoulders of hills and roads. The Scouting Legion moved back to one of their
less remote headquarters, closer to civilization. Erwin noticed Armin smiling
and laughing more, and joining Petra and a few others on trips into town.
Little crowns and necklaces of flowers began to appear on those who knew
Armin's favor, Petra, Doctor Van Hout, Hanji, Erwin even saw Oluo sporting one
once. The only ones not gifted these little favors were Levi and Erwin himself,
though he could guess the reasons for that. For a few weeks, the Scouting
Legion could enjoy the cloying, romantic scent of flowers.
Their first venture outside the walls was a roaring success by their standards.
They laid down supplies at a far checkpoint and their losses were mostly
numbered among the inexperienced. Petra sat with one of the injured recruits
who probably wouldn't make it. Petra managed to snatch her from certain death,
though the woman's left leg now resided in the belly of a titan. Cases like
this rarely made it, even with the efficient application of a tourniquet. Even
if they frequently risked the life of a doctor outside the Walls, the delay of
performing a surgery would be fatal for everyone. Thus, they kept one of their
most precious assets out of harm's way. All they could do was ride hard and
fast, knowing Doctor Van Hout waited for them in Trost.
Erwin heard the young woman - Myra Ellen Meyer, if he recalled correctly -
whispering Wallist prayers. He couldn't hold it against her now, she'd been
raised Wallist and in these moments, she must wonder if she was wrong to try
and venture outside. As they loaded Meyer up, bleeding, shaking and pale, Levi
spoke a few words of encouragement to her, telling her she'd done well. Petra,
who lost her horse during procedures, made the attempt to tend her.
"Your flowers... they're so pretty..." Meyer whispered.
"Here, you can wear them," Petra replied. "And we'll ask Armin to make you one
of your own when we get back."
Wall Rose stood solemnly in the distance, never seeming to get any closer.
Erwin scanned the horizon on either side for signs of titans. For the time
being, they'd outrun them.
"But I'm not his friend..."
"He told me once how lovely yellow flowers would look in coal black hair like
yours," Petra said, "We'll hold him to that."
"I'd like that."
The buttercups would not bloom for three weeks, if not later. In early summer,
these hills would be resplendent with them with no farmers to quell the spread
in favor of better grazing plants.
"Meyer," Petra said abruptly. "Cadet Meyer? Marianna, speak to me. Report." No
sound could be heard save the squeak of wagon wheels and the strike of hooves
against ground. To everyone and no one in particular Petra said, "Marianna is
gone."
Marianna Meyer. When could he make time to dictate a letter of condolence to
her family? Or would he just go with the form letter and sign it? Either way,
he would fail to mention he couldn't remember her name correctly.
In the distance, a cluster of purple hyacinth stretched toward the sky. Erwin
never noticed how fragrant the air out here could be. The thick scent of blood
always seemed to overwhelm it.
 
As missions wore on, the laughter in Armin's eyes that blossomed with spring
slowly faded. He watched the Scouting Legion return greatly diminished in
number each time. He work with the frenzied desperation all new recruits did
when they realized not everyone could be saved, when they thought some small
detail might delay the inevitable. Erwin hoped Hanji could help him make peace
with it, or at least help channel the energy properly. Though once he dressed
Armin's wounds and touched him gently, he also took things from him which could
not be replaced. Erwin knew himself to be incapable of giving comfort.
Spring's soft colors were starting to hint at summer's bold palate on the eve
of another mission departing from Trost. This one would be particularly taxing,
as rather than heading straight home to rest, supply and begin another mission,
Erwin would gather recruits from the 104th training legion upon returning.
Having been rained out of a prior mission, the timing was not ideal, but the
Scouting Legion could not really afford to lose a few days waiting for
recruits. They'd already lose time training them later.
A knock at the door jolted Erwin from a deep sleep. It wasn't Levi's obtrusive,
demanding rap, nor Hanji's overzealous patter. Mike only knocked three times,
even and ponderous, and Doctor Van Hout never visited his personal quarters.
