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Chapter Text

At this point, it came as naturally to her as breathing. A standard routine, she didn't even have to think about it anymore, her body would just move on its own most of the time. Move here, grab there, and then kick the right spot with enough strenght. Granted, it was odd that a child, let alone a girl, could have this much strength. It was enough to bring down a grown man, at the very least.

With that, the young Reiner Braun was on the ground, upside down, probably tasting the dirt with knees digging into his shoulders from the unfortunate way he landed from her blow. She looked at him, his face in shock and pain. Though, it wasn't something that concerned her too much, if at all.

“Annie Leonhart!”

She heard the voice of commander Magath call out to her.

“Impeccable! You pass!”

These words only took a moment to leave someone's mouth, and how life-changing they actually were didn't seem to show to a ten year old just yet. At least, not to her. Reiner, however, seemed upset that the approval was directed towards her and not himself. But, again, it wasn't much of her problem.

She looked down at her hands, they're small and pale, rough and red, then brought them to her forehead. She was lightly covered in sweat, her bangs wet. It wasn't something unfamiliar, what's more, she was used to much worse, but the breeze today was unpleasant, so her wet skin felt the chill. The light wind picked the dust and dirt from the ground and made it stick to her, made her cough, and got in her eyes.

Maybe she could take a bath when she gets home tonight? She was tired, her skin was cracked and rough, her body dirty from the dust, she smelled of sweat and her hair was a mess. But more importantly – today she finally received the confirmation that she has indeed been granted the status of an official warrior candidate. Surely, she could afford the luxury of a warm bath tonight?

It doesn't even have to be warm..., she admitted to herself, ...if I can wash myself, any water will do.

The sun was about to set – a sign that warrior training would come to an end for today.

And thankfully so. Annie didn't particularly hate the training at headquarters, if anything, she thought most of it was a walk in the park compared to what she was coming home to. Today, though, was especially exhausting for another reason. It wasn't because of the less than nice weather, rather, it was the amount of people who initiated conversations with her.

From commander Magath and the other Marleyan military officials, to the other children who were there with her. There were those she had never seen before, but they seemed to have an admiration for her. Some of them, anyway. Some children looked jealous, some sad, some relieved, and she didn't know how to respond to this varying display of reactions, so she remained unphased by them all, and tried to keep the actual talking to a minimum.

Some she knew for a while. Pieck, a girl her age, came to congratulate her with a simple pat on the shoulder and a smile. She left it at that, and went on with her day. That Pieck was a weird one. Her hair was messy, thick and a deep black color. Her eyes looked tired no matter what time of day it was or how much training she did. Always seemed as if she just woke up five minutes ago. But she seemed to know her surroundings well, she knew just how to approach and leave Annie alone. It was appreciated.

Some of the boys came up to her and said their congrats as well. Bertolt was one of them, a tall-for-his-age, meek boy. He somewhat failed to look her in the eyes as he muttered out his congratulatory words. He approached her as if it were some kind of grand gesture, but he was mostly stuttering and looking towards his feet. She didn't notice that he was trying to hide a bright red on his cheeks. The other boy that approached her, Marcel, was a confident and friendly boy, seemingly admired and respected by everyone who met him. He took a much more casual route, gave her a pat on the back and a simple “Great job!”

Both boys already sported the bright yellow armband – a sign they were chosen warrior candidates. Bertolt was talented, sure, but he always seemed a bit too unnoticeable to be a warrior, at least compared to Marcel. In fact, Marcel was the first one chosen out of the group as a candidate, and his spot as a warrior was most likely garanteed. But, the same would happen to her as well.

At the end of training, she was called in by Magath and the other military higher-ups. And then it was official. That day, Annie left the training grounds with a yellow armband, tightly wrapped around her left upper arm.

She didn't feel much different. As a matter of fact, she felt exactly the same.

The sky was the same boring color, and the ground still felt the same under her feet. She's going to walk home the usual route, kicking the same rocks and ripping off the same leaves off of annoying tree branches she could reach. Her father would still be there, and he'd insist on that same old routine they did every damn day. He'll give her a word or two of praise, like everyone else did today, but other than that, nothing else would turn out different.

The children all grouped up, as they were getting ready to go home. A rare moment in the day, where no one would critisize them for acting like the kids they were. She could hear laughter and banter, screeches and the rapid footsteps of several children around her.

They didn't get enough of running today? She thought to herself, eyeing the playful bunch. And just fifteen minutes ago they couldn't stand from how exhausted they were...

Annie had stamina, she was a good runner herself, but she would never run because of simply wanting to do so. How contradictory. When it was their mandatory training to run, they couldn't do it, yet now they're able to for no actual reason. She turned her head to another group in the nerby.

She noticed Pieck, Marcel, and Porco – Marcel's younger brother. From what she could see and make out, Pieck seemed to be poking fun at Porco, who was taking the girl's teasing a bit too close to heart. Truth be told, he had a tendency to be overdramatic. Apparently, he was upset over still not getting the yellow armband, despite his brother having it for a while now.

Marcel was trying to calm Porco down in his own big-brotherly way, but didn't seem actually bothered by the fact that Porco wasn't a candidate.

These three were often seen together, Pieck was quite friendly with the Galliard brothers. Actually, she seemed quite similar to Marcel. Maybe she isn't as strong or built like him, but they share a different set of qualities. They are both clever, quick-thinkers that remained calm under pressure. And Pieck had the same kind of charm as Marcel. The messy haired girl appeared to be beloved by all who've met her, and had a positive effect on the people around her.

Annie thought that, definitely, Pieck was a shoo-in for the next warrior candidate. Magath seemed fond of her. And Porco, well, if he had his attitude in check, he'd be a more likely option than most kids present.

Not too far away from them, she noticed Bertolt with Reiner. The blond boy was sitting down, looking like he was on the verge of tears (again), and his companion was trying to make him feel better by giving him a hand to stand up. Annie thought that Bertolt would do better as a shoulder to cry on than a helping hand, at least to Reiner.

It was so weird to the girl.

Porco was throwing a fit, Pieck was making fun, Reiner was depressed enough to almost start crying. All three were in the same situation when it came to their military status, but all three had different takes on it. Expressed different feelings.

The thought amused her. But a moment's amusement was all that it would lead up to in the end. She had no real intention to poke around and find out what is it that makes them feel the way they do, and who out of them was had the most proper response.

Or, maybe, she was the odd one out.

She was alone, on her way back home. It was just as she thought it would be. The same old route on these same old, gray-bricked streets that she had walked on a million times already. And, once again, just as she predicted, she was ripping leaves and fiddling with them in her rough, tired hands, and kicking a small rock that she found along the way with every step she took.

She needed something to amuse her, after all, it was a good, long walk to where she lived. It wasn’t much, and in no way anything to brag about, but it was the only house she’s ever lived in. The only standing and (mostly) functional house in that poor neighborhood, with a training ground that her father had made when she was too young to even remember it.

Yes, she'd go back home, where she would only train for the rest of the day. If she gets lucky, she'll get a nice dinner and a chance to wash herself clean. Otherwise, she'll have to go to sleep tonight dusty and sweaty, with a grumbling, still half-empty stomach. But her dad did seem to enjoy the finer things in life, so maybe he would like to celebrate being one step closer to becoming an honorary Marleyan, as he had always wished. This was good news to her too then, for one night at least maybe she could have it easier.

Or maybe just the opposite would happen. Her dad could open himself a bottle of wine and treat himself to nice night of drinking. Then, when he wakes up the next morning, he would be extremely cranky. Hopefully this wasn't going to be the case scenario, as Annie could already picture the bruises she would have on her calves, the heels and soles of her feet throbbing, and her once again finding it hard to catch her breath as she barely stood from exhaustion from the training that would ensue.

The hypothetical (yet, unfortunately too close to real) scenario made her upset. She furrowed her eyebrows and gritted her teeth, crushed the leaf she had in her hand and kicked the rock she was playing around with a bit too hard. A deep exhale followed after a moment or two that it took her to calm down. There was a bakery in front of her, so the smell of freshly baked bread spread through the air helped her quite a lot, but at the same time reminded her of how hungry she was.

There was a patch of green grass next to the sidewalk. It was filled with yellow flowers that Annie didn't know the name of, but she thought they look oddly nice. She never saw a flower like that before which, come to think of it, was strange. The girl took this road every time she had warrior training, so these must be new, freshly planted. It was a garden, neat and nicely organized, obviously someone was going to take good care of these helpless flowers. And it was probably the garden of the bakery owner, after all, it was right next to it. And Annie, in the middle of all her frustration, kicked the small rock right into it.

She crouched to search for it, but stopped for a moment when the smell of the flowers made it's way to her. The gentle smell mixed with the warmth from the bakery, it made for quite the sensation. Annie closed her eyes, and suddenly found herself forgetting what she was looking for in the first place. She stood there like that for several moments, hating the idea of moving.

However, she eventually had to, and when she lifted her now heavy eyelids – the little rock came into her sight.

Dazed, she reached out to take the rock back. It was between two flowers, covered in the moist dirt, so she had to dig into it a bit to pull it out. She held the rock in her now mud covered hand and looked at it more closely. And the realization startled out a shriek out of her.

Annie jumped to her feet and dropped the rock to her right foot. She quickly wiped her dirty hand against her dark green training pants and stopped to catch her breath through her sharp and shallow inhales. Not one to startle easily, such a scream was something she felt uncomfortable with. And for what? Because there was a caterpillar on the backside of the rock.

As the caterpillar, along with the rock, fell right next to her foot – Annie didn't hesitate at all. In the easiest, most untroubled way, she stomped onto the bug on the sidewalk. She didn't pay much attention to her digging her foot into the ground below her, and let out a sigh of relief.

She hated to admit it. These little things, these crawling or buzzing little things with more legs than Annie thought natural freaked her out. But thankfully, this mild inconvenience was now done with.

“...you killed it.”

Her train of thought was suddenly interrupted by an unfamiliar voice that made her raise an eyebrow. She turned her head towards the bakery door, and found that a boy stood just a few feet away from her.

He seemed to be close to her age, with blond hair that was of a darker color than her own, and it fell to his chin in length. The clothes he wore looked worn out, probably a hand-me-down, as they did appear to be a bit too big for him. Around his upper left arm was an armband of a brownish-gray color, therefore he was an Eldian civilian boy. In his hands he was holding a loaf of that bread that smelled so nice to her a moment ago.

The two children stood still for a few more moments in total silence, until the boy spoke again.

“Uhmm... Why?”

Annie furrowed her eyebrows, inquiring him to explain his question.

Her glare caused the young boy's cheeks to grow a pale red, and he averted his gaze to her right leg, with which she crushed the bug just moments ago.

“Why... did you kill it?”

She found herself unamused by his question, and turned her back to him and proceeded to kick the rock as she was doing before.

“No reason,” was the reply she gave him as she continued her way home, without looking back or further acknowledging his presence, prepared to drop this pointless interaction.

However that wasn't the end of their little conversation, as Annie heard his footsteps follow behind her without catching up. Thanks to Annie's less than wordy response, he seemed hesitant to continue on talking, but did so anyway.

“It wasn't going to hurt you in any way. You could have just let it go... There was no need to do that.” He spoke with a tender voice. A sweet tone, he didn't really seem to be upset with her, just sad for the innocent little creature.

They passed a dozen houses in uncomfortable silence. She really couldn't understand why he was following her, and thought to herself that if he didn't turn away soon she would have to shoo him away somehow. It was then that she thought about what he had told her, and decided to share her conclusion.

“And what if it did want to hurt me?” Her tone was flat as she gave her little improvised toy another kick.

Her companion looked at her with wide eyes. Maybe he thought she wouldn't respond at all.

“What did you say?” he asked her again.

With eyes still on the road in front of her, she repeated.

“You said that it wasn't gonna hurt me, so there was no reason to kill it,” she paused for a brief moment, glanced at the sky. It was rapidly getting darker outside. She really should pick up her pace or else her father might be upset. Anyhow, she continued. “But, let's say, it wanted to hurt me.”

Annie heard the boy's footsteps stop in place behind her, so she too stopped, and looked over her shoulder to him.

“So, if it did want to hurt me, is killing it okay in that case?”

The wind that was bothering her the entire day decided to pick back up again. Annie felt her exposed arms and calves shiver slightly as her patience to hear his answer grew thinner with every second. She thought she'd be better off leaving without hearing his conclusion.

When it comes down to it, what did his opinion even matter? He was a stranger whom she only inconveniently bumped into just a few minutes ago. Everything about him seemed pitiful. Despite only being a smidge taller than her, he looked weak and scrawny, if the wind blew only a little harder it would probably break his bones. He was just an ordinary kid, who didn't know the blood, sweat and dirt she was used to. She didn't even know his name.

And yet, she still didn't move, awaiting his reply.

The boy kept eyeing the brick beneath him, his shoes, and the loaf of bread in his hands. Finally when he felt confident enough in what he would tell her, he spoke up.

“I don't know what the right answer to that question is. I don't know if it's okay to kill the bug then.”

It was as if he chose all the right words to annoy Annie to no end. Frustrated, she gave out a long exhale and stepped forward again, cursing at herself that she wasted this time only to get an answer as meaningless as that one.

“But, if it were me...”

He continued on out of no where.

“...I think it would be best to avoid a situation where I would be forced to make such a decision. I think that, that way, it's a good thing for both me and the bug.”

The boy wasn't sure if she had heard him, she was already walking away and didn't halt for a second. She didn't look back or nod or give any response. Something crushed him inside, thinking that he made her upset. Maybe it really wasn't any of his business to start talking to her out of the blue like that.

But he thought she looked so sad.

He resumed walking, making a turn that was to a street to his right, parting ways with her. That's why he stopped following her in the first place, this was where he had to turn home. Taking one last look over his shoulder to try and spot the girl, he could see her growing smaller and smaller in the distance.

He mustered the bravery and yelled out an innocent “Bye!” at the sad, little girl. It was the polite thing to do, wouldn't feel right otherwise.

Annie continued on walking home with her hands in her pockets, and she didn't care for her rock anymore.

Everything grew more and more dull around her as the place she called “home” came into view. The smallest among all the houses there, with its dirty white outer walls, the dainty trees surrounding it and the improvised kicking dummies made from old material and mattresses wrapped around medium sized wooden pillars. Damn those things. The sight of them alone was enough to make her mood go sour and ruin the rest of her day.

A ghost neighbourhood, some might call it. All surrounding houses were empty, abandoned. Their roofs had holes so big that the houses were deemed unusable and doors bolted with wooden bars preventing anyone from entering. Perhaps, someone really did live there at some point, but in her ten years, Annie never knew of anyone living close to her and her father.

And she could understand why, in fact, she too would run away from the smell of the sewage pipes if she could. The workplace directly next to her house would let out water with such a stench, on some days it was just unbearable. And loud, it was so loud, and it would rarely ever stop.

But that was life.

One last deep breath with her eyes closed, and she pushed open the front door of her house.

Apparently her father had been in the middle of cooking dinner, which she was honestly thankful for. Though seemingly nothing too filling, by the smell of it, it was vegetable stew. The girl's appetite suddenly calmed down knowing she probably wasn't going to go to sleep with a stuffed stomach. It was better this way actually – less to get disappointed over.

Her father looked to her, and a proud expression adorned his face. Not one that was proud of his daughter, no, it seemed to her that the man was more proud of himself.

The bright yellow armband on her bicep.

He gave her a few words of empty praise. Nothing she wasn't used to, he'd praise her often when she did something correct in his opinion.

But something Annie was more grateful for than the not-so-mouthwatering meal was that she was able to take a bath. No, it wasn't a relaxing, long, hot bath. The water was lukewarm, and her cleaning time was limited. She had to come eat dinner on time before a special evening training.

Usually, she'd train from sunrise to sundown. But the sun had already set now, still her father got a wave of motivation to have one last session for the day, only lasting two or three hours this time.

When he finally called it a night and went inside, Annie was still lying down on the grass in front of their house. The sparring was shorter than usual, but somehow more intense. She should have expected this actually – now that she was a candidate the expectations from her are going to go through the roof.

The girl looked up at the starry night sky as she was trying to control her breaths. She was sweating and on the grass, so the bath was more or less for nothing in the end. She wanted to get up, go to sleep, and get the day over with already. Annie turned out on the ground, holding herself up on her hands and knees, with her eyes shut, giving steadying her inhales one last shot.

In that moment she felt her stomach grumble. The blonde thought that it was all quite sad. Pitiful, even.

Despite her dad's wish to live a comfortable and luxurious life, the food he decided to settle her with was more of a peasants serving. The stew was so bland, flavorless and downright torturous to eat that she would have preferred nothing at all. And not to mention the bread that she had with the stew felt hard and stiff, it was probably several days old. Annie then remembered the boy from earlier that day, and the smell of the loaf he was holding. She could imagine; he probably ate it for dinner. It must've been soft, and warm, and so good that you just couldn't stop eating it until it was all gone, down to the last crumbs.

She slowly opened her eyes. She experienced that weird feeling, the one when you felt like you've already lived through a moment? What was that called? She didn't know.

But the feeling was induced by she same shriek she let out for the second time that day. Except this time, there was a ladybug on the sleeve of her hoodie. Well, what did she expect? She was lying on the grass for at least five minutes.

Annie instantly lifted her other hand, wanting to slap the ladybug.

But something clicked. And then she stopped in her tracks. The echo of that boy's voice rang in her head.

“It wasn't going to hurt you, you could have just let it go.” Was what he told her.

Annie began shaking her arm up and down to get rid of the insect. She wouldn't want to actually touch it with her fingers. And a few ups and downs later, the little ladybug spread it's wings and flew away into their darkened surroundings. And she would almost definitely never see it again.

“It would be best to avoid a situation where I would be forced to make such a decision.”

She repeated these words in her head again. His voice was far away when he said that. However, that was her own fault, she kept walking away. But she did, as a matter of fact, hear it.

“So I guess... next time I won't hang out in the grass for so long. Then no bug will come land on me.” She whispered these words to herself in the cold night.

  That night the future warrior climbed into bed, thinking about what he told her, and what was it that made her listen. A part of her couldn't help but wonder and continued on to think deep into the night...

Who was that boy?

Chapter Text

They've been at it for hours already.

Usually, about this time of the year the weather would get nicer and warmer with every passing day. The sun would be shining and tree branches would be covered with leaf buds. However, these past few days there was hardly any sunshine. The clouds stretched out as far as the eye could see, making the sky resemble a blank, empty, white canvas. The wind seemed very persistent these days, and the air itself was heavy and dry, and certainly wasn't doing Annie any favors.

It was one of those rare days that the warriors-in-training had a day off. The training had a reputation for being intense, at times gruesome, so any day that the children were allowed to take a breather was treasured by most. A simple day where they could try and be nothing but normal children, spend time with their families, play or relax.

She may just be the only child in the military that hasn't looked forward to a day off, even once.

For many of the kids this would be the perfect day to sleep in, snuggled up in their beds. For her – the day started before the sun was up. And it just so happens that the night before was one of those dreadfully long nights where she tossed and turned in her bed, struggling to fall asleep. She had to make up every minute of missed shut-eye with a splash of freezing water to her face, making shivers run down her spine and made her fingers go semi-numb.

In all her efforts, she wanted the day to go by even just a little faster by doing everything as slowly as she could. She attempted to tie her hair and get dressed excruciatingly slow so that there would be less time to spend outside. Same goes for the food she had for breakfast. A meal so tasteless and bland that, in all honesty, she wanted to go through it as quickly as possible. However, today, she insisted she'd take her time with every bite. Maybe even be so bold as to ask for seconds.

Seeing the way she behaved, her father grew upset with her. He called her behavior spoiled, and insisted they went outside at once to start.

No warrior training meant that Annie was left at the mercy of her father for the day. And his regime was worse.

