The Truth
For the sake of the mission remaining brief, without further injury to Captain Levi’s leg, the two assumed the same position on horseback as they began their inward journey to Wall Sina. This would be Winnigan’s first time near home since she left for training, years ago; also, this was her first time in the Underground without her father since she first met Levi.
Winnigan shifted uncomfortably in the saddle, hyper-aware of Levi's proximity as memories of their first encounter flooded back. The stench of the Underground, the terror of that night, and the strange mix of fear and gratitude she had felt toward the street thug who'd saved her – it all seemed like a lifetime ago. Yet here they were, heading back to where it all began, though this time she was no helpless noble's daughter and he was no common thief. He clearly had no recollection of the event, or at the very least hadn’t realized who he had saved that day. While an ache in her chest longed for her to reveal the truth, the mental fortitude of shame took precedence. Whether she was just a young child or not, the events of that day were not custom to make conversation of.
The ride was mostly silent, save for a few exchanges of words pertaining to directions and plans for their mission. They were to remain on horseback until they reached Lord Morgan’s office, for the sake of Captain Levi’s leg. He assured her that the stone steps would be wide enough for Dot to comfortably descent upon arrival, but a flick of Dot’s ears suggested she didn’t agree.
“Doesn’t sound like Dot likes your idea,” Winnigan mused.
“It’s a horse,” Levi grumbled. “It doesn’t know what I’m saying.”
Dot knickered in protest.
The streets of Wall Sina were unusually quiet as they approached the entrance to the Underground. Guards stationed at the checkpoint eyed them suspiciously, their gazes lingering on Levi's ODM gear and military insignia. Winnigan produced the letter from her father, which seemed to satisfy their curiosity enough to wave them through without further questioning.
As they descended the worn stone steps leading into the Underground, the familiar musty air hit Winnigan's nostrils. The darkness seemed to creep up around them, broken only by the scattered torches that lined the walls. She felt Levi tense slightly behind her, his grip on her waist tightening imperceptibly.
"You're quiet," she remarked, trying to break the heavy silence between them. "More than usual, I mean."
"Tch." Levi's typical response was accompanied by a slight shift in his position. "The Underground has that effect. Brings back memories I'd rather forget."
They passed through narrow alleyways, where shadowy figures ducked out of sight at their approach. The clip-clop of Dot's hooves echoed off the cavern walls, announcing their presence to anyone who cared to listen. Winnigan noticed how different the Underground looked from horseback – less threatening, somehow, though no less oppressive.
"Your father's office is in the merchant district," Levi stated flatly. "Near where the nobility used to conduct their... business." There was an edge to his voice that made Winnigan wonder if he knew more about her family's past dealings than he let on.
The merchant district came into view, its buildings marginally better maintained than the surrounding areas. Here, at least, some attempt had been made to maintain a veneer of respectability. Elaborate storefronts, though dusty and worn, still bore traces of their former grandeur. Winnigan guided Dot toward a particular building, its facade marked by the Morgan family crest – a reminder of her father's determination to maintain his presence even in this godforsaken place.
"We should be careful," Levi murmured close to her ear, causing an involuntary shiver to run down her spine. "Your father may be offering funding, but the Underground hasn't changed. Everyone here has an angle."
Winnigan nodded, knowing all too well the truth in his words. As they dismounted – or rather, as she helped Levi awkwardly dismount while trying to preserve what remained of his dignity – she couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched from the shadows.
The Morgan Companionship Hotel, as the brothel was so scandalously named, was one of the nicest buildings on the block. The street lamps were brighter, the stone steps swept, and gruff guards stood outside. After Winnigan’s experience years ago, Lord Morgan tightened security. One could say whatever they wanted about Lord Morgan, but they couldn’t say he wasn’t receptive.
Captain Levi eyed the brothel in a calculated manner, sizing up the security staff and overall grandeur of the property… all things considered. He scoffed, eyeing the cobblestone steps and patio. “This is quite possibly the cleanest brothel I’ve ever seen,” he said simply, sounding neither impressed or unimpressed. “The inside still remains to be seen.”