So it could only be Armin standing at the door. He wore his clothes for the
day, buttoned down and straight-backed as any soldier. He held his left hand
behind his back, his right holding his cane.
"Did you need something, Arlert?" Erwin asked, attempting to establish distance
between them.
"I brought you this." Armin held out a small pray of larkspur, tied with a
white ribbon. Purple, white, pink and blue. "I was going to get you hyacinth,
but..." He shrugged apologetically. "I couldn't find any growing nearby."
Erwin took the flowers, examining them. "I'll wear it under my clothes."
"At your own risk. It might give you a rash, though."
Ignoring the warning, Erwin tucked the flowers behind his ear. "Instead of
hyacinth, you gave me poison flowers?" He wasn't sure why this made him
chuckle.
"Hyacinths are poisonous too," Armin said as-a-matter-of-fact. "I just figured
I should make it something so poisonous that if a titan ate you, it would spit
you out."
"Is that the reason for your flower crowns?"
"It's a theory I tried to have Hanji test, but we couldn't really determine if
the titans had a reaction to it or not. They were as disinterested in flowers
as they were everything not human. The likelihood is that they wouldn't be able
to tell the difference." Armin went quiet. "And yet..."
"And yet?"
"If I can't protect you with my own body, and all I have to do here when you're
gone is study and plan, I feel a little better knowing all of you have
something of mine to take with you. And even if it doesn't help, I hope it
lifts your spirits."
Erwin smiled. "Thank you."
Silence. Then Armin confessed, hushed and secretive, "I want to go outside the
Walls with you."
"You know why that can't be allowed."
"I know." Armin sucked on his lower lip a moment, then spoke. "Could I ride out
to Trost and wait for you there? I could help Doctor Van Hout with whatever she
needs waiting for your return. Besides, it would do me good to understand what
the supplies and layout of the city look like."
Erwin considered the request briefly. Armin never expressed any interest in
Trost before, perfectly happy to stay home and complete paperwork. "The 104th
training regiment will be disbanding there right around that time. Is there
someone you're hoping to see? Perhaps from Shiganshina?"
"You've found me out," Armin said with a small smirk, "I'm going to find an
attractive young soldier who appreciates me and isn't intimidated by me in bed.
So you'll have to make sure to hurry back from the mission before I run off."
"Go ahead," Erwin said. His voice did not come out as steadily as he would have
liked. Though hardly noticeable, surely Armin would hear even the slightest
waver. "Find someone and get married. Leave this life behind. Start life anew.
Your plans have already saved a dozen of my men. It's enough, if you want to
retire. You have my blessing."
Armin reached out to adjust Erwin's flowers. "I told you I want to be the one
person you don't lie to."
"And yet you're here, lying to my face."
"Did you really expect better from me?" In spite of the difference in their
height, Armin always held Erwin's gaze without hesitation. Erwin made a study
of his face, his soft cheeks and upturned nose so innocently contrary to the
venom inside him.
"If you told me what you needed, I could assist you in finding it."
"I don't need to depend on you for that."
"But you must need me for something if you're attempting to incite my ego or
jealousy."
"I wonder," Armin breathed.
"I wonder," Erwin replied, raising an eyebrow.
"If you want to kiss me, you should kiss me."
Erwin traced the line of Armin's chin with his thumb, tilting his face upward.
His thumb came to rest over the lips he so adored during their first meeting.
The tip of Armin's tongue peeked out to touch the pad of his thumb. In the
moment it took to move his thumb aside their mouths met. Armin's lips barely
parted before Erwin's tongue thrust past them. Armin carded fingers through
Erwin's hair, curled them so he couldn't escape. Not that he had much desire
to, not when Armin welcomed and accepted him and made the tiniest, happiest
noise in his voice. They were only barely connected by their mouths, Erwin's
hands barely touching Armin's shoulders, yet Erwin knew he'd be fully hard in
just a few moments of this.
A small stirring at the end of the hall startled them both from the kiss.
