A Grey Morning – The Tybur Estate
The sky had drawn its heavy grey curtains, as though groaning beneath the weight of all that remained unsaid. The rain was not falling—it was spilling, slowly, deliberately, brushing the windows like tears that had waited too long.
Throughout the estate, an unfamiliar stillness settled.
Not peace.
Something closer to anticipation.
In the kitchen, voices were lower than usual. The soft clatter of utensils, the scent of fresh bread, the quiet rhythm of footsteps—none of it could disguise the tremor hiding behind the walls.
Hange kneaded the dough with repetitive motions, her eyes unfocused, her laughter quick—as if racing something restless inside her.
"I'm trying an old Marley recipe today," she said lightly. "They say it brings warmth in the cold. We could use something like that, don't you think?"
Sasha, who rarely lost her spark, was slicing meat with unusual slowness. She didn't answer at first. Then, without lifting her gaze, she murmured:
"Meat always improves the mood. At least… it doesn't lie."
Connie entered hesitantly, hands tucked into his pockets, his voice softer than usual.
"The place smells good… like it's trying to hide something."
Hange didn't respond. She only gave him a brief glance—one of those looks that says everything and nothing at once.
Upstairs, Sarah stood before the mirror—not to adorn herself, but to confirm that she was still there.
Her face looked older somehow. Her eyes calmer—calm in the way only comes after an internal collapse.
Yesterday had been heavy.
Willy's gaze.
His silence.
The words he did not say.
They lingered within her.
Yesterday, Sarah had stood at the edge of breaking.
But she chose to rise instead.
She let her hair fall freely over her shoulders and slipped into a coat the color of earth. Then she stood still for a long moment, listening to the rain whisper against the glass.
She murmured softly, as though signing a truce with herself:
"No one will see me break.
Not even me."
And somewhere down the corridor, Levi stood at a distance, watching the closed door.
He did not dare knock.
Nor did he dare walk away.
His heart remained there—
as though something inside it was waiting.
❖ The Dining Hall – The Morning After
The rain whispered against the glass in an endless rhythm, as though the sky itself shared their anticipation.
When Sarah entered the room, a heavy silence settled—
not the silence of welcome,
but the silence of caution.
Even Levi, who rarely betrayed concern, lifted his eyes—and did not look away.
Jean, attempting to fracture the tension with light sarcasm, muttered:
"Good morning… or good morning to a revolution? Hard to tell. Breakfast looks dangerous as usual—and Hange was in the kitchen."
Hange raised a piece of warm bread as if unveiling an invention.
"Traditional Marleyan bread. With a hint of courage… and perhaps a touch of madness."
Sasha winked while chewing.
"But this meat? It's the only real alliance in this room."
Sarah offered a calm smile—one that carried more than it revealed.
"The scent of both together reminds me of family… the kind that wages war and eats breakfast at the same table."
Mikasa's voice was low, steady.
"You seem composed… Did you sleep?"
Sarah let her gaze linger on the rain-streaked window.
"Sleep does not always restore balance… but rain? Perhaps it does."
Silence returned—this time sharper, as though truth hovered at the edge of breaking.
Even Eren hesitated before speaking, his tone firm:
"We need to address what happened last night."
Sarah lifted a hand gently. Her eyes were calm—yet resolute.
"There will be time to speak. We cannot afford to tear apart the few moments when the bread is still warm."
As plates were gathered and footsteps drifted toward the winter garden, Luca spoke in his unmistakably political voice—like a stone cast into still water:
"An extraordinary meeting. The day after tomorrow. Location: the Tybur Estate."
Movement halted. Even the faintest sounds dissolved. Every gaze fixed on him.
Eren stepped forward, his voice edged with suspicion.
"Willy's palace? Why there?"
Luca answered with the composure of a man accustomed to revealing truth without exposing strategy.
"Because a palace is not merely a home… it is a declaration of power. Tybur—the heir of the War Hammer—does not hide behind walls. He builds negotiations within his fortress."
"The decision was not Tybur's alone. It emerged from a delicate alliance formed in the shadows—senior Marleyan officers, certain elders of Hizuru, internal dissenters weary of the ethnic purges against the Eldians. And I… was their intermediary."