Winnigan tried not to cringe at the thought of Captain Levi visiting brothels in the past. He had always been so clean-cut, so guarded. He didn’t seem the type to call upon a lady of the night. But, men did have their needs. If she learned one thing growing up in the family business, that was it. Section Commander Hange had mentioned that Levi had ‘got around’, as they put it, in a past tense. Perhaps he resorted to the sex business rather than create any more messy and brief affairs. She willed the thought of him pursuing Pietro from her mind. Not a good look, she sighed inwardly.
“Will Dot be okay out here?” Winnigan questioned as she helped him hobble up the front steps.
“Tch. The horse will be fine. There’s guards out here to keep watch.” In a considerate, uncharacteristic move, Levi leaned in to one of the guards towering over them. “If something happens to that horse while we’re inside, they will never find your body.”
The guard gulped, intimidated by the small angry man before him. He nodded, recognizing the scout insignias and waving them inside. Levi sighed. “Great. That’s handled,” his eyes swept the interior, a brief sense of calm washing over his face. “And it’s clean in here, too. Kudos to your father for that.”
A well-dressed attendant approached them, bowing slightly. "Miss Morgan, Captain, please follow me. Lord Morgan is expecting you in his office." The attendant's polite demeanor did little to ease the knot forming in Winnigan's stomach.
As they followed the attendant up a carpeted staircase, Winnigan's hands began to tremble. She hadn't seen her father since she'd enlisted – since the explosive argument that ended with her storming out of the family estate. The weight of those years of silence pressed heavily on her shoulders.
Levi must have noticed her distress. "Hey," he said quietly, his voice unusually gentle. "Remember who you are now. You're not just some noble's daughter anymore – you're a Scout. Whatever happens in there, you've earned your place."
Winnigan glanced at him, surprised by the unexpected support. She managed a small nod, squaring her shoulders as they approached the heavy oak door of her father's office. The attendant knocked twice before opening it.
"Lord Morgan," the attendant announced. "Your daughter and Captain Levi have arrived."
Though she couldn’t see through the doorway, she heard the hesitant rustling of papers and a quiet sigh. “Very well. They may come in.” To Winnigan’s utter shock, she felt a squeeze of her hand. Levi was quick, his hands back at his sides before she could even look at him.
“You’ll do fine,” he whispered.
Lord Morgan’s office was as haughty and pristine as Winnigan remembered. The ceiling was vaulted, with four wooden pillars in each corner of the room made of stripped, varnished tree trunks. The amount of wood imported from the forests outside the walls was astonishing. An enormous wooden desk with carved clawed feet supporting it sat in the center of the room, blocking the view of a stone fireplace. The fireplace was decoration of course, there were only so many fires that were allowed to burn in the Underground at all. Smoke inhalation was a nightmare in such a constricting hellscape. Lord Morgan, indistinguishably familiar, sat before them. He had aged greatly in the years between their last interaction, his beard grey. He had the distinctive chestnut hair only inherited by Winnigan’s youngest brother, as she and Pietro had been gifted with their mother’s blonde hair. There was a clear sadness in Lord Morgan’s eyes, no matter how well he held his composure otherwise.
“Winnie,” he breathed, his eyes trained on her. It was as though Levi didn’t exist. Lord Morgan motioned for Winnigan to sit, but the two scouts remained standing. Seeing their hesitance, Lord Morgan pleaded: “Winnie, please, sit. I am no stranger, I am your father.”
“My father left me years ago,” she gritted, but complied. Levi followed suit, crossing his injured leg over his knee as he adjusted to get comfortable. “And you demand to see me now? On the day of our expedition? Dangling the promise of funds over our heads?”
Lord Morgan’s gaze dropped to the desk, where his bony, worn fingers interlaced. “I was hoping to catch you before you left,” he explained, hinting at what Winnigan had already assumed. He had beckoned her to keep her from embarking on the dangerous mission. “I understand your anger.”
