Chapter Text
Erwin muses, sometimes, about what could have been.
How different would things be if he'd never become a Scout? If Levi had been born above-ground? If Wall Maria had never fallen, if the Operation had never been approved? If you hadn’t been conscripted by the random pull of a hand, and if he hadn’t opened the Survey Corps’ doors to the conscripts in a futile effort to lessen the blood on his hands?
He isn't happy with it—how everything that led you to each other found its roots in tragedy.
If none of it had happened, would the three of you still have met? Under better circumstances, somewhere far from war? Or would your paths have never crossed again? And if not—would it have been better, to live separate, peaceful lives?
As soon as Erwin says it, the ink smudges where Levi pressed too hard. He curses, but still refuses to look up.
Erwin doesn’t say anything more; he knows Levi never answers him when he gets like this. So he simply watches, hands folded beneath his chin, as Levi’s fingers tighten around the pen, the nib now hovering over the page in hesitation.