Ceyrai Says: This is my first shot at an SnK/AoT fanfic, and I haven't read much of the manga (except the first few and last few chapters, and excerpts of that chapter because they're all over the Rivetra tag, since I want to enjoy the anime experience), so please bear with me if there are mistakes.

I also never intended to make a Levi origins story, but if I wanted to set up Rivetra from the very beginning, I suppose this was the only way to properly do it. Funny thing is, I've never read a proper Levi origins story (actually, I've only ever read Rivetra or SnK crossover fics), so I don't know the popular theories of the fandom besides the underground thing (which is just a rumor in canon), and that he's around 34 years old.

I just wanted to get Rivetra out of my head, okay? The feels have been simmering in my gut, poking at me incessantly coz they want out.

General Notes:
Pair: Levi x Petra.
Universe: Slightly AU i.e. mostly canon crossed with a bit of my headcanon.
Warnings: Again, this was written with my headcanon in mind, so there might be some small deviations from canon/almost-canon fanon. (That was a lot of –ons in one sentence.) I'll explain again in my Post-Chapter Notes. Possibly some OOCness, since I'm not entirely sure about my characterization of either character. Don't hesitate to tell me though.
Disclaimer: For all the chapters thereafter – I don't own Shingeki no Kyojin/Attack on Titan, nor any other copyrighted items mentioned.

Pre-Chapter Notes: I ripped off a pharmacology book. No, really.

if the world's edge was a rainflower field

Chapter 1: Levi
he was just a stain on mankind's history

Levi, at twelve years old, found plenty enough reasons to be clean, even living in the rat's hole that was the Hermiha District's Outer Row, where outcasts were all shunted to. Being clean meant he could sneak into the Middle Row, a more moneyed area, and look like every other random brat tottering off to school to learn things he considered quite useless. It meant that if a wad of cash or a few meat pies went missing from the bakery counter, the first one the proprietors would accuse will be the smear-faced urchin a good distance from himself, the clean-cut kid who had the loot under his coat, casually escaping the scene.

In his profession (if one could call it that), even the judgmental knee-jerk reactions of his "customers" could be weapons.

(And he had quickly learned to ignore the slight pang in his chest whenever he heard the pitiful shrieks of the day's scapegoat being beaten to a pulp. What was that, compared to the pain of constant hunger, gnawing through his gut and heart and brain?)

Apart from the advantage it gave him over the other little crooks he had to compete with, being clean was the only other feeling besides having something warm in his stomach that completely satisfied him. But it was an effort to be clean when one lived in a makeshift shanty in the roughest neighborhood of Hermiha. It was part of the reason he had developed the ability to sneak into the better Outer Row houses and public baths (even a Middle Row house once in a while, if he was feeling lucky) to have a quick scrub, and slip out undetected. Scaling walls and being light-footed soon became second nature to him (along with, oddly enough, knowing how to finish washing his clothes before the homeowners woke up from their night's sleep).

The petty stealing rose from intolerable hunger, and Levi honestly hadn't known where he was going with all that. All of his energy and his talent went to his will to survive. A brat without even a family name, let alone a proper education, had no business having ambitions.

Except.

It was a completely different, more painful pang to watch the Recon Corps march across town through Main Street, looking grim and brave with such purpose and determination set in their brow. He had never seen one, but if there was one thing any child – rich or poor – knew, is that the Titans were mankind's greatest enemies, and that the Recon Corps of the Military was their only hope of fighting back. These men and women with their complicated looking gear and forest-green coats were warriors, far from the near-helpless kid that he was.

They fought against fate in a way that he never could.

So when they rode through town with the pomp and circumstance accorded to heroes, he avoided the streets in which they would pass. He didn't want to be pining over a dream like that when he could be focusing his brainpower on his next attempt to acquire food.

It was only a matter of time when his skills in thievery reached the ears of an enterprising group of youths who were looking for a talented recruit to add to their ranks. At first, he was skeptical – he didn't want to be sharing his loot to anyone else, especially if they couldn't pull their own weight. He also didn't like the idea of being surrounded by dirty, snot-nosed little nuisances 24/7 as he was never sociable to begin with. Still, gang wars disrupted life in the Outer Row (and with that, his work) every so often, and he soon realized it was better to stick with a group than be caught in a fight for territory by his lonesome.