Usually, at the headquarters, she could find a way to avoid the responsibility of training by hiding away. She'd slip away into some unchecked corner or blend in with a crowd of kids that seemed overenthusiastic so she could make herself seem small and not draw attention. It wasn't always, only when she knew that the current drill was pointless, when they weren't graded, or when they weren't being looked over by Magath or someone else of importance. One might call her a “slacker” for it but, in her opinion, she was being smart about her actions. She saved the energy for something actually useful. And it worked out for her – she never got caught and she was still one of the best candidates the warrior unit would ever see.

When it came to her father – the two were alone, in a brutal one-on-one. All of his attention was devoted to her and nothing else. Every wrong step, every sharp or shallow breath, every spark of weakness in her arms or legs, would all be clear as day to him and there wasn't anything she could do to hide. Irony was indeed cruel, because for someone who seemed to notice everything about her so well, he failed to see the actual weaknesses that she had.

He was cheap on her breaks as well. And his voice was always pounding in her ears, she would much rather have Magath be the one to scream at her all day.

It would be an understatement to say that Annie was irritated. In fact, she thought about it over and over, but she never came to understand how her father had the patience and motivation for this.

She always knew that he wasn't her real father. He didn't seem to mind Annie knowing about it. Always calm and unbothered whenever the subject was brought up.

The little one just didn't have a grasp on how he had the energy for all of this. Waking up at the same time as her, if not earlier, every morning. Spending hours upon hours training and teaching her. Day after day, for as long as she could remember. All so that she could one day become a warrior and serve Marley.

It seemed to her like that was a long route to take. A long shot. A decade of work, with no guarantee that it would pay off.

Lucky for him, the girl he took into care was a tough one.

But even the toughest ones will crack under enough pressure.

Annie felt her body grow colder with every passing moment. Her chest went up and down rapidly, and with the help of the cold weather, she could see her every breath as it left her mouth in thick, white mist.

What time of the day was it? There was no sun in the sky, so she couldn't tell, but she knew it was somewhere in the afternoon already. Her last quick-break was hours ago.

Not being able to go on with her father's demands, she took a moment and stepped back. Naturally, this form of disobedience caused him to yell out to her, and from the tone of his voice and the wrinkled skin on his forehead, he was clearly furious with Annie's decision to take a breather.

“What are you doing, Annie?! Don't stop!”

Her small, but swollen, red hands fell to grab her knees. Back bent, her gaze fell to her feet. She was barefoot all day. According to her father, it was part of the training, to make her feet grow resilient to pain and get used to landing hard blows. They were all dirty from the ground, her skin dry and cracked, scattered with bruises that varied from purple to blue in color.

“You think you can fulfill your duty like this?!”

The girl was aware that her father was telling her something, maybe he was even shouting at her. She didn't hear a word of it. Her exhaustion left her with nothing but a harsh breathing condition and a painfully loud ringing in her ears. The sound of his voice resembled nothing else but mere static. It only grew worse, evolving into a splitting headache. Her hands and knees both shook, and she was scared for a moment that she lost all feeling in her arms as she failed to feel the material of the pants she was gripping while holding on to her knees.

“Fulfill her duty?” Her father acted like this was a greater, noble cause. She felt like it was punishment. A cowardly man took a child in to fight his fights and suffer so he wouldn't have to.

And what did she do? She went along.

Trained and obeyed, worked hard at it too. She learned every little thing he gave her to chew on. And repaid him by earning the yellow armband which solidified her superiority amongst her peers.

Her stomach sunk at the thought, her eyes saw red. Words weren't enough to describe the amount of rage she felt. The hatred she carried with her every day. For this man, for his training, and for the life she was living.

She wanted none of it anymore.

“Are you listening to me, Annie?!”

As he spoke, her father made his way towards her, put a hand on her shoulder to regain her attention. He only laid his hand on her for a second, but that was enough for the little girl.

In that moment, she screamed.

It wasn't like anything else she did until that point. None of her huffs or pants, grunts or squeals. Not like any frightened shriek she let out so far. It was an unfiltered and raw scream, coming from deep inside her, expressing all of her bottled-up feelings that she had to repress.

Even her father got startled by it, but he didn't have the time to react to her sudden, unexpected outburst. As Annie took the battle stance he imprinted on her, in less than a moment, he felt a sharp pain in his leg.

He fell down onto the ground before her, grabbing his leg and holding it tightly. Annie paused. The realization that she actually hit her father set in. First came a rush of adrenaline, but short-lived, she was quickly overwhelmed by fear.

In this moment, Annie allowed all her emotions take control of her for the first time. Her heart was pounding so hard she feared it would break her ribs and burst out. Her sight was foggy. Her entire body hasn't gotten over the shaking yet. But something got triggered inside her, and it kept telling her that enough was enough. She should finish what she started.

Another involuntary scream escaped her.

She kicked again.

Annie didn't know where her strength was coming from, she could barely stand a minute ago. Yet she kept going, hitting him over and over again and took in the sound of her father crying out.

She felt her eyebrows furrow, the breaths leaving her mouth growing aggressive and her vision focus solely on the target of her revenge. The gut twisting fear evaporated, she attacked with her entire body. She could remember the feeling that followed, she surrendered herself to it. The relief, the empowerment. How good it felt.

She didn't remember much of what happened after that. It all felt like a dim dream from that point onwards. The weight of the situation didn't really sink in until her father failed to get up several times. She had to run to town and call for a doctor to come and take him away to get him checked-up and treated.

After sending the doctor to her father, she didn't return home.

There was a horrible pit in her stomach that didn't let her rest easy. And being home would only bring her down more. Well, not that aimlessly wandering around Liberio made her feel any better.

She didn't like the tall buildings and crowd-filled areas, such as the market, so she walked around the suburbs of the interment zone, passing by civilian houses on old, uncared for roads.

She distantly heard a group of small children, toddlers likely, coming from a house she was passing by. Who knows what was going on in there, but they seemed to be laughing.

Annie thought to herself, that she was a toddler once, and her father had to take care of her. It was unimaginable to her, especially because she couldn't actually remember any of it. She was a baby, then she was a toddler and then she grew into the child she is today.

When did her martial arts training even begin? When did her father decide to end what was left of her childhood?

Annie allowed her thoughts to wander around more. Was she a fussy baby? Did she cry often? What was it like teaching her how to walk? What were her first words? Did her father ever play with her, if only once? What would that play-time even look like, come to think of it, she didn't remember having any toys.

Was there ever a moment in which he treated her like his daughter, and saw himself as a father to her?

As she continued on her walk, Annie stumbled upon a small, very run-down playground. She doesn't remember ever seeing it before but, to be fair, she rarely ever took leisurely walks like this. She wasn't familiar with this part of Liberio.

The swing set was falling apart. One wooden seat was dangling from a chain, disconnected from the other one. And the other seat had cracks all over it, if she tried to sit on it, it would definitely break in half. The chains of both swings were all covered in rust. The slide that was next to the swing set had holes all over it, clearly someone tried to destroy it. On the other side of the park, there was a seesaw, but it had a seat missing, impossible for two children to sit on it.

There were also a couple of benches among the broken playground, and they were actually useable. Sure, they looked old and weak, but at least they wouldn't break if someone sat on them. And Annie was grateful, it's been a while since she started walking around after training and running for help, she could use a place to finally rest.

They were a bit dirty though, covered in dirt that rose from the ground and twigs that fell from the surrounding trees. She dusted her seat before sitting down.

As she sat, Annie closed her eyes and let out a sigh. Oh so tired.

You couldn't really say that the sun was setting, because it wasn't out today, but the sky was changing color. Was it this late already?

The little girl brought up her thighs close to her chest, resting her overworked feet on the wood. Overwhelmed by every thought that was streaming through her mind, she wanted to escape.

Not just physically this time, she wanted to escape herself.

She took the hood of her sweatshirt and covered her head with it. Annie then hugged her calves, pressing her legs even closer to her chest and rested her forehead on her knees.

There was one thought that bothered her more than anything else she could think of – eventually, she would have to go back home. And what was her father going to do with her now?

Was her little revenge really worth all the trouble it would cause her?

She doesn't know how far she took it when it came to the injury she inflicted, she wasn't truly thinking straight in that moment. Maybe she wasn't thinking at all. She doesn't remember how many strikes he took from her, or for how long it went on. The only thing she remembered loud and clear was his reaction when she finally came to an end.

When his cries of pain subsided, what followed was a victorious laugh. It snapped Annie back to reality. He was rolled up on the grass, hugging his beaten up leg, yet she had never seen him so happy in her life.

“How wonderful!” He shared what he found so joyful, voice echoing all around. “Now you can kill your enemies, even unarmed!”

At the thought of his words, Annie squeezed her legs, and buried her head deeper into her own embrace. She could feel tears building up against her eyelids, but was stubborn about not letting them fall down her pale cheeks. No matter how hard she tried, in the end she couldn't escape making little sniffling noises, hating the sound of them. She kept thinking how pathetic she must've looked in a state such as this.

Her self-loathing was abruptly cut short, as Annie heard the sound of twigs snapping under someone's footsteps. Her first thought was that it could be her father coming to get her, but she hoped it would be anyone but him. She could ignore them that way.

“Are you... Annie?”

So much for ignoring them, she whined internally. Annie lifted her dried-up, but still puffy, eyes to look at the person who came to bother her at her most pitiful.

She was caught off guard by the sight of the boy that she spoke to a few days ago. It was the blond boy that bought the nice bread from the bakery, who inquired her about squishing a bug. Who, despite not seeming like much, left an impression big enough on her to influence her actions from that point onwards.

Well, she wasn't killing bugs and insects anymore. Apparently she resorted to something far worse.

The boy stood just a few feet away from her and he was holding a loaf of bread in his arms, just like last time. His clothes a size too big for him again, but he looked tidy at least. He sported a coat over a pair of overalls, and a worried expression on his face.

Despite desperately wanting to be by herself a moment ago, she felt like him wanting to keep her company seemed unavoidable now. And she didn't have the energy left to tell him to leave her alone.

She still sat in the same position with her hood covering most of her hair, only her eyes were visible to the boy.

“How do you know my name?” she lifelessly asked.

Swallowing a nervous knot in his throat, the boy began explaining.

“Well... you see, recently there has been a lot of talk around Liberio. They say there's a new candidate that was chosen, and that she's a very talented girl. A lot of people around here are happy that the military has many good Eldian children who will help create a nice name for us.”

He met her tired eyes and found it difficult to form his next words. Looking away to her armband, he continue on.

“Th-they said her name is ‘Annie Leonhart’, and that she'll make both Marleyans and Eldians proud.”

Annie turned her gaze to the broken swings. She didn't think her mood could get any worse, but having heard these words from people she had never seen before made her sick. What did the strangers who lived in Liberio have anything to do with her? Who were they to feel proud of someone whose conditions they knew nothing about?

Meanwhile, the blond boy took a few steps forward, and sat on the other end of the bench. Apparently, Annie didn't seem to mind it.

“I saw... I saw you wore a yellow armband when we met a few days ago. And I didn't see any other girls wearing them, so I just figured you were the one that they were talking about.”

In his whole speech, there was one word that awoke an especially bitter feeling in her heart. And in a fashion uncharacteristic for her, Annie decided to share her feelings on the matter.

“They can't talk like that about me. They don't know a single thing.” Her conversation partner looked at her with wide eyes, intending to pay close attention to every word she said. “They said I'm talented? What do they know about the difference between talent and working yourself silly every day...”

The boy raised his eyebrows at her comment, and took this opportunity to study her a bit more closely. Night was indeed slowly falling, but he could see her crystal clear. Her gray hoodie and matching pants were baggy, and her hand holding onto the material looked delicate. Her platinum blonde hair poked out from under the hood, the color matched her skin tone nicely. His eyes turned to her feet. The shoes she wore were clearly old and dirty, maybe even too small for her, they looked close to falling apart.

The true meaning of Annie's words came to light as he saw a fair amount of bruises poking out from the girl's shoes. They seemed fresh, maybe even from today.

Annie lifted her head from her knees, and looked at the boy. He could now clearly see her face. Her eyes looked cold and distant. Lips pink, but pale enough to be mistaken as white. Her nose was unusual, hooked, yet it didn't draw attention from her overall pretty face.

His cheeks grew red at the thought of using the word “pretty” to describe her. To boot, she was staring directly at him. Her glare was intense, making him feel a drop of sweat forming on his forehead.

“You also think those same things about me, don't you?” Her tone was cold, eyes brimming with distrust.

He was taken aback by her claim, and then panicked with worry that he ended up giving her the wrong impression.

“N-no, I don't! I mean, well, warriors are always very skilled, so I think you must be too,” he rapidly let out his response. “But I can't say anything about you as a person, after all, I don't really know you.”

His seemingly honest answer surprised her, in a good way, of course. And he was right – he doesn't know her. All he knew was her name, and her military status. Although, those were two pieces of information more than what she knew about him. It was probably best for it to stay that way too.

Annie wanted to say her reply, but in horribly timed moment, her stomach beat her to it.

Overwhelmed with all that has happened to her, she forgot that she only ate one meal today. And it was breakfast, at sunrise. Preoccupied by her inner demons so much that she failed to notice how hungry she actually was. With overflowing embarrassment, she only hoped that it wasn't loud enough to be heard by her company.

To her dissatisfaction – he heard it. The boy didn't judge her as she assumed, but gave her a soft smile instead. However it went unnoticed, as Annie turned her head away when her stomach humiliated her.

What came next was a crackling sound which made her turn her eyes to him again. She found him splitting a piece of bread from the loaf. Extending his arm to her, he gave her a happy smile, one that she actually saw this time, and told her “Here you go.”

Annie faught her pride and lost. She accepted his offer.

She remembered a few nights ago, after training, that she wondered and imagined how nice it must have tasted. And after taking a bite, she found that it exceeded her expectations. Crunchy, but the middle part was soft and soothing to chew, and it was still warm so she felt like it was melting in her mouth.

She had a newfound appreciation for the boy keeping her company, but at the same time he gave her reasons to raise her eyebrow.

Before taking a second bite, she decided to get her answers.

“Why?” she asked.

“Huh?” he was confused by the nature of her question. “You were hungry, that's why. You're probably very physically active, so you should eat loads and–”

“Not that.” Annie interrupted, realizing she should have specified a bit more. “Why'd you even come and talk to me?”

“Oh.” A few moments of silence went by before he answered. “You look troubled by something. I wanted to see if I could help...”

The pure intentions left her all the more confused. He was harmless, what's more, he wanted to help a girl he knew nothing about. And, she had to give him some credit, at least he didn't care for her military reputation...

It was the same as last time they met. They had the weirdest conversation that was probably a lot deeper for both of them than they knew at first. Not bringing harm to the harmless and trying to avoid conflict to begin with, Annie wondered what shaped his mind into having such an opinion.

The memory of the exchange brought a sudden pain to her chest when she remembered what she did merely hours ago the same day.

“Say... What if someone is causing you pain, and it was something unavoidable...” she spoke. “Is it bad if you... hurt them back?”

The boy was surprised by her question, but instantly made a connection between her words, her depressed state and her bruises. He thought she must have went through hell and back to be in this turmoil.

But also made him realize and made him happy that Annie really was listening to him before, and even remembered what he told her.

He had no intention to pry. So, he had to choose his words carefully.

“When someone hurts me, I don't hurt them back. But I think every situation is different, maybe sometimes, it's necessary to fight back. And hopefully, you won't wind up being the one that is hurt again in the end.”

He didn't know her situation, and given the variety of facial expressions that followed, he was sure he made the wrong move. She seemed worried, which turned to frightened, and lastly, disappointed.

Her legs separated from her chest, feet falling to the ground, and removed her hood while she was at it. Finally finishing the bread he gave her, Annie let out a deep breath, and asked him one more question.

“Did you ever... fight with your parents? Or go against something they wanted from you?”

“With... my parents?”

Annie awaited the reply longer this time. She noticed that the blond boy suddenly didn't seem like he was present anymore. He seemed somewhere far away, maybe reliving a painful memory of his own.

“No... At least, I don't think so,” he concluded.

Annie was hopeful that there was a chance he understood where she was coming from. Although, not in a case as extreme as hers. Evidently, she was let down by his answer, but she couldn't hold it against him. Actually, it was a good thing. His parents must be good people if they raised a boy like him. He was compassionate, and respectful. His presence was calming, in a way Annie had never experienced.

A part of her wished that she could stay longer in this broken playground, sitting on this bench with him. But the growing darkness of the night had to burst her bubble. With a heavy heart, she stood up and dusted her pants clean.

Annie had to admit – he left a good impression on her. It felt wrong for her to just walk away, especially since he's been nothing but nice to her.

“You... What's your name?”

“Huh?” He lifted his eyebrows in surprise.

“Well, you know my name. What's yours?”

He stood up from his seat, and she came face to face with another one of his rosy-cheeked smiles.

“Armin. I hope I'll see you again some day soon!” the boy answered.

And with the answer as goodbye, the two children went their separate ways.

With the boy still fresh in mind, her footsteps back home were a bit lighter. She didn't say it back to him, but she too did hope that she would meet him again. He seemed different from the other kids that she saw around Liberio and the ones who took part in the warrior training, but how exactly different is something she still had to find out.

As time passed and she was left with her shadow as her only companion, Annie felt butterflies flutter around in her stomach. She didn't come home for a while, and she was afraid of her father's reaction. Maybe his joyous outburst earlier was only a fluke, and she was actually in for a rough punishment.

When she finally had her house in view, she noticed that there was no light coming from any windows. It occurred to her that her father may not even be home yet.

She pushed the front door, and called out for the man. No reply. Annie found that she could breathe a little easier. As far as he knew – she was home all afternoon, waiting for him.

But it didn't change the fact that she pummeled him so brutally he couldn't get up.

Annie sat down on a chair at the dining table, awaiting for her dad to return. Time wasn't on her side as every second brought her agony. Sitting alone in silence, she pondered – if that Armin boy knew what she did today, would he still show her the same kindness that he did?

The creek of the door opening shook Annie out of her thoughts. Her father stood at the door. She was scared, her eyes wide open, and irises shrunk down to miniature dots upon the sight.

His leg was in a tall cast, and he had a crutch in hand.

They didn't do anything to greet each other, her father broke the short-lived uncomfortable atmosphere with heavy words.

“The doctor said my leg won't recover.”

Annie's heart sunk, it all seemed too extreme to be real. Something that was her doing, an injury that she gave, wouldn't heal for the rest of his life. And he will have to live with that bad leg, and she'll have to live with the guilt.

As he walked forward to meet her, the sound of the crutch hitting the wooden floor with every step he took felt like a slap to the face. An actual slap is what she should be expecting, especially since he didn't seem to bear the same euphoria he did when he was on the ground. He stood right in front of her, and Annie gritted her teeth, preparing for the worst.

She didn't feel the hard slap across her cheek she expected. Instead, he gave her a pat on the head, and lifted her frightened eyes to meet his own relaxed ones.

“Good job, Annie. You will only become stronger from now on,” he said through a half-hearted smile.

He left the conversation at that, and left his daughter dazed and confused.

Annie would only feel the meaning of his words in the days that followed, and in the worst ways. Her martial art sessions were longer, harder, harsher on her body. She would learn not to say a word during it, or show any form of disobedience during training again. It left her sore, broken, lifeless every time it was over. And all she could do was endure.

Maybe the only trivial thing that kept her going were the words of the boy with the kind smile.

Words that they would see each other again, some day soon.

Chapter Text

The endless sounds of scribbles on paper were starting to give Annie a headache. The more frantic, desperate ones especially so. Some of the children were writing as if their very lives depended on how fast they could move their pencils across the exam sheets.

One of these irritating kids was the boy seated right behind her – Reiner Braun. Annie always knew she had high endurance, both physically and mentally, mostly thanks to her ruthlessly strict upbringing. But, right now, she was starting to believe that Reiner's behavior was meant for the sole purpose of driving her to the edge of sanity. In her eyes, the real test here was to see how much self control she had. Oh, how the girl wished she could just turn around and snatch that pencil away from his trembling fingers, maybe rip his paper in two or, if she was feeling gutsy, punch him right in the face.

