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“I would kill for you.”
“Do you mean that, Levi?”
“With all my heart.”
That’s all Erwin needs to hear. From now on, his wishes should be granted in absolution. It pleases him.
He shifts back in his armchair, quite languid on the chesterfield throne. This seat took months to earn, months of forced smiles and murmured nothings as he painstakingly wove a web for his target. The chair isn’t remarkably comfortable, but it will serve as the vantage point from which Erwin will witness the finale of his strategy. He will thoroughly relish the culmination of his work, savoring every second.
“I need to see your dedication,” Erwin states, his tone austere yet tender. He’s mastered this voice, fine-tuning the exact intonation and volume to properly rouse his audience. “I need to be certain, Levi.”
“You think I’m kidding?” Levi throws on his mask of irritation, one that Erwin assumes must be as fabricated as his own. “Nobody in this world matters to me except you. Everyone can die, for all I care. Just give me a target, and I’ll execute. I don’t give a shit who it is.”
He says that now, Erwin thinks. Whether or not he’ll stand by that promise in a moment is uncertain. Inching towards the goal, the Marleyan strategist must roll the dice one more time. He will test Levi’s word.
“That’s all I need to do? State a target?”
“Obviously. I’ll have it done by the end of the night.”
“Very well,” Erwin rumbles, connecting with Levi’s steel eyes in the low lamplight. “I know who I want you to execute.”
“Who?”
“Yourself.”
Levi’s expression is priceless. His body locks up, his folded arms appearing as more of a self-embrace. Erwin can nearly hear his heart drop in his chest as his eyes are blown wide.
For a moment, Erwin takes pleasure in Levi’s shock. Only he can startle the Ackerman like this.
“Shitty joke, Erwin.”
Of course he’ll jump at the chance to rationalize this. He blames any of Erwin’s nonsensical remarks on a twisted sense of humor.
Erwin never intends to be humorous. Surely the Captain would’ve realized this by now.
“I’m not joking.”
“You’d better be,” Levi insists, as if his stubbornness will manipulate reality. “Otherwise I’ll make sure that pretty head of yours is beaten into thinking straight.”
These threats are routine; Erwin does not fear them. Levi is scared and this is simply his coping mechanism.
Levi will be most vulnerable in a position of terror. Erwin’s strategy is moving along smoothly.
“No, you won’t.” Erwin is cold.
Levi hates it.
But, Erwin knows, Levi will do nothing about his hatred. The Ackerman is rather pathetic for Paradis' strongest soldier.
“What’re you getting at, jackass? Just spit it out.”
Levi has caved much sooner than usual, pleading for Erwin’s reasoning when faced with a nonsensical order. He’s panicking since he can’t, no matter how much he tries, figure out what Erwin is scheming this time.
“I did. I want you to kill yourself.”
Erwin wants to triumphantly laugh at his own power. Listen to him, delivering such a devastating command as though he were merely discussing the weather. Only in this situation, alone with the Ackerman he’s been priming for months, can he be so casual about suicide with no repercussions. Levi is too simple to cause trouble.
“Why?” Levi asks, his volume dropping.
He hasn’t said no yet, and thus Erwin is still winning. The steps from here on are procedural.
“I need to see your dedication.”
That twitch in Levi’s eye means he hates the answer. Erwin expects that—there’s no part of this Levi is going to enjoy. That’s not Erwin’s problem.
“I said I’d kill anyone,” Levi reiterates. “That’s—that’s my dedication. I said so.”
“Yes, I heard you.” Erwin knows exactly how much pressure to apply. “But I want to see your dedication, not hear about it.”
“But—” Levi’s own reluctance is more evidence of his loyalty. He hesitates to even talk back, like his brain cannot fathom defying Erwin. It’s astonishing, something that took Erwin a while to get used to.
“Levi.” His target is growing weaker, so Erwin will remain on the offensive. “Did you not hear me?”
“I h-heard you.”