Levi remained seated in silence, watching Luca with surgical precision.
"And you're certain we won't be slaughtered at a luxurious banquet?"
Luca met his gaze evenly.
"If Tybur knew everything about you… the banquet would have been last night. He does not know. Or rather… we do not know what he knows."
Hange stepped forward, her eyes bright with intelligence.
"You're gambling with us."
Luca's voice lowered, charged with urgency.
"I am gambling on the last remaining chance before the explosion."
He continued:
"The crucial detail is this: Willy knows Sarah left his estate and returned to the Friedman residence—because he allowed it. But he does not know the Corps is here. He does not know you are in Marley at all. And that is the secret that must remain sealed until the moment of confrontation."
A murmur spread across the room.
Jean frowned.
"Wait… you went to him alone?"
Sarah answered only with a look. She neither confirmed nor denied.
"I went where I had to."
Luca intervened, his tone measured.
"There is no way to reach Willy through ordinary channels. He does not receive messages. He does not grant audiences. He does not face anyone… unless he chooses them."
Then he turned to Sarah, confidence carefully balanced.
"And you… were his choice."
"That is precisely why you are the only one who can deliver the message. We do not intend to request permission—we intend to surprise him. On his ground… but under our terms."
Armin stared at the table before whispering:
"Only the one who can look the monster in the eye… can tell its story."
Luca smiled—a smile that did not linger.
"And Sarah… is the only eye the monster chose to keep open."
The Winter Garden — Beneath a Rain That Washes Nothing Away
The winter garden felt like a fragment of suspended time.
The trembling glass beneath the relentless rain wrapped the space in a delicate isolation, and the climbing vines seemed almost to be listening.
In one corner stood an old piano, silent… as though no one had dared touch it in years.
Mikasa, gazing at it, spoke in a low voice.
"Is that… a musical instrument?"
Layla smiled faintly, brushing the keys with careful fingertips.
"A piano. Its sound is like memory… I'll play for you later. After Sarah speaks."
They all sat in silence. Even the air seemed to hold its breath.
Sarah stood at the center of them—like the point where every possibility converged. Her shoulders were straight, yet in her eyes… a war still raged.
Sarah spoke softly, but her voice did not tremble.
"I went to the Tybur estate last night… at his summons.
The meeting was… unsettlingly calm. Willy said nothing explicit about you, about the island, or about my blood. But he looked at me… as though he knew me better than I know myself.
I feel… he knows something about my father. About where I come from."
Silent glances passed between them—except for Luca. Sarah glanced at him and caught the faint tremor in his hand. He said nothing. He could not meet her eyes.
Hange's gaze lingered on him.
"Strange… Luca doesn't usually tremble."
Sarah continued.
"Willy asked for something specific. He said he wants me at his side.
He asked me to marry him.
He gave me two months… to decide."
The silence thickened, as if the oxygen had thinned.
Eren's voice cut through sharply.
"He asked?"
Sarah met his gaze steadily.
"He didn't threaten me… not with words. But he doesn't need to.
I know the consequences. I saw what happened to Mathis.
A man who loved me sincerely… vanished beneath the weight of power.
I won't allow that story to repeat itself."
Armin looked down.
"If words are not the threat… then silence is worse."
Hange offered a brittle smile that failed to conceal her worry.
"Who would've thought political romance was still in fashion? You're now a candidate to become Lady of the War Hammer."
Levi's eyes were fixed on Sarah, unreadable.
"And how many graves does that hammer require… to build a throne?"
A brief laugh escaped Sasha—then died before it could live. The tension did not ease. It sharpened.
Sasha whispered,
"This isn't a game this time… is it?"
Sarah's voice turned clear, almost transparent.
"No. It isn't a game.
He's using what he knows about me… to hold the island's fate in his hands.
But he doesn't know… that you're here."
Every ear sharpened.
Sarah stepped forward.
"Tybur doesn't know the Corps is in the eastern palace.
Even Luca hasn't told him.
Which means… I am the only one who can tell him before the meeting."