It did not become apparent to him right away that mere organized robbery was only the tip of the iceberg in his new niche. It started like that well enough – for the first time, Levi was working with strategies that involved distractions and patterned escape routes and hand signals. It was also the first time he had ever been part of an operation big enough to assure himself food for a week. He had enough self-control not to show it, but the exhilaration he felt – at how easy working became or at the spoils he had received, he didn't really know –was very unlike the usual relief he felt after narrowly escaping once again.

He never saw a reason to get close with the rest of the group, but communicating with them was useful in its own way – it was with them that he learned his first proper fistfighting techniques. The older boys and even some of the girls were harsh teachers, jeering and making rude comments every time one of them wiped the dirt with his face. He had seethed in short-lived anger – Are "neat freak" and "prissy shit eater" the best these fuckers can do? – but that was fine, since he knew that the tables would turn soon enough. A year after being inducted into the gang, he had fought his way up to be somewhere important in the chain of command (though gangs like theirs did not really have a proper hierarchy anyway).

Being a person of value in the group meant more responsibilities as well. Part of their modus was to go on rounds for "donations" from Middle Row kids and even some easily coercible adults when it was wise to lie low. Levi never learned the art of sweet persuasion, but he supposed that his scowl was persuasive, if not sweet at all, enough to acquire them what they wanted.

There were plenty of things to do with a street gang besides earning, as Levi learned. At thirteen, he finished his first full bottle of cheap booze (an achievement crowned with bed rest for a couple of days). At fourteen, he slept with a girl for the first time – though that was mostly awkward groping, slobber, and a quick finish, for which said girl slapped him afterwards.

At fifteen, he knowingly killed for the first time.

He was sure he had killed before, but it was easier to sleep through the night when he could walk away before he could assess the damage, and not see life slowly draining from a person's eyes. He did not have that luxury this time – their teenage gang had been recruited by their adult counterparts to infiltrate the stronghold of the rival gang, and make a clean sweep of everyone in the vicinity. The risks were high, the punishments for failure harsh, but the rewards were sweet.

Levi spent most of his on booze, intent on erasing the image of the way the men he had twisted his knife into gurgled blood through their last breath, and the stench of copper and piss and shit that permeated through the entire place, which imprinted into his nostrils. The rest was spent on cleaning agents for the clothes he had bloodied, until he realized he could not wash the stains out completely and just bought a new set of clothes instead.

He knew it would not be the last time he would be asked to do such a thing, but what he did not realize was that the utter disgust (at the act, at the mess the act brought about, or at himself, he refused to know) he felt every time he killed would never fade, no matter how desensitized he thought he would become.

So for the next couple of years, he stole and blackmailed, fought and killed, boozed and slept around, which was standard fare for a criminal like him. And he hated every minute of it – hated every fiber of himself for falling this low. But to him, there was nothing more to life than this, considering his background. This was where a guy like him usually ended up.

And yet, in the quiet moments of the night when he wasn't dead drunk or recuperating from injuries, he could almost see before him that double-winged standard on the green field, fluttering just out of reach. And he would clench his fist, bury his face into his pillow, and try to convince himself that he was just not suited for that. No matter how clean he thought he physically was, he was just scum of the earth, a stain on mankind's history.

He was no hero.

Territorial fights between gangs, teenage or adult, erupted every so often in the Outer Row, but it was only recently that the delinquents started claiming hunting grounds in the Middle Row as well. Levi didn't care for the politics of it all, but if it interrupted his work routine, he didn't think there was anything wrong with bashing in another guy's skull just to reclaim their gang's zone.

A couple of nights of street fighting (that was moving closer to the residential section of the Middle Row) found the gangs marking out their claimed territories and chasing away possible interlopers. Several Middle Row shops and homes were locked down; their residents refusing to come out, or if that was unavoidable, arming themselves with batons or iron pokers and walking in tight groups. Tensions were running high and Levi knew in his bones that something big was going to happen that night. His blood thrummed under his skin in anticipation.

It was late afternoon before the third night of fighting, and he was lounging lazily on a boarded-up store's abandoned stoop, twirling his pocket knife between his fingers. Their gang was looking to acquire this street as a territory, due to its abundance in little family shops – easy targets with a high output – and they were sure to have rivals coming to challenge their ownership, such as it was. He was on lookout with a few others, but boredom and restlessness were catching up to him. He almost wished that the fighting would start to make things more interesting.

A flash of mint and strawberry blonde caught his eye just as the thought floated through his head.

