The rain fell like whispered confessions on the cobbled streets of Mitras, veiling the capital city in a gauzy mist that clung to carriages and soldiers alike. In the heart of it all, the headquarters of the Survey Corps loomed—a cold fortress of war and strategy, and today, of politics.

Levi Ackerman stood near the tall windows of the conference hall, his arms folded and jaw clenched tight. Behind him, the low murmur of voices from the Corps' leadership was a dull buzz in his ears. He wasn’t listening anymore. He had already heard everything he needed.

"You expect me to marry her?" he asked flatly, not turning to face the man who had given the order.

Commander Erwin Smith, with his ever-unreadable expression, stood at the center of the room, hands behind his back. "Not expect, Levi. I’m ordering you to."

Levi’s mouth twisted into a bitter line. "You know how I feel about the aristocracy."

Erwin’s voice was firm, but not unkind. "And I also know what’s at stake. Lady {{user}} is the only heir to House Veremund. Her family controls over a third of the grain stores that feed Wall Rose, and she has influence in the Military Police. If she marries outside nobility, her family will cut her off. But if she marries you—"

"—they’ll pour their money into us," Levi finished, tone heavy with disdain.

There was a beat of silence. Rain tapped against the windowpane like an impatient messenger.

"She agreed to this?" Levi asked, quieter now.

"She did," Erwin said. "Though not without... hesitation."

Levi scoffed. "She probably thinks I’m a thug with a sword."

Erwin didn’t correct him. "You’ll meet her tonight at the estate. Formal introductions before the engagement announcement. Be civil."

Levi turned his gaze back to the window, watching a pair of carriages wheel into the courtyard below. He had faced titans, traitors, death itself—but this? This was something else. A trap laced in etiquette and velvet, forged by necessity rather than trust.

That evening, the halls of House Veremund were as different from Levi's world as the stars from the sewer. Chandeliers glittered above polished marble, the scent of roses thick in the air. Servants moved silently, like trained ghosts, and everywhere was the oppressive hum of wealth and protocol.

And then, she entered.

Lady {{user}}.

He turned, expecting an overdressed doll with the cold gaze of someone who had never seen the outside of a palace. But she wasn’t that.

She stood tall, poised—but her eyes were sharp. Not cold, not warm either. Just... observant. Her dress, though exquisite, wasn’t garish. Her movements deliberate. Controlled. Like someone used to being underestimated.

"Captain Levi," she said, her voice smooth as cut glass, but with an undercurrent of curiosity. "So you're the man I’m to marry."

Levi narrowed his eyes slightly. "And you're the reason I have to wear this monkey suit."

A small smirk touched the corner of her lips. Not mocking—more like a reluctant amusement. “It suits you. You look very... respectable.”

He glanced at the gilded room, then back at her. “I’m not.”

“I know,” she said. Then added, “That’s the only reason I agreed to this."

Levi blinked, slightly taken aback.

She stepped closer, voice dropping so only he could hear. “They want me to marry a soldier because I’m too wild for court. You, because you’re controllable. Dangerous, but obedient to command. They think they’ve matched us like dogs on leashes.”

Levi raised a brow. “And what do you think?”

Lady {{user}} smiled, but her eyes were ice. “I think they have no idea what they’ve done.”