Author's Note: I can't be stopped.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the official Shingeki no Kyojin/Attack on Titan characters.

Almost an Earl

Chapter One

"Miss?"

Petra squinted her eyes, leaning forward on her piano bench, marking the manuscript paper before her. That F should be sharp.

"Miss?"

She plucked the key a few times, testing the note in her head, then wiggled her bottom on the seat, playing the phrase with her new adjustment.

"Miss."

Still, it didn't sound quite right. With a small huff, she dipped the nib of her quill into the blotter and again moved to revise the parchment before her.

"Miss Ral!"

Ink scribbled across the sheet as she jumped, so focused on writing a waltz for her parents that she hadn't even noticed the maid at the door, calling for her attention.

"Oh," she sighed, tucking the paper behind a page that wasn't ruined, "I'm sorry." She turned, sending the servant a sunny smile that lit up her glowing honey eyes, "what was it?"

The maid pursed her lips, still unused to her mistress' habits of losing herself in the arts. "Your uncle requires your presence in his study," she replied tersely, bobbing a curtsey and leaving the room.

Petra wasted no time in scrambling from the piano bench, smoothing out her jade skirts as she made a dash for the door. If her uncle was calling, it was her duty to see to him.

She had arrived at the grand estate two years ago, when she was just seventeen. Before her life of silks and pearls in the city, she had lived a modest life with her parents in a small town in the country. Her parents ran the town's bakery and though they were not well off, they wanted for very little. It was a good life.

War broke out in a distant land, calling their kingdom's soldiers and it was then, at twelve years old, she had first met her uncle. He had knocked on their kitchen door one sunny summer afternoon in the most expensive clothing she had ever seen. He wasn't flamboyant, but sharp. Dressed entirely in black with a simple turquoise stickpin in his cravat, she had never seen such a man.

The same could not be said for her mother. As it happened, Philippa Ral had been the illegitimate offspring of a duke and a servant girl. To keep the scandal secret, the girl and her child had been sent away from the grounds with ample funds to survive and never spoke again. Though she understood her heritage, Philippa was quite happy in the town, and had little desire to make an attempt at family with her father's other, very legitimate child.

But now, as the only living member of his family, Lord Erwin Smith, now the Duke of Karenese had sought out his elder half-sister and her family alongside his solicitor, with the promise of his fortune bequeathed to them in the event of his death should he perish in battle. Petra understood very little of this at the time, taking away nothing more from it other than she had an uncle that was nobility. How exciting for her, she thought.

It was five years before they saw him again.

When he returned to the kingdom, he came to the bakery battered, and with one less arm.

He came with a proposition.

Petra was a young woman, seventeen years old. As he had no wife, and was now a little bit less useful than before, he suggested the sweet copper haired girl come to live with him in his city home. There he would bestow upon her every comfort of a lady, as well as a hefty dowry. In exchange she was to be his companion and assistant in running his grand estate. He needed not only the presence of someone young and innocent to soothe his aching soul, but a woman's touch in his home, as his mother had been long dead, and he had no eyes to marry soon.

With quick hugs all around, Petra bid farewell to her family, hopped up into the black lacquered carriage, and headed off to start a life in the high city of fashionable society.

Two years later, at nineteen, she knocked on the door to her uncle's study, a sunny smile ready on her face.

"Uncle?"

The duke looked up from his parchment, his handwriting ugly and awkward, even two years after losing his dominant hand.

"Ah," he said, dropping his quill, "there's something I'd like to discuss with you."

She quirked a playful brow, lifting her skirts a bit and sashaying towards the desk. "Something exciting?" she wondered, coming to stand behind him, a gentle hand on his strong shoulder.

"I like to think so," he muttered, holding up the parchment so that she could read.

"A guest list?"

"And a menu," he added, holding up another. "I'd like you to review them and give me your approval."

"What's this for?" she asked, noting a name at the bottom of the list, "…Mr. Levi Ackerman?"

"Yes," Erwin confirmed, sitting back in his chair. "Lance Corporal. An old friend of mine. We've won the war because of him."

"A war hero then. Like you."

