The sky was gray and smelled faintly of rain by the time Levi gathered them again—this time not on a field of drills, but in the shaded courtyard behind HQ. The kind of place soldiers sat between missions, smoke curling from cigarettes, voices low from either exhaustion or caution.
They stood in a loose half-circle in an empty spot—dirt underfoot, a breeze tugging at their cloaks, the low hum of tension in the air. It wasn't quite awkward, not yet. Just unfamiliar.
Levi stood in front of them with arms crossed, expression unreadable. His gaze swept over the group like he was cataloging weaknesses in a wall.
"You'll be working together from now on," he said without preamble. "Don't get in each other's way."
No one spoke.
Levi jerked his chin toward a tall, serious-looking blond man with tired eyes and a soldier's jawline. "Eld's the oldest. He's second in command when I'm not around. Listen to him. When I am around, you'll listen to me."
"Yes, sir," Eld replied, already slipping into the role with practiced ease.
Merlin studied him with mild curiosity. Eld had the air of someone who carried responsibility well—capable, grounded. Trustworthy. He would do nicely.
Levi continued without ceremony.
"Gunther. Reliable. Efficient. Follows orders. Don't make him babysit you."
Gunther nodded, offering a polite smile to the group. Merlin returned it with a lazy one of his own.
"Petra," Levi said. "Don't underestimate her because she's small. She's faster than all of you."
Petra gave a modest shrug, but her eyes flicked over everyone like she was sizing them up.
"And Oluo," Levi finished, tone flat. "Don't copy me."
Oluo scowled. "I wasn't going to."
"You do it all the time."
"I don't—!"
"You're doing it right now," Petra muttered.
Merlin smiled quietly to himself, hands tucked into the small of his back.
Then Levi stepped back, arms still folded, and said simply, "Get to know each other. I'm not here to hold hands."
With that, he stepped away—not far, just close enough to hear, but distant enough to avoid participating. He leaned against a low wall, arms folded again, watching with half-lidded eyes, close enough to supervise, far enough to pretend he wasn't listening.
The group lingered in hesitant silence until Petra broke it.
"Well," she said brightly, "might as well introduce ourselves properly." She looked toward Merlin first. "You already know all of us and we know each other. But we don't really know you."
Merlin tilted his head, the breeze brushing pale strands across his cheek.
"Merlin," he said with an easy smile. "No last name. Just the one. I'm nineteen. I like to learn new things, especially the ones that interest me, but I know I'm new here and haven't killed any titans as of yet… so please take care of me."
Oluo bristled, stepping forward slightly with crossed arms. "Tch. Don't think being pretty'll help you when you freeze up under a Titan's gaze. I'll be the one dragging your sorry ass out of danger. After all, I've killed more Titans than half this regiment."
"Impressive," Merlin said warmly, folding his arms behind his back. "I look forward to learning from you."
Oluo blinked. "Y-Yeah, well… you'll need me, alright? When you freeze up out there, don't worry. I'll cover you."
Merlin tilted his head slightly. "How kind."
"Thank you, Oluo," he said, voice soft, lilting. "I'll be counting on you."
Oluo stiffened. "I-I mean, of course you—uh—yeah."
Merlin didn't stop smiling. Not his usual polite curve of the lips. Not the playful smirk he gave Hange. No—this smile was luminous. Slow. Disarming. Like silk wrapped around a blade, glowing faintly in the fading sun.
He upped the ante, enjoying how Oluo's ears went red. His mouth opened and closed twice before he turned abruptly, muttering something about checking his boots.
Eld cleared his throat while Petra made a sound that might've been a cough or a faint squeak. Gunther chose to look away.
Merlin could even see how Levi's eyes narrowed slightly.
"You're… nineteen?" Petra asked, disbelieving it.
"Allegedly," he said helpfully.
Eld cleared his throat. "Right. Okay. Uh… well. Good to have you, I guess."
Merlin gave a theatrical bow, hair cascading over one shoulder. "The pleasure's mine."
Somewhere nearby, he caught the faintest snort. Levi, maybe. He didn't turn to check, but he made his expression return to something more innocently curious. "So. Shall we get to know each other a bit better? I find teamwork functions best when personalities align."