Annie could hear it all – pencil strokes, fingers tapping, heavy breathing from all around her. She was sure she could even make out the sound of sweat dripping onto wooden tables and chains of curse words silently escaping some of her classmates as they came to realize time is running out.

As for her, time wasn't an issue. Roughly an hour has passed since the start of their written test, so any minute now the instructor would tell them to put down their pencils, and exit the classroom. She finished most of her test, or at least the amount she felt was necessary.

For most of the children here, this test might just be their last shot at getting chosen as one of Marley's warrior candidates. Annie herself already held that status, so to her concerns the test was merely a formality. Nothing to lose sleep or chew nails over.

Mandatory tests for warrior candidates and regular trainees alike, such as this one, contain questions mostly related to Marleyan and Eldian history. A simple way of seeing how children felt about their motherland, and about their own blood. It was easy enough to pass, if one knew how to use all the right words that the military wanted to hear. She was certain she got it all right, and with time to spare.

Annie noticed that Pieck, who was located on the other side of the wide room, was rereading her papers with unbreakable focus. She was also declared a warrior candidate at this point, making Annie's previous hunch about her correct. Pieck was chosen quite recently, perhaps a week or so ago, and despite not knowing her well, Annie saw that it meant a lot to the girl.

She couldn't quite make out where her other fellow warrior candidates, Bertolt and Marcel, were seated. And the careful eyes of their instructor prevented her from finding out. It wasn't as if she was particularly friendly with the boys, but if she was being honest, she'd prefer either of them sitting behind her instead of the rapidly growing nervous wreck that was Reiner.

He was dancing on her very last nerves. Annie could feel him shaking without even being close to touching him. His barely audible cracking voice was, unfortunately, clear as day to her. And to top it all off – the one sitting beside Reiner was none other than Porco Galliard.

Respect for the younger of the Galliard brothers was growing more and more with every breath Reiner gave out. How unfortunate for Porco to be seated next to him, especially since he always made it publicly known exactly how much he disliked Reiner's overall behavior. What a miracle it was that Porco hadn't physically harmed him yet, given that Annie heard his own annoyed grumbles and fist clenching.

Although, the two boys behind her were in the same situation – neither of them had yellow armbands. Porco had a more pressing matter to take care of. Scolding Reiner would have to come in the aftermath of the exam.

Not a minute later and the instructor spoke, announcing that their time was up. Immediately, the trainees stood up and formed a line to exit the classroom. With children being children, chit-chat and answer checks ensued the moment they were in the outside area and out of the supervisors sight.

The children had the rest of the day off, the written test was the only thing the military had prepared for them today. The results would be made public the next day, during or after standard training.

Exiting the building and entering the training grounds, Annie got momentarily blinded by rays of sunlight peeking out through the thick white clouds. Finally, the weather started getting nicer now. The little girl grew tired of the chilling, heavy air and persistent wind. Especially with how brutal her home training was getting, she wished that at least the weather could be her ally.

Annie took notice of the kids around her. Trainee uniforms weren't necessary for the exam, so to the unknowing eye, they all seemed like regular childen. Both laughter and frustration surrounded the area. It was clear how differently each of them cared for the results. She didn't have time to ponder on it though, as she felt a palm lightly resting on her shoulder.

“How did you do?” she heard a soft voice ask.

Annie turned around to see Pieck – the girl she was looking at earlier. Her black mop of hair rarely made its way into Annie's personal space. As she was getting a closer look at her for the first time, Annie noticed some things. She never knew Pieck was slightly taller than her, nor how big the bags under her eyes were. True, she always did appear sleepy, but it seemed to Annie that her fellow warrior candidate probably didn't rest much last night. With their examinations now done with, maybe she'll make up for what she lost.

“Good, I guess,” Annie lazily replied.

“Really? That's nice to hear.” Pieck gave Annie a cute little smile as she let go of her shoulder. “I hope I got it all right, though I'm not too sure about some things. I hardly studied the Ravaging of Valle, so I don't know how correct my answer to that one was...”

Pieck was a genuinely smart girl, so Annie thought that her insecurities about her answers are all just in her head. In fact, Annie was almost sure that everything Pieck wrote was correct. For Marleyan standards, at least...

What's more, she didn't understand the basis of the girl's anxiety. Despite her initial wish to have an as-short-as-possible exchange of words, Annie chose to keep the conversation going.

“You're already a candidate,” the blonde said in a deadpan tone. “This test shouldn't make much of a difference when it comes to your status. Even if something you wrote wasn't correct, they won't take that armband away. Especially Magath, he seems to like you more than the rest.”

Pieck raised her eyebrows in surprise. This might actually be the most she ever heard out of Annie.

“You could end up as a spare, y'know,” Pieck replied. Turning her head to the crowd of children, as if to scan the area, she continued. “Not every candidate becomes a warrior, there's always a few spares. Just in case you ever have to replace someone, for whatever reason.”

Sadness adorned Pieck's face as she stopped for a moment, and even Annie could feel the worry in her following words. “I can't afford to be a spare. I have to be a warrior. As soon as possible.”

“I see...”

She knew that the famed red armband was insanely important to some children and their families. Surely everyone had their reasons why. However, she couldn't empathize with them. But that was far too taboo to be said out loud.

The reason for Pieck's dedication remained a mystery. As was the motivation of many of those around her. For an example, the motivation of the overly stressed boy who was almost on the other side of the training ground.

Despite the test ending several minutes ago – Reiner was still far from calming down. His panicked, endless back and forth pacing was nerve-wracking to watch. And it looks like Annie wasn't the only one who thought that way – it seemed as though Porco was finally going to give him a piece of his mind. Or a taste of his fist.

Marcel was running to catch up with him, apparently aware of his younger brother's intentions. Despite being a solid distance away, Annie could clearly make out Marcel's voice calling out. “Stop! Porco, calm down!”, was what he was saying.

Pieck, who was watching them alongside Annie, gave out a frustrated sigh and shook her head. “Oh, gosh, there they go again...”

“I'd say Reiner's lucky that Marcel came,” Annie said.

“Yeah...”

“You're friends with those two, aren't you? Don't you wanna go there too?”

“Huh?” Pieck tilted her head at the unexpected question, then turned her dark eyes to the boys in the distance. “Yes, I am friends with them. But, I think Marcel has it all under control. Geez... Pock can be a real handful sometimes...”

“Pock?” Annie's head tilts.

“Huh? Oh! That's just what I call Porco occasionally. It annoys him, but I think it's fun,” Pieck explained.

The girls spent the next few moments in non-awkward silence as they observed the unfolding of Porco's frustration with Reiner. The end result was Marcel physically dragging his brother away and Reiner leaving, with gritted teeth and shaky legs, presumably to go home.

“Porco acts like he's above others,” Annie noted. “He's so upset with Reiner, but he's got more in common with him than he thinks.”

Annie then noticed Pieck's puzzled expression as she was watching the Galliard brothers. “It's strange,” was the only thing she said out loud.

“What is?”

“Pock has pretty good grades. He does a good job at the physical tests too.” The girl furrowed her dark eyebrows before continuing. “I don't understand... how he wasn't chosen yet.”

True enough, the boy was almost as good as his brother when it came to conquering obstacles put before him. But Annie always simply assumed that it was his attitude that made the higher-ups look over him.

“His brother is basically famous,” Annie stated. “If he really needs it, Marcel could put in a good word or two for him.”

Her words made Pieck's eyebrows lift as she let out an inaudible gasp. “That's just it... Marcel...”

Apparently, Annie didn't notice the moment of epiphany that the girl next to her just had. Pieck supposed she should be silently grateful for it, because if what she thought really was true, it could be quite a problem for her close friend.

And being the observant girl she was, Pieck easily spotted that her conversation partner had little to no intention to continue their chat. Her eyes seemed dull and empty, her face rarely changed it's expression, giving off the feeling that she was constantly bored. Having been chosen as a candidate recently, Pieck had hoped to bond with the only other female candidate, as there was a good chance they could end up being comrades in the future. Unfortunately, it didn't quite go as she had wished...

Annie had a visible wish to walk away, and Pieck let her do so. She knew Annie hardly spoke in general, so for now, she was happy that she was able to have an exchange of words at all, even as small as this one. Before they parted ways, Pieck gave her one last pat on the shoulder and said, “I'll see you around.”

Walking farther and farther away from the training ground Annie stopped for a moment to take in how early it still was in the day. The sun is shining bright, night won't come in a while. A pleasant change was the breeze, no longer a bone-shivering slash, but a rather helpful wave of refreshment. What a true shame it would be to let such a lovely day go to waste.

That's the weak excuse she came up with.

Of course, not all of it was dishonesty. She was grateful for not having to breathe in hard, heavy air anymore, she hated the lung-shredding feeling that came with it. But, the truth of it was, she would rather be anywhere else instead of home.

Annie's infamous outburst against her father took place roughly three weeks ago. It resulted horribly for her, as her father was filled with extraordinary pride at the sight of the destructive power he gifted his child with. She was capable of much more than he had originally expected. And so, her home life grew worse than ever before. In the past twenty days her bruised calves began to bleed, and her overworked feet failed to carry her more than once.

All sorts of ideas swam through Annie's mind as she tried to think of ways to postpone her return. Her father didn't go out quite often, the easiest thing for her to do was hide away in a somewhat secluded place, and simply say the test lasted longer than she thought it would. Or that the commander told them they had to run extra laps. Or that the warrior candidates were called in for a special meeting. Or anything else. She was fine with settling for either one of these options, none too unrealistic to believe in.

So now, the question was where to go.

An immediate idea came to the young girl's mind, and that was the abandoned playground she sat in once. And after a moment of thinking it over, the thought grew quite bittersweet. After all – that was the place she accidentally stumbled upon the first time she refused to return home. But it was also the place where she met that boy again.

Armin, her voice echoed in her mind. His name is Armin.

No other specific spot came to her mind, so Annie settled for the playground.

But it didn't come as easy to her as she had hoped, she struggled with heavy thoughts which came flooding in with every step of the way. Disobedience has proven itself as her enemy before. Would acting so selfishly again bring her something positive this time? Or are repetitively made bad decisions meant to always have horrible outcomes?

It may be nothing but a matter of perspective. Annie felt like the training was punishment like no other, yet at the same time, her father saw it as reward of sorts. And neither of them could stop for a moment and try to understand how the other saw it. They always lived as if they were strangers who merely shared a roof, not a spec of “familial love” was felt on either side.

The girl fell deeper into dark thoughts as she walked by a dozen families on her miniature journey. Perfect pictures of how families should look like. Going grocery shopping with their children at the nerby market place, holding them in their arms with wide smiles on each of their faces. Life was cruel in the interment zone, filled with prejudice and inborn hatred. Yet, even in a place as hopeless as this, love was still able to exist in its purest, unconditional forms.

She just didn't know what it felt like.

Light wind flew by, gently playing with her bangs followed by her letting out a sigh. As she left the crowd-filled area of Liberio and entered the suburbs, Annie's pace slowed down, attempting to kill time. The guilty feeling wasn't showing any indication of letting her be.

A few minutes later the broken playground came into view, but it left Annie strangely disappointed. She couldn't find the words to describe the feeling, but somehow, she felt uneasy seeing how empty it was. Perhaps, a part of her had wished that the boy would be there as well.

The trees were noticably greener, and provided the area with shade which the girl found quite relaxing. Annie sat on the same spot and took a look around to see that nothing's changed, it was as damaged as it was previously. She wondered how long had it been since someone, other than her, was able to use it last. That is, use it for it's original purpose – playing. Not as a makeshift hiding spot.

Annie didn't know for how long she sat there surrounded only by the sound of rustling leaves and her own dull thoughts. She knew it was a while, since she noticed that the sun had significantly moved across the sky. Diving her hands into the pockets of her hoodie, she stood up, thinking it would be impossible for her to return at night and get away with it.

Taking a few steps away from the bench, Annie heard the sound of boyish laughter in the near distance. She turned her head around to see if she could make out where it was coming from, and soon found her answer.

There was a group of boys, she counted three of them, semi-circled around a wall. They were staring down at something, paper bags on the ground around them. She didn't know what pushed her to, but she took a few steps closer and soon realized that there was another, smaller figure between them and the laughter was of an arrogant, rude nature. Clearly, they were giving someone a hard time.

She kept walking closer. The three boys seemed a few years older than herself, and quite a bit taller than the kid they surrounded. One of them had just pushed their victim against the wall, and she heard the poor boy's breath hitch after he let out a quiet shriek. Annie's eyes widened at the thought of recognizing the voice, and confirmed her suspicion with the sight of chin-lenght, blond hair.

Having had the realization, something rather violent came over the girl. She didn't need to give her following actions any thought.

All three of them had their backs turned and hadn't noticed her presence as she approached the scene.

She suddenly striked the teen in the middle with a stong kick behind his kneecap. He didn't know what hit him, quite literally, and the next thing he knew he was down on his knees. He couldn't even take a look at the person who brought him down thanks to Annie grabbing him by the back of his shirt. She partially lifted him up, and threw him at the one on the left, slamming them both against the wall. Now they were the ones yelping and out of breath.

The third one tried throwing himself at her, visibly mad at what she did. Annie wasn't phased. She swiftly lifted her leg high enough to hit his waist, and as he bent over from the impact, she continued to grab him by his collar with one hand and punch him in the face with the other one. He pulled away with quite a serious nosebleed and, completely forgetting about his two friends, ran away.

Seeing what she did to the third boy, the two teens against the wall decided to make a run for it too, muttering curse words from the pain. Well, to be more precise, the one she had kicked couldn't run now so he had to be dragged away by his friend. Annie thought the boy was rather pathetic – she didn't even kick him that hard. Her standards might be unrealistic, though.

As the gang completely left them alone, Annie turned her head to the boy that she just helped. He was staring at her with wide eyes, in awe of what she did just now in a matter of seconds.

“Can you get up?” she asked him.

Only when she asked did he notice that he was kneeling down. “...Yes,” he replied, breathless as he stood up despite his knees trembling.

The boy dusted his pants and adjusted his armband as it slipped down his arm slightly. He couldn't help but feel embarrassed that she had to witness him get bullied like that, and now, she must think he's utterly powerless. And Annie's ongoing silence made him all the more nervous.

“I... Thank you...” he shyly stuttered.

The boy proceeded to pick up his bags and their contents that had fallen to ground. Annie saw that they were mostly fruits and vegetables, and hopefully they were still edible after hitting the ground. Come to think of it, she never saw him without a bag with some kind of food inside.

“You really go shopping a lot, don't you?” she teased emotionlessly, which actually made the boy think she wasn't teasing at all.

“I guess so... I go when my grandpa asks me to,” he replied, picking up the last of his groceries.

The two came face to face, feeling rather awkward. Annie had decided to go home just a few minutes ago and now here she was – thinking of what to say next instead. Just a few hours ago, she felt like her conversation with Pieck was exhausting. Now, with Armin, she was ready to come home even later than she thought, if it meant talking to him, even if just a little.

One of them eventually had to speak up. In the end, it was Annie.

“Do you... want to sit down?” she awkwardly pointed to the playground still in sight.

Armin's eyes widened, and Annie thought he'd agree. But after a second, he looked to his bag, disappointed.

“I'm really sorry, but I can't,” he said with an apologetic smile and soft eyes. “My grandpa needs these to start making dinner, so I need to go home quickly.”

Disappointed herself, Annie's expression changed into a slight pout. Without thinking thoroughly, she suggested a new idea. “Then... can I walk with you?”

A pinkish color came to his cheeks, followed by a slow, silent nod of approval.

The first ten or so minutes of their walk were uncomfortable as neither of them spoke. Annie had her hands in her pockets and Armin's hands were busy holding the bags. Looking up at the sky, the girl saw it was now painted in a blue-to-orange ombre. She had accepted that she'd inevitably come home after sunset, but she decided to ask him regardless.

“So... where exactly do you live, anyway?”

Seems like he was lost in his thoughts since the question apparently startled him. “Oh... In a house near the interment zone wall, on the northwest end.”

“I didn't think any kids lived there...” Annie thought out loud. The northwest end was largely populated by the elderly. But he did mention a grandfather just now. That area was roughly half an hour away from the market, so she calculated that she would walk for an hour back home. “You have to walk all that way for groceries?”

The boy nodded. “I don't mind.” He then innocently asked her the same question she did to him.

Annie rather reluctantly explained her home’s whereabouts. About the empty neighborhood and the big workplace with the smelly sewage pipes. That she lived far away from him, almost on the opposite side of the internment zone. She didn’t know how to feel about it, but she did notice Armin was trying his best to map out the way, and pictured what it all looked like.

“It must be lonely, living there,” he concluded sympathetically.

Now that he's said that – she never thought of it that way. But she knew she wasn't lonely. She never had any company to begin with. You need to first have someone in order to miss them later, right? So in that regard, Annie wasn't particularly sad about where she lives.

Armin quickly decided to change the topic, seeing that Annie was stuck in a melancholic state. “You... What you did earlier was amazing! Is that what they teach you in the warrior program?”

“No,” she deadpanned. “I just... I can just do that.”

From the way her expression didn't change, this must've also been a heavy topic for her. He wanted to see her in a better mood for once; so far every time he laid eyes on her, she looked miserable. Armin stopped for a moment and searched through one of the bags he carried, and then reached out to the girl.

Annie saw a warm smile on his face as offered her a ripe, red apple. “This one wasn't on the ground, you can have it. I'll just wash off the rest when I get home.”

The girl's hesitation was short lived, she accepted the gift. The apple came refreshing with the warm sunset, and she had a fondness for sweet. It's been a while since she had anything with such a flavor.

“Those boys were following me around for some time, but now I don't think they'll bother me for a while. Thanks to you,” he spoke as she ate.

Finishing the fruit, Annie remembered him saying that if someone hurts him he doesn't hurt them back. Is this what he meant by that? What an innocent boy he was, clearly too much for his own good. The world is a cruel place, after all. She might not be able to save him next time he's pushed into a corner.

“Did you have warrior training today?” he asked, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“No, not training. We had a written test,” Annie explained. Her answer must have pleased him, he had erupted with excitement.

“Was it hard? What kind of questions did you have?” Armin moved closer to her to see her face better, which prompted the girl to move her side bangs behind her ear.

“It wasn't that hard. History questions, about Marley and Eldia, and wars involving the titans.” The way she spoke wasn't descriptive or entertaining in the slightest, but when she looked at him she saw an overzealous look glowing all over his face. This must be a subject he's interested in.

He continued on asking about each and every question she had, and what answer she wrote down, for the rest of the way. His passion was radiant, and the excitement in his voice was encouraging her to keep telling him everything she could remember. Annie couldn't imagine talking so casually with anyone, she's always been very stiff when it came to words, but something about this boy was so different.

The sky was a warm reddish color as they arrived in the general area of Armin's home. The buildings and streets here were visibly older. Some houses seemed completely run down – no one lived in some, if not most, of the homes in this neighborhood. Annie didn't get to follow the boy quite all the way home, as mid-street he stopped and spoke up.

“Thank you for walking with me,” he said with a humble half-smile. “It's fine now.”

Perhaps he feels ashamed of the neighborhood he lived in, or maybe he just didn't want Annie to see his home. Either one was fine by her, as she knew she'd react the same way had someone walked with her to her own house.

Knowing they'd part ways now, Annie was looking for proper words of goodbye. But Armin beat her to it as he shyly asked her something.

“Could I... see you again tomorrow?”

His eyes were pointed to the ground, and Annie was glad that they were, since she was suddenly far too aware of her cheeks growing warmer. After a few seconds necessary to cool down, she responded with a simple “...Okay.”

They agreed on meeting at the playground at sunset, as Annie's training would be over then. Their farewell came a lot easier, knowing exactly when and where they would find each other again. Annie would have to come up with another excuse for why she was going to come home late for the second day in a row, but she figured to dwell on that later. Now she'll have to think about what to say for tonight.

