Chapter Text
Spring 852
Timed between chapters 09 & 11 of Forget-me-Not
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"Good morning, Bertholdt.”
Vivian’s eyes landed on the cold stone and its numerous carvings that wore tiny droplets the rain of dawn had left, now sparkles of gold—and with, at times, a touch of rosé when the rays flickered behind the veil of thin clouds.
“I remember saying we would meet beneath a warmer sky. It is… good to see it is the case.”
“Liberio has begun to bloom, the flowers crown almost every corner of the district. Arisen—so is people’s enthusiasm, in spite of the crumbling walls surrounding us. Or the barks of the officers, sharper than before. Or the war that seems to have no end.”
“There was no such nature in the dunes. Only a sea of sand, with sometimes dry herbs that threatened to fly away at the first breeze. Or decaying clay buildings nobody could see when caught in the embrace of those storms. Dull. As if life had left this place.”
Hand lowered, seeking a place to rest but only meeting a cold, humid surface. Knees remained still.
“Marley, our army… we destroy everything we touch, like weeds in a once beautiful garden. Rivers have turned into bleeding scars, mist into smoke, earth into dust. Or ashes—flames have succeeded to our guns more than once. I wouldn’t be surprised if at times, the world decided to destroy itself.”
“I saw the hundreds of marble columns of Tihamir a few weeks ago—facing the ocean with the pride of Gods. The golden patterns on the roofs were ones I could have observed for hours,” lips subtly twitched in a dry smile. “Still, it didn’t stop the shells from falling. And the day after, we ruled over the city. ‘A brilliant campaign,’ they had said with revel."
“Reiner and I fought side by side during one of them. The air burned our lungs at every breath, for all the projectiles shot.”
“To see him safe and sound in the aftermath of such bloodshed should have made my chest lighter, soothe the burn with a tad of ‘he will be alright’ I'd repeat over and over, just to feel like it would really be alright. But instead, I dread to team with him again on the frontline, because it's clear he expects to cross that final one with a certain desire to do so.”
“For a moment, I faced myself—that freshly introduced soldier who once sought to fix things in a way that would only break them further. Even if it meant to mingle with the dust of the fallen, for all the choices I had never made.”
The words faded on her lips, and a shake of the head followed. Brown locks grazed her pale cheeks flushed by the early breeze.
“Sorry. To be that negative wasn’t the purpose of my visit. I just… wished to have someone to watch the sun rise. A few hours of quietness before the world awakes. A tad of peace when everything seems to fall apart.”
Vivian then knelt, the fabric of her coat brushing the humid surface of the grave, gathering the tiny raindrops. In her hand hung a delicate bouquet of snowdrops—pristine, the painting borne from the shades of yellow the sky bore reflecting on the petals.
Bertholdt once claimed it was hope’s color. Perhaps for the yellow armband warrior candidates received to be a pass toward a sweeter life—a thought shared by many before it shifted to a darker, sharper red.
Like danger.
But eventually, it had become another companion in the realm of shadows—one barely uneasy.
“Reiner speaks. Sometimes with his own words. Even if he is convinced there is nothing left to do for his own salvation, he still fights. Unconsciously, but he does.”
“I wonder if you two recalled your own Tihamir too. If you saw something more beautiful than expected on that island, and felt regret seize your hearts when it met the ground.”
She lay the flowers on the humid stone—like a blanket to shelter him from the toughest frost, even past the Afterlife. Her grey eyes lingered for a moment on the carved letters of the grave before flying back to the scenery amidst the hills.
A slow, tiny smile etched on her lips.
“But the sun… it always rises.”