Petra laughed, still a little dazed. "You sound like Hange."
"I consider that a compliment," Merlin replied cheerfully.
With that, the introductions continued—more grounded now, with Petra gently steering them back to safe territory, Gunther asking about training routines, Eld trying to establish a schedule. But the flustered air lingered.
Merlin didn't press it. He knew what he was. He didn't wield charm like a weapon—at least not here, not yet—but it still worked. Still curled into their minds, left them disarmed.
It wasn't seduction. Not really. It was presence. Intent.
And when he glanced sideways, he could feel Levi's gaze. Sharp. Curious. Measuring.
Not flustered.
Interesting.
.
The sun had crested low behind the treetops, casting long shadows over the training field as they moved.
Rounds.
That's what Levi called them. Not formations. Not simulations. Just rounds. Practice for maneuvering together as a unit. Maintaining spacing. Communication without words. Trust without sight.
They wore their ODM gear, but they weren't flying. Not yet. This was all on foot—running as a team, weaving between obstacles, climbing terrain, working in tandem. Learning how not to get in each other's way.
It'd been a few days since they had started, but Merlin couldn't get over his surprise as he had never done anything quite like it.
They weren't graceful at first.
Petra kept adjusting her stride to match Eld's. Gunther misread Oluo's pace twice and nearly tripped them both. Merlin… well, Merlin flowed too easily. His steps didn't clomp the way the others' did. He didn't stomp so much as drift, dodging roots and uneven earth with too much elegance to blend in.
"Pick up your damn feet," Levi snapped from ahead. "You're not dancing. You're flanking."
Merlin adjusted without argument. His smile stayed, but his steps sharpened.
They repeated the path many times for four consecutive days.
By the fifth day, Petra and Eld were sync'd. Gunther started calling out breath-cues—little grunts and whistles they could match pace to. Oluo stopped looking back to check if anyone was behind him and focused forward.
And Merlin? He stopped floating and started running as part of them.
Levi watched everything. Always just far enough ahead to lead, close enough to bark a correction before someone could fall.
"Eld—straighter line. You're wasting steps."
"Gunther, use your left when you vault. Your right's still bruised."
"Merlin—" A pause. "Stop looking like you enjoy this."
Merlin grinned. "But I do."
Levi muttered something under his breath and kept walking.
.
When they finally paused at the edge of the field to catch their breath. The others clustered near a stack of gear to rehydrate, laughing quietly between panting gulps.
Merlin lingered off to the side, gaze drifting toward Levi—who stood at the perimeter, arms folded, posture like a blade sheathed but still sharp.
He hadn't introduced himself. Not during the squad introductions or before before. Not now.
Merlin hadn't missed that or the way Levi watched them during drills—not like a commander overseeing rookies, but like a man memorizing the shape of ghosts. Mapping new lives over old graves.
He hadn't missed the weight behind the words, either. Not one correction had been cruel. Only precise. Measured to push them to last. To live.
Merlin approached slowly, letting his presence be felt rather than announced.
"You don't walk like someone who trusts easily," he said softly.
Levi didn't look at him. "That supposed to mean something?"
"No," Merlin replied, folding his arms as he leaned against a post beside him. "Just an observation."
They stood in silence. Wind rustled through the trees. Someone laughed—Petra, probably.
"They'll get better," Merlin added after a moment. "All of us. Together."
Levi's jaw ticked. "You'd better."
Merlin turned his head slightly, watching him. "You didn't introduce yourself."
Levi's eyes flicked toward him, sharp and brief. "Didn't feel the need."
Merlin shrugged lightly. "That's fair."
The silence stretched, filled with wind and the sound of distant laughter from the rest of the squad. The world beyond the trees was quiet. The kind of quiet that invited conversation—or interrogation.
Levi opted for something in between.
"You don't sleep in the barracks."
It wasn't a question. Merlin tilted his head slightly, gaze still soft, but cautious now. "You've been watching."
"You make it easy," Levi said. "No one's that quiet without trying."
Merlin sighed, not quite heavily. "I don't like walls."
Levi's eyes narrowed. "Try again."