Oh, he stuttered. He’s truly beyond autonomy now. Fear and devotion will puppet his actions according to his idol’s will.
“Then why haven’t you done as I ordered?”
“Because…it’s insane.”
Erwin has to hold back from rolling his eyes. No, what’s insane is professing your love to the enemy. Even more crazed to think they’d honestly reciprocate, or would truly want to court you for months with rehearsed interactions and staged dates. One has to be blind or stupid to fall for that, so Levi must be both.
“No, it’s not.” Erwin grasps Levi’s wrist with both hands, guiding the Ackerman closer. “It’s a demonstration of love. There’s nothing insane about that.”
Erwin turns the pale palm to the ceiling, rubbing a thumb over the skin hardened from war. He flicks off the button on Levi’s shirt cuff, then delicately folds back his sleeve until the fabric bunches just above his elbow. An ivory forearm is exposed, a thin canvas waiting for artwork. Indigo veins channel blood just underneath the skin, weaving over the faint outline of tendons in his wrist.
Levi’s never been more afraid of his own limb. “Erwin,” he pleads, his voice shrinking.
“It’s going to be alright,” Erwin soothes, repeating the process on his other arm. “You’re very strong. I love that about you.”
Warm, broad hands rest on Levi’s chest, coasting down the fabric in search of the pocketed weapon. They find it underneath his waistcoat and bring it into the light, stealing from Levi without hindrance.
“Here.” Erwin presses the switchblade into Levi’s hand, swallowing the icy fingers with his own. He squeezes, withholding a wince from the stinging chill of Levi’s skin, before uncovering the folded knife. “Open it up for me.”
Levi clenches the knife, frozen as though he’s never wielded a weapon before. In this state, it’s hard to even believe he’s a supernatural soldier. He’s more witless than a toddler.
“You know how to open the blade, don’t you?” Erwin asks. “This is your knife, after all.”
With a shredded heart, Levi rubs a thumb up the face of the handle and depresses into the tiny metallic button. The swish and click of the blade as it springs out of its shell and locks into place seems to startle him.
“There you go.” Erwin’s trained voice remains low, the same sultry level he used when Levi was in his bed, underneath his body. “I want you to put on a pretty show for me, Levi. I’ll watch the whole thing.”
Levi’s in a daze as he stares vacantly at his left wrist. He’s taking his sweet time to comply, irritating Erwin.
Does he need goddamn instructions?
“Start here.” Erwin presses a fingertip into the middle of Levi’s wrist, nestled between two prominent tendons. “And draw a line all the way down. Trace the whole forearm.”
Levi’s eyes are glued to Erwin’s gliding finger, his brain slowing to a halt. He’s been issued shocking commands before, but this is another level. This is inhuman even for him.
“Come on. I want to see you fulfill your promise.”
Hearing his words, Levi seems to come alive just a little. His eyes light up, like they usually do when he realizes something, and he finally reactivates motion in his body.
Erwin’s glad to see the knife tip kiss the starting point, Levi holding the blade in a tense reverse grip. His wish will be granted soon.
“Erwin,” Levi whispers, risking a glance at his deity.
“Yes?”
“This—if I do this, it’ll be enough. Right? I’ll prove myself to you—like you asked. Won’t I?”
He’s quite the helpless child. Always looking to his master for approval.
“Of course, Levi. It will mean the world to me to see you do this. I’ll be very, very proud of you.”
Levi nods once, clinging to that hope. He must make Erwin proud.
Still, the knife is reluctant to break skin. Erwin’s getting impatient.
“Please,” Erwin murmurs, eyes fixed on the blade.
“I will.” Levi’s words are buried in his shaky voice, the Ackerman struggling to find enough courage to begin the process.
He has to commit. In a moment faster than rationality, the knife tears into his skin and slots right between the two tendons. Levi morphs a cry into a stiff scoff, but his eyes are already moist. He might not be as capable of doing this as Erwin initially thought.