“Dozens of soldiers died today,” Winnigan spat, her contempt unveiled. Levi watched silently from the corner of his eye, holding his composure at the reminder. “Captain Levi’s entire squad was decimated. He’s severely injured. He abandoned his duty to allow himself to heal to make sure I didn’t get raped again coming here.” Winnigan hadn’t shared that sentiment with Levi, but it didn’t matter. Her words hit the mark she had aimed for. Tears welled in her father’s eyes instantly. “If you want to support me for whatever goddamned reason, even though you couldn’t support Pietro, you could have come to the military headquarters yourself. You could have sent the funds remotely. You could have summoned me to our home, damn it.” Tears threatened to spill over her cheeks as well. She crossed her arms over her chest, averting her gaze to the fanciful art installations on the wall.
“I haven’t been home in a long time, Winnie,” Lord Morgan said solemnly. “Your mother and I separated shortly after you left.”
Winnigan’s heart skipped a beat. “You’re divorced?” Her voice was low, barely holding the steadiness required to not betray her pain.
“Separated,” he corrected. “Your mother couldn’t look at me after I sent you away in the way that I did.”
“Neither of you have ever written,” Winnigan snapped pointedly.
Lord Morgan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “As for me, I have no excuse. As for your mother, I imagine it’s easier for her to grieve your death now, rather than later. She nearly took her own life after Pietro.”
“Which is also your fault.”
Lord Morgan's face fell, the weight of his failures evident in the deep lines around his eyes. "I know," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I know I failed both of my children. I’m sure your mother has Josef on a short leash. I don’t blame her.”
Levi spectated silently, knowing that now was not the time to suddenly become talkative. He knew how important this conversation was for the two, but he also knew that he would have to divert the topic to business should things get too out of hand.
The tension in the room was palpable as silence stretched between father and daughter. Winnigan's hands were clenched in her lap, her knuckles white with suppressed emotion. Lord Morgan's shoulders had begun to sag, the weight of years of regret visible in his posture. Even Levi, typically stoic and unmoved, seemed to feel the heaviness of the moment.
Dust motes danced in the weak light filtering through the office's small windows, a reminder of the perpetual gloom of the Underground. The plush carpet beneath their feet, the polished wood paneling, and the expensive furnishings seemed to mock the squalor that existed just outside these walls. It was a perfect metaphor for the divide between father and daughter – a gulf as vast as the one between the Underground and the world above.
The clock on the wall ticked steadily, each second amplifying the unspoken words hanging in the air. Winnigan's military training was evident in her rigid posture, a stark contrast to the refined nobility she'd been raised to embody. Her father's eyes kept darting to the Scout Regiment wings on her jacket, a symbol of everything he'd tried to prevent her from becoming.
“I just wish that someone, anyone would be transparent,” Winnigan said softly, in an unexpected admission of vulnerability. Levi’s head tipped towards her at this, and Lord Morgan’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t know why you hated Pietro so deeply. I don’t know why he joined the scouts. I don’t even know how he died,” she choked, pulling her brother’s patch from her pocket. Lord Morgan’s eyes widened at this, mouth slightly agape. “All I have is this… and I still don’t know why you summoned me here. Why give the scouts this money? You didn’t do it for Pietro.”
Lord Morgan paused, his mouth puckering as he weighed his words. “I thought I hated your brother,” he admitted. Though painful to hear, Winnigan sighed in relief at the honesty. “For abandoning his duty to the family, but for something even heavier than that.” He squeezed his eyes shut, his breath shaky.
“I am so ashamed,” he declared, fist slamming into the desk. “Your brother had found love, and it was not the kind that our house believes in. The Morgan family has never stood for a man loving another,” he gritted. “Another man. Truth be told, it’s unholy. It’s sickening.”
Anger bubbled in Winnigan’s chest, but she held her tongue, knowing that should she lash out, Lord Morgan could shut down again. Then, she would never get her answers.