Eren looked at her slowly.
"And you will?"
Her answer was heavy—but unwavering.
"I will. Because silence now… would be betrayal."
Mikasa asked quietly,
"And you trust that he won't use it against us?"
Sarah paused before answering.
"I don't trust him…
but I know how he trusts me."
At that very moment, a large raindrop struck the glass of the garden—directly over the reflection of her face.
The piano had not yet been played…
but everyone felt it.
Something deep had already begun.
❖ Layla… and the Piano of the Storm
When the conversation ended, silence settled—
not the silence of relief, but the kind where everyone holds their breath at the edge of something larger than words.
Layla stepped quietly toward the old piano.
She said nothing.
She simply sat, letting her fingers drift lightly across the keys… as though awakening an ancient memory.
Then, without introduction, the melody began to flow.
Low, resonant notes rose as if from the heart of the earth itself—warm, deep, like an embrace in the middle of rain. Each note touched something buried within them, something nameless.
The rain continued to fall, but now it seemed to dance with the music.
No one spoke.
Eren closed his eyes, as though trying to convince himself this was not a dream.
Mikasa looked at her hand, then at the window, as if she had heard within the melody a confession never spoken.
Armin sat on the floor, resting his head in his palms, breathing in the sound.
For once, Hange did not comment. She only smiled softly and closed her eyes.
And Levi… remained still.
Yet in that moment, between the piano keys and the pulse of the earth, he felt something slip through the crack he had long kept sealed—
something he could not drive away, and did not dare name.
He looked at Sarah, seated across the room.
Half her face bathed in shadow, half in light.
She did not turn toward him…
but she knew he was watching.
Jean leaned toward Connie with a crooked smile.
"I think music might be Levi's weakness."
Connie smiled faintly.
"Or maybe… the one he listens with."
The piano continued, as if Layla were telling a story she had no voice to speak aloud.
And between every note, an unspoken message was written:
What is coming… will require a living heart, not only a weapon.
When the final note faded,
no one spoke.
Because silence was the only answer possible.
❖ Between Luca and Hange — In the Corridors of Secrets
After the music ended, Hange slipped quietly from the winter garden.
She walked into the side corridor leading to the library, where Luca stood examining a row of old books.
Hange's voice was light—but direct.
"I said I wanted a book… but the truth is, I want an answer."
Luca turned toward her.
"An answer? About what?"
She stepped closer, meeting his gaze steadily.
"About Sarah. Or her father. Or anything that explains why your voice trembles every time Jalal's name is spoken."
For a moment, Luca froze. His eyes shifted away, as though she had placed a weight upon him he did not wish to carry.
"This secret… is not meant for her to know."
Hange raised an eyebrow.
"Why? Because she'll chase it?"
Luca looked away, his voice lowering.
"Because if she learns it… she will begin digging. And Sarah does not dig with a cold mind—she digs with her heart. And if she digs… she will find something. It may be a myth. It may be a curse. Or it may be a truth capable of changing the world."
A heavy silence filled the library. The rain fell outside, but between them… another rain was falling, soundless and unseen.
Hange's voice softened.
"Did Jalal know?"
After a long pause, Luca answered.
"Jalal… was the one who began digging."
Hange hesitated.
"Does Willy Tybur know?"
Luca did not answer immediately. He inhaled slowly and lifted his eyes toward a narrow window in the corridor, as if searching for the reply there.
"Yes. He knows."
Shock crossed Hange's face. She stepped back slightly, as though the wall behind her had shifted.
"If Tybur knows… then this isn't just about Sarah. This concerns Marley. Eldia. Everything."
Luca's voice grew heavy, as though he were carving a grave out of words.
"That is why I hid it from her. And why it must remain here, within these walls, until the time is right."
Hange looked at him—without her usual laughter, without the playful spark.
"I didn't ask for a story to entertain me, Luca. If Sarah is part of something greater, she deserves to know. And so do we."
Luca lowered his head, then spoke as though handing over the keys to an underground city.
"Come tonight… after everyone is asleep. I will tell you everything. But no one else must hear it. Not yet."