He smiled slightly. "They're giving him a title, you know."

Petra let out a small sigh, soft and sad. "I'd hate to know what he had to do in order to earn that." She set the first piece of paper back onto the desk, moving on to the menu. "It seems to me that war heroes are heroes in everyone's eyes but their own."

He gave a small 'hm' of agreement, glancing to his right arm, or at least what was left of it. Truer words he hadn't heard in many years.

"He'll be staying with us," he told her, "until his estate is in order. Shouldn't be more than a month."

"We can't have the peanut sauce tonight," she said, giving his shoulder a small squeeze, "Mr. Berner has bad reactions to the legumes."

"Right, right."

"And perhaps we should invite a few more of the younger folk as well."

Erwin cocked his head, looking back to her. "You intend to throw a full on welcome celebration for my dear friend?"

She laughed. "It's not that, uncle, but the way it stands, Mr. Ackerman and I will be the only unmarried people in attendance, save you. Some might say you would be trying to arrange a match between us."

He let out a belt of genuine laughter then, reaching for the parchment and his quill once again. "I won't be bringing gossip upon you, my dear," he chuckled, adding a few names to the list "you've got enough trouble with that Bossard fellow."

Petra took hold of the revised list, pursing her lips. "And yet you still see the need to invite him to our social gatherings."

Erwin rapped on the wooden desktop. "Ah well, I've got to keep you on your toes."

xxxx

"Please, have my seat, Lady Dawk."

Petra stood up from the chaise as she said her hellos, taking the gently bred lady's hand, easing her down onto the cushion.

"Oh please, darling," came the reply, as Marie Dawk brushed a rogue golden curl from her forehead, "Marie is just fine."

Petra wasn't sure she would ever address her so informally; she was a friend of her uncle, much older than herself, and a noblewoman to boot. She was happy to be accepted into Lady Dawk's good graces and that was enough for her.

"Are we taking bets on the sex yet?"

Beside Petra, another woman flashed a mischievous smile, her spectacles catching the glint of the room's light. Her chestnut hair was tied up, left uncurled, a direct stab at society fashion and the roles expected of her.

Marie ran a gentle hand across the swell of her belly, draped in lilac silks and cream lace. "Ah. . ." she sighed, "I'm certain it'll be a girl."

"Again?"

"Yes, Hanji, again."

Petra held back a bit of laughter. She slid her gaze over to where the men gathered, taking note of Marie's husband, Nile. The distress on his face told her they were discussing the same topic and with three daughters at present, the Duke of Sina was already in despair over thoughts of wardrobes and dowries and quite honestly, did not want to add more expenses of bringing up yet another society lady.

His eldest was six.

Seated next to the duchess, a petite blonde cracked a slight smile. "Perhaps I should stop my husband," she said, also watching as her own spouse, the largest and most muscular in structure, cracked some sort of joke over the heart of Nile Dawk, "he may very well give yours a stroke."

"Don't you worry about Nile, Nanaba," Marie replied, waving such thoughts away, "his anxiety is his own doing. We all know that."

Petra, Hanji, and Nanaba all nodded in solemn agreement.

The butler arrived in the doorway of the salon then, announcing the arrival of a Mr. Levi Ackerman and Petra excused herself from the group of ladies, seeing to her duty of playing hostess.

"Mr. Ackerman," she greeted, dropping a low curtsey before him, not yet taking in his appearance, "I thank you for your service to our kingdom and pray you enjoy your stay in our home."

"I see Erwin wasted no time finding a senseless bird to secure his legacy. Tell me, chicken, are you pregnant yet?"

The cold words cracked over Petra's bowed head like lightning, freezing her where she stood. So shocked was she by his audacious assumption, she couldn't find it in her to rise to her full height, lift her chin, and respond in kind. Instead, she searched for the air his abrasiveness had robbed of her.

"You are mistaken, sir," she breathed, standing slowly, her jaw tight, but our of respect for her uncle, she resisted the urge to give the (surprisingly small) man before her a solid tongue lashing.

Instead, she forced out a strained smile. "I am not the lady of the house."