Merlin smiled faintly. "Alright. I prefer sleeping outside. There's… something steady about the sky. I like the stars."
Another pause. Levi's gaze didn't waver. Merlin didn't lie, but he didn't elaborate either, because the truth—the real truth—was messier.
That he didn't sleep much at all. And when he did, dreams came. Shimmering, bleeding things. Fragments of futures that weren't his, battles not yet fought, kings not yet crowned, Titans that wept in their own skin. Futures of fire and death and loneliness that cut too deep to be just echoes.
And when those dreams came, he couldn't always keep his voice down.
So, he wandered, preferring to not sleep. It was not like he needed it, after all. So, he rested under the stars where only the wind could hear him.
"It's easier to breathe out there," he said instead, truth wrapped in poetry.
Levi made a small, unreadable noise. "Hmph."
Another beat of silence.
"You stick to Hange a lot," Levi said. "Most people don't."
Merlin chuckled at that. "That's because most people don't understand how brilliant they are."
Levi gave him a look.
"They're fascinating," Merlin went on, eyes lighting up. "Wild, chaotic, constantly asking the wrong questions in exactly the right direction. Their mind moves like wildfire." He paused, then added, more softly, "Not as fascinating as you, of course. But still—remarkable."
That earned him a longer stare.
Merlin met it without flinching, his voice velvet-smooth. "I didn't mean that as a flirt, by the way. Or maybe I did. Hard to say. But I meant it."
Levi didn't blink. "You think everyone's fascinating."
"No," Merlin said simply. "Most people bore me."
A flicker. Not quite surprise—but interest. Levi leaned back slightly against the post, arms still folded.
"You're strange."
"I've been called worse."
"You're too graceful to be from around here."
"I've been called that too."
Levi tilted his head. "Where are you from?"
Merlin hesitated—but only for a second.
"In a really faraway place," he said, and let the truth of it sit between them.
He watched Levi absorb that—not dismiss it, not mock it. Just accept it the way a soldier accepts a wound: noted, not ignored.
"You're not a soldier," Levi said at last.
Merlin smiled, slower now. "I'm learning."
Levi didn't respond immediately, but his eyes dropped—briefly—to Merlin's hands. Long fingers, lightly calloused, not quite right for ODM controls. Made for something older. Something else.
And yet—here Merlin was. Running, not quite sweating, training beside them. Not once asking for special treatment. Not once stepping back.
"Why join us?" Levi asked.
Merlin's voice lowered. "I was curious about the titans and wanted to see what kind of world needed walls this high just to hide from them."
That made Levi pause.
Merlin looked away, gaze tilting toward the darkening sky. "And because I wanted to find the ones who'd still choose to fight, even when the world said not to."
Silence again. He didn't expect praise. Levi wasn't the type. But when he looked back, Levi was still there. Still watching and somehow, still listening.
Merlin smiled, more to himself this time. "You've asked a lot of questions. Want to trade?"
Levi quirked a brow. "What, you gonna ask me how I sleep?"
"I already know that," Merlin murmured. "Not well."
He didn't say why he knew. That sometimes in the very edge of dreams, when his magic trembled loose, he could sense the coil of grief of other's dreams, like Levi's which hit his chest like a blade that never stopped twisting. He didn't say how often he heard the name of people that no longer breathed, whispered in the dark.
Instead, he just smiled again. "But no. I was going to ask for your favorite tea."
Levi stared. "…Tch. Black. Unsweetened. No leaves left floating in it."
Merlin's grin widened. "How very on-brand."
"Shut up."
"I'm serious. You just saved me from a faux pas next time I brew a cup."
Levi looked at him for a long moment. Then he tsked. "As if you know how to brew."
Merlin tilted his head. "Of course, I do. What kind of person would I be if I couldn't make tea?"
Levi didn't move for a few seconds, like he was considering him. Then he pushed off the post, stepping back toward the field without another word.
Merlin let him go, but as he turned to rejoin the squad, he caught Levi's voice—low, almost lost in the wind. "I always drink before sleeping at night. Bring the tea."
Merlin smiled, slow and bright, eyes twinkling as he murmured to himself, "Yes, Captain."