❖ The Sitting Room — After the Rain
The piano had fallen silent, yet its echo lingered in the air, as if a rare calm had finally found its way to them.
For a brief moment, they felt like ordinary people—not soldiers, not spies, not shoulders burdened with survival.
Sarah was the one who broke the stillness.
Her voice was gentle, yet carried the tone of a commander.
Sarah:
"We need to prepare. We'll require proper attire for the meeting the day after tomorrow… at Willy's palace."
Layla glanced at her quickly, then at the others. Mikasa straightened in her seat with quiet composure, while Sasha's face lit up almost instantly.
Sasha (half amazed):
"Tonight? So we're going to the market?"
Mikasa (firmly):
"We need to look prepared… not worn down."
Connie scratched his head, uncertain.
Connie:
"But isn't this just a meeting? Why do we have to wear… anything other than our uniforms?"
Sarah's gaze moved slowly across them.
Sarah:
"Because Willy Tybur doesn't hold meetings. He stages performances. He turns every detail into a political statement. Our clothes, our posture, even the way we stand… all of it will be read."
Armin's voice came thoughtful and low.
Armin:
"He won't just be speaking to us… he'll be speaking to the world through us."
Jean:
"Understood. We're the décor that mustn't collapse mid-show."
Sarah's eyes sharpened.
Sarah:
"No. We're the fortress that must show no cracks."
A brief silence settled—until Levi's voice came from the corner, steady as steel.
Levi:
"You know him that well?"
Sarah met his gaze without flinching.
Sarah:
"It was part of my mission. Willy does not forget. He does not forgive. He does not hesitate. He is the kind of enemy who smiles while setting the trap… then stands beside you to make sure you fall."
Layla rose slowly.
Layla:
"We've seen him from the inside. Sarah and I… we entered his palace many times. Every banquet was a lesson in manipulation. Weakness isn't forgiven there—it's displayed."
Eren narrowed his eyes.
Eren:
"That means every movement will be a test."
Mikasa:
"And every word will be remembered—and used later."
Armin nodded faintly.
Armin:
"Then we must appear as we are… but in a way that gives no one the right to read our fragility."
Sasha sighed dramatically and stood.
Sasha:
"I never thought buying a coat would feel like preparing for war."
Jean rose beside her.
Jean:
"Better that… than being used as a symbol of the island's 'primitive' image."
Connie gave a crooked smile.
Connie:
"I just don't want to look like I walked straight out of a training basement."
Layla adjusted her coat, her voice calm but urgent.
Layla:
"The markets will close by dusk."
Sarah glanced toward the hallway.
Sarah:
"Hange is still in the library with Luca. We'll inform one of the servants to prepare for our departure."
Levi slipped on his coat.
Levi:
"Ten minutes. At the entrance."
This was not merely a trip to purchase clothes.
It was a declaration.
They would stand on Willy Tybur's political stage—
and they would not be the props.
❖ Evening – The Luxury Market
As the sky dimmed into a deep indigo, the carriage came to a halt before an elegant boutique in the heart of the city. Stone columns framed its entrance, and polished windows reflected the lights like mirrors of a world that did not quite belong to them.
The shop felt unfamiliar—refined, hushed, almost ceremonial. The scent of fine fabric and polished wood lingered in the air. The garments were displayed with such care it seemed they were not selling clothes… but invisible armor.
Jean stared at a price tag as if it had personally insulted him.
Jean (under his breath):
"Are these numbers real? I've seen smaller figures in the Garrison's budget."
Connie glanced around nervously.
Connie:
"I hope they don't charge us just for breathing in here…"
Sarah said nothing. Instead, she moved gracefully between the racks, selecting, adjusting, directing. She knew exactly what she wanted—as if she were dressing them in words that would later be spoken.
Sarah (firm yet warm):
"Appearance isn't a luxury here. It's a weapon. Every button, every fold, every color—it's a political statement."
Layla assisted her with quiet precision. She wasn't simply choosing what suited them—she was preserving their dignity in a world eager to strip it away.
In the corner, Levi observed in silence. He did not need to try on much; what Sarah selected for him fit as though it had been made with him in mind.