Whether Erwin noticed the tension brewing between the two or simply arrived at the opportune moment, she would never know, but when she felt the comfort of his arm draped around her shoulder, she knew she had the upper hand.

"While Petra is my niece, not my wife, she is very much the lady of the house. I'd be quite lost without her."

Before them, Levi Ackerman stood, head to toe in black, save his stark white cravat, and never once allowed his mouth to do anything other than frown.

"Your niece."

Petra stood up a bit straighter, preparing to throw him a satisfied smirk that might set his foot into his mouth when her uncle's arm fell away from her, wrapping instead around the man before them, drawing him close.

"Welcome home, my old friend."

Levi didn't return the sentiment, his deep eyes, haunted under the furrow of his brows and his jaw set so hard his teeth protested the action.

As she watched the exchange, Petra felt a deep pit growing inside of her. Levi was a different sort of soldier than her uncle. He was not gallant and graceful, nor was he dismissive and hearty, as Hanji and Mike were. No, this Mr. Ackerman was broken and defeated, even as he stood before her a hero.

He was, she realized, as he watched the festivities with an unimpressed air, a dangerous man.

"Petra, dear."

Her attention refocused and she quirked her head. "Yes, uncle?"

"Perhaps you'd take Mr. Ackerman for a turn about the room. Introduce him to our friends."

Levi scowled. "I know almost everyone here."

But Erwin would not be anything less than a gracious host. He smiled. "Petra."

She bobbed a small curtsy at him, then turned to her guest with a warm look. "Shall we, Mr. Ackerman?"

No, we shall not, is what he wanted to say, cross his arms more tightly, and disappear against a wall. He had no need for chitchat, for taking senseless turns about the room. But he also had no home to call his own, no place to rest his head while his affairs were put in order. It wouldn't do to be ungrateful. So, with a stiff nod, he uncrossed his arms.

Erwin cleared his throat. "Levi."

The shorter man looked up and Erwin wiggled his bent elbow in the air, his eyes nodding towards his niece.

No.

"I have no need for—"

"A gentleman," he was reprimanded, "will escort a lady."

Fine. Fine, fine, fine. With a jerking motion, he offered his arm to the girl beside him and though she seemed to be well trained enough in the arts of doing Erwin's bidding, she looked at it as if it were poison.

The expression didn't last long, replaced by a sweet smile that caused him to savor the feel of her tiny hand resting upon the crook of his elbow, and a soft beckoning of his name that made him step forward obediently as if he would follow her to the ends of the earth.

What an absurd notion. She was Erwin's niece for God's sake.

Still, she was Erwin's niece.

Not Erwin's wife.

Petra decided it would be best to visit with the women first. It would be much easier to excuse herself from his prickly words if he were with his own sex than it would be to scold him and send her away from hers. Still, her mouth just couldn't resist begging the question tugging at her brain.

"Is that truly how you would speak to a duchess?" she wondered aloud.

So she had been bothered by his greeting.

"It's how I would speak to most anyone," he replied stiffly.

She hid her annoyance behind a sigh, searching her skirts for her fan. She'd be needing it.

"Well I do hope you'll be a bit gentler with the ladies Dawk and Zakarius," she told him, making a slow show of unfolding the embroidered silk before she tapped the top of it against her nose, hiding her mouth, "they're actual nobility, unlike myself."

Levi snorted. "Respect is earned, not deserved."

"They are kind and gentle women," was her defense, "and they will accept you into our circle with open hearts. They do not deserve such harsh words."

"So I need to be accepted into the circle."

It was meant to be a teasing remark, an effort in flirtation that he had seen once or twice, but instead his words were cold and scathing, a show of his distaste for the upper crust of society. He saw her jaw clench, but as before, she recovered with the grace of an angel. A weaker man wouldn't have noticed the offense at all.

"You are always welcome in our home," she told him with a sweet voice, her fingers tightening their grip ever-so-slightly on his arm as she said so, a display in affection and reassurance. She was good, probably perfect. He didn't know much about how things were done in polite society, but in the five minutes that he'd known her, Levi found himself remarkably impressed with her.