Blood seeps out around the half-buried blade, dripping onto the floorboards. Easy to mop up, at least. Erwin evaluates the rupture, thinking up criticisms that need to be delivered tenderly.
“Good start,” he praises. “But you’ll need to go deeper if you don’t want to suffer too long. You said you’d be done by the end of the night.”
Levi’s shaking. Erwin has never seen his victim tremble, ever. Yet another behavior of the Ackerman that only Erwin will bear witness to.
“I’ll—I’ll try.” A wince twists up Levi’s expression as he forces himself to breathe. He shudders every time the blade is nudged and he’s stalling as long as possible before having to continue hollowing out the canyon.
“Keep going. I know you’re strong enough to do this.”
Erwin says that, though he doesn’t fully believe it. Levi can barely handle one stab wound.
An elongated whine thrums behind Levi’s clenched teeth as he drags the blade closer to his body, carving a deep trench in his arm. Skin splits open to reveal glistening blood coating fleshy wires and columns making up the systems of his wrist, everything visible from veins to a glimpse of bone.
He’s not even at the midpoint when his whine heightens to a cry. “Erwin!” he whimpers. “It—it fucking hurts.”
“I know.” Honestly, a soldier whining about pain is downright pathetic. Did he cry like this every time he got nicked on the battlefield? “You’re almost there,” Erwin lies. “Push through it. You’ve dealt with far worse.”
Levi’s body teeters as he forces the knife along, his whole system about to collapse. Blood oozes out in decent quantities now, draining from his forearm and splashing at his feet.
Erwin tsks when he sees a droplet land on the cuff of his dress pants, putting a crimson spot on his khaki slacks. Of all times, now is when Levi chooses to ignore his preference for cleanliness. The devil can’t even die courteously.
Hoping Levi didn’t hear his sound of disappointment, Erwin returns his eyes to the show to find it has nearly reached its conclusion. Levi digs toward the bend in his arm, hunched over and whimpering. The canyon has good depth, hopefully striking a few veins and maybe reaching an artery. The more channels slashed, the better.
But Levi made it—Erwin can’t deny that. The dog deserves a treat.
“Good boy,” he breathes, his eyes shimmering with faux fascination at the self-inflicted trench. “You did so good for me, Levi. I’m impressed.”
“I—fuck—I did it.” Levi wrenches the knife out and stumbles one step back, staring agape at his wound. He looks up at Erwin, quaking and sweating and desperate for mercy. “Erwin. I did it.”
“Hm?” Erwin’s eyes narrow. “Did what?”
“I—I proved myself. S-see? I—look. I did as you asked.”
As if served the wrong meal, Erwin simply shakes his head. “No, you didn’t.”
Levi drops a pained whimper, his eyes welling up. Sweat glazes his face with thick beads rolling down his temples. “Wh-what? But I did! The—the whole forearm—I cut—”
“I instructed you to kill yourself,” Erwin reminds. “Have you done that yet?”
Levi goes still, petrified from shock. Tears escape his eyelids, adding another new image to Erwin’s memory. Levi, crying. The sight is a boost to Erwin’s ego.
“Erwin.” Levi’s knees buckle, landing hard in his own puddle. His arms fall to his sides, blood gushing from one and a dirty knife barely held in the hand of the other. “Erwin—Erwin!”
His name must be synonymous with a curse, Erwin assumes. It’s grating to hear it repeated incessantly.
“Please,” the Ackerman continues, dragging one knee forward. He lurches closer to his master, blood smearing and steel scraping the floor. “I’ll do anything, Erwin. Anything!”
Erwin recoils when a bloody hand grasps his calf, enraged by the wounded mouse soiling his clothes. He collects his temper in an instant and shifts forward, begrudgingly accepting the inconvenience and donning his mask.
“I need to see it.” Stifling a sigh, Erwin rests a broad hand on Levi’s sweat-soaked scalp. “And I haven’t, yet.”
“But I don’t…don’t want to die.” Levi’s face is a platter of sweat and tears as he squints glossy eyes at Erwin. “I don’t want to.”