"Someone saw us," Armin whispered, playing with Erwin's bolo. "You might as
well invite me in, since that's the conclusion they'll come to anyway."
"Absolutely not," Erwin spoke low. "We don't know what they saw, or who saw
it."
Armin looked between Erwin's legs. "Are you certain?" he asked with an arched
brow.
"Leave," Erwin said.
"Will you let me come to Trost?"
"I would have regardless."
Armin let each end of Erwin's tie slip from his fingers.
"See you then."
Erwin let go, all but bodily shoving Armin from his doorway. He closed the door
as soon as Armin cleared it. He stood for a moment, leaning his back against
the door as if trying to hold off an invading titan. Useless.
The monster resided on this side.
 
Levi knew his morning was about to turn to shit when Petra pulled him aside
after breakfast. She'd been quiet during the meal, skipping her usual verbal
spar with Oluo. Her eyes were red, her usually-easy smiles few all morning.
"Squad Leader, can I speak with you in private?"
Gunther elbowed Oluo. The rest of the squad began muttering amidst themselves.
They probably had their theories on why Petra would want Levi alone, the type
of gossip Levi had no interest in dignifying with acknowledgment.
Knowing Petra would not make such a request lightly, Levi nodded. "I'm going to
clean out some of the upstairs rooms." Technically this was a chore that could
wait until they had new recruits to boss around, but those areas would at least
be deserted right now. They wouldn't have much time before disembarking for
Trost.
Petra closed the door behind them when they reached an upstairs room. Levi
crossed his arms. "Don't tell me this is about some particularly magnificent
shit you took. That's the kind of thing you can share with the whole squad."
"Squad Leader, I have reason to believe..." Petra broke off, rubbing her
temples. "Armin and Commander Smith..."
Levi pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, halting the grunt of distaste
he wanted to give voice to.
"I've always respected the Commander, and followed him without question..."
Petra hesitated.
"Spit it out, Petra."
"There's something very inappropriate going on. That the commander would do
anything with someone under his command, civilian or not, is disgusting! It's -
it's beyond wrong."
"And what do you expect me to do about that?"
"...You knew," Petra realized with palpable disappointment. "Is that why the
commander brought him here?"
"That brat is creepy, but he's one of the best strategists I've worked with."
Levi scowled, walking over to the window. "He's already saved at least a dozen
lives."
"You didn't deny my question." Petra watched her words hang in chilly air in a
diminutive cloud. No one bothered to bring in braziers for these unused rooms.
Levi turned to face her, as stone-faced as ever. "Why did you join the Survey
Corps?"
"Because I've pledged myself, heart and soul, to humanity's salvation," Petra
whispered.
"I didn't hear anything in that about giving a fuck about other people's sex
lives, as disgusting as they might be."
"You don't care in the least bit if your friend is forcing Armin into
something? After what he's been through? A doctor had to care for him for
weeks!"
"Has Armin ever complained to you about this? Is this effecting his work?"
"Armin is young enough that he should be protected, regardless of his
feelings," Petra countered. "And even if he has a crush on the commander,
that's no excuse for the commander's behavior. A good person would never sleep
with his subordinate, let alone one half his age!"
"If we allowed only good people to enlist, the Survey Corps would've disbanded
decades ago. Is that all, Rall, or did you have some other petty complaints?
Maybe about the shitty food, or the state of the toilets?"
"The toilets are always spotless," Petra replied, mouth agape. "Squad leader,
you can't possibly approve of this."
"Approval counts for jack shit. Arlert is a good tactician, and Commander Smith
is our leader. Unless this kid comes crying to you that the old man's a rapist
who can't keep his hands off him, you mind your own fucking business."
Petra stood wringing her hands in silence. "I thought we were better than this.
Better than the Wall Garrison and the Military Police."
"If you'd like to take your chances with being a drunken, whore-mongering piece
of shit, I'd be happy to go with you myself to the commander and get him to
write you a letter of recommendation with a request to transfer. But we need
you here. Our mission is priority. Nothing else matters."