They arrived at the gathering of settees where the women had arranged themselves, occupying their time with whatever it was that well bred ladies spoke about. Lace hankies and lilac trees, he imagined.

He gave slight bows to the two young girls whose names were forgotten as soon as Petra spoke them, and laid awkward but gentle kisses on the knuckles of Lady Dawk and Lady Zakarius (Mike had done well for himself). When they turned to Hanji Zoe, the lady knight, he needed no introduction.

"Hanji."

For the first time possibly since Petra had met her, Hanji was at a loss for words. Her eyes glistened with tears of relief but she never let them fall.

"It's good to see you, Levi," she said, "welcome home."

He let out a small breath of air, giving her a once over. "You haven't got a curtsy for me?"

Hanji let out a small bark of laughter, crossing her arms over her chest. He'd never seen her in a gown before and truth be told she had surprised herself when she added them to her wardrobe.

"I curtsy for no man!" she cried, ruffling his dark hair. He protested with a swat of his free arm, and Lady Dawk shook her head out of affection for the radical brunette.

"Not even your husband?" This time he was able to tease and though his face bore indignation, his tone took a slight air of humor, one that caused her to break out into a toothy grin.

"Especially not Moblit," she laughed before lowering her voice, "but I can get him to curtsy for me."

Levi waved his hand at this, not wanting to hear about whatever intimate games she was playing with her husband, a man Levi knew just as well as he knew her. She chuckled again, this time putting her hand to his shoulder.

"Still," she told him, her voice losing all of its jest, "I can't be more thankful that you've returned to us."

He didn't respond, unable to feel the same way. Too many had not made it back. Why had he?

"And look at you," she added, motioning to Petra, "you've already got a cute girl on your arm."

"Oh stop it, Hanji," Petra scolded playfully, hiding a practiced smile behind her fan, "don't torment my guest."

Their next stop was at the chess table, where two men were invested in a friendly match, with a third watching and providing commentary. Of these men, Levi didn't know a single face, but when Petra introduced them warmly as her friends, he didn't dislike them.

Erd Gin was an agreeable man with a firm handshake that Levi appreciated. The same could be said for Gunther Schultz. He was the more serious of the two and through the conversations spoke very little. Levi didn't quite know what to make of the third member of this trio, the scowling yet goofy Auruo Bossard. It was quite clear that he was Petra's least favourite of the men before them and the way he flip flopped between hanging on her every word like a lost puppy and curling his lip at her suggested that he was very much in pursuit of her affections.

How annoying.

"You know Petra," Auruo drawled, his familiar tone lingering with the group, "we know you aren't married and all, but there's no need to be hanging all over this guy. There's a difference between hostess and harlot."

Levi bristled at this. Her gentle hold on him was nothing short of polite and appropriate. To sling such an insult at her irritated him, his frown sinking deeper and deeper. Did she not consider this idiot to be her friend? But the girl in question was not put off by this comment in the slightest.

Instead, she stepped closer to the man at her side, hugging his arm to her and, tucking her fan under her arm, put her free hand to his chest.

"Your jealousy is exposed, Auruo," she purred, giving Levi's cravat a small, and completely unnecessary straightening, "and it's hideous."

Retrieving her fan, she snapped it open, her once calm and warm eyes narrowed dangerously across the place where they stood.

Embarrassed by her remark, Auruo turned to the side with a huff. "There's nothing to be jealous about," he bit off, "so go show off your new toy to someone else, peasant girl."

Levi's gaze slid over to the girl on his arm. Peasant girl?

Color rose up in Petra's features then and for the first time since he'd met her, she was unable to come up with anything in return.

"Until dinner," she settled on, bobbing to Erd and Gin, but giving Auruo the back of her fan as she practically dragged Levi away from the group.

How interesting.

When they came up to the last group, Mike Zakarius yanked the small man right off out of Petra's hand, pulling him into an embrace so tight Petra wondered if he was making up for the weak one-armed one her uncle was able to give.

It warmed her to see these displays of affection from her friends. They cared for this man. They loved him. He was their comrade, their friend, and she had no doubt that he considered them family in return. He was rude and difficult, but human, just as they all were.