He frowned when he saw a blonde girl in a green dress from the corner of his vision, all alone with only an umbrella for possible defense, and looking unaware of the less-than-savory looks the other members of his gang were giving her now that they had noticed her as well. She was standing still from across the street, staring at their group, her mouth slightly agape. What exactly is she looking at?

It was only when he turned his head to fully look at her that she broke her gaze. And then he realized she'd been staring at him, in particular.

He pocketed his knife and heaved himself off his high perch on the stoop with a grunt, landing lightly on the cobblestone. The others turned to look at him, as if to ask what was going on, but he shook his head and waved them off. A couple of them shrugged and settled back on lookout, while he strode towards the girl, who flinched back but did not run away.

Levi had not grown much in the vertical sense in the past few years – he supposed the lack of real nutrition had cut off what was supposed to be his growth spurt. That meant he was the shortest among the guys his age, and they never let him forget it. Thus it made him feel a little superior that he could look down at this particular girl, who looked about 9 or 10, as intimidatingly as he wanted.

"What do you think you're looking at."

She turned a bit pink as he confirmed that he knew she had been staring, gaze unwilling to meet his now. She twisted her umbrella's fabric in her hands, her lip quivering. Levi's eyebrow quirked. "I…" She met his grey eyes with her own amber ones as she tucked a stray lock of her long blonde hair behind her ear. "It's just… I thought… You looked kind of, um, cool up there, mister."

It was Levi's turn to stare when she averted her gaze in embarrassment. "…cool?"

The girl bobbed her head up and down frantically. "Y-yes! Like a cat!"

His brows knit closer together. "A cat," he repeated, completely thrown off. He had been called a bunch of things in the past – but most of those had been variants of "trash", "neat freak", or "fucking scary". "Cool like a cat" was something out of his field of experience altogether.

The girl seemed to have realized that she had said something odd, and quickly tried to amend it. "I m-mean! Not like, say, you're furry or cuddly, but you have… um, g-grace? I guess? Especially when you leapt off the stoop… t-though! I don't mean to imply anything weird – just, you're not awkward or rough, you're…"

"…graceful."

She nodded again, just once this time, earnest and assenting.

Levi's mind was drawing a blank. No one had cared enough to view him in that manner before, and he didn't have a response for that. He ran a hand through his hair, looking for something to say to the honey-eyed girl still waiting for a reply.

"Look kid," he sighed out, tucking his hands into his pockets. "Don't you think you should be home with your mom and dad right now?" He gave a sidelong glance to the bunch of delinquents still on the stoop. "It's not safe for a girl like you to be out and about."

"W-well, yes," she said, tucking back another lock of hair. "I suppose. But Father needs to have medicinal tea and liniment for his bad leg, since it's been a day since we ran out of both and I don't think he can hold on a bit longer, and our usual apothecary is on this street, so I-"

"I get it, I get it," Levi said, rolling his eyes heavenward. "What apothecary?"

"It's the one with the green sign on the right side of the- oh." She frowned. "It's closed. Oh dear."

She looked up at him in askance. He raised his eyebrow again. You expecting me to do something about it?

"What do I do now…?" she asked no one in particular, though Levi was sure it was at least partly directed at him. "…I came all this way, and Father can't stand with that leg, let alone work…"

"Try knocking," he suggested, not knowing why he even cared enough to. "If you tell them who you are they'll probably make an exception."

"I guess it's worth a try," the girl agreed. Levi watched her run down the street to a narrow two-story building that had its windows and doors closed like every other shop in the street. He turned back to his post just as she reached for the doorbell, feeling a bit out of sorts from the exchange. Just as he was halfway through crossing the street, however, the girl ran back to him. He scratched the space between his eyebrows in irritation. "What now?"

"They won't open up, even if I told them that it was me, Petra Ral from the shoemaker's," the girl fretted, her voice quivering a bit. "What do I do now? My father's been hurting really badly, I don't want to have to use poppy's milk, he doesn't like that it makes him sleep the whole day…"

Levi fought the urge to massage his temples and say, Didn't your father with the godforsaken leg tell you never to tell random thugs your name and address?, and instead turned to the direction of the apothecary. "Well, come on then."

The girl – Petra – blinked at him. "To where?"

"The apothecary." You dull brat.

"R-right!" Petra said, still looking puzzled. She was probably wondering why he was going with her to sort out the problem, but in honesty, he was too. He wasn't the sort of guy who helped people with their problems, especially not random little girls who told him he was graceful. (He was still trying to come to terms with that particular bit.)