"Yes sir."
"Go get your gear ready, we're riding soon."
"Yes sir." Petra paused near the door. "You're wrong, though."
Levi said nothing.
"There are many good people in the Survey Corps," Petra said, and left.
 
Petra returned to the room she shared with Armin. She stood in the doorway,
watching the young man pack away his meager belongings. Though neither of them
kept any sentimental trinkets to denote their presence, she'd come to think of
this room as theirs. All this time she looked on this space with fondness, but
it now occurred that this place might be a prison to Armin, and she one of his
hapless jailers.
"I can get you away from him, from this," Petra spoke quietly. "I know you
haven't any real reason to trust or believe in me, since I've been oblivious
this whole time, but--"
"So you're the one who saw us." Armin stood with his back to Petra, holding the
gloves she gave him. He didn't know why he thought to pack them, the weather
was no longer cold enough to wear them. "I can't leave. I would be betraying
humanity if I didn't use my skills. I refuse to have lived over half of my life
as a waste of space. I must help now."
"Is that what Commander Smith told you?" Petra's fingers clenched into fists.
"No. That's how I've always felt." Armin dropped the gloves into his shoulder
bag.
"You should go meet my father, while we're on our mission. He's a good man."
"Most are until you get their pants off."
"I wouldn't let you say such a thing about him if this were any other
conversation," Petra said evenly. "Please stay in my room at the house instead
of at the barracks, have some real rest and privacy. My father is good-hearted
and never rose a hand to me, and rarely raised his voice. He would surely love
having someone to help fill that empty house, and he could help find you an
apprenticeship in town."
Armin sat down on the bed, finally turning to face Petra. His eyes were vacant
as those dark days when she first met him, before his wounds healed enough to
let him out of bed into fresh air. Maybe now, like then, Armin attempted to
escape some great pain.
"Do you ever sit and think about what your life could have been like if only a
few things were different?" Armin breathed.
"No," Petra admitted, "But I haven't had your life."
"I wonder what could of person I would have been, who I would have met. I
probably would've washed out in training, though. I've never been very strong.
And then I think about the people who haven't died because I'm here now. I
would take your offer if I couldn't see my duty clearly. Even though I'd hate
to be away from Erwin, for both our sakes it'd be better if I stayed away."
"We're not such monsters that we need to keep civilians here against their
will," Petra said, "There's no need for us to sacrifice our decency."
"Levi's pretty obsessed with cleaning, isn't it?" Armin posed an abrupt
question.
"I suppose, why?"
"Sometimes there's blood under Hanji's nails, but never his."
Petra stared at Armin, trying to read some hint the young man was joking.
"Never mind," Armin said. "I've made my decision. Erwin isn't doing anything to
me. I've been trying to get him in bed as thanks for taking me from where I was
and giving me such an important job, but he's been resistant. That's what you
saw last night."
"Still, the fact he's put you in such a position..."
"Rather than putting in front of titans to die?"
Petra closed her mouth.
"You're not wrong," Armin said after a long moment. "You've drawn your moral
lines surprisingly straight and high. As for me, I don't have them, and neither
does Erwin. And we'll win this war because of that. We're a perfect match."
Petra opened her mouth, though she struggled to make the shape of the sounds
she wanted. "Do you think you're in love with him?"
"I think I would be if I were capable of such a thing," Armin said with a
disaffected shrug.
"Everyone is capable of love."
Armin stood up, really examining Petra. Her round, soft face belied the
determined set of her jaw, the stubborn way she pressed her lips together.
"Maybe you're right. The men who raped me, used me - most of them had children
and families. Surely if they did not love me, they loved someone other than
themselves. Though maybe they didn't, considering what part they often asked me
to play."
Petra closed her eyes briefly. It might've hurt less if Armin's words came out
with bitter sharpness, instead gentle defeat. "Is the commander among those
that hurt you?" Petra asked.
"What are you trying to get me to say about him?" Armin's voice raised a
fraction with threat. "He saw I was needed here. Do the particulars really
matter?"