Annie walked a long way to the house, and decided that she would use a “special warrior candidate meeting” as her excuse this time. She concluded that if it was status related, her father wouldn't mind. And to her relief, he didn't. When she told him the lie upon returning home, he gave her praise and seemed rather satisfied.

Unfortunately for her, martial arts training was unavoidable after all. But the man usually disliked working at night, now all the more with his bad leg, so they stayed out for roughly an hour. Still, it was far less than she would have worked had she went home straight away, so she really couldn't complain.

Although, throughout the training session one thought in particular hadn't left her mind, and followed her all the way to her restless, semi-sleepless night.

She would see him again tomorrow.

Chapter Text

The fresh, early morning was decorated by the chirping of nearby birds. The trees around the house weren't many, and the ones that were look skinny and weak – not a place birds would like to call “home”. Even hearing their chirping was a rarity, since they scare all of them away.

But who wouldn't be scared of them? The sounds of her agonized breaths and grunts accompanied by yelled out orders and instructions as she kicked and punched the training pillars seem like the last thing anyone would take pleasure in listening to. She knew just how bad it was.

Annie counted her blessings that right now wasn't one of those mornings.

The singing was calming, and while listening to it, Annie felt her eyelids getting heavier. She rubbed her eyes trying to not appear sleepy, but the yawn that escaped gave her away. Her father was in the same room as her and, despite his back being turned, she expected him to comment on her drowsiness.

“Did you not sleep last night?” the man asked in a throaty, gruff voice. He himself apparently wasn't fully awake yet either.

“I slept fine,” she lied.

She was lying in her bed, continuously tossing and turning with eyes wide open until late into the night. Her mattress was as if stuffed with stones, which left her back stiff and full of knots. As every position was uncomfortable, the girl resorted to sitting up straight, eventually emptily staring at the wall opposite of her bed in complete darkness. Horrible nervousness ate her. The feeling was dreadful, but she wasn't able to put a finger on what the cause of her anxiety was. Although, a pretty convincing suspect was a promise she had made at sunset.

Annie hugged herself with a shiver. Despite the afternoons getting warmer, the mornings were still chilly. She soon had to leave for the day's warrior training, so she was in her uniform. The dark green pants fell to the knees and the light button-up shirt had short sleeves, they're ill-fitted for cold weather. Mornings like this were when Annie missed her sweatshirts and hoodies the most.

The chills subsided with the room growing warmer from her father heating up their breakfast. Or, more specifically, last night's dinner. With the entire household being just Annie and her dad, they didn't eat too much per meal, so it was often that they would save leftovers for the following day.

Annie's father sat facing towards her after placing the two bowls down. The smell of the mushroom stew put before her was unusually pleasant compared to other meals she recently had, and the steam rising from the dish left her feeling warm. The flavor itself wasn't anything special, but admittedly it was filling and rather enjoyable.

“Do you remember your training from last night well?” her father inquired after half a dozen gulps spent in silence.

Annie considered sarcastically rolling her eyes, but she was aware of him watching her, and that would earn her quite a scolding. “I do,” she answered, taking another sip of the stew.

The elbow exercises they did last night were quite painful despite doing them for a relatively short period of time. Earlier, as she hugged herself to keep warm, she felt the skin of that area was dry and cracked, it had a slight sting to it. But she'd better get use to it, she was likely to repeat the drill tonight.

Tonight...?

Why, yes, she'll come home late again. The girl made a promise to a certain boy that she would meet him after her training. She questioned why she even made that promise in the first place, when it would only cause her trouble. Was it on a whim? One of those “in the moment” scenarios? Either way, she was certain that she was going to go through with it.

Last night she came home late unannounced, and got away with it by a hair thanks to some easy-to-believe-in excuse.

A thought occurred, if she were to tell her father about her arrival back home in advance, she would be safer and wouldn't have to worry about the man as she meets Armin. Surely – it was worth a shot.

“They will be announcing the test results today,” she began her excuse and noticed his eyebrows raising. “After that, we'll know all of the selected candidates.”

“What does it have to do with you?” he complained, eying her armband.

“I think the results will be given to us after the training. I have to be there, despite my armband,” she further made up her story, trying to sound as genuine as she could. “I will be home late.”

The man let out a displeased grunt, closed his eyes and exhaled, to Annie's growing anxiety. He resumed eating though, coming to peace with what she said. “Alright. Then we'll practice when you return.”

As far as his training went, she expected no less. But she was able to fool him once more, for that she felt more at ease. Nonetheless, it would be troublesome if this lying continued. But telling her father about the boy she was meeting would be out of question.

“Now...” he broke the silence between them. “...can you tell me in what ways you can use your elbows when striking?”

And there it is.

Whenever they weren't physically training outside – he'd ask her questions about the martial art techniques he was teaching her and about combat strategies. Almost every meal they had together was like this, it was something she was used to. A part of their day-to-day life. Rarely did they ever talk about much else.

“Horizontal, diagonal-upwards, diagonal-downwards, uppercut, downward, backward-spinning and flying,” she flatly recited everything in one breath. “The diagonal ones are faster than the rest, but less strong.”

“That's right. Then...” He stood up to wash his bowl having finished his breakfast. “Tell me about a way that you can use your elbow in battle.”

Now that he wasn't looking, she felt free to turn her face into one of annoyance. Her answer followed. “If the enemy is hit near the eye area with a lot of strength, their vision could get foggy and blocked from blood. It's painful, and allows me to attack again immediately.”

Having given the answer, the girl stood up to clean her own completely empty bowl. She was silently satisfied, for the first time after so long, she felt stuffed. Alongside her, her father felt satisfied as well. With her answers, of course.

“You've learned this quickly,” he praised, a pleased smile on his face. “Good job, Annie. I expected nothing less from you.”

The little girl was no stranger to his praise – he would say it openly whenever she would achieve something he deemed worthy of it. With how outstanding her capabilities and results were, that was rather often. Annie thought of how it used to make her happy.

She thought she was doing good to earn praise, receiving it left her feeling a special way. Having a sense of duty, maybe? Purpose, perhaps? Or, by some chance, love? Now, trying her best to earn mere words seems like a whole lifetime ago.

Annie swiftly poured herself and gulped down a cup of water, firmly adjusted her armband and hair tie, and went on her way after bidding her dad a goodbye for now. With the creek of the wooden door, the girl heard branches rustling and the sound of wings flapping. The singing flew far away along with the birds, leaving the surrounding all the more gray.

The sky was an almost white shade of blue. This early in the day, most of Liberio was still asleep. She was envious.

Fantasizing about it was so nice; sleeping in 'till late into the morning, cozy as can be, snuggled up in blankets and pillows. She'd cover her window entirely, so the annoying, morning sunbeams couldn't poke her closed eyes. And perhaps to top it all off – a breakfast in bed? Warm bread, just like the one Armin gave her, maybe something sweet, and with a warm drink to wash it down.

She knew the origin of her food related desires, inspired by the wave of the toasty, delicious smelling air surrounding the area of the bakery she was currently passing by. Bakers had to wake up early to prepare the goods, and with just a whiff, she came to a sudden halt. Annie saw the same patch of pretty yellow flowers that drew her attention last time. They're growing strong and remarkably beautiful, under someone's tender care. When she gets the opportunity, she'll be sure to stay here longer again. So long as the owner doesn't chase her away.

As she was approaching the training headquarters, more and more children came into sight. Such an amount of people was overwhelming, especially the noise. Annie grew used to her father's voice, but the chaotic mob was a whole different kind of painful. It couldn't compare to the buzzing, numb feeling she would often feel when with her dad. When at the headquarters, she felt trapped, out of place, desperately feeling a need to simply slip away and disappear somewhere no one could see.

Even though not many were paying much attention to her to begin with, as she felt someone bump into her left arm while running at full speed. The girl blinked twice in surprise and saw that the boy already in the distance was Porco. Marcel quickly followed behind him and, while passing the girl by, he quickly told her “Sorry!” for his brother. As per usual – leave it to Marcel to go around fixing his brother's behavior which was quite entitled at times. The older brother was ought to be applauded for his nerves of steel. What in the world would those two look like together on a battle field some day?

Oh, that's right, that's why Porco's so excited. The results. Every bone in his body must be shaking with excitement, just hoping he'll be in the selected few. He probably wasn't the only one – Annie recalled Porco's previous encounter with Reiner, equally as desperate.

The day was sure to be long and exhausting. Not for the drills and running laps, after years of training the exercises got boringly repetitive. But in the sense that she'd be better off avoiding her peers, or else she'll have to witness more boyish banter. A bunch of unnecessary, brainless conflict that she wasn't the least bit interested in.

Thankfully, her assumption was false and the hours were able to pass, and were as close to painless as it could get. The majority of their superiors were too busy with organization regarding the results, so the ones left in charge of the training were softies, giving lazy and vague commands and wouldn't pay much attention if the kids were slacking off.

The sun was high in the sky now without a cloud in sight, and she had completely forgotten about the shivers she felt that same morning. A different problem came to be now; the warmth would make her skin all sticky, and the shade-covered areas of the training ground were limited as it was mostly open field. Annie contemplated trying to sneak over to her usual hiding spot near the headquarters building, but then she heard a soft voice calling her name.

The one calling her was the black haired girl from yesterday, Pieck, and she was waving for Annie to come and join her in the shade of a tree she was sitting under. And, although Annie did promise herself she'd try to stay by herself, the offer was unusually temping. There weren't many trees, especially ones which provided a shadow as nice as this one and, in all honesty, Pieck wasn't the worst imaginable company. A short debate later, the invitation was accepted, apparently to the Pieck's happy surprise.

Pieck kept gesturing for her to come closer, probably afraid that she would change her mind half way and turn around. Leaning against the side of the tree which was hidden away from the training grounds and faced towards the enclosing wall kept her safe from the instructors. Pieck was sitting on the ground with her legs crossed and, without taking her eyes off the guest, welcomed Annie with a smile.

“Here, sit!” she invited while pointing to the ground next to herself. “We didn't think you'd come.”

Confused with the use of plural, Annie took a look around. She found the answer when she saw Bertolt standing against the tree. He was twiddling his thumbs with his head tilted down, turned to the same spot as Pieck. While it was true that he wasn't standing directly next to their fellow warrior candidate, Annie was taken aback by how she didn't manage to spot him right away. His demeanor was likely the issue; despite being one of the tallest child trainees, he was horribly hard to notice. Quiet as a mouse, rarely the one to strike up a conversation with someone first. Not that she was one to judge him for that...

Annie sat down next to Pieck with an acceptable distance. The shade certainly was enjoyable, she took the liberty to relax a little by resting her back against the tree bark and extending her legs. She closed her eyes and exhaled, grateful that there weren't any more kids at this spot. The light rustling of the leaves covered up all the background noises, and the two children with her kept silent. Maybe she's made the atmosphere awkward for them, but the more time passed, the less Annie cared. Her eyes remained tightly shut, her mind started drifting away. The girl didn't mind using the tree bark as a headrest, nor her training pants getting dusty. She wanted to embrace the peaceful moment, attempting to make up for the rest she lost last night.

Faintly, she heard whispers being exchanged between the two. As enjoyable as she personally found the shut-eye, she was right to assume it must've been awkward for them. They certainly didn't call her over just to offer her a place to nap. Annie brought her hands to rub her eyes open, and yawned like she did that morning at breakfast.

“Didn't sleep well last night?” Pieck questioned.

“I guess,” Annie replied, more truthful to Pieck than to her father.

“Was it a bad dream?”

Annie shook her head in response as she stretched out her back to crack the knots that formed. “I just... couldn't sleep.”

With that reminder, she was back to thinking about him. A delicate pink color took over her cheeks, she made sure to turn her head away so it wouldn't be obvious to the two. Annie was lost in this sudden wave of embarrassment, just the thought made her nervous. Training would be over soon enough, their little reunion was slowly nearing...

“Annie...?” She heard the tall boy hesitantly speak up. “Are you... excited for the results today?”

“Not really.” She coldly replied and turned her head around (which, in honesty, startled him), now asking him a question. “And you are?”

Bertolt's breath hitched from the icy look in her eyes, he stumbled with his reply, instantly growing red. Pieck found the boy's little predicament quite funny, giggling to herself. What's more, she was amused by Annie, as she – somehow – had no idea of the effect she had on him.

“I, uh, I guess I am...” He rubbed the back of his head. “I want to know who will make the cut...”

“You mean Reiner, right? Because he's a friend of yours?” Annie further questioned.

“I guess so... He... He wants to be a warrior more than most of us...” Bertolt tried his best to explain.

“Really?” Annie asked sarcastically, and the tall boy weakly nodded. “Oh well... I don't really care either way.”

Silence followed after the short exchange. Annie's bluntness made Bertolt bite his tongue, his cheeks were still red. The girl wasn't looking at him anymore, instead she was looking up, eyes trying to find their way through the tree branches.

To these two, as well as to most people, Annie was a face they've seen many times, yet remained a complete stranger. They've known of the girl for years, but they could barely say a thing about her. Only that which was obvious, her skills in combat and her hostile behavior to everything and everyone around her. When they eventually receive the power of the titans – they'll be comrades, for years to come. And what sort of bond would they share then? With her being a lone wolf, through and through...

They stayed like that a long time, without another word spoken, until commander Magath called out an order for all the children to gather. The commander quickly went through the children with his eyes, to see if the needed ones were present. He stood serious as a statue, holding papers and two yellow armbands which would be given as rewards to the lucky children.

Before he would bestow the armbands, Magath did a roll call and summoned to his side the four already chosen children. As she was standing next to the commander, Annie had a clear view of everyone in front. Then, the girl glanced at the two who stood to her left; Marcel and Pieck, who had their eyes pointed to Porco, who himself was staring at the yellow armbands. To her right, Bertolt seemed bashful having been put on display like that.

The commander cleared his throat, followed by a speech. A speech of how Eldians were doing good to redeem their horrid, centuries long sins through humble and quiet behavior, pledging their full loyalty to the great land of Marley with the help of the hard work of their young ones. Their descendants, whilst they couldn't change their evil blood, could make a difference in how the world would see and treat them. About the glory of war and their pride in the victories that are to come by the hands of this new generation.

When he finished his oh so grand words, Magath officially announced the final two warrior candidates chosen by the military – Porco Galliard and Reiner Braun.

In honesty, Annie wasn't surprised the slightest bit. After all, these were the same two boys that had the biggest visible desire to gain the status. Reiner's eyes widened with shining light, and he poorly tried to hide a grin. Porco was also radiating with pride, and when he had the new armbands tightly wrapped around his upper left arm, he looked to his older brother with a smile. Marcel replied with a nod, his own smile far weaker.

The remaining children gave an applause when the two boys came to join the group, now making a total of six candidates. Bertolt whispered out “Congratulations” to Reiner, who's excitement didn't dial down, repressing the urge to jump for joy. Annie found his behavior horribly obnoxious. She preferred Porco's much more (so to say) professional reaction, though she knew there was every chance that on the inside he too was squealing.

Annie briefly remembered what she said to her father, and how she kept thinking it was a story too clumsy to believe in. Ironically, what she told him ended up being half-true.

With the glorified event now over at last, the children were dismissed to go home. She was sure that most of them would; Reiner ran off with a speed she had never seen from him before, Pieck grouped up with the Galliard brothers and they went on their way. Annie had different plans.

On her quiet, lonesome way to the playground Annie struggled with a heavy set of feelings. The initial nervousness she felt throughout the day was now manifesting as fear, making her feel like she was dragging anvils with every step along this road which was slowly growing familiar.

But one thing she didn't understand was, what on earth was she so frightened of?

When training with her father, she knew where all the negative feelings came from. When briefly talking with other children, she didn't feel anything in particular. So then, what was it about this bright, blond boy that she barely knew anything about, that made her feel this way?

Her unsteady breaths and pounding heart kept telling her to turn around and go away somewhere else while she still could. Pull yourself together..., she tells herself.

When shyly discussing the time of their meet-up, they innocently came to the mutual agreement that simply “sunset” was a good time. As vague as the term was, he actually did stick to it. Armin was indeed there, sitting alone on the bench, looking up to the warm, orange sky.

He didn't have anything with him this time, no bags of bread or greens, it was just him. Usually, he'd come to town with responsibilities he had to do. Now, he specifically came all the way here to only see her.

The idea invoked a weird feeling. Did he really... propose that idea yesterday and came all this way for not a single other reason, than simply to spend time with her? He didn't seem to notice her yet, and she didn't know how to greet him first. What... do I even say...? She went over in her head, the pit in her stomach swallowing her whole.

“Oh! Annie!”

As soon as he caught a glance of her, he put on a big smile and cheerfully waved.

Not a single thought ran through her mind as she heard her name in his voice. She felt free to step forward, closer to him, the heavy weight she felt tied to her feet almost completely gone. Armin moved to one side, making room for her on the bench and dusting the spot clean for her with his hand. Before she sat down, he asked her, “Are you tired?”

“I'm not.” She sat down, making him curiously raise an eyebrow.

“How come? Didn't you have training just now?” Armin continued.

“I did. But we didn't do anything much today, so I didn't get tired at all. Did you... wait here long?”

Maybe he was a few minutes early, or she was a few minutes late. Either way, it didn't seem to matter. Smiling, he shook his head. “No, it was no problem.”

A smidge of that nervousness still bugs her. She was glad she was here, yes, but she couldn't help but feel horribly awkward. Annie was bad at these sorts of things. Having no idea what to actually tak about, she hoped he'd volunteer to carry the conversation.

Unbeknownst to her, Armin was a boy very sharp for his age. He had a solid idea of how she was feeling. He looked at her profile, even though he met her relatively recently, it's obvious she was generally cold to people. But, from the way the light from the sunset rested on her pale face, she looked so much more natural. “It's pretty, isn't it?” He spoke tenderly.

“Hm?” She faced towards him. “What is?”

Armin took a moment for himself, to look at her. Because of the sun, her pale, blonde hair had a warmer color, a shame it was tied up in that bun. At least her bangs fell free, they defined the shape of her face nicely. His eyes ran over her forehead, her unusual nose, her cheeks. A relaxed smile appeared on his face. “The sky,” he replied after what seemed like forever. “Isn't it pretty?”

Annie turned her gaze to meet the sunset. The far-away sun appeared as if gently touching the top of the distant, visible wall which enclosed Liberio. The warm-colored sky looked like a vast canvas, which would make the fluffy, pink clouds splashes of colors decorating it. She wondered, is this what all “art” looked like? Surely not, the portraits at headquartered looked nowhere near this nice.

The little girl nodded in response, and thought out loud. “How come the clouds aren't the same color as the sky around them?” She questioned.

“Hmm... I'm no expert, but... I think it has to do with the sun, and how the light travels through different angles,” he replied, not sounding very confident. “I'm sure I read about it at least once, but I don't remember well.”

Intrigued, Annie asked another question. “Is it like that for everything we see, not just the sky?”

“Yeah, at least, I think so. Basically, how it works is, our eyes and minds turn light into different colors. I really should try to find that book again, it was very fascinating...”

“You read a lot?” Though from his enthusiasm about her test and his general well put together way of speaking, the question is more of a statement.

“Yes, I do! It's so much fun when you have an interesting book in your hands, it can take you anywhere!” The boy was so giddy as he got to tell her of his favorite pastime, a huge grin lighting up his face. “Do you like to read as well?”

A blunt “no” was the first reply that popped into her mind, but she corrected herself with an answer that was probably closer to the truth.

“I never get the chance to read. Unless I'm studying for tests like the one we just had, but even then, I don't read much.” She admitted, expecting that he'll be disappointed.

However, he wasn't. Or at least he didn't show it. Instead, Armin kept his smile just as it was and climbed up to sit on the wooden backrest of the bench, placing his feet on where he'd normally sit. He gestured for Annie to do the same. “Come up here, you can see the sky a little better this way,” he invited, and she did so. ”Now that you've mentioned it, how were the results of your test yesterday?” He happily inquired, once she got comfortable.