“But what is holiness, what is God to losing your firstborn son?” Lord Morgan cried, a poorly contained sob escaping. “He detested me for our trade, I detested him for the embarrassment he brought the family. He planned to marry a scout. That’s when I told him that if he left for the scouts, he would be utterly alone… and not a day goes by where I don’t regret what I said. Had I loved him, accepted him, he would still be here today. You wouldn’t have chased after him. I wouldn’t lose both of my children to the titans.” He reached for Winnigan’s hand, a pleading look in his eyes. To everyone's surprise, including her own, Winnigan obliged; but, only for a moment. The unexpected contact was hard to process. Her hand returned to her lap, her gaze low. She glanced over to Levi, who nodded in solemn support.
“If you’re funding the scouts, you’re keeping her safe?” Levi clarified with a raise of his brow, shifting the conversation for Winnigan’s sake.
Lord Morgan sighed heavily, his fingers drumming against the polished surface of his desk. "I'm funding the scouts because I've learned what it means to lose everything that matters. If my money can help keep other parents from experiencing this pain – from experiencing what I did with Pietro – then perhaps I can begin to atone, and keep my baby girl alive."
Levi and Lord Morgan continued on with the terms and contingencies of his financial support, allowing Winnigan a moment to compose herself. Rather than an evil lord, Winnigan saw her father: a broken man. He had lost his whole family. Pietro would never return, Winnigan was a soldier now, his wife and youngest son not wanting anything to do with him. That’s when she noticed, aside from the grandeur of the office, a bedroll and small collection of personal items were tucked away behind a couch lining the wall. Something about Lord Morgan’s desperation, his blatant honesty, budded unexpected forgiveness in Winnigan’s heart. Paperwork was signed, hands shook, and business concluded. The foreign forgiveness compelled Winnigan to give her father an assuring squeeze of the arm.
“Please write, father,” she requested softly.
Lord Morgan sighed in relief. “I will, Winnie.”
As he showed them to the door of his office, he acknowledged the workers mingling with clients in the lobby. “The night activities have begun,” he explained, motioning to the hallway. “The side door will see you out safely.”
Levi and Winnigan nodded curtly, walking in the direction they had been pointed. Levi limped heavily, but waved Winnigan off when she offered a hand. “Allow me some dignity around the ladies,” he joked.
The side door led to the all-familiar alleyway that Winnigan dreaded seeing. However, as she stepped out, she felt a wave of relief wash over her. Lamplight kept the alleyway clear as day, the short passageway between buildings spotless and devoid of clutter. One of her father’s guards stood at attention at the entrance of the alleyway. He made sure it never happened again, she thought. To anyone else.
“I killed a man for the very first time in this alley,” Levi muttered softly, the same weight of painful memories in his voice. Of course, Winnigan knew of this, but not that it was his first time. She was shocked at his admission of vulnerability and her heart soared with pride at the thought. She squeezed his shoulder in solidarity. “With all of the honesty inside, I figured it wouldn’t be fair to keep that to myself.”
“I suppose not,” Winnigan agreed softly. “Thank you.”
Dot was visibly happy to see them, stamping a hoof indignantly at the security guard who had taken it upon himself to hold her reins the entire time. Levi’s word wasn’t taken lightly here, nor above ground. The man definitely believed that had something happened to the horse, his life would end. Winnigan snickered at the thought.
“Hello, horse,” Levi grumbled as Winnigan helped him into the saddle. He winced as he adjusted his broken leg, but made no vocal complaint. As Winnigan settled in front of him, she turned back and smiled.
“Her name is Dot,” she reminded.
“It’s just a horse,” Levi reminded in return, his stubborn humor eliciting a giggle from her. He smirked slightly, amused at her outburst. After a few minutes, ass they made their way to exit the Underground, Levi cleared his throat. “Uh, Winnie?” He tested the waters with the nickname. Winnigan didn’t protest. “You don’t have to tell me details, but I wanted to let you know… I’m glad I came with you. I would never let you get hurt, man or titan alike.”
He heard Winnigan’s breath hitch, followed by a sigh. He couldn’t see her face, but her physical composure hinted at relief. “I know,” she said gratefully. “Someone kept me safe that day, too,” she confided. “I’ll never forget that.”