“Nobody wants to die,” Erwin rumbles, stroking the wet, black crop of hair. “But I haven’t been satisfied. Anything means anything, Levi. Please show me your dedication.”
Levi sobs, his cries choked and weary as he drops his eyes to the knife. “I...I thought this w-was enough. I thought…”
Well, he thought wrong, and he’s stupid for jumping to conclusions. Hadn’t Erwin made his wishes clear? He had no intention of accepting Levi’s cutting as good enough. Grey areas don’t interest him; either the Ackerman will live or die. He craves the latter.
“You haven’t proven anything to me.” Erwin’s safe enough to be sterner, since Levi’s so lost in delusion, pain, and terror that he’s out of mental fortitude to resist. “I instruct you to kill yourself, Levi.”
Levi cries out, some half-assed yell that expels his bubbling despair. “Oh—Erwin—!”
“Will you kill yourself?”
“Yes!” Levi wails, his body convulsing with unstopping tremors. “I will.”
“You’ll what?”
“I’ll kill myself.” Levi bawls into Erwin’s knee, staining the fabric with a far more tolerable fluid.
“Good.” Erwin pointlessly wipes away one tear from the cascade on Levi’s cheek. “I want to see it.”
At this point, it’d be easy enough for Erwin to steal the knife and slash Levi’s throat. That ruins the fun and ends the game, though. Erwin is sure that the Ackerman will be the one to see the task through; there would be no greater accomplishment than driving an Ackerman to voluntary suicide.
“Erwin,” Levi starts up again, like a defective music box that refuses to die. “Wh-what about after? What’ll...happen? After I go?”
Truthfully, Erwin hadn’t really thought about that part. He conjures a fake but pandering answer in less than a second.
“I’ll carry you out of here,” he daydreams. “Then buy you a beautiful coffin. I’ll bury you as you are—covered in the evidence of your love for me. Everything your blood graces will be sacred.”
“M-my grave.” Levi digs fingernails into Erwin’s calf, a painful action that Erwin has to tolerate. “Where will it be?”
“I’ll keep you in Paradis, I promise.” Erwin watches the pool of blood spread around his shiny shoe. “In the Interior. Near where your mother was buried.”
“Thank you,” Levi squeaks, assuaging Erwin. He wasn’t sure if that answer would be satisfactory.
“I’ll build you a mausoleum and I’ll visit every time I come to Paradis. I’ll keep every inch of it absolutely spotless—would you like that?”
“Y-yes.”
“Then let’s make it a reality. Please kill yourself, before the night is up.”
Being reminded of his expectation sends Levi back into a panic. Frankly, the adrenaline should help with the pain—Erwin’s doing him a favor by scaring him. The time for daydreaming is over and the Ackerman needs to get back to work.
“I’ll...die,” Levi promises, peeling his head off Erwin’s knee to glance at his draining arm. “I’ll die soon.”
“Not soon enough.”
This spurs a fresh wave of tears from the Ackerman. Words are so astonishingly powerful, a fact that Erwin knows, utilizes, and thrives upon.
“How?” Levi asks quietly. “H-how can I...?”
Erwin doesn’t know if he should blame this stupidity on blood loss or on Levi’s nature. Maybe both. “Mirror it,” Erwin answers, nodding to the bleeding forearm. “That should be adequate.”
Levi raises his untouched arm, cringing at the blank slate and the knife in his quaking hand. “It—it will hurt—”
“Your arm still works, right? Switch your knife to the other hand. You can do it.”
Levi obeys automatically, terrified but mindless. His gushing arm has enough strength to be brought in front of his chest, where his hands transfer the blade like they’re independently operating organisms.
“Erwin.” Levi extends his clean hand to Erwin, reaching for his cruel god. “Please hold me.”
Erwin wants to turn him down but he doubts Levi will make it unless he’s indulged just a little. Nodding solemnly, Erwin grasps Levi’s hand and rests it near his pelvis, stretching the thin forearm across his lap. It’s poised like an animal awaiting dissection, Levi the timid surgeon.