“Mmh...” she hummed, taking a strand of her dangling hair and placing it behind her ear. “They announced the final warrior candidates today. It was all kind of a big fuss over nothing much...”

“Oh...” His eyes widened. Not in the excited way they usually did. “Are you... happy about it?”

“I... don't care. I mean... who gets chosen isn't really my business,” Annie said, coldly staring at her shoes on the bench.

Armin's gaze went stiff the moment he took notice of her armband. She's worn it since the moment he first saw her, a vibrant yellow color, similar to the color of the flowers she was crouching in front of that day. The stitches on it were new and done with precision, and it was clean and proudly presentable. The boy felt ashamed of his own one, he was still to fully grow into it. His arms were a little on the scrawny side, he had to adjust the armband often.

Annie's breath got stuck in her throat and body froze as shivers traveled from her arm to the rest of her tiny frame. Armin's hand was placed upon her candidate armband, seemingly inspecting it. Not long after, his hand was reduced to his index finger only, which was carefully tracing the outlines of the nine-edged star, a symbol of Eldian people.

“Is it... really none of your business? Even though... you're also one of them?" He spoke quietly, melancholically.

Obviously, the boy wasn't aware of his actions just now. When Annie's head finally turned to him, he jolted away from her with a bright blush on his cheeks. Maybe it didn't occur to him that he had previously never touched her, neither did she him. Armin's voice grew higher in pitch when he struggled to explain himself. “I— I'm sorry! I didn't mean t—”

“No, it isn't.” Annie interrupted, covering her armband with her free hand, still feeling a slight tickle in the spot his finger just left. “I'm not in the program because of the others. What happens to them isn't my concern.”

Her choice of words made the redness in his cheeks fade. Studying her face of indifference, he asked her, “Why are you in the warrior program?”

Time-stopping silence surrounded the two. Annie's expression hadn't changed in the slightest when she heard him. A face that was by no means fitting a girl her age. Serious and cold, an unbreakable façade, but he guessed that her thoughts, which she kept to herself, were in utter chaos. When Annie closed her eyes, she gave a brief, yet puzzling, explanation.

“Because I have to be. That's just how it is.”

To be a warrior was widely known as an honor. A marvelous title, a way to show the country of Marley that you are an Eldian of a good heart. At least that's how Marleyans made it out to be, and that's what the majority of Eldian people living inside the walls of Liberio really did come to fully believe. Those who were outspoken about believing otherwise faced the cruelest of punishments. The boy, as everyone else, knew that well.

The stars started appearing one by one on the sky as the last traces of the sun's warmth were slowly disappearing on the horizon. A beautiful transition, yet a grim reminder they only had but a handful of minutes together. Annie wished she could reach and pull the sun back up. Just for a bit.

“May I follow you home?” Armin whispered.

“What?” She asked, thinking she misheard.

“I— I just... Yesterday, you came with me...” He nervously gripped the material of his pants with his head tilted down, bracing himself for what he was gonna propose. “I thought that, today, I could... do the same... for you?”

Annie swiftly jumped off the bench and motioned with her head for him to follow. “You can't follow me all the way though.” His face lit up as she gave the condition, respectfully agreeing.

Armin didn't have to say out loud that he was unfamiliar with the road to Annie's house, that much was obvious simply by looking at him. His head was constantly switching from left to right, trying his hardest to memorize the way back by studying the houses and trees. Annie was amused, at first glance, he appeared easy to figure out. A kind boy who likes to read, so ridiculously pure that he gets picked on by bullies just for being himself.

Looking back at it now, her anxiety was so ridiculous. Her life with her father was strict and defined by obedience, conversing with the other trainees to her was like a chore she wanted to avoid. But with Armin, Annie didn't feel any burdens of must or should, spending these short amounts of time together, talking about things that were as trivial as the sunset, was something that she slowly found herself wanting to do.

The early night was refreshing, and their walk comfortable. When Annie commented on finding the constant chirping of the crickets annoying, her companion explained that the unusual sound was made by the insects rubbing parts of their bodies together. It made her wonder how much more did he know that she never heard about.

Once the boy saw the bakery he usually went to, he could take a rest from scouting the surroundings, he knew exactly where he was. The lights were still on, thought it seemed like it was about to close for the day. Walking past here with him made Annie notice something.

“Why do you come to this bakery if you live so far away?”

“Oh, that, well...” he paused, sighing. “Yesterday... I told you that those older boys were bothering me for a while. I thought that if I went to a different place to buy food, they wouldn't find me anymore.”

His explanation made sense, it was a shame it didn't go as he expected. Another thing bothered her now. “How do you usually get rid of them?”

“I... don't,” he confessed, surprising her. “They stop on their own after a while, when they get satisfied.”

“I see...” Annie whispered under her breath, knowing he just gave her something to think about when she's left to herself.

At a safe distance from her house, where it still wasn't visible to them, she asked him to stop following her. That was the deal they made, so Armin had no complaints about it. He said he was grateful she even agreed to his silly request in the first place. The sweet boy wished Annie a good night, to which she half-heartedly nodded to, knowing that's not what's waiting for her. But she stayed in place for a few moments more, watching him go on his own, innocently marching into the night.

Neither of them brought up the possibility of meeting again, and even though Annie knew it would make it easier for her, she also instantly knew she regretted not bringing the subject up.

All that was left for her now was to turn away and go back to her father.

And hope that, after what just happened, she'll be able to fall asleep easier tonight.

Chapter Text

Annie was well aware that she was being a hypocrite for it, but she was starting to long after the colder, cloudy weather. Or at least, she wished for a balance between how it was about a month ago, with the chilling wind and dull skies, and how it was right now – scorching hot.

The change in weather was more sudden than she had expected.The heatwave was brutal, especially to her. Annie's always been a fair-skinned child, her complexion appearing transparent. The summer sun would never tan her skin, it would burn it. A stinging redness covering her shoulders, the nape of her neck, her nose and cheeks.

The thought of letting her hair fall down accured to her more than once. It wasn't much, it could only barely cover the areas most vulnerable to the rays, protecting her to the most of its capabilities. On the other hand, loose hair would radiate heat of it's own, meanwhile getting drenched in sweat. Blonde strands would come and slap her in the face with every step she took, like a handful of miniature wet whips.

Breathless, she kept pushing forward. Her legs are strong, years of endurance training made sure of that, but she isn't made of steel. She's more than capable of feeling pain. Excruciating pain.

If she fell down it would be embarrassing. Winning doesn't matter to Annie, she could be dead last for all she cared. However, if she were to fall flat on her face now, everyone would probably run to her side, smothering her like an injured baby bird that just fell out of its nest. She couldn't stand the thought of such overexaggerated attention, so she relied on her strength, just enough to get her past that finish line.

Marcel was right at her side, at the rate they were going, it would end with a tie between the two. As far as she could make out from the corner of her eye, he was doing rather fine. Sweating and panting, sure, but he didn't look like he couldn't take it. His stamina was impressive. Everything about the boy was praiseworthy.

The muscles in her calves suddenly went stiff, a cramp like feeling. She was so horribly thirsty, her throat felt like it was stuffed with sand. Annie lifted her tired eyes, commander Magath was waiting at the finish line with a pocket watch in hand. He was standing upright, gaze shifting between the two in the lead, trying his hand at guessing which one will cross first.

Annie was sure that now would be the time when Marcel would gather the strength and dash to the end line first, she definitely wouldn't be able to match with him anymore. But he remained next to her.

“Are you... alright?” he asked her through rough breaths, it was hard to hear his words from the combined sounds of their feet hitting the dirt-covered track.

Exhausted, she couldn't reply. Instead she weakly nodded, keeping an eye on Magath, trying to make sure he wouldn't catch them talking.

Her efforts were in vain. The only thing she could make out was the dark, blurry silhouette of a tall man. It was still at first, but as she came closer, he started shifting from left to right, blending in with the equally blurry background. Horrible nausea came over her, the feeling quickly made its way from her stomach to the back of her throat, where it sat.

They finally crossed the line, she assumes at the same time. Muffled, incoherent voices could be heard in the back, behind her, with a loud and frantic “Annie!” being the only thing she understood. All she wanted to do was quickly hide away somewhere to throw-up her breakfast.

She stopped running, now wobbling, hunched forward, hands firmly rested on her stomach. She was soaking wet and burning hot, couldn't breathe, couldn't speak. Her legs gave out, knees slamming into the ground and she weakly supported herself with one arm, feeling the urge to spill everything kicking in her throat out.

Just as she felt she was about to, what was left of her vision disappeared, turning everything pitch black. Annie could just barely feel the impact of her head falling to the hard ground, and that was the last thing she could recall.

Opening her heavy eyes, the little girl found herself alone in an unknown room, lying down on a bed.

The room's walls were white, and along the one she was on, there were two more tidy, empty beds. The windows in the room were tall, and completely covered with thick curtains which didn't allow any sunlight in. The door to the room was wide open, and two voices could be heard from the hallway – a man's and a woman's.

Annie cautiously sat up, and was then startled by the wet, lukewarm rag falling from her forehead to her thighs. She found herself in a plain, short-sleeved white dress falling to her knees in length, which smelled pleasant, like a morning after rain. Her skin felt better, smooth, not at all sticky from all the sweat, her hair fell over her shoulders. How long was I asleep for, the first of the anxious thoughts that ran through her mind.

The sound of footsteps approaching the door cut her panic short, and she waited to see who would come by. At the doorframe appeared a pretty, middle-aged woman, and seeing Annie awake, her mouth formed a relieved smile. Her work uniform was white and clean, not a single wrinkle, and she wore a whitish-gray armband. An Eldian military armband, but not one associated with the warrior unit.

“It's nice to see that you're awake, miss Annie Leonhart,” she spoke with a soft voice, one made to sing lullabies. “But, please, lay down a little more, and I'll go fetch you a new rag and some water."

Annie stared at the woman with wide eyes as she walked back into the hallway and called someone over. “Pardon me, commander, the girl is awake now.” The sound of her short heels clacking grew more distant, slowly disappearing.

Shortly after, Magath stood at the door. He inspected the little girl quickly, as if he needed to confirm what the woman told him, then proceeded to come closer.

The commander had always appeared confident, stood straight and proud, spoke loud and clear. Knowing that, Annie thought she might be in the wrong, but she felt as though there was a spark of shame in his posture in front of the bed she was sitting on. His eyes fell to the floor for a moment, highlighting the wrinkles desitned to surround his eyes. He cleared his throat, a habit of his whenever he wanted to be taken seriously by the trainees, and lifted his head to meet her.

“Apparently, Leonhart, you tied with Galliard in the three kilometer race.” He paused for a moment, put both hands behind his back and continued seriously. “You both came at fourteen minutes and thirty six seconds, a new record for the candidate unit. But, you will have to race once more, just the two of you, to see which one gets the honor.”

The girl couldn't help but involuntarily imagine someone like Reiner being brought to tears by mere words such as “record” or “honor”. Annie herself, on the other hand, felt utterly neutral to the news. She wasn't fighting tooth and nail to win the damn race. Whoever gets their name written down doesn't mean dirt to her. As a matter of fact...

“Give the title to Marcel. I fainted.”

“I understand your feelings, however, you fainted after crossing the finish line. It counts,” he declared, immediately making it clear to her that there was no use in arguing. “You'll race another day. The nurse will bring you your uniform. Come outside when she does.”

Having finished his business with her in what she now assumed was the infirmary, the commander turned to the door.

Once she was left alone, Annie sighed placing a palm to her forehead, which melodramatically slid down to her cheek. The last thing she wanted was to put on a show like this. But the damage can't be undone, the only thing she could hope for now was that there would be no eyes staring at her like she's some sort of extreme medical case. Annie sat at the edge of the bed, about to jump off.

“Miss Leonhart!” The nurse called out to her in worry. “My, I told you to lay down some more!” The woman came in with a tall glass of water in one hand, a new rag in the other, and her uniform and armband resting on her forearm. She gave Annie such a soft look, but it so easily earned the girl's obedience – she rested her legs back on the bed.

“There you go,” the woman almost sung as Annie drank the whole glass of refreshing water. “Now, lay that pretty blonde hair down on the pillow.” And she did so.

She could feel the nurse's gentle touch as she placed the soaked, cold piece of cloth over her forehead. She could never imagine her father doing something like this to her. Perhaps she could only really see one person behaving in such a caring manner towards her.

That one boy was already far too kind to her, without her doing anything to deserve such treatment...

“What's on your mind, miss Leonhart?” the nurse asked while tidily placing her uniform on the foot of the bed. “Your cheeks are heating up, that's not what you need right now.” She giggled, a sound like birds chirping. “Don't tell me, is it a boy?”

The unexpected question made Annie uncomfortably aware of her heartbeat. She awkwardly fidgeted in the bed, hopelessly trying to somehow escape. A stronger blush overcomes her, both amusing and worrying the nurse at the same time. “You know, if you have a little crush, that's just fine. But what you need now is to keep cool for a bit.”

Taking in a deep breath, Annie tried to take her mind off of the boy and the teasing. Instead, in a darker turn, her thoughts drifted to her father. If she'll be able to tell him she had fainted today.

“What... happened to me?” She finally spoke up.

“It's something called ‘heat exhaustion’,” the nurse explained. “To keep it simple, your body overheated, and it resulted in you fainting. I washed your body and clothes with cold water while you were asleep, and gave you a fresh, wet rag every few minutes.” The woman sat next to Annie on the bed, caressing her bangs which fell over the cloth, checking on it in the process. “It's all warmed up already, I'll go get you a new one.”

“How much longer will I have to stay here?” Annie asked anxiously.

“Only one more rag's worth,” she smiled brightly. “You'll be just fine, miss Leonhart, but you should drink lots of water and keep from the sun for a while. You seem to be very sensitive.” And with that, she left the room for a second time.

That was advice the tired girl would be more than happy to listen to, if it wasn't for her father who always had to make everything... difficult. Luck had apparently made Annie its enemy as of recently; today of all days her father is to come and pick her up.

The commotion started a few days ago. If Annie were to guess, she'd say maybe around ten days had passed since she last saw Armin, since he walked her home. Her father was far from pleased with how late his daughter came home, and she received a scolding to remember. His attitude was far more bitter than she had hoped it would be, his eyes narrow, body language screamed of his suspicion. She could smell the open, almost empty bottle of wine on the table. Incapable of training her that night, he sent her off to the room in which she slept in, where she spent the evening alone in silence. As silent as it could get at least, through the closed door Annie could hear her father annoyingly grumble and talking to himself in a slow voice. She couldn't make out what he was saying, thankfully, she felt it was something she was better off not hearing.

But apparently, Annie was more stubborn than she thought she was.

Or, maybe, she was just plain stupid.

Despite the unsettling encounter that night, day after day, Annie kept visiting that playground as a (the way she called it) little detour. She wouldn't stay long, just a handful of minutes or so, thinking, hoping, pleading he'd show up. Cursing herself for not speaking up that night, asked where or when she could see him again. She'd be in a hell of a better mood now had she done that.

Her father's suspicion got somewhat confirmed with his daughter coming home off schedule, night after night for over a week. He wanted to make sure to put an end to it, make her return home when she used to and continue with their regime as usual. This morning, before she took off, he announced he would be coming to pick her up.

If she were to tell him how she ended up in an infirmary bed, would he think she's trying to pull something over him again? Trying to get out of training? It wasn't the best option for her health and the nurse's efforts would go to waste, but the cruel reality of it was that she was better off not bringing it up.

“Do you often get so lost in thought, miss Leonhart? Please, drink it while it's still cold.” The nurse's voice rang in the room, the high ceiling causing an echo. Annie nodded, accepting and gulping down another glass of water.

The woman's gentle touch while placing the cloth upon the girl's forehead was accompanied by a sigh in grief. She sat next to Annie on the bed, like she's about to start a story.

“You know, I've been working here for almost twenty five years. I've seen... several generations of warriors come and go in my life so far, I've even had opportunities to work with some of them.”

Annie was carefully listening to every word, staring at the nurse. She, however, had her nostalgic gaze pointed towards the thick curtains.

“My life... it... depends on the warrior unit. This job is how I feed my family. The military was awfully kind to hire an Eldian such as myself, even kinder is that they didn't let me go in favor of someone else...”

Tears were building up in previously cheerful eyes. She attempted to discreetly rub her eyes free of the puffiness, and Annie, while uncomfortable, pretended to not see it, thinking the woman would feel more at ease. After swallowing the lump in her throat, the nurse continued.

“What the warriors are doing... and what you young ones are doing... is brave and noble. Fighting for Marley also means fighting for us Eldians living here, hoping to have a normal life. I thank you for your service, miss Leonhart.”

She paused, averting her eyes to her small-heeled, shiny shoes. Her gaze turned from sorrowful to guilty, and her voice faded into a whisper. “I mustn't say this, but, I think... I think they're being very harsh on you all. No generation had treatment quite this strict and from such a young age. And look what that did to you!”

“I'm alright now,” Annie tried to reassure, her tone deadpan enough to be mistaken as rude.

“Right, yes...” The stirred up woman agreed. “But, one last thing before you leave. Miss, are the bruises on your legs fresh?”

How could she possibly not have seen this coming? It's not like she was doing anything to hide the numerous blackish-purple stains on her calves, they were even exposed during training. And even if she had been covering them up, the nurse did bathe her, she would spot them either way.

“No,” Annie answered truthfully. “I got them a few days ago.”

“A few days ago?” The nurse repeated sounding frightened, her gaze often shifting towards the girl's legs as if she was scared to examine them. “And they're still this color? After a few days bruises should turn more yellowish...”

The woman reached out her hand to Annie, to pull her up in a sitting position and retrieve the warmed-up rag from her forehead. She sympathetically patted the light, blonde hair, and met Annie's cold eyes.

“In the near future, once the military bestows you with the power of one of the nine titans, bruising won't be an issue anymore – you'll have great regenerative abilities.” She was clearly trying her best to make the candidate feel better, though Annie was puzzled as to why. Still, she didn't interrupt her. “Until then, you already know this but, your skin is very sensitive. If you bruise again, try placing something cold wrapped in cloth against the area, then elevating it. Ask your parents, they can help you.”

If only, Annie thought, if only the lady knew the irony of her last statement. Hilarious. If one is a fan of dark humor, the idea of her father helping her is nothing short of hilarious. And to help with her sore feet and purple-patched legs nonetheless. Annie would consider it to be a great achievement if he even noticed it, putting in effort to heal her was beyond her imagination.

“I won't keep you here anymore now,” the nurse stated, the cheerful smile on her face on display once more, like an actor slipping back into character. “You may get dressed, commander Magath called for you to go outside.”

Annie nodded as they both stood up from the bed, followed by putting the uniform on and tightly strapping her armband around her bicep. To her pleasant surprise, these clothes smelled like fresh morning rain as well, instead of dirt, sweat and vomit.

The drained, but now slightly refreshed, girl knew she should brace herself for when she exits the building, facing the other warrior candidates will not be enjoyable. But she already had a habit of not speaking much, or at all, with them. The worst that could happen is mutual awkwardness.

Leaving the infirmary building she took a look around the area, quickly spotting the group of five waiting in the shade near a brick wall that connects said building to the guarded exit gate. Porco and Pieck sat on top of some large wooden box, Bertolt leaned against the wall and Reiner stood parallel to him. Marcel, who stood next to Reiner, was the first to spot Annie's return. The girl hesitantly made her way over to them.

“Are you doing better, Annie?” Marcel spoke up first, putting on a smile, but guilt was written all over his face. “I'm really sorry, I should've—”

“I'm good. It's not your fault,” Annie replied. Seeing Marcel made her remember his worry while they were head to head, and at the same time it reminded her of the announcement from Magath earlier. “But it looks like we have to race again.”

“Yeah. As far as I'm concerned though, they can just write either one of our names down. Or both. I don't want you to go through that again.”

“Huh?” Reiner turned his head to Marcel in shock, eyebrows raised high up his forehead. “Wait, what are you talking about? Of course you should race again! She's a warrior candidate, she needs to be able to take it! Otherwise, what business does she have being here?”

