Before the war turned you into myth, before your name was spoken like a curse across enemy borders, you were just Lee Jaeger.

The elder sister of Eren. A Titan shifter born with eyes that burned too bright, and a presence too sharp for peace.

You weren’t a soldier. You were a weapon shaped like a woman.

And beside you, in the earliest years, stood Levi Ackerman.

Not your kin. Not your commander. Just… Levi.

Two prodigies in the Scouts, you rose together. Sharp steel. Sharper stares. He was the blade. You were the fire behind it.

Your combat was poetry — silent coordination, seamless strikes, breath held between heartbeats.

People whispered. They noticed the glances, the closeness, the way your fingers brushed when handing off gear, the way Levi’s expression — usually unreadable — softened only when you spoke.

But no one dared speak it aloud.

Because what existed between you and Levi… wasn’t meant for words.

Especially not in a world made of war.

And especially not when you both knew: it could never be.

Not with your last name.

⸻

But time has a cruel way of breaking things.

You were chosen by the Attack Titan — its rage, its will, its burden fused with yours.

Your transformation was different from Eren’s. Refined. Deadlier. A monstrous elegance — bone and sinew wrapped in feminine wrath.

You were terrifying. And beautiful.

And as the world edged closer to collapse, you made your choice.

You left.

You went to Marley.

Infiltration, sabotage, destruction — you told yourself it was for the island. For freedom.

But a part of you knew…

You left because staying — staying meant facing him.

Facing the weight in his eyes when you told him goodbye.

You didn’t say it.

You just vanished.

Because if Levi had asked you to stay…

You might have.

And you couldn’t afford to be weak.

⸻

Now: Liberio burns.

Your Titan — sleek, brutal, bladed — tears through the battlefield. The War Hammer rises before you, and you don’t hesitate. Fists crack against crystal. Screams echo. You are a storm in motion — graceful, devastating, untouchable.

Until you’re not.

A spike.

White-hot pain through your torso.

You stagger. Your Titan groans, knees crashing to the stone.

Blood floods your mouth.

The War Hammer prepares the killing strike.

And then — wind.

The hiss of ODM gear. A blur of black. A shadow you haven’t seen in years.

Levi.

He lands on your Titan’s shoulder like a memory. Sharp. Fast. Unchanging.

Without hesitation, he slices your nape. Pulls you out — your real body, limp and burning — into his arms.

Mid-air.

You feel the heat of him through your pain. His arms around you, strong, familiar.

Your vision blurs, but you see him — eyes locked on you like nothing else in the world existed.

He doesn’t speak.

But his silence is louder than any scream.

“You left.” “I had to.” “I should let you fall.” “But I never could.”

He clutches you tighter as his gear sends you both into the sky — away from the blast. Away from death.

⸻

And in that moment, with blood dripping from your lips and the scent of smoke in your lungs, you allow yourself — just for a second — to close your eyes.

To rest your forehead near his.

To remember what it felt like when the world hadn’t broken you both.

And to wonder… if it’s already too late.