"Mr. Katzung!" Petra called up to the closed window of the apothecary's upper floor. "Please open up! It's me, Petra Ral from the shoemaker's! It won't take five minutes, I promise!"

"Give it up, kid," Levi said. "Let me handle this."

"Handle it? How?"

Levi didn't answer her. Instead, he backed up a little and took a running jump towards the building. His foot caught the shop's stoop, and he kicked against it, launching himself towards the nearest window's ledge, which he caught with his hand. With two hands his pulled himself up to stand at the window's ledge, steadying himself with the rafters. He gave a little tsk when he realized that his hands had come into contact with grime from the rafters, but for the moment it wasn't important. He shook some of it off his hand and gave two sharp raps on the window shutters.

He heard a muffled cry of surprise from inside. Soon enough, a middle-aged man peeked out through a shutter and opened it, looking at a loss for words. "W-what do you think you're doing, young'un? If you fall-"

"Don't worry 'bout me," Levi interrupted curtly. "Petra needs to see you for things for her father's leg."

Still with a look of confusion, the man – Mr. Katzung, Levi presumed – nodded. "You, uh, a friend of Petra's? Or Andrei's?"

He's not seen me from down the street, then? "Petra's," Levi confirmed, which was not quite a lie. Mr. Katzung stared at him expectantly. "Levi," he added reluctantly.

"Well, climb in and let me get you the items she needs," Mr. Katzung said, making for the stairs.

"I'll take this way," Levi said, jerking a thumb towards the outside. At Mr. Katzung's questioning look, he explained, "Can't leave Petra alone right now."

Realization dawned on the other male, and Levi left it at that, going down the way he came. Petra greeted him with wide eyes. "How did you do that? That was amazing, mister!"

His mouth nearly twitched upward at her praise. "Call me Levi," he said, though he wouldn't have told her his name if he didn't think Mr. Katzung would find it strange that Petra called her friend "mister". He wiped his hands with a clean rag from his pocket. "Results of a long time in practice."

Petra's smile was bright. "Levi, have you ever considered joining the Military? You'd have the 3DMG mastered with that kind of skill!"

There it was again, that clench in his chest. "…I-"

A "Psst!" came from an alleyway beside the store, and a teenage boy waved them closer. Levi gently pushed Petra to that direction, looking to see if any of his gangmates (or indeed, any of their enemies) were looking their way. To his relief, the coast was clear.

They went through the back door of the apothecary, which the boy – probably Mr. Katzung's apprentice – locked again, and the pungent smells of powders and extracts assaulted Levi's senses. To his right, Petra held a handkerchief to her face. Mr. Katzung reappeared, looking apologetic. "I'm very sorry, my dear," he said to Petra as he bustled around to prepare her order. "It's been a fright here recently, with those hoodlums hanging about. I didn't want to take my chances. I don't understand why the Military Police Corps still hasn't done anything about it…"

"It's okay, Mr. Katzung," Petra said cheerily, though Levi thought that it was far from okay to shut a young girl out in the dangerous streets. "I understand completely."

"No." The man shook his head solemnly. "It was inexcusable of me to leave you out there." He put several tea packets and two small jars of liniment into a brown paper bag. Petra opened her mouth, seemingly to protest, but Mr. Katzung pushed it into her hands. "Yes, I know it's more than what you paid for. Take it as an apology."

"Th-thank you, Mr. Katzung!" Petra exclaimed, looking awed at the extra service.

Mr. Katzung waved her thanks away, and nodded towards Levi. "It's good to have a friend like him," he said. "If I hadn't seen the lengths you'd go through to get Andrei's medications, I might not have realized the situation."

"Yup!" Petra turned to him, a smile like sunshine glowing on her face. "I'm lucky like that!"

Levi shifted uncomfortably, awkward at being praised honestly, let alone twice in the same day. "We should get to your father, Petra."

Outside the apothecary, the sun was setting, and Levi's nape prickled when he realized what that meant. Petra didn't seem to think much of it, however. "Thank you for your help, Levi!" she gushed as soon as they were out of Mr. Katzung's earshot. "He's right, he might have never opened up for me if you hadn't climbed up there, and – oh! That was just so amazing Levi, is that something you-"

"Listen, Petra," Levi cut through. Petra's grin fell. "You better hurry home. Things might turn ugly really quickly."

"What do you mean?" she asked, clutching her package to her chest.

"Mr. Katzung is right to be paranoid," he said, subconsciously patting his pants for his knife, which was still in his right pocket. "This isn't the place to be right now. Go home, take a shortcut if you have to."