“You shut up!” Porco snapped at the boy from up on the box, turning everyone's eyes to him. “Have some respect for them and just shut your mouth for once!”

Annie couldn't grasp on why they have to go and pick fights every given opportunity. This unusual “hobby” of theirs drastically increased since they both got selected, mainly because Reiner's behavior changed. In a period of time as short as ten days, Reiner visibly grew more confident, or better yet – arrogant. His know-it-all behavior was begging for someone to slap him right across the face, and Annie couldn't lie, she herself was dangerously close a couple of times.

“What'd I say wrong?” Reiner asked semi-provokingly. “Marcel shouldn't feel bad about racing her again. And if Annie can't take it, she can leave. Or get kicked out. Sucks to be her in that case though, no honorary Marleyan title for her family. But, hey, then it's good news for you Pock, you get a shot at inheriting the Female Titan.” He finished, a smug smile crowning his overflowing arrogance.

His remarks about the title weren't worth her getting worked up over. The same couldn't be said for everyone though, as Annie could see Pieck was whispering something to Porco, and by the look on her face she was probably trying to keep him under control. A defeated sigh escaped the black haired girl when her friend didn't listen, instead jumping to his feet and angrily marching up to Reiner. He was stopped by Marcel grabbing him by both shoulders just a few steps away from his target.

While the younger Galliard was grunting for his brother to let him go, Bertolt took the opportunity to quietly walk up to his friend and try to explain the mood in words rather than fists. “Annie fainted, but she still crossed the finish line first along Marcel. Don't doubt how capable she is, Reiner.” The tall boy explained, though probably in vain seeing how Reiner's expression didn't change.

“And you!” Porco hissed over his brother's shoulder. “While they were in the lead, where were you?! You were dead last, weren't you?! Why the hell are you even here when you—"

To Marcel's relief, Porco had to immediately drop his tantrum when they all heard commander Magath's voice approaching. While walking he spoke with a tall, blond teenage boy who, just like the six of them, wore a yellow armband.

“Who's that guy?” Annie asked at the sight of the unfamiliar face.

“That's Zeke,” Pieck replied. “I spoke to him a few times, he's a nice guy. He's been in the warrior program for years. I heard that, soon, he'll inherit the Beast Titan. Probably before the rest of us do, too.”

The group continued to watch the two in silence until their conversation ended, by the looks of it on a positive note, and the commander made his way towards the children. He glanced at his pocket watch, speaking up afterwards.

“Due to a matter of official business, you will all be dismissed to go home early today. Additionally, tomorrow you will have a day to yourselves. Training resumes in two days, seven o'clock sharp.” Magath turned his eyes to Annie for the following. “Leonhart, Galliard – the time of your tie-breaker will be decided another day, you will be informed. And, Leonhart... use tomorrow well.”

After the announcement he walked away, leaving behind him a band of excited, smiling children, looking forward to a day of no training. It had been roughly a month since the last one, of course they were all thrilled.

All, except for Annie.

Leaving the training grounds, the she was genuinely tempted to repeatedly slam her forehead against the brick wall. But all she did was walk away with an incoming headache.

Of course, Annie wished she could “use tomorrow well” as Magath advised her to, but it's such a shame, that wish was one gone with the wind. Dreadful memories came flooding in at the thought of a day off, she'd much rather be with the military from dawn till dusk. Last time on such an occasion, Annie attacked and crippled her father. All it rewarded her in the end was suffering worse than ever before. It's impossible to imagine how she'd be able to go back home feeling any bit of positivity on that day if it wasn't for...

She felt a spark of curiosity telling her to go check if he's there, sitting, waiting. A smile on his face along with a hundred things to tell her. After all, the children were sent home early, there was every possibility her father hasn't even left the house yet.

No..., she dismissed. He's not gonna be there, and I'll just get into trouble...

However, the idea of how much trouble sneaking around could get her into didn't scare her as much compared to how his absence bothered her. Annie, more often than she'd like to admit, would find herself flustered or weirded out by how she felt, how she thought, and how she acted recently. A month ago, at the time of their first encounter, she wanted to get rid of him, have him leave her alone and take his curiosity and talkativeness to someone who'd care for it.

Ironically, it seems that she really was that “someone”. And something about that left her with a heavy feeling in her chest.

Annie dragged her overworked legs across the same, old, gray brick paved road, trying her hardest to leave her mind blank. She felt her thoughts trapping her lately, and near constant physical pain was already difficult to deal with on it's own. Speak of the devil, her feet could feel the burning of the heated street right through the soles of her shoes. She'll have to ask for a new pair of training shoes first chance she gets, these were all worn out, no good at all. The heat on her soles didn't do a thing to make her pick up her pace though, Annie was fully dedicated to walking at the speed of the average snail.

Usually, she liked passing by that small bakery. The smell of the bread, pastries and yellow flowers was incredibly alluring. Sweet, calming and refreshing. While observing the gorgeous patch of flowers, which seemed to get prettier and prettier with every day, she realized that she had completely dropped her rock kicking habit since stomping on a bug by this garden.

Her unusual, little sanctuary and what was left of her peace of mind were destroyed when she looked towards the end of the road at the sound of distant voices. A frustrated sigh followed after recognizing her father in the far distance. It's surely him, it has to be, Annie was capable of recognizing someone she'd seen every day of her life. The sight of him walking with that crutch slashed her with guilt once more, but it did seem he completely got the hang of using it now. Unusually for him, though, he wasn't alone. He was talking with someone while walking down the street, and try as she might, Annie couldn't tell who the other person was.

Better get going, she figures but stands still as a statue, before he makes his way over here.

It was yet another unexplainable feeling she felt building up within; her desire for her dad to keep away from this place. Perhaps it was selfish, yes, but she wanted at least one serene place, for herself only. The presence of her father had no business ruining this special place. It was where they met for the first time, after all.

Her hands flew to cover her suddenly flustered face, but she couldn't hide from herself, or escape how she felt. Her shaky voice hesitantly whispered into her palms.

“What's wrong with me?”

“Annie... what do you mean by that?”

The girl's eyes immediately snapped open upon hearing the unasked for follow up question. Peeking through the cracks between her fingers which still covered her face, she knew that there was no denying it.

The intensity of her heartbeat grew rapidly, her stare locked on what she could make out of his face. He looked at her with curious worry, eyebrows raised and hands holding a stuffed paper bag.

Annie swallowed emptily, followed by a sudden, sharp gasp in horror of her realization. That now was possibly the worst time for him to accidentally show up again.

After a few seconds of petrification, she slowly, fearfully turned her head in the direction of her father, not too far away from them.

“Annie, is there something wrong?” Armin asked her as calmly as he could. “You look like–”

In panic and without hesitation, in a single breath, she whispered to him.

“You need to leave.”

Chapter Text

“You need to leave.”

It was far too late when the realization hit that the words she said sounded a bit more harsh than she had intended. She meant it with no ill will – honest to goodness. The tone of her voice was echoing in her ears and in the air between them. Louder than that, however, was the sound of her heart beating, pounding, making her feel like it's about to burst out of her chest and onto the gray bricks of the road in any second now.

Speaking of blinking, Armin did. Once, then once more. His lips separated slightly at her words, and she could see his eyebrows raise behind his bangs.

He looked at her with worry in his eyes on more than one occasion before, Annie was more or less familiar with what that looked like. But this wasn't quite it.

Maybe it was because he was shocked but, despite what she had told him, he didn't move. She herself didn't move either, no matter how much her twisting insides were screaming and pushing her to. They both just stood there, as still as two sculpted figures.

The girl silently prayed that it was all just a poor joke at her expense, or a bad dream or really anything of that sort. She pictured herself waking up startled in her bed in the dark, silent dead of night, soaked in cold sweat with her pillow thrown somewhere on the floor, herself trembling as she repetitively tries to calm herself down – and it all seemed lovely in comparison to the current nightmare of being awake.

Forcing himself to swallow the lump in his throat, Armin anxiously tried speaking up. “Annie... why d–”

“No...! I–” She couldn't hear him, nor herself, speak over her now sharp panting. “I didn't mean–”

Armin took a moment to steadily put the groceries he was carrying on the ground, followed by cautiously taking a step closer to her. His face appeared soft when he put on the small smile for her. But he was mostly forcing it – she could tell that much.

“It's okay." He whispered. "Everything's okay, just... try to calm down and tell me–”

Annie's hand flew to cover her mouth as she unwillingly took a step back from the boy. Her eyes were shut so tightly that she felt her eyelids pulsating, and what a dreadful feeling that was. And even more dreadful – the girl knew she had to open them, had to see where he is.

But she couldn't bring herself to, opening her eyes was the most terrifying thing in the world to her right now. She tried to breathe, tried her best too, but the feeling of her throat being crushed from the inside was unabling her to. What was meant to be deep breaths came out only as muffled hiccups. Her chest was hurting, her legs trembling, her head aching, and her eyes were burning.

Slowly, carefully, she peeked her eyelids open in a desperate attempt to escape from the heat engulfing her. Annie was met with a blurry vision of the boy, but she didn't need to see him to know the way he looked at her pained, swollen, red eyes.

“...what's wrong?” Armin finished his sentence after a moment of shock. His worry genuine, and innocent, he was always so damn innocent.

Unexplainably, these last words he just spoke brought the forming tears closer to the edges of her eyes, threatening to spill on her reddened cheeks. The little girl sneaked quick glances to the side, still too scared of what she might see.

“I'm so...” She barely whispered, and then trailed off. Armin appeared as if he was on pins and needles waiting for her to continue. Anxious, not at all excited.

“I'm sorry.” Annie spoke after a second or two to regain her voice. “I'm... I'm the one that should leave...”

Annie backed away a few steps, shamefully lowering her head to look at the ground between her feet, her face almost invisible from her light, blonde bangs covering it. Armin's jaw fell at her words.

The state she was in pained him. He leaped towards her, his hand searching for hers.

“No, no! Annie, please...” He called out, hoping to capture her attention. “...please, don't go.”

His tone was no higher than the gentlest whisper, desperate not to scare her away. The boy found his way to her palm and, without giving it any thought, took hold of it. She was shaking.

In the moment that passed, Annie didn't think about much else except how warm his little hand felt wrapped around hers. But “warm” was currently not the best thing for her, given how she had fainted not even hours ago. Still... this much couldn't hurt, could it?

How she would love to listen to what he had said – she didn't want to go either.

Biting her lower lip, Annie reciprocated the hand holding. The girl made sure she had a good, firm grip around his hand, then gave out a deep exhale.

She felt guilty, truly, she did.

She should've at least given him a warning before running away like that. Dragging him with her.

Annie barely had any strength left in her after the events of training today. But it was far from the first time she had to push beyond her limits. She didn't reconsider it for a moment, she just kept running.

She didn't look back to see her father, nor Armin. But she continued to feel her grip on the latter's hand, and could hear his panting behind her as the poor boy was forced to keep up.

The two kids ran past dozens of houses, made turns right and left, and after finally running out of breath came to a stop when they encountered a somewhat narrow passing between two three-story buildings. It was deprived of any sunlight and littered with a few empty alcohol bottles – some whole, some smashed into pieces – and a pile of cheap cigarette butts. But even with the unpleasant smell of booze and ash and her heaving chest, Annie felt she could breathe easier.

And as for her companion, his knees slammed into the ground as soon Annie slowed down. Armin's back was bent and he supported himself with one hand. The other still intertwined with the girl's.

Armin was already obviously a frail, not particularly physically gifted boy, weaker than the average kid their age. It's easy to assume that running even this much was a lot more than he was used to.

Annie, feeling fairly flushed, let go of his hand. “I... I'm really sorry.” The exhausted girl whispered as she leaned against the wall, her back slowly sliding down the rigid bricks. She landed in a sitting position, embarrassingly tucking her head between her knees.

But the apology can't undo her actions. And it occurred to her that, consequently, she'll have to find a way to explain herself to him. Her grabbing him and dashing was based on a wave of emotions, sort of on a whim, rather than thinking and reason. Defining such feelings with words and then using them to properly justify herself was far beyond her capabilities.

The boy's heavy breathing wasn't letting up, he wasn't talking, but Annie knew that was because he physically couldn't do so yet. However, him sharing his thoughts with her was inevitable.

And when he does... what will he say? Annie's mind was painfully quick to come up with what she considered the darkest case scenario, being that she was convinced he would disapprove of her and her reckless behavior.

“Do you...” She braced herself before asking, hoping the fabric of her training pants would muffle and hide the insecurity in her voice. “Do you hate me?”

“...What?” Armin manages to pant out between inhales.

“I mean... you...” She curled in her toes inside her worn out shoes, sunk her forehead deeper into her knees. “You're mad at me... aren't you?”

The boy couldn't quite stand upright yet, instead he crawled the few feet that separated him from the curled up girl. She could hear him sit beside her, resting the back of his head against the cool wall. Every moment of his wordlessness felt like a sharp knife stabbing at and playing with her gut.

“I think that... I'm just... surprised.” Armin finally answers, having given it some thought.

Annie peeks out from hiding with her left eye, hoping to see for herself that he really isn't upset. But after she couldn't see his face as his golden hair concealed it, she timidly asked, “Surprised... like how?”

The little girl hoped that he couldn't feel her gaze while staring at his hair, ill at ease. For the most part, he seemed to have recovered from the rush, as evident by his chest not going up and down so dramatically anymore. Armin kept quiet for a whole agonizing minute though, apparently taking his time adjusting his armband which had slipped down to his elbow along the way.

“Well, I really didn't expect you would... start running like that. That really caught me off guard.” He replies to her in a tone she couldn't quite read. As soon as he said that, he turned his head her way. Annie almost immediate snuck her eye back into hiding, as a result of being far too embarrassed to look at him directly.

“I... didn't think I would either.” She admits, her guilt growing exponentially. “I'm sorry... your uhmm... your bags got left behind there...”

“Right, yeah, they did...” Armin sighed, his voice did little to hide that he was in low spirits over it. “Don't worry, I'll figure out what to do about that. So, then... can you tell me now?”

“Tell you what?” She mumbles into the fabric of her training pants, yet completely aware of what he was asking.

“Tell me what you were so afraid of.” The boy clarified with the same tenderness and care in his voice as when he tried comforting her before she forcefully dragged him. “And you can't say that you weren't, or that it's nothing, because look at where we are right now.”

The little girl did her best to try and come up with a solid, believable excuse as to what made her scared, to the extent of it being so painfully obvious. But no good ideas and an arising headache later, all she did was weakly sigh at how pathetic and unnecessary all of this commotion she had gotten herself into is.

“...My head hurts.” Annie whispered deciding to share that information with him. “...And this place really stinks.”

“Yeah...” He patiently nodded along, “Alcohol usually doesn't have a nice smell to it. Would it help if we went somewhere else?”

Annie genuinely preferred to put up with the odor if it meant staying in a hidden place like this, rather than walking around anywhere where they could accidentally bump into a certain someone again. As she shook her head as an answer, she felt that her bun had loosened up.

Annoyed, Annie swiftly removed her band, letting her medium length light hair fall onto her shoulders. Her tiny hands went through her hair two or three times, forming a new bun that she safely tucked in with the band. All of this was done accompanied by a stinging feeling of discomfort – Armin's eyes were unbreakably locked on her.

“I don't know why, but I thought your hair would be longer...” He said out of nowhere.

“Well, uhmm...” Her fingers found their way into her bangs, and rubbed strands of it together, feeling the texture of her blonde hair. “I'm sorry if you're disappointed, I guess...”, she answered, not knowing what to think of it.

Armin kept looking at her, and so she kept trying to look anywhere else. From her knees, to the wall in front, the bottles and cigarette butts. She was even convinced that tonight, when she eventually lays in her dark room, she'll be able to vividly picture the parts of the wall where the bricks were slightly different in color and remember the text and brand names written on the bottle labels. And he will be able to do the same, except with the details of how she looked at that moment.

“Were you scared of those two men?”

In an instant, Annie could've sworn she heard a loud thump coming from her chest at the question. “...What?” She asked after swallowing nervously.

“There were two grown men back there, down the street from us.” He begins, turning his whole body towards her, instead of just his head. His tone and gaze were soft and relaxed, calmly approaching the subject as if it's nothing to panic over. “I... I saw that you were looking towards them every few seconds. And each time you looked, you got even more scared.”

The girl's rapidly beating heart managed to sink deep down into her chest, in an attempt to hide away somewhere. Alas, the reality was that she'd been caught red handed.

“Annie, who were they?” He asked, seeing that he clearly hit the mark.

At that, Annie started to wonder – how could a question as simple as that make her feel so helpless? So bare, exposed, vulnerable? But even if she could come up with something, she knew she was never much of a good liar, so, she might as well just...

“I don't know... one of them I don't think I've seen before just now.” She begins with the part which came easier.

“Which one?” He jumped in, curiously.

“The... tall man walking upright.” She says, scanning the ground to try and find something to lock her eyes on before continuing. As she finally settles for a colored shard of glass near the leftovers of a broken bottle, she finds the strength to keep going. “And... the other one... was my father.”

“Your... father?” Armin asked as though to make sure he heard her correctly. “The man walking with the crutch?”

“...Yes.” She confirmed, sounding utterly defeated.

“But... why did you run away from your dad?” He spoke after a pause which she assumes he spent trying to justify it by himself in his head, and after failing, he had no other way of finding out but to ask.

Annie understood where he was coming from with this. She actually remembers it pretty well – him saying that he never fought with his parents. Because of course he wouldn't. Because the way she saw him, Armin was an uncommonly kind, good-hearted boy. Him having a loving relationship with his parents was so easy to imagine. But, as her inner voice was silently praising him, she wasn't replying out loud, so he asks her a follow up question.

“Were you embarrassed of me?”

“No.” That answer came easy, immediately. But Annie took a moment to ponder: Had it been anyone else – would she have done the same?

No, she wouldn't have done this for anyone, she wouldn't have grabbed them, ran and spent her time chatting in a junky alleyway such as this. That much was clear. Then, why was he apparently the only exception?

“I just... didn't want my dad to see you. Me with you.” She says.

“Why?” He says quietly, a cheerless voice.

“It's just that...” A handful of horrible images came flashing through her mind before she could even finish. One of her father initially yelling at her, later on severely punishing her for talking to the boy. Spending time with him freely, when it doesn't do a single thing to benefit her military position. Him scolding Armin, a boy whom he would've just met on the street, for showing a friendly interest in her. After she'd spend the night rigorously training, fighting back tears while drops of blood would stain the kicking dummies or drip on the dirt and grass, he wouldn't let her out of his sight, not for a fraction of a moment. She'd live her life as a prisoner in her own damn house. Never having the opportunity to spend a second with him again, that is, if he'd ever even want to see her afterwards. “...he's strict.”

“Oh...” Armin finally takes his eyes off her, but his voice remained equally as down. “...I think I get it.”

Slowly, he gets up on his feet, then tries to dust his pants clean. His hand travelled up to his nape, awkwardly scratching it. “Well, then uhhh... I'll be going now.”

Annie's eyes widen. She let go of the embrace she had on her knees for the first time since sitting down. He took the first two steps away from her, and the little girl was quick to grab the hem of his coat (which wasn't hard to do, being that it did always seem to be a size or two too big for him). Stopped in place, he looked back over his shoulder to see her.

He met Annie's eyes.

“Don't leave.” Her voice sounded unbothered, but those eyes of hers – almost sparkling – were begging him. “Sit with me.”

“You already told me to leave before, you know?” He spoke sadly, yet still sweetly and full of sympathy. “And now I understand why, so it's alright. Really, it is.”

Guilt struck Annie the very moment she had told him to leave. The feeling hasn't left her since. She just... panicked back there. Had no time to think of what do to, what else to say. Her father was right there, after all.

But it came to her that Magath has sent the children home earlier today and as far as her father knew — she wasn't done with warrior training for the day. He was now walking at fairly slow pace, and still had a while to the headquarters. And if she were to return there running, she'd have time to spare right now.