“Go on,” Erwin urges, exhausted.
Levi nods, stabbing his toes into the ground and sitting on his heels. “Erwin?”
“What?”
Erwin’s snappy tone goes unnoticed by the Ackerman that meets his glare with a longing, sorrowful gaze.
“I love you, Erwin.”
This farce will be over soon. Erwin has to satiate him just a little longer.
“I love you too, Levi.”
The words to please Levi have been spoken. In response, the action to please Erwin must be executed.
Fueled by Erwin’s lie, Levi cocks back the knife and thrusts it sharply into his wrist, shrieking as blood spurts out furiously. With feral screams he furrows down his arm nonstop, dousing either men in a crimson flood as veins and muscles tear apart in the path of his blade. His eyes are crazed and his breathing erratic, but his grip is strong and focused. Erwin watches in awe, ignoring the tortured hand that crushes his. This is the most marvelous sight of all; Erwin will never forget this splendor.
Levi howls as he rips the knife out and flings it aside, then pins both destroyed arms on Erwin’s thighs. “Erwin!” he screams. “I’ve done it, Erwin!”
Erwin winces, his ears slightly ringing from Levi’s volume. He inspects the crimson fountains on his lap, a weary black-haired head hanging low between them. Not a bad sight, he has to admit. It’s messy, but the devil managed to suffer in the most respectful position possible. Kneeling before his god and offering up his wounds. Erwin wouldn’t want it any other way.
“I’ll be satisfied when your heart stops beating.” Erwin leans back in his seat, perching his elbows on the armrests. “Until then, I’m not convinced.”
Levi’s still crying, murmuring pathetically to himself over and over. Erwin makes out his own name a few times, along with shaky I love you’s and similar sentiments. Erwin can’t believe someone so fragile has survived this long.
“Please,” is another frequently uttered word, and Levi spills it as his hands grasp Erwin’s waist, trying to hug it. Fingertips cling to his shirt’s fabric even as they lose strength, using any remaining stamina to connect with his raison d’être. “I love you.”
Erwin sighs. Mentally scolding himself for giving in, he puts his hand back on Levi’s head, petting the sodden hair. He concedes. He will comfort the orphan in his last few minutes of life. He will show a sliver of compassion to a devil, more so than any beast of that nature deserves. Levi ought to thank him.
“You amaze me,” Erwin murmurs. “I’ll give you that.”
Levi doesn’t answer. He’s still mumbling, though it’s rather nonsensical. His hands are out of strength and splayed limply in Erwin’s lap, the rest of his body slowly following suit.
It shouldn’t be much longer now. Erwin can’t even begin to estimate how much blood covers the floor, the chair, and his clothes. The notion frustrates him again for a moment, but he dismisses his irritation due to exhaustion. He’s out of energy to be upset, especially when his target for anger is nearly dead anyways.
The hand on Levi’s scalp creeps down to his jaw, nestling two fingertips just underneath its corner. Erwin feels for a pulse and is pleased to find it’s already quite faint.
Minutes pass in this position. Levi goes quiet eventually.
The sound of dripping blood echoes in the air.
More time drifts by. Erwin loses track of the pulse. He waits.
Once the skin under his fingertip is unnaturally cold, Erwin brings his fingers to the downturned forehead and nudges it.
The body slips from its position and crashes against the floor, limp and lifeless. It does not even twitch.
It’s dead, definitely.
Erwin succeeded. As predicted.
He stands up, rubbing dried blood from his palms while looking over the small corpse at his feet. So much power fit into that frame, but that power was hindered by foolish devotion to a manipulator. The fault of this thing’s demise is its own.
This one was easy. The other might be more challenging, but Erwin will find some way to use her devotion to the Founder against her.
Satisfied, Erwin gingerly steps over the body and exits the room, off to find someone else to clean up the mess.