Eren looked as if he wore resolve more than fabric.
Armin chose attire that highlighted his calm intelligence.
Jean, despite his complaints, stood like a man preparing for a different kind of battlefield.
Connie kept tugging at his collar as though it were conspiring against him.
Mikasa and Sasha carried a delicate blend of shyness and newfound confidence—as if they had stepped through a door that had long remained closed.
They left at last, hands filled with bags and an unusual silence. They had not merely bought clothing.
They had rehearsed becoming, even for a moment, part of a game designed by others—
yet they entered it bearing the weight of their convictions, and eyes that understood dignity cannot be stitched with cheap thread.
❖ Dinner at a Fast-Food Restaurant – Marley
After hours of selecting, debating, and exchanging sharp remarks, everyone assumed the day had reached its end—until Sarah suddenly stopped in front of a modest restaurant, fragrant smoke curling into the cool air.
The aroma was rich, unfamiliar… inviting.
Sarah (gesturing lightly):
"This is it. Marley's finest civilizational achievement: fast food."
Sasha stepped forward, wide-eyed. She studied the menu board for a moment before placing both hands dramatically on the counter, as if discovering treasure.
Sasha (voice trembling with joy):
"Is this… heaven? I want everything. Everything."
Connie laughed, eyeing the trays.
Connie:
"We'll need a second Survey Corps just to carry your order."
Hange grabbed a plate of fries, staring at it as though she had discovered a new chemical element.
Hange:
"Fried potatoes… the true engine of societal progress!"
Jean scoffed lightly.
Jean:
"We're on a diplomatic mission, not a school outing."
Armin smiled softly.
Armin:
"Maybe we need this… a moment where we don't look like instruments of war."
Laughter followed—not loud, but genuine. Even Levi, seated quietly in the corner observing them all, allowed the faintest smile to touch his lips.
Barely visible.
But real.
❖ Return to the Palace – Beneath the Glow of the Fireplace
By the time they returned to the palace, evening had quietly surrendered to night. The fireplace crackled gently, casting a soft amber glow across the room. Trays of warm drinks rested on the table. It was neither a meeting nor a strategy session—just a rare evening of fragile peace.
Sasha stood before the dartboard, focused as though facing an enemy line.
Sasha (confidently):
"If I hit the center, I want a reward. I don't know… maybe another pizza?"
Connie (laughing):
"The problem is you're asking for the reward before you've even thrown!"
Mikasa (calmly):
"Let me show you how to hit the target… without eating the darts."
On the other side of the room, Hange sat across from Levi at a chessboard, her eyes gleaming with playful defiance.
Hange:
"Are you ready to lose?"
Levi (without looking up):
"You've said that five times. You're still in denial."
Layla flipped through the pages of a book in her hands, but her gaze kept drifting to the faces around her—faces worn by war, yet tonight… almost alive for the first time.
❖ Sarah Prepares to Meet Willy Tybur
While laughter echoed from the game room, Sarah stood alone in the opposite wing, preparing in silence.
She wore a tailored, classic dress in deep charcoal gray, accented with a black silk bow at the collar. A refined black hat crowned her look, adorned with a delicate ribbon and subtle beading. Soft velvet gloves completed the ensemble.
She looked as though she had stepped out of a noble portrait… or from the pages of an old novel.
But her eyes did not shine with decoration.
They shone with resolve.
She entered the room with steady, confident steps—and everyone fell silent.
Jean let out a low whistle.
Jean (teasing):
"Are we attending a political summit… or a royal gala?"
Connie (whispering mischievously):
"If Levi sees this properly… his blood is going to boil."
Levi was already standing by the door. He had been watching her from the moment she entered. He said nothing. He did not move. But his eyes were rigid—as though something had slipped from his grasp.
Then he spoke, his tone calm… yet tightly wound.
Levi:
"You're going out at this hour? Alone? …I don't like this decision."
Sarah (steadily):
"Late hours are safer. Willy will have finished his obligations. Fewer eyes on the road."
Levi stepped closer, his voice sharpening.
Levi:
"That doesn't matter. You're going to Willy Tybur—not to a café on the corner."