“We can still be here, for a little while.” She tells him. “I want to talk with you.”

“Talk?” He blinks, in a pleasantly surprised way. "You want... to talk?"

Annie let go of his coat and nodded, her cheeks were a pretty pink color. “That day, when you talked about the sky and the light and the colors... I thought... that it was nice. I... I like listening to you talk.”

Armin's jaw dropped ever so slightly, he felt his whole face growing rather warm. The boy didn't stay stunned for long though – a wide, radiant smile took over completely.

His whole, yet still small, body got overwhelmed with excitement, he found himself unable to stay still in one place. But instead of flailing his arms around and jumping all over the alleyway, he sat on his knees in front of her, so she could no longer look away from him.

“I'm gonna find that book! The one I told you about, with the lights and the colors!” He swears on it as if his life depended on it. “And I can find you more! With stories and science and nature, or whatever you'd like! I have a whole lot of books and things I can show you!”

That one particular word made the corner of her lips twitch for a moment. “Show me?” She repeats after him.

It would seem that Armin wasn't fully aware of what he said while engulfed with thrill and enthusiasm. The blush reappeared, deeper than the first time. He thought to himself, and smiled shyly. “Do you think that's... something you would like?”

The sun rays that fell on the street outside of the secluded area between the buildings grew into a warm orange color, and to Annie that was a sign that she should be on her way now. However – she didn't care a bit for it.

The miserable girl found a moment of simple bliss – sitting on the dirty ground of an alcohol reeking, darkened alleyway with this boy. And they were both blushing in silence.

Clumsy and awkward, Annie tried using a part of her hair that was left untied to hide. But she was unsuccessful, and Armin could see the tiniest of smiles on her face, accompanied by rosy cheeks and raised eyebrows.

“You...” He whispered, barely audibly. “You look very–”

“I would.”

He stopped in place. “What?”

“I would like for you to show me.” Annie said, smiling and everything.

There always seemed to be something special about Armin whenever his eyes would widen. A feeling quite unlike any other. Unfortunately, it faded quickly this time, and instead eyes filled with uncertainty and doubt took their place.

“But, when could I? We never have much time when we see each other. And, well, you just said so yourself – your father is strict with you.” And he had a point.

The girl's smile disappeared, leaving her expression as if it was never there in the first place. She could only spare a handful of minutes for him each time, but it could hardly ever be enough. Now, perhaps, she could offer even less while under the careful, suspicious watch of her father...

And then – an idiotic, truly reckless idea barged straight into her mind. One possibly, if not definitely, far worse than the stunt she pulled just now.

“Tomorrow.” And it came off as more of a statement, rather than a suggestion.

Yes, indeed. Magath had given them the day off tomorrow, due to what he called a “matter of business”. Whatever that so-called business may be, Annie was sure it was none of her concern. And in case it was – she wouldn't have it in her to even pretend to care. Still, it had given her this opportunity, and maybe she really was a fool for trying to take it, but...

“...Really? Tomorrow?” Armin asked, sounding like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. “Are you... are you sure that's alright?”

“Yes. Let's meet tomorrow.”

...but she knew she would be even more of a fool if she were to let the opportunity go to waste.

The boy looked at her for a few seconds, contemplating, and then nodded in agreement. “It's a deal, then. Tomorrow it is.”

Now Annie was the one who stood up, and dusted the formerly clean pair of training pants that the nurse had given her. The pleasant scent that her outfit had was now completely gone. “Meet me at that bench we sat on tomorrow morning. You'll have more than enough time to show me whatever you manage to find.”

The two children left the alleyway – Armin bid her a cheerful farewell and walked away in the direction of the bakery (and Annie hoped he'll be able to remember the streets and turns successfully), meanwhile Annie took off running in the opposite direction.

Running seemed to be the most consistent part of her day today. That, and a feeling of flushed embarrassment. Her pace was admittedly slower than it had been the first two times she ran, while she was with Armin it was easy to forget how her legs hurt. How they've been hurting all day. How sick she felt.

The girl's mouth and lips turned dry with a crusty feeling, she could no longer breathe through her nose. As she passed houses and got closer to headquarters, a question popped into mind: If Magath or that kind nurse could see her now, would they scold her?

But... why would they care to? Magath gave them all the day off, and advised her what to do, but only because a situation came into the schedule. The nurse helped her recover from fainting, and gave her advice as to how to take better care, but that was her job.

They did their parts, and the girl knew that what she was going through right now was brought upon her by no one but herself. If anything, they could both look at her and think, What a dumb child. And Annie thought that that sounded rather accurate.

Annie stopped while she could still stand. She decided it was good enough. The training area was in sight – good enough to see her father handn't made it there yet. If anything, at least one lucky thing happened today.

The lifeless child sat down in the middle of the street, telling herself she'd turn home after just a minute. The little palms of her hands traveled to feel her cheeks. Her sweaty, puffy, burning cheeks. She found herself missing the cold water she drank in the infirmary bed, just a drop would be enough right now. And she wished dark, grey clouds would take over the blood orange sky above her, and for heavy rain to pour on her to cool her off.

“Annie? What in the–” She was startled by a man's voice. A familiar one. “What the hell do you think you're doing!?”

She didn't stand up, only looked over her shoulder to see her father. His eyebrows were furrowed, eyes narrowed, and nose scrunched – overall, he seemed furious.

“I did not walk all the way here just to find you sitting on the damned street like that” He snapped, hitting his crutch on the bricks. “Get up right now. We're leaving.”

Annie did as she was told.

“Who told you that it was acceptable of you to sit on the street like some pitiful homeless person?” Her father asked her while they were on their way. They walked slowly, due to her father's leg, so he had all the time in the world to interrogate her.

“It was a hard day.” To say the least.

“A hard day, you say?” He asked, taken aback. “If you get tired so easily, we ought to work on your endurance. And quickly.”

Just as she'd thought earlier, telling him the truth about her fainting and about her need to rest was completely off the table. Couldn't even be considered as an option.

“I was first place in a race with the other warrior candidates today.” She said, repeating in her mind that it technically wasn't a lie. Praying it would benefit her somehow. “It was a record time as well.”

The expression of disappointment had indeed changed, molding into a vague prideful smile. The parent and child kept walking, but Annie felt his hand pat the top of her head. That simple touch was the biggest form of affection he ever gave her, and even that much was rare. Last time, it was when she had beaten him into using that crutch.

“Good.” He said proudly, his hand lingered on her head for a bit more than the last time. ”Good job, Annie.”

She nodded silently, going along with his praise. Hoping he would never find out of how much she's keeping from him.

“You do know why you were born, don't you, Annie?”

“I was born to fulfill my duty.” She answers.

It was a habit by now.

Chapter Text

The continuous, eerie creaking noise of the bench was driving her crazy, yet she couldn’t stop rocking back and forth. Tiny fingers already traced every edge, crack and splinter of what they could reach. She lightly kicked the dirt beneath her feet, and watched as the breeze picked it up and swirled it around.

Annie didn’t want to admit it, especially after her words from yesterday, but this felt so wrong. And the more she tried not to think of it or not to feel that way – the worse it became.

She kept quiet about the day off, she didn’t tell her father a word about Armin. But she also didn’t say that she was going to warrior training when she left. If he just assumes where I am, I’m not lying, am I? Annie debates with herself, trying to rid herself of the ever present guilt. I just… didn’t say anything. Not saying anything isn’t the same as lying, right?

But the fact that she chose to wear her training uniform only proved that she consciously made the effort to cover up her intentions. It made the defense in her debate a lot harder.

Her morning was spent sitting on the playground bench, where they promised they would meet. She knew she would wait for him, she had to get up early to cover up their meet up by having her father believe that she’d spend the day at the headquarters. Of course he wouldn’t show up in the early morning, she couldn’t hold that against him. But now – as the high sun indicated noon – she was getting worried.

He’ll be here… Soon…, Annie keeps chanting, He… He said he would…

The little girl had spent days returning to this playground, thinking he would know to find her there. The minutes they spent here together seemed so few compared to how many times she hoped and waited. She keeps telling herself that today would finally be different, that he knows she’s here, that he would come.

His voice from yesterday echoes in her mind. Joyful, eager, going on about how many things he has to show her. The way his smile made his whole face light up. He wants to come here today. And as much relief as it brings her – it also makes her stomach grumble.

Don’t think about it, Annie thinks while placing a hand over her stomach, and closes her eyes. Just don’t think about it, it’ll pass. Maybe I’m just… a little hungry… and that’s all.

That she was. In all her nervousness and eager to get out of the house as quickly as she could, the girl completely skipped breakfast. And since dinner wasn’t anything filling, saying she was “a little” hungry was an understatement.

A sweet memory strolls into her mind, one in which she sat on this very spot. An act of his kindness back when she didn’t even know his name, giving her warm bread to eat at the sound of her growling stomach. A smile threatens to take over her cheeks. She then recalls him giving her an apple, a poor kid’s “thank you” for saving him from some knuckle-headed bullies. He would’ve given her something in that alleyway as well, she’s sure of it, had she given him time to pick up his bag before dragging him away.

Her daydream and reminiscing caused another growl to leave her belly, she allows a sigh to escape. Said sigh grew into a yawn, and she rubbed her tired, sleepy eyes half open.

Her sight was met with a blur. Or a depth. And it frightened her deeply, yet provided her with an incredible feeling of safety. The most at ease she’s ever been, that it was alright to not think about anything else. It aligned with not a single thing she was taught in life thus far – but it didn’t matter. Only this existed, and she wished to never look away from this bright, shining depth. And it’s clear, pure… blue.

“Annie?” A gentle voice whispers, the sound enough to shock her up entirely.

Startled by the sudden realization that Armin had stood in front of her, and that she, in her dazed state, stared at him – Annie’s back shot up and her hands flew back. Her triceps hit the hard backrest of the bench, causing a hiss to escape between her teeth.

Armin gasped, and hurried to make sure she was okay by trying to see where she had hit herself. “A-are you okay, Annie?” His voice filled with worry. “I didn’t mean to scare you, really, I didn’t! I’m sorry! It’s just… when I saw you, I thought you might have fallen asleep while you were waiting...”

“I wasn’t asleep. At least, I don’t think I was.” Annie says, her palm rubbing the spot that hurt. “It’s not your fault.”

“Oh… but I’m still sorry. Next time, I’ll be here sooner, so you wouldn’t have to wait this long.” His eyes fall to the bench afterwards. Annie saw the boy’s eyebrows raised, and thumbs fiddling together – he had something in his hand. He looked as if he was getting ready to say something heavy, but instead of spitting it out, he held his arm out to her, revealing what he was holding. “And… here.” He almost whispers.

In the hand that was reaching towards her, he held three plants. Flowers, Annie corrects herself. The stems were long and green, without any leaves on the sides. The heads were pretty, with yellow ball-like centers and pure white petals circling each of them. The boy’s cheeks red in color. “What for?” The confused Annie asked seconds later.

“Huh? Well… it’s for… for you.” Armin’s blush grew deeper, he didn’t know how to explain it any better. “You can take them, or throw them away, if that’s what you want…”

“I… I won’t throw them away…” Annie’s own cheeks also flushed with embarrassment, having realized the gesture on his part. She takes the three flowers into her hand, leaving Armin relieved and with a shy smile to accompany the redness. “But… where should I put them?”

His eyes go over her, and an idea comes to mind quickly. “How about in there?” He points to one of the chest pockets on her training uniform. “You won’t have to carry them in your hand, and it would look pretty. Like a decoration.” Annie did as he suggested, and his smile was a fulfilling reward.

That smile wouldn’t stay there for long, a realization came to his sharp mind. “Annie,” Armin began, “as nice as the flowers look in it, why are you wearing your uniform?” A lump forms in her throat, before she could swallow it, he continues. “Did you skip training today?”

“I didn’t. We don’t have training at all today.” She tells the truth.

“Then… why are you wearing it?”

“It’s just… convenient. That’s all, really.” Again – that much was true.

Annie tried her best not to look at him while he asked her these questions, it was playing games with her stomach. But when he took a seat next to her on the bench, she instinctively turned her head his way and fixed a strand of her hair behind her ear. Armin leaned in closer, as if he was asking her something in secret. “You won’t… be in trouble or anything like that, will you? Because, if that’s the case, then—”

“I won’t,” she interrupts, she didn’t want to hear it. His concern, however, was touching. I won’t if all goes well, that is. But she keeps that part for herself, that’s not something for him to worry over. And since this conversation was getting a bit too unsafe for her, Annie figures it’s time to change the subject, and do it immediately. Her sharp eyes were quick to see something eyebrow-raising. “So… where is it?” She inquired.

“Where’s what?” He asks back, pulling away from the girl’s personal space.

“Yesterday, you said how you had many things to show me. I thought you would bring those here, the books and stuff.” She reminds him of his own words, noticing he’s here empty-handed. “Or did you mean to show me these flowers?”

“Oh! Yes, that.” Armin remembers and chuckles, followed by him happily jumping to his feet. “I haven’t forgotten, don’t worry about that. But, I thought that instead of me bringing everything here, it would be a lot easier if you came with me and I could show you everything that way.” He explained, causing Annie to raise another confused eyebrow. “Only if you want to, of course.”

“Come with you… to where, exactly?”

“To my home.” He invited her with that radiant, excited smile.

Annie stares at him, her blank expression unchanging. The nerves work quickly to erase the boy’s smile, drops of sweat form on his forehead from her icy focus. She’s dead silent.

You’ll be an idiot if you say “yes”. Annie’s inner voice scolds her. That idea, it’s… ridiculous, it’s dangerous, and he’s so foolish for even coming up with that. Such a fool…

“Okay.” Annie nods as she stands up, much to his joy. She stretches her back free from knots as she says, “Lead the way.”

…I’m such a fool.

And, maybe, she’ll regret it later. Just like she thought she would regret their conversation in the alley. But, right now, the two children marched onwards, leaving the playground looking small in the distance. And, right now, Annie wasn’t upset with herself. Nor was she scared, or worried.

The sound of their footsteps synchronized, and minutes went by as they passed houses and people on the street. Most of them took double takes at Annie, seeing as she was in uniform along with a yellow armband. And while they in all likelihood admired that she was a warrior-to-be, she was admiring how nice the flowers looked in their “vase”. She admired the boy who gave them to her, though hardly anyone would notice him walking next to her. Annie didn’t care about them. She was happy.

Along their way, Armin listed various books that he had read recently, and Annie listened in silence. Science and history, nature, and books which were filled with something called… “poetry”.

“What’s poetry?” Armin repeated the question she asked. “You don’t know about it?”

Annie shook her head in response. “No. Never heard of it.”

The boy raised a hand to his chin, imitating how some grand thinker would pose, and tried to find a good way to explain. “Poetry is like… describing how you think or feel by using pretty words. A piece of poetry can be long, or it can be short, it can be simple or really complicated to understand. I like those hard ones, I always want to see if I can understand what the person who wrote it meant to say.”

“And who is the person that wrote the poetry?” Annie followed up.

“Many different people, from everywhere! Anyone can do it – even you and me.” Annie hums in response to this, and Armin sees that she isn’t too thrilled with how poetry sounded. “Not everyone likes it though, and that’s okay. We can read or do whatever you’d like most,” he tells her in attempting to make her feel more comfortable.

The girl hums again, and gives it some thought. Armin hurried to think of a different kind of book, and Annie continued to listen as she did. The atmosphere was comfortable, until the first old-looking houses came into view.

She remembered how they looked like from the time she followed him home. Old, run-down houses in a row, broken windows and fences, trees which overgrown roots tore apart the brick road. But, unlike where she lived, the air was fresh, and the area wasn’t abandoned. Not entirely, at least.

This end of Liberio was populated by the elderly, some of them weren’t capable of taking better care of themselves, let alone the surroundings. And Armin was very popular, Annie notices. He spared a polite “Hello!” or “How are you today?” to every old lady and sir the pair came across, earning a delighted beam from each. “Hello, my sweetheart” or “Very well, my boy”, he’d get for responses. As weird as Annie found it, it awakened curiosity just the same.

“Do all neighbors get along so well here?”

“Well,” the boy begins, “I don’t know how they are with each other. My grandpa always taught me to be polite and greet everyone I was familiar with. He says it’s just good manners.” He studied her unsure expression as they approached the spot where they parted when she was first here. “I remember you talking about the place you live. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you don’t have any neighbors, do you?”

“No,” she confirms, looking around at the unfamiliar. “Never did. It’s all just empty houses.”

“Do you want to try it?”

Annie’s gaze breaks away from the rooftops and turns to her companion. “Try what?”

“See that lady over there?” He points to a granny leaning out her window, having opened it to air out her home. “When we walk by her, just say ‘Hello, ma’am’. We can say it together, if it’s easier.”

A suggestion so simple, yet, it drove her far outside her comfort zone. But that’s what all of today was, seeing how it was going so far. Annie hesitantly nodded in agreement and, as they came close to the open window, took hold of Armin’s coat sleeve by thumb and index finger.

“Hello, ma’am!” The kids said in unity, Annie’s voice noticeably quieter.

The lady’s eyes widened, a grin spread wide across her face. “My… hello to you, Armin. Have you gotten yourself a friend with you? And what a friend at that!” A black, embroidered headscarf concealed most of her gray hair, and the sound of her voice was far livelier than you’d assume from the wrinkles on her face. “And what might your name be, dear girl?”

The little girl’s eyes dropped to the laces on her shoes, a chill running down her spine. “Annie.” She kept it short.

“Annie,” the granny repeated her name in delight, “A pretty name for a pretty face!” She clapped her hands together excitedly, “Wait right there, you two, I’ll be right back”, and with that, she turned her back to the pair.

She came back soon after, with two pieces of bread with jam for each. Armin came to the window, as he saw Annie’s unease, and thanked the woman kindly.

“It’s less than the least I could do,” she pats the boy’s blond hair. “Carry on now, and be nice to your friend, Armin!”

Of course – Annie noticed it. That look the woman gave her. However, as she was starving and this greeting paid off with a snack, she decides to leave the irritation for later. And, as it turns out, the flavor of homemade strawberry jam was one very hard to be upset at.

At a distance where it safe and the woman couldn’t hear them, Armin asked Annie what her impressions of the experience were. She gave no reply, and just ate while walking in silence. Upon the last bite, Annie asks, “So… when will we be there?”

“That house,” Armin points to a two story house very near, turns to her and chuckles. “That one over there is my house. Also, you have bread crumbs on you cheeks.”

Dainty fingers flew to wipe her face, but felt nothing except the coldness of her cheeks. His giggle doesn’t cease, even when her expression grew into an upset pout. “What was that about? I didn’t have any crumbs on my face.”

“Sorry, sorry! But I made you think!” Her stare cut his upbeat tone in half, he instantly regretted the attempt. “I-I didn’t mean— Sorry, I just tried to... Not your sense of humor, was it?”

“No. But I understand what you meant, now.”

Before either could say anything else, Annie took notice of the house before Armin’s. It looked a mess. Moss covered the outside walls and roof, the smudgy windows covered in a thick layer of dust. Two wooden grades blocked the entrance door. No one lives in this one, hasn’t for some time now, Annie concludes. It bared a close resemblance to the houses around those damned sewage pipes.

And, finally, the boy’s house was next in line.

Despite it being a two story house, it didn’t appear to be very big. By the standards of other Liberio buildings, that is. Comparing it to where she grew up, Armin’s home looked grand to her. And what was obvious, is that it was tidier than most other houses they came across. Its walls were losing color here and there, but nothing in comparison to the neighboring building. The windows were moss-free and clean and (as far as her sight allowed her to see) the roof was sound without a single hole or patch.

In addition, there was one thing which was impossible to miss – the hanging wooden sign above the entrance door. Neither the board nor the paint on it were fresh, probably older than the two of them were, and the sign itself read “Arlert Carpentry”.

Arlert? Annie reads the sign twice in her head. Could that be his last name, then?