"How about you, though? Won't it be dangerous for you, too?"

Her earnest look was almost pitiful to look at. Levi shrugged. "That's how it is."

She didn't question it further, which he thought was mature for a 10-year-old. "Okay," she said, not without some sadness. "Thank you very much, Levi."

"See you around, Petra." He doubted he ever would, though.

Still, he watched her leave up until she turned a corner out of his sight, her strawberry blonde hair trailing her, and wondered if he should have just seen her home himself. No time for that, though – those damn bastards could show up any time.

It was only when he settled back on his watch that something strange occurred to him.

That's the first time anyone's called me their friend.

He shook his head, unused to such saccharine thoughts, and took out his knife to polish it. If anyone asked, he would attribute his half-smile to the fact that polishing his pocket knife to gleaming perfection was cathartic to him. Warmth and contentment like that could have never come from a random little girl's praise.

…well. All right.

Maybe a little.

Levi used to hate the most having his face in contact with the ground with all its dirt and critters and god-knows-what rubbing into his skin. But at that moment, he found something that he hated more than that.

He hated being face-down on the ground, unable to move from the pain blooming from his right side and arm, with flames dancing in his slowly blurring vision as his head and neck throbbed dully. His gangmates – the cowards – were nowhere to be found, though his ears were ringing with screams and battle cries from all around him.

He wished he could get up, or crawl, or even reach into his pocket for a clean cloth. As it was, he could barely summon the energy to lift his uninjured arm.

So this is where it ends?

…damn it. It could have been better than this.

Fire – where had the fire come from? Did it just explode into existence? – crept slowly towards him, coloring everything a hazy sea of orange and yellow. He could hear distant yells and heavy footfalls through the ground as his ear pressed closer towards the cobblestone, the only source of coolness left. He closed his painfully dry eyes, and saw it again.

Two wings on a green field, flying higher than honor. Freedom from being earth-bound scum.

…definitely better than this.

He didn't want to be dreaming even at this precipice towards death. He didn't have the right, filth that he was. He opened his eyes again, determined not to die still watching that green standard of his ambitions, but his vision was near gone. Flames of red and orange and yellow and blonde and honey enveloped him in warmth akin to that of a mother's, and they whispered to him in echoes, Levi! Levi! Stay with me! We're getting out of here! Levi!

And with that comfortable thought – Mother – still in his dazed mind, he faded into black.

Post-Chapter Notes:
Edit: The setting used to be in Karanese District (and before that, it used to be Hermiha District), but after contemplating it I realized that Hermiha District would work better with Levi's background putting him in Wall Sina before he joined the Military. So I changed (went back, actually) to setting it at Hermiha.

Also, the divisions of the Hermiha District (the Outer, Middle, and Inner Rows) are of my imaginings and are based on the structure of the Avatar series' fictional city, Ba Sing Se.

Petra's father is named "Andrei" here, based on St. Andrew, the brother of St. Peter, both Apostles of Christ. He's a shoemaker because… well, you'll see. Mr. Katzung is named after the author of my Pharmacology book. His name sounded like it would fit in the SnK world, and he owns an apothecary here, so I thought it was perfect.

As I warned earlier, I'm making some changes in Levi's origins that are probably not canon or indeed, widely-accepted fanon. I don't think it'll change his characterization by much though – if anything, if Levi's seems OOC in this fic, it's because of my inability to write him perfectly.

Anyway, changes. First, that his age gap with Petra is around 5 years (instead of 10+ like most seem to believe) – enough to make it awkward at first, but acceptable in the long run. Second, I'm not sure if Levi is his first or last name. But most people in the series are referred to by their first name, so I'm guessing it's his first and that his last name is unknown by virtue of presumably being an orphan. Third (which is the biggest and probably most controversial change I'm going to make), is that he's known Petra's father for about the same length of time he's known Petra (thus making their dialogue in Ch 30 of the manga a bit different from how it's gonna go down in my fic; it might make this fic's ending happier though, who knows).

Ceyrai Says: I hope I don't alienate any readers from this story because of the changes I'm making. There's too little Rivetra in the world and I really wanna contribute (before, you know, that happens).

And you probably don't care, but I'm also not used to writing people not using Japanese honorifics. I've had to stop myself from making Petra go, "Levi-niichan!" so many times. Ugh. I kinda want a imouto!Petra x oniichan!Levi fic now. Excuse me while I exorcise myself of this idea.

As always, reviews make me happy about as much as caek!