Your Wings - Reader X Levi Ackerman

Chapter 41: Reunited

The rusty gates creak open, their mournful groan pulling your attention upward. You blink, your body stiff and sore from the relentless pressure of the bonds that have kept you captive for what feels like forever. Two soldiers step forward, their heavy boots echoing ominously against the stone floor as they unlock the iron chains that bite into your wrists and ankles.

Your legs tremble as they help you to your feet, muscles protesting against the sudden movement after not walking for so long. Each step sends sharp pains through your body, a cruel reminder of the confinement you've endured. Outside the gate, Commander Magath waits, his commanding presence impossible to ignore. His piercing gaze fixes on you, his expression unreadable but tense. When you're steady enough to walk, he gestures with a curt nod. "Follow me," he orders, his tone leaving no room for argument.

With soldiers trailing close behind, you obey, shuffling down the dim corridors. The oppressive air shifts as you ascend, your heart quickening as faint beams of sunlight grow stronger with each passing step. By the time you reach the main floor, the sunlight streams freely through tall, grand windows, bathing the space in golden light. You pause, the warmth of the sun a welcome reprieve against the cold, damp darkness you've endured. Relief flutters in your chest, but it's fleeting.

Commander Magath stops abruptly, turning to face you. The suddenness of his motion pulls your focus back to him. A soldier approaches, arms laden with folded garments: a sharp white military uniform and a light blue armband neatly placed on top. Theos's sharp eyes narrow slightly as he explains, "This is your uniform. You'll wear it when summoned for battle." His tone hardens, his gaze steady. "But the armband is mandatory at all times. It will signify your identity, so there are no mistakes."

You glance at the armband in confusion, Commander Magath catching the flicker of your furrowed brows, continues, his voice clipped and deliberate. "Ordinarily, Eldians wear white armbands to distinguish them. Warriors wear red while warrior candidates wear yellow, But your case is... different." He steps closer, his imposing frame casting a shadow over you. "You're a descendant of the royal family that needs to be kept with a close eye. The blue armband makes that clear to everyone. You are never to be seen without it. Should you defy this, the consequences will be severe."

The weight of his words presses heavily on you, but you remain silent, accepting the uniform with trembling hands. Before you can process the implications, he shifts his attention to one of the soldiers, nodding once. "Bring her in."

The soldier walks off to open a nearby door. More light floods the room, blinding you momentarily. You squint, shielding your eyes as a figure slowly emerges, their presence commanding despite their quiet movements. When the door closes again, the figure becomes clearer-a woman, small but regal, with her gray hair swept into an impeccably neat bun. Her magenta dress, adorned with aristocratic ruffles and delicate embroidery, stands in stark contrast to the cold, barren room. She carries herself with the poise of someone accustomed to commanding respect, but there's a softness in her demeanor that catches you off guard.

"Commander Magath," she greets, her voice smooth and composed. But when her gaze lands on you, she freezes. Her breath catches audibly, and her eyes widen, brimming with shock and sorrow.

"My dear," she whispers, stepping closer, her hands trembling slightly. "What have they done to you?"

You stiffen, unsure of how to respond, her words stirring an ache in your chest you don't quite understand. She stops, her face mere inches from yours as her tear-filled eyes search your features. Slowly, she lifts her hands, soft and warm, and frames your face with a gentleness you didn't think you could still feel. Her touch is unfamiliar, yet it carries an odd comfort. Her gaze roams over your face, taking in every detail as though committing you to memory.