He was returned to Petra's side with a sideways smile and an apology from Mike (which she accepted with a giggle), but the moment of ease and sentiment ended with a jolt when Levi set his eyes on Nile Dawk.

"Was it comfortable, Nile?"

There was an acid in his tone as he spat out the words, his upper lip curling and his brow coming down far over his eyes.

"My life has always been quite comfortable, Levi, thank you."

"You fucking coward."

Petra straightened, shocked (though she supposed she shouldn't have been) at his choice of language.

"Mr. Ackerman," she started gently, putting a calming hand on his elbow. He shook her off with a grunt, not wanting any more of her reprimanding.

The Duke of Sina cleared his throat. "You are in civilized company, Levi," he reminded the corporal, "be sure to act as such."

"Do you have any idea how many men died? How many husbands and fathers came home in a wooden box?"

Petra knew she should have bowed out of this conversation. It wasn't her place to speak of war, and it also wasn't in here interests so she knew little about it. What she did know, and what she assumed to be the root of the tension between these two, was that Levi Ackerman had fought tooth and nail on the front lines for seven years, and Nile Dawk had worked intelligence from the comfort of his own estate.

"Erwin lost his arm," Levi growled, the dark shadow over his face growing deeper and deeper, "Hanji, her sanity."

Nile sat back. His eyes were nervous, but he didn't falter. "And what did you lose, Corporal? Your humanity? It's not like you had much to begin with."

In a flash, Levi lunged forward, pulling the duke up by his lapels. As he moved, his elbow smashed into Petra's jaw, sending her toppling over sideways with a small yelp, catching herself on the pianoforte.

"I spent seven years watching the guts spill out of good men," he hissed, "my face sprayed with the blood of kids not old enough to leave the schoolroom. And all the while you sat in your golden palace fucking your wife!" He shoved Nile back into his seat, jabbing an accusatory finger at him. "You have no right. NO right to call yourself a fucking soldier."

The room was silent and Levi's chest heaved. He felt the strong hand of Mike Zakarius on his shoulder and he was thankful for it. Mike would be able to hold him back if he needed it.

Nile had nothing to say.

From the corner of his eye he could see Erd Gin lifting Petra's chin, examining the red mark on her jaw. Fuck.

"Are you alright?" the blonde asked her, thankful there was no blood. He'd seen how hard she had been hit.

"Oh," she said, waving him off and giving her upper arm a small rub, "Of course. It's not the first time I've fallen into a pianoforte and it won't be the last."

Of course. How silly he had been to imagine Petra Ral would admit to being hurt.

A footman entered then, announcing dinner and everyone was thankful for a change of scenery, and to escape from the awkwardness of what had just transpired. Levi turned, ready to apologize to his sweet hostess (as best he could manage), and walk her to the dining hall, but she had already taken up the arm of her friend.

He followed the crowd out of the salon, taking up a place beside Erwin, and keeping completely silent. He suppose he owed him an apology too, but they'd speak later as men, as comrades, and as friends. He knew he he was safe in this house.

Still, as he was seated at the grand table set with a feast for days, he found himself across from Petra and the bruise that was already forming on her face. He kicked himself inwardly, wanting to bury his fingers in his hair and pull the strands out one by one. If he wasn't able to control himself, he wouldn't survive in this den of wolves.

From down the table he could feel the cold stare of Auruo Bossard. Of course.

He sighed.

"Is everything alright, Mr. Ackerman?"

Pulled from his thoughts by the female voice that was growing more familiar to him by the second, he cleared his throat and nodded. "I'm tired," he replied, a solid truth.

"Well you needn't be worried," she replied, whispering a kind thank you to the servant that filled her champagne glass, "I do think you'll find your bed here quite comfortable."

And as he looked at the crystal glasses before him and the gold leaf on everything human hands could touch, he didn't doubt it for a second.

xxxx

Author's Notes: I'm taking a stab at Levi actively pursuing Petra and thought it might be more suited to my tastes to give them all poofy ballgowns, obscene estates, and annoying social protocol. :D Thanks for reading; I hope you enjoy this one!