The Rebel Nightingale (Levi x OC)

Chapter 2

Nightingale's POV

I slept for most of the journey in the carriage, being awakened by stops between walls and the bumps on the road. When I was not asleep, I would try to read my beloved books, but I found myself more than often contemplating the beautiful scenery of nature. I would unconsciously peek from the wooden frames, beyond the white curtains covering the carriage.
The driver had vaguely informed me we were headed to the Training Corps ground, where I will be put into the 104th division of training soldiers. All of this experience seemed... surreal to me. I never thought I would actually do it, yet here I am. For starters, I still do not understand how the man in the booth let me enlist so easily. I was afraid I had to lie to him and say I was a widow. Women are mostly not taken seriously, especially when they are single or married. Single means your father decided for you, and married means your husband was your thinking mind. Yet, widowed women are taken more seriously, as if they earned the right to conduct their lives more freely just because their spouse is dead and can no longer order them around, leaving them to survive by themselves in this unfair world ruled by money and monarchy. I know this is more common for the higher class because of the importance given to social rumors. Lower classes are less controlled on this subject, which may be the reason why I was accepted easily by faking a working status. If I am confronted with a dilemma of this sort, I believe I will choose being a widow. If I were to be married, my papers would be considered as fake, since I am written as "Ms." and not "Mrs." Also, I want to be respected there as a woman and not a teenage girl, so single is not an option. Ms. Fräeser... the name could not disappear from my train of thought. My husband, what kind of man would he have been? A kind and gentle one, or an idiotic brute? If I am to marry someone, he should definitely not have the last two features. Mr. Fräeser would have been a gentleman, and have had overflowing compassion and patience. He would have liked literature and poetry, and have found beauty in the human body -as in its insides, not the lustful picture of skin only. He would have been a modest, hardworking man that knew the importance of money but put his family and other important things first, as everyone should. Thinking about it, he would have been a blacksmith. His pale hands would always be rough because of his work and, still, somehow feel soft and delicate when my hand held his. He would have been a man with short black hair, black eyes and a strong body -but not covered in bulked-up muscles. He would not have died by hurting someone else. He would have died thanks to a natural cause, such as lung complications. Our love story would have started at the hospital, where he was wounded and I took care of his injuries. We would have married in a humble church and he would have been buried inside a simple wooden coffin. That was a fairly normal story, easy to accept. I would sometimes fantasize about an alter reality where I actually got to be the bride of the blacksmith. I imagined my daily life alongside Mr. Fräeser; him working in the blacksmith shop and me working in the hospital as nurse and cleaning lady. After a whole day of hard work, I would return home and cook dinner for the both of us. Then we would feast on what little we had and sleep in the same bed, still cuddled like teenager lovers, being rocked away to sleep by the sound of our heartbeats. I imagined the immense pain and suffering I would have had to go through when he passed away. The death of a trully good man is grieved by everyone, especially the ones that hold him dear. I would have almost fallen into a black hole of nothingness and desperation, but my work and his memory kept me going. This fictional story-making was a good exercise in my opinion, first to adopt the personality of a widowed woman if needed to and, second, to not let my imagination fall into a forgotten island and get full of dust.
I started thinking that I should change the way I speak. Normal people have a more common and laid back language, not the "classy" English I was forced into since birth. If I act too "proper", as to say, I may be caught and sent back to my home for a lifetime of paternal torture. All of this little details led me to try and build up the character for Nightingale Fräeser.
A week passed and I reached the training grounds. There were many carriages heading to where I came from, although I knew they were going to take the alternate route to Wall Maria, to be sacrificed as dogs, and not to Sina or Rose with a palace and a family waiting for them. As my transport stopped, I was helped down by the driver. My feet started walking on the foreign land, over the soil with green and yellowish grass. Many around me just stared and some snickered. I was granted some awful whistles and name-callings, the main one being "rich-bitch". I guess that my outfit, even if belonging to a working class, gave it away since it is of expensive material. I simply ignored them; one thing I know is how to not care about the opinion of the ones you do not care about. I walked firmly towards the elongated house in front of me, which was serving as an office. I entered it quietly, taking in all of my surroundings. I quickly noticed a woman, taller than me with glasses and brown hair, waving at me to come to her. I did so, now having the woman in uniform in front of me. She smiled widely, looking very friendly.

Hange: Hey there! I'm Hange Zoë, squad leader and your interviewer! Let me guess, you are here for being a soldier!

Night: Actually no. I'm here to be a war nurse, with soldier training of course to be able to go outside the walls.

Hange frowned, as if trying to understand me, just like a kid stares at a strange fish in the water.

Hange: Hmm... I see. You are the first one to try to get that place! I'm impressed! So, what is your name? What is your background in medicine?

Night: My name is Nightingale Fräeser. I am a nurse at the hospital of Rose and saved countless lives.

I handed her my papers. She read them carefully, as if trying to decode a secret from them.

Hange: If you come from Rose... why did you do it?

Her change of voice from cheerful to threatening made my heart jump.

Hange: Why did you come, Ms. Fräeser? Is it a fun activity to you? Or maybe a cathartic one?

I swallowed hard and talked with all the determination I had.

Night: I'm here because I strongly believe it is my duty to my people to help the ones in most need. I don't think that someone's class should determine their actions.

For a second I thought I angered her, for she stared at me for a good couple of intense seconds. She then smiled as if nothing happened and even let out a chuckle.

Hange: I like that spirit. You're in! Have fun in the 104th division, nurse!

With that she gave me a uniform known to be of training soldiers. I grabbed it delicately and exited the office. I looked at the white and brown clothing in my hands. This is where I belong now.