"It does matter. If you're here because you want to be, fine. But your body is
yours. That's why a crime if anyone did anything to it against your will."
"My body is..." Armin looked ill. "I - I don't think..."
"Please," Petra said, feeling each vowel like a weight she fought to get off
her tongue, "Consider what I've offered you."
"I'll go meet your father, since it means so much to you. You'll have Levi and
Hanji to contend with if I leave, though. The commander's already made it quite
clear that I can move on whenever I like. My responsibility isn't only to him."
Petra paused. "Thank you."
Armin tilted his head. "Do you really believe it? That everyone is capable of
love?"
Petra felt the back of her throat burn with tears she'd never allow to surface.
"Absolutely."
"Are you sure that's not just a lie to keep yourself from being too lonely?"
"You're just being nasty for the sake of it now, aren't you?" Petra scolded.
"I don't know." Armin wandered to his chair at the window and sat down, looking
into the courtyard. "Do you think Erwin could ever love me?"
"If I said no at this point, it'd make me a huge hypocrite," Petra admitted.
"But affairs between officers and their subordinates are forbidden for a
reason. They're risky, especially in the Survey Corps. You're young, you have
your life ahead of you. There's no reason to rush into something that's going
to end badly."
"Doesn't saying that make you a huge hypocrite too?"
"Don't be a brat," Petra said fondly. She packed her things without saying
more.
 
Armin stood with Erwin on top of Wall Rose, looking out to the territories his
home once belonged to. It took a little convincing for Armin to be allowed this
high, but Erwin insisted to the Wall Garrison that Armin needed to see out
there for tactical purposes.
The great, naked monsters that haunted Armin's nightmares stood clawing and
clambering like mute, hostile children. Armin swallowed down the lump in his
throat, staring instead at the horizon, trying to imagine all of the mystery
and promise out there.
They stood side by side, listening to the strange rhythms of the world.
"How many times did you purchase my body?" Armin asked, only loud enough to be
heard over the wind.
"Three times, wasn't it?"
"That sounds right."
Armin reached out. His fingertips touched the back of Erwin's hand. Erwin did
not respond. Armin let his hand drop back to his side. They couldn't be up here
long, and they weren't alone: someone from the Wall Garrison needed to be there
to operate the lift and allow them down. She seemed to be allowing them privacy
in their conversation, settling down to watch over the bustling town far enough
away she couldn't listen in.
"I never saw a single coin of the money you paid her," Armin said, tapping his
cane against the stone. "Which means that technically, you owe me."
"Would you like me to pay you that amount?" Erwin asked wryly. "Perhaps with
some interest?"
Armin shook his head. "That's not what I want. I want your body."
"This sounds like an indecent arrangement."
"No, this is what's going to make it right. Make it fair between us, once and
for all. Three for three, and then it's over between us."
Erwin took a long time considering his answer. "If that's what it takes to
finish things, then we can find a way."
"You understands what this means, right? You have to bring your body back to me
alive and well." Armin's voice contained a tremble he hoped Erwin didn't
notice. Knowing Erwin, he heard and took note.
"You're the one who keeps sending me outside."
"It can't be helped. Your observations are the best for helping me write
strategies. And it's good for morale when you're out there."
Erwin made no noise to agree or disagree, simply staring out to the distance.
"You started this. You took my body for your own. You took ownership of
something that wasn't yours. So it's only fair. You owe me at least that."
"Which of us are you trying to convince?"
Fire flared up in Armin's belly. Erwin couldn't know his real motivation to
leave. "Kiss me. Now."
To his shock, Erwin complied. A brief but heated kiss, cupping Armin's chin,
licking over his lips. "Good enough?" he asked as he withdrew.
"You owe me," Armin repeated, cheeks flushed and gaze fierce. "So come back
alive."
Chapter End Notes
     As of the 11th, this story is one year old. :')
     I'm sorry there wasn't smut in this chapter! There will be smut in
     this story again, I promise!
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!