Chapter Text
Levi didn’t know the first thing about chess until he spots a chess set collecting dust on Erwin’s shelf. The man, known for his talent in reading his opponent’s every move, mistakes Levi’s scowl for curiosity and offers to teach him how to play. Levi agrees on the condition that Erwin cleans it. And the low table he set it on.
He learns that the white pieces move first, that the king is the endgame, but the queen holds more power. Under Erwin’s patient tutelage in the candlelit evenings in his office, Levi learns the subtleties of chess.
It is strategy and it is Erwin Smith’s game.
He was brought into the Survey Corps as a weapon. He was a pawn. A bishop, at best. Erwin stands behind the legion, protected but powerful. He’d send his pawns and rooks to their fates, luring Levi this way and that, taking victory in the end. Later Levi is adept enough to put up a challenge and takes Erwin’s queen. A little surge of savage pride makes its way to his head until Erwin delivers the final blow with his remaining pieces and comes out victorious anyway.
They lose hours like that, even after expeditions where Erwin sends men to certain death for the victory of humanity. But Levi has faith, loyalty that runs so deep he mistakes it for his own blood. He will gladly be the bishop to fall against the knight so the queen-so Erwin-can claim their victory. Erwin, after all, is a master of the board and of war.
But in the quiet glow of candles, Levi finds the crease on Erwin’s brow deep and harsh. Burrowed in it isn’t the focus Erwin wears when the cogs in his head churn in the middle game, watching for threats, taking his gains. Erwin is caught in the day’s losses, in the people who are not pawns, not knights, not rooks, not bishops. People who have pledged their hearts to him and his cause. Living, then burned just like wooden pieces. Valuable but expendable.
Levi cautiously lays a hand on Erwin’s, gripped tightly around a fallen knight piece. “Erwin,” Levi calls. “Put it back.”
Erwin blinks out of his thoughts and gives the other a puzzled look.
“Put it back,” Levi regards the knight in his hand. “You’re done losing pieces for today.”
Because strategy might be Erwin’s game, but Levi is neither stupid nor blind. He finally realizes why Erwin can spend hours of precious sleep playing with him, comfortable to put pawns in his path to lure him into traps. Erwin can use his brutal, ruthless ways on the board without consequences, sacrifice half his army for the endgame, revel in his victory in a way he can never do in the field.
Chess is strategy. It is war. But it doesn’t carry the same responsibility Erwin unloads from his shoulders over a friendly game, absent of any death.
One evening, Erwin returns from the capital, furious. His usual calm is overcome by a visible flare in his nostril and a vein that jumps at his neck. Word has reached the headquarters that they are cutting budget for the legion for the second time this month. Ranks will be rearranged before they are ready. With an expedition drawing near, it could mean certain failure for them.
Levi follows him into his office and sets the black and white pieces on the board. Erwin, still agitated, waves him off. Levi stands his ground.
“Play with me, Erwin.”
And so he does. The match runs so long that Levi gets up somewhere in the middle of it to replace a candle melted within an inch of its life. Calm does not find Erwin that evening as it usually does when they waste hours on playing at war. His jaw remains clenched, eyes dark and distant in worry.
Levi gets an inkling of what worries him as he takes one of Erwin’s bishops. The blond moves his pawn back. Levi moves forward, Erwin avoids him at every turn. In an uncharacteristic play, Erwin moves his queen away. His most powerful weapon, protected better than the king, far away from the skirmish.
Erwin is defensive.
“Levi,” Erwin says slowly. “You are to be promoted to captain in the coming month.”
Levi hums. Erwin rubs his face. “It means… It means you will be this legion’s prime weapon.”
You will be our queen.
They continue the rest of the match in silence, the announcement sitting heavy in Levi’s gut and suddenly they are running out of the time they continue to waste. Erwin is down to the last few pieces, most lost to false traps Levi had set, to unmeasured guesses. He plays with his heart instead of his head. He tips his queen and hesitates.
Levi takes Erwin’s queen and moves it against his own bishop, placed there to take the queen and then victory. Erwin is the endgame now. Without him, the legion and humanity will not survive. Levi understands he must be powerful and versatile to protect Erwin. He doesn’t know if it’s the right thing to say but that he must say it now before the last candle burns out.
“Be sure I make it to the endgame, Erwin. That we make it to the end.” Erwin meets his gaze, burning gold and silver, and understands they have no more time to waste on playing.
He takes his queen. The king is slain in the end and all pieces have fallen.
“The threat,” Erwin says, exhausted but enlightened. “Is stronger than the execution.”
Levi does not have a clue what he means. No matter. Erwin has already won the match.