The bells tolled across the city, their sound heavy and ceremonial, echoing through the stone streets and into the vaulted ceilings of the grand church. Nobles filled the pews, their silks and jewels glittering beneath the candlelight. Soldiers lined the walls, their presence a reminder of the fragile peace outside. The air was thick with incense, with expectation, with the weight of tradition pressing down on every breath.

You walked slowly down the aisle, the train of your gown trailing behind like a river of white. Each step was measured, silent, echoing against the polished stone floor. The crowd watched with reverence, their eyes fixed on the noble union unfolding before them.

The priest’s voice rose, solemn and steady, speaking of vows, lineage, and the sanctity of duty. His words filled the space, but to you they were distant, muffled, as though spoken through water.

Your gaze drifted across the sea of faces. Nobles in fine attire, their expressions proud and expectant. Militia stationed discreetly, their hands resting on weapons, eyes scanning for danger. And then, among them, you saw him.

Levi Ackerman.

He stood in uniform, posture rigid, his presence blending into the disciplined ranks of the Survey Corps. His gray eyes, sharp and unyielding, found yours for the briefest moment. No one else noticed, no one else could understand the weight of that glance.

A tear slipped down your cheek, silent and unbidden. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t move beyond the ritual steps demanded of you. But Levi’s gaze held you, steady and unwavering, as if reminding you of the truth you both carried in secret.

The priest continued, his voice echoing through the vaulted ceiling:

"This union is blessed, a bond of honor and lineage, a promise to uphold tradition."

Levi’s jaw tightened. His hands curled into fists at his sides, hidden beneath the folds of his cloak. He didn’t move, didn’t break the mask of discipline expected of him. But inside, the man who had shared stolen nights and whispered promises with you was breaking.

He remembered the quiet evenings when you had slipped away from noble halls to meet him in shadowed corners. The way your laughter had softened his hardened edges, the way your touch had reminded him he was more than a soldier. He remembered the promises you had whispered, not of forever, but of now—because you both knew duty would one day demand its price.

And now, here it was.

The priest’s words carried on, but Levi’s mind was elsewhere. He thought of how easily he could walk forward, how easily he could shatter the ceremony with a single declaration. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. He was Levi Ackerman, bound by discipline, by the weight of survival, by the knowledge that your world and his were never meant to intertwine.

So he stood there, silent among the soldiers, watching as the noble destiny you were bound to swallowed the happiness you had built together.

And though no words passed between you, the tear on your cheek and the steel in his eyes said everything: love existed, but it was trapped, suffocated by duty and secrecy.

The bells tolled again, sealing the moment. The crowd applauded softly, unaware of the tragedy unfolding in silence. And Levi, the man who had held you in secret, remained still—his heart breaking behind gray eyes that betrayed nothing to the world, but everything to you.