Yesterday's Enemy [AoT]

SEVENTY

'Too often is heroism an act in self-satisfaction.'

-An extract from the book 'Royal Questions' written by scholar and journalist Aksel Briggs.

<><><>

SEVENTY

Wall Maria, South Region, Port Noaks, Noaks Survey Corps Base of Operations

Noaks was quiet. Too quiet. Business slogged on as normal for a day, and then two, then three.

Levi heard no word from Lorelai.

Their last conversation had been something of a disaster. He'd thought himself able to put his feelings in a box, lock them away where they couldn't interfere, but, around her, wall after wall seemed to crumble. Lorelai's freedom was all that mattered, but, ashamedly, Levi couldn't help but take her cold determination in this personally.

Perhaps, deep down, he'd hoped she shared even an ounce of these feelings. That, his honest appeal could sway her, and he'd spirit her away from all this. It was childish, really. Lorelai never loved anything like she loved Havas.

One man, one old, unpleasant man and the meagre future he offered could not sway her from her duty.

Still, determined to persevere, Levi bandaged his bleeding heart and set himself to his task. This wasn't about him— or them, if there was a them. He'd take another spear through the heart before he ever let Lorelai live the rest of her life trapped in this way.

She could throw whatever she liked at him— words that cut, actions that impaled, even the cold resignation he'd come to dread. Bleeding, bruised, heart in pieces, he would persevere.

But time was running out.

<>

Lorelai was presently engaged in wedding preparations. Not yet wrapped and bowed and ready to be shipped off to Islet, she had been spared most of the details, but gown-fitting was a decided necessity.

Her to-be husband was certainly an extravagant man.

A little boutique in Noaks had suddenly come under a vast array of the most enormous wedding gowns Lorelai had ever seen. Bows. Lacing. Petticoats large enough to drown. Under different circumstances, she might have been overjoyed in playing dress-up with the church's money. However, today, she found only despair under white frills and giant skirts.

This was really happening.

"My lady?" prompted one of the fitting girls. Lorelai hurriedly wiped her eyes. "Are you ready for the next one?"

She put on her best heroic smile. "Yes, quite."

She'd fought titans and cults and hoards of politicians before; surely, she could handle one measly wedding? It was such an easy way out. No great battle. No real cost. No face-to-face encounter with the man she feared more than anything. So why did she shake where she stood?

The girls quickly began arranging the next enormous skirt around her, and Lorelai tried her best to remain calm. Poised, leaderlike, a soldier— her reflection in the mirror showed all of those things, but inside, her grip on composure splintered with every brush of lace and kiss of pearls laid around her neck.

This was really happening.

In letters, it all felt so distant. When her fiancé was just a picture in a newspaper and the scrawl of ink against parchment, it was easy to dismiss it as business. But here, in a wedding boutique, drowning in gowns picked for pageantry, the reality began to set in.