Hange approached quietly and placed a hand on Levi's shoulder, trying to ease the tension.
Hange:
"Let her go, Levi. She knows what she's doing."
But Levi did not move.
Luca intervened as well, noticing the tightening in the captain's expression.
Luca (reassuringly):
"Tybur wouldn't dare do anything reckless. He knows exactly who our family is."
Levi did not reply. Yet his gaze remained troubled.
When Sarah turned to leave, he followed her out into the back courtyard.
She walked calmly toward the car. He moved ahead of her by a few steps, then turned to face her.
Levi (low, but deep):
"Listen to me… Don't promise him anything. Don't let him see you weak. And don't react to his threats—whatever they are."
Sarah (softly):
"I know, Levi… but I have to be diplomatic."
They stood before the open car door.
He looked at her face for a long moment.
Then, suddenly, he lifted his hand.
With his fingers, he gently brushed across her lips—wiping away the red trace of lipstick in one smooth motion.
His voice dropped even lower.
Levi:
"Don't go to him looking like you're something to claim."
For a heartbeat, the world stilled between them.
His hand lingered only a second longer than necessary—then withdrew.
"Go as yourself," he added quietly.
"Not as something he thinks he can own."
Sarah's breath trembled, her heart pounding without reason. She looked at him in stunned disbelief.
Levi leaned closer, his voice rough, almost breaking beneath its restraint.
Levi (hoarse whisper):
"There's no need to dress up for him…
or I'll have to come with you…
and kill him myself."
Then he turned away slowly.
He let her step into the car.
But he remained there—still, unmoving—
as if his heart refused to retreat before his eyes had extinguished every possible threat.
The car rolled down the wet stone path, its wheels whispering against the rain-darkened ground.
Its departure left behind unfinished footsteps… and something heavier.
Inside the palace, silence settled.
No one asked about Sarah.
But every pair of eyes carried the same unspoken thought:
This meeting… will not pass without breaking something.
Perhaps trust.
Perhaps secrets.
Perhaps… peace itself.
Levi stayed at the entrance beneath a sky turning gray with the first fragile stars.
He knew Sarah would not return as she had left.
And the night that ruled Marley was no longer an ordinary night.
It felt like the breath before rain falls—
everything calm,
everything intact,
yet everyone waiting… for lightning.
Flashback — "An Embrace That Refused to Fade"
Location: Levi's room, past midnight
Time: Moments after he had held her
The room lay in darkness, broken only by threads of moonlight slipping through the window—as though searching for someone to comfort in solitude.
Levi sat at the edge of his bed, head lowered, hands resting on his knees.
They trembled.
Not from fear.
From memory.
Her shoulders beneath his palms.
The warmth of her breath against his chest.
The way her body had shaken when she leaned into him—as though he were the last wall left standing.
He dragged a hand down his face and whispered:
"She wasn't crying just from fear…
She was crying because of me too.
Because she thought I might disappear like the rest."
He closed his eyes.
And the past tore open without mercy.
Erwin—giving his final command at the edge of death.
Isabel—her laughter still echoing long after she was gone.
Petra—words he never spoke in time.
Ghosts.
Every one of them a wound that had never fully sealed.
He opened his eyes slowly and looked at the empty chair across the room.
There had always been something missing in his life.
But he hadn't realized what it was.
He hadn't been held… in a very long time.
"I'm not the one who gets held.
I'm the one who stays standing when everyone else falls.
I'm the one forced to survive."
Yet tonight…
he had been something else.
He had been human.
"When I held her…
it was the first time in years I didn't feel alone."
He remembered how she clung to him.
How she had felt safe in his arms—though he barely knew how to offer safety at all.
He hadn't heard all her trembling words.
But his heart had.
Levi rose and moved to the window, pressing his forehead against the cold glass.
He closed his eyes again and spoke inwardly, as though sealing a vow:
"If Willy tries to take her from me…
I won't fight as a soldier."
His jaw tightened.
"I'll fight as a man… who loves."
Then he lifted his head.
His steady eyes shimmered in a quiet shade of ash—
a color that held longing,
and pain,
and a vow that needed no words.