“My grandpa isn’t home at the moment. He has some business in Liberio’s city center. But, I did tell him that I might bring a friend over, so don’t worry about that.” The boy explained standing in front of her, and reached a hand in his coat pocket, searching for the key to the door. It, for some reason, made her heart pound harder. “He works as a carpenter, and the ground floor of the house is his workshop.”

Two clicks in the keyhole later, Armin pushed the door of his house wide open.

Annie had never seen a carpentry shop before, nor does she recall her father ever going to one, so the sight of the ground floor was something to absorb. But before the sight, it was the smell – the smell of wood and the shavings which flew off the ground with their entrance. She coughs from it, but it wasn’t unpleasant, so to say. If anything, it was better than sweat and dirt.

The walls inside were grayish-white brick, but hardly noticeable from the shelves, the cabinets and the variety of tools hanging on them. Mallets and chisels and handsaws, coming in all sizes. Worktables covered in planks and blueprints, and half-made chairs next to them. Picture frames and bedside tables – the amount of materials and products made the space seem smaller than it probably was.

The girl took notice of the large pair of work gloves and a half empty mug on one of the tables, next to the blueprints. And, hanging besides the tools on the wall were safety glasses and an old apron. Those must all be his grandfathers, then…

“Annie, were you listening?”

“Huh? I—” She completely zoned out. “I wasn’t, sorry…”

“It’s alright,” Armin tries to make her not feel guilty, “I only said to watch your step. Be on the lookout for any nails or screws on the floor.”

She nodded, appreciating his advice, and followed behind his footsteps all the way to a door and a staircase in the back of the shop. “Behind that door is the backyard,” he explains and proceeds to gesture her to follow him upstairs. “Up here is where we actually, you know, live.”

He quickly marched his way up to the top, then stopped to wait for her on the last step. Halfway up the flight of stairs, Annie stole another glace of the work-in-progress furniture of the shop. That sensation of her heart beating fast returned.

I’m actually here, Annie states the obvious to herself. Or warns herself. Either way, it does nothing to calm her down. It only invites butterflies to her stomach.

Her gaze returned back to the top of the stairs, and she found herself embarrassed at the sight of Armin sitting and waiting for her. The smile he wore on his face made the girl begin to wonder if the ridiculous amount of patience he has for her will ever run out. “Did you find something interesting down there?” He teases her.

“No.” Annie immediately brushes off, but soon after comes to terms with the fact that it was dishonest. “Well… yes? Maybe? I… I don’t know, I’ve never seen a place like this before…”

His eyes widened at that one, and eyebrows raised in surprise. “Oh… I wish I had known… I can show it to you better, if you’d like?” His palm rubbed the nape of his neck in awkwardness, “I guess because I see this place every day, I didn’t consider you being interested in it…”

“That’s fine. Later.” Annie tells him as she walks up to where he sat. “We’re already up here, so…”

She took her first peek at the floor above. The view was one absolutely different from the one on the ground. This place, it actually looked like someone’s house. Not like any other part of the street or neighborhood, it didn’t look like the workshop of someone’s grandfather. Now, she’s in someone’s home.

Sunlight which fell through the window illuminated the room perfectly, making it feel bright and warm. Armin leaped the final step, and invited her to follow. As the room came into better view, the girl wrapped her arms around her small frame. Discomfort made her want to jump right out of her skin.

The furniture was all odd, the table in the middle of the room was surrounded by four completely different chairs. Different in size, color and design. Woven baskets hung from the wooden board ceiling, she didn’t understand what for. A large cabinet to the table’s side, and both were decorated with white tablecloth with holes. Not ugly holes or rips, but they looked like they were made with precision, imitating a floral pattern. The cabinet itself was filled with crockery, along with fancy-looking bottles. A wood stove for cooking close by, with pots and kettles on top, its chimney pipe stretching through the ceiling.

This is… a home. Annie’s inner voice haunts her, the discomfort eating her deeper. His home. This is where he comes every time he parts from her. Where he is every day and night, while she kicks dummies and breathes the sewage air. She takes in a deep breath, and sees the ever-smiling boy in front of her.

Him and I… we’re completely different.

“Sit, please.” Armin pulls out one of the mismatched chairs and gestures like a gentleman. Annie, still not letting go of her embrace, steps forward and sits. “You want something to eat or drink?” He then asks.

The girl shakes her head in denial, cursing at herself to become more honest when kindly offered. Now, having been seated, her jaw drops. Sitting at this angle, she came face to face with the bookshelf.

The bookshelf was large, likely twice the size of the cabinet. Filled. And filled to the brim, at that. Books of all sizes and colors, some looked well preserved and some like they were falling apart. But the bookshelf itself wasn’t enough room to house all of them – Annie could see books piled up on top of it, and four or five piles of them (probably matching her in height) next to it.

“Have you read… all of that?” Annie points to the books in disbelief.

“No, not quite.” He sits opposite to her, appearing much shorter due to the chair being a lower one. “I didn’t read the ones on top, I… I can’t really reach them, even with a chair.” He admitted shyly, as if he thinks the girl across the table will think little of him for it. In order to make up for that, he quickly adds, “But I have read all the ones in my room, most more than once!”

“I’ve never seen this many books in one place...” Annie confesses, equally afraid of judgment. “You’re telling me that… there’s more than this?”

“I told you it would be easier to show you this way,” he blushes, but with pride, seeing how impressed she seemed. “You want to see those ones, too?”

“Sure, I guess,” Annie whispered and followed him once more after he merrily hopped to his feet.

The boy led his guest into a somewhat narrow hallway. In it there were two doors, and in the back, weak and shaky-looking stairs. They resembled a ladder more than they did actual stairs, like the ones leading from the carpentry shop, and they appeared to be pulled down from the ceiling directly. And, in all honesty, they gave Annie the creeps. But she didn’t pay it any mind, as she tried to guess which one of the two doors Armin would take her through.

That is, until he caused the wooden boards of it to creek under his unbothered footsteps. “Come on,” he called towards her after noticing she didn’t move from where she stood.

“Is… uhh… Is that thing alright?” Annie voiced her suspicions, cold sweat forming on her forehead. “It doesn’t really look… stable…”

“I go up and down every day, and nothing’s ever happened so far,” he answers taking steps downwards to meet her. Three steps from the floor, he reaches his open hand out to her, “Here, it’s really not as bad as you think.”

With hands intertwined with the boy, Annie took the first step, a chill running along her spine from the eerie creek. They continued on one step at a time, her other free hand quick to grab the equally shaky handle. Rocks fall off her lungs when Armin softly said, “We’re up now, everything’s okay.”

The girl tells herself not to look down as Armin pulls her up into what – according to the tilted ceiling of the room – appeared to be the attic.

A single source illuminated the area, a window which also laid tilted on the roof of the house. She took a look around, the attic which served as the boy’s bedroom wasn’t all that large. Almost nothing in the entire house was, but just like the kitchen area downstairs, it radiated simple warmth and welcomed her in.

His bedframe was small, but according to his size, and the blanket made of colorful patches looked thick and warm. Next to it, a bedside table with built in drawers, along with two books on top to confirm his earlier statement. Against another wall was a desk with a chair, in a similar fashion – covered with books and papers. Candles and lanterns were scattered everywhere, from the tabletop to on the floor next to his bed. The majority was burned to the wick’s end, a sign telling how much of a late-night reader he is.

And similar to the one she just saw, a cabinet with shelves filled with books. Except this one was significantly shorter, but wide enough to hide most of the wall behind it. Books and notebooks, papers and rolled up scrolls, Annie wondered how he can keep track of what everything is. On top of the bookshelf stood something, an object only slightly larger than their heads, but hidden under and old piece of cloth.

Armin walked over to the sole window and stood on his toes, then cracked it half open to let fresh air in. With every step he took the wood underneath creaked, but muffled under the carpets which covered it entirely. They too, like everything else in the house, were of different shapes, sizes and colors, but Annie figured out that so long as they did their job – the appearance didn’t matter.

The wide-eyed girl sat on his bed, suddenly feeling small as she easily sunk into its covers. She keeps her gaze locked on the boy, who turned from the now open window to the packed bookshelf behind him. “So, uhm, most of these are geography, culture and history. The poetry books I mentioned earlier are on the table next to you.” The attic grew ten times in size, as to Annie, it felt like it took forever for him to sit on the bed beside her. Soft pink on his cheeks as he asked her, “Well, then… what would you like first?”

Her blonde eyebrows were quick to furrow at his question, and this time bluntly replied, “You already asked me that.” The boy was startled to the point where Annie could feel his shiver through the mattress. “You keep asking me what I’d like over and over again, and all day…”

“Was… was that annoying? Gosh, I’m sorry about that…” He turned away, and the length of his blond hair completely hid his face. “I wanted… I want to know what kinds of things you like, so I could know what the right things to show you are, what would make you happiest…”

The pink was on her cheeks now. And no matter how much it did upset her, she felt like there was no helping it. Because, the truth was—

“I don’t know.” She confessed, his head took a quick turn, and the curiosity he was emitting felt like burns under her skin. The sigh she let out was dispirited, but nevertheless, encouraged her to continue. “I don’t know… what I would like. And, I keep thinking about it, but…” Her fingers fidgeted and picked on and pinched the skin surrounding her fingernail. “Sometimes, I think that… I think that I don’t feel anything, about anything?”

That was something she was ashamed of in his presence. His enthusiasm, knowledge and his good will… they were all just wasted on someone like her. Whatever it was that he found interesting about her must all be in his head. A projection, a fantasy, a made-up person he would like to spend careless time with.

“It’s like everything’s… empty.” And there was nothing about Annie Leonhart that he could possibly find endearing.

Annie kept perfectly still, but she doesn’t have to move in order to feel his eyes run laps over her tiny body. They were full of thought – analyzing and judging her. The silence between them was heavy, still, she wouldn’t dare to speak up. Moreover, she couldn’t even lift her gaze, afraid of meeting his own, and she was stuck in staring at the edges of the carpet which peeked from under his bed.

It felt like eternity, then he jumped off the bed so quickly that it left her bouncing on the mattress. The sheer sunshine radiating from him outshined the light of the window with ease. “Wait—Wait here! I’ll be back in a few!” He could hardly stay still long enough to finish that exclamation.

“Wh-where are you going?” Annie questions, stunned.

“Downstairs, I think that I might have something you do feel for!” And with that, the rapid creeks of the stairs under his sprint swallowed the silence of the house.

Leaving Annie only to herself up in the attic. In his bedroom.

The awkwardness of the situation kept her sitting still for the first minute. And the second one. By the time Annie counted to a hundred and eighty, she felt she was going to lose it. She stood up, and took a full, free look of the room around her.

Involuntarily, she kept making comparisons of her home to Armin’s with every glace, every part of every corner she’s seen. Every finding was out of the ordinary. Out of her ordinary. Hanging baskets and pretty decorative cloths, the masses of books – not a single thing could be found in any room she called home. It didn’t matter if they had a use or not, Annie did find herself picturing how they’d look in her bedroom.

Another thing Annie couldn’t deny her attraction toward – the question that was the object on the top shelf. Covered with cloth, not revealing an inch of what it hid. She took a step closer.

If it was interesting or something worth showing, he would’ve already said it. Annie reminded, but once again ignored her own voice.

Small, pale fingertips reach forward, feeling the cloth was rougher than assumed. And heavier, at that. She pulled two, three times, but the only thing that happened was a tickle running around the back of her hand.

Tickle? Annoyed, she stops and retrieves her hand to scratch. And looking at the troubled spot, she could make out something. Something black, and thin, and—

“Spider!” Annie feels her heart skip a beat, surprised how she didn’t scream it out louder.

The carpets couldn’t muffle out the sound of her panicked jump, while manically shaking her hand all over. The startled girl lost all sense of direction, leading to her back audibly slamming against the table behind her. After falling to her knees in pain and making sure the creature was off of her, Annie felt thankful that he wasn’t there to see her. A moment to calm down patting the sore spot on her back, and a relieved sigh later, she stood up again.

The item which remained unknown didn’t matter much anymore, what came into Annie’s view is a book. A casualty that fell off the table after the strong collision. She bent over to pick it up, but didn’t know exactly where on the table it belonged.

The book was one rather peculiar in appearance; smaller than every other in the room, might have been made by the hand on an amateur. The texture of the cover was, too, unusual. Leather – not something Annie was overly familiar with, but knew that those more privileged owned nice shoes and coats made of it. Thick and rough string wrapped around the book several times and into a careful knot, preventing Annie’s, and anyone else’s, curious eyes from prying its pages open.

What it couldn’t do, however, was deny her to keep fiddling with it. She was flipping it back and forth, up and down, and could see the edges of the paper within – wrinkled and stiff. There were spots and scratches on the cover, a memento of the years it probably had on it.

Without warning – a slip.

And Annie felt, and saw, two pieces of paper fall from within the out-of-reach pages of the book right onto the floor, in between her two feet.

Not being able to leave them resting on the carpet, Annie bent to pick those up as well. A discovery was then made, as she came to see that they weren’t any ordinary pieces of paper. She’d seen this sort of thing before, hanging on the walls of the headquarters hallways or pinned together on top of various documents.

These are… photographs.

They were thicker than ordinary paper, and the images imprinted on them were deprived of color; all just shades of black, white and gray.

Annie inspected the first of the two photographs. It depicted a couple, young and smiling. The man was standing stiff as a board, and visibly nervous, but still, his smile was genuine and eyes sparkling. The woman who stood next to him was far more at ease, looking as if she could drift to sleep at any second. Eyes with heavy eyelids stared at Annie lazily, but she’d never seen anyone more gentle-looking.

They certainly dressed for the occasion – a formal black suit and a long white dress. The man’s suit was simple, buttoned-up to the neck, not a single wrinkle to be seen. Meanwhile, the dress was far more detailed, the shoulder to elbow length puffy and pretty, real attention grabbers, and the whole thing was covered with lace. One thing which matched, however, were the flowers pinned to both their chests. A beautiful touch which tied them together.

Curiosity was getting out of hand, and Annie flipped the photograph over to find that a note was written. The handwriting was elegant and precise, so much so that Annie struggled before successfully reading it.

The second black-and-white photograph in hand depicted a different scene, but she recognized the people portrayed. Seated on a decorative bench was the same couple as previous. Except, different – several years had visibly passed since the first picture. The man’s hairline was receding now and his upper lip hidden under a moustache. The woman’s eyes carried bags underneath, hair loose and dangled around her face, but her unchanged grin tried to cover up how tired she looked. Aging had caught up with them, as did something – or someone – else.

Between the two, on one knee each, sat a young child. They did their best to dress him accordingly – a white shirt with overalls, and a hat which made him seem like a proper little man. His hair at the length of his ear and the toothy smile on his face wider that the couple’s combined.

She flipped this one over as well, it was the same handwriting, but lacking the detail.

Annie lingers on his name and the date next to it, and goes back to look at him when he was a toddler. His eyes, and nose, that beam of his as he sits in the laps of who she assumes must be his parents. And how much he resembles them both. How heart-warming the scene is.

But she reminds herself that she’s staring so freely at something which she mustn’t. That is personal to him, and likely deeply private. The girl then tried digging her thumb fingernail between the cover and contents, tried to fit them back inside without damage.

The attempt was cut short by the familiar sound of the wooden boards, and they screeched rapidly. The golden crown of his head came into sight, along with his eyes, they were quick to land on her. Annie froze – she was caught.

And Armin froze too, but short-lived, before he ran up the rest of the stairs. He tripped on the last one, and dropped what he carried in hand on the carpet. He paid it no mind, and hurried his way to where she stood.

“I—I’m sorry! I didn’t mean—” Annie tried to explain herself through shaky breaths and eyebrows raising so far up her forehead in guilt that it started hurting. She didn’t get to finish, as Armin took the books and photographs from her hand.

He stared wide-eyed at them himself, and kept so silent that it felt like daggers to her stomach. With a tight grip on the book, the boy turned his back to her and heavily carried himself to his bedside table. There, he opened one of the drawers and safely tucked the items inside.

Armin kneeled in front of the table for a moment longer in silence, Annie’s fingers began to tremble. He stood up soon after, and went to pick up what he clumsily dropped on the floor. “I’m really sorry… about that.” He whispers.

“I…” Annie hesitated with guilt, “I saw a spider... And I knocked that book of the table… I really didn’t mean to, I’ll—I’ll leave if you want me gone…”

Hearing her words, Armin’s careful gaze swept left and right, searching from the floor and table to the walls, to her deep confusion. Then, upon finally locking on a single spot, the boy took a piece of paper off their pile on the desk and approached the wall, in a manner where Annie couldn’t see his next action. Seconds later, he turned to her, and Annie was horrified to see the same spider walking around on the paper he held. “Take it,” he told her.

“…Why?” Annie swallowed.

“We can put it outside, through the window. If you do it, you’ll feel better.” A smile returned to his face, but different to the ones he’d normally display for her. A regretful smile, this one was. “I promise.”

In spite of the cold sweat dripping down her neck and the tremble in her knees, Annie took the piece of paper from the boy. The little guy roamed on it freely, the dance of the eight thin legs made the little girl want to jump out of her own skin in horror. Thoughts swirled around her mind; that it’d jump off, or crawl onto her hand, that it was staring at her. She stepped to the tilted window and, in hurry, reached up high and vigorously shook the paper in the air. On the count of five – the spider was on it no more.

“How’s that feel?” The boy looking at her from behind asked.

“Good.” Annie admitted, looking at however much of the sky she could see, “That was good.”

“I told you,” Armin walked to her side, and reached up for the window’s handle. “I’ll close it now, so the little guy won’t come back in.”

The girl stood on her toes as he did, looking at how much the view had to offer. The elevation proved to disappoint her, as the sky came to a sudden end, blocked by the top of the wall close by which enclosed the internment zone. A cold sight, but one there was no escaping from.

“What are you thinking so hard about?” Armin patted her on the shoulder, bringing her heels back to the ground. “Is it the spider, still?”

“The wall.” Annie replied melancholically, “You can see the top of the wall from here.”

“Huh? Yeah…” Armin agreed, “This neighborhood is close to the wall, so it looks really large from here, doesn’t it?”

“Have you ever been outside?”

“No…” Armin denied, and went to pick up the book he brought from downstairs. After sitting and crossing his legs on the carpet mid-room, he continued, “Eldians need to request permissions to be able to go outside, and I don’t have a good reason to ask for one. But, my grandpa went outside a few times in the past, and he told me about what it’s like.”

Annie sat across him in a similar fashion on the floor, after following his gesture for her to. “Do you think the ones outside would be as happy to see me there, as our people are when they see me here?”

“What do you mean?” He further inquired, puzzled yet intrigued.

“I mean… you saw it too, didn’t you?” Annie’s nails scratch along the carpet, deep enough to leave trails behind. Her eyes dart to the brownish star emblem on the cloth wrapped around his left arm. “That grandma earlier, the way she looked at me. You heard how she spoke. She even gave us something to eat because she saw my armband.”

The warrior candidate didn’t know where to look next really, so she stared emptily at nothing in particular in front of her, but could still feel Armin’s stare, giving her his undivided attention. “My armband says I’m different. That I’m better than them, that I’m supposed to be good. And it’s not just her – it’s everyone here who knows what the armband means. And, when…” Annie’s hand clutches and squeezes her left arm, making wrinkles on the yellow nine-edged star, “…when it becomes red, they’ll see me as someone of a completely different standing. Eldians will, that is. But…” Annie takes in a breath before asking her main inquiry, “…will the Marleyans still see nothing but a devil?”

The air surrounding them quickly became uncomfortable after she finished airing out her thoughts. Her listener didn’t move a muscle, except for blinking here and there, and the lack of expression on his face had Annie swallowing a lump in her throat.

Out of nowhere, Armin nudged himself closer and closer into her personal space, stopping only at the distance of their knees touching. “Close your eyes,” he tells her softly.

“…What?”

“No! It’s not—” Red suddenly erupted across his cheeks. “Just, trust me.”

Suddenly holding her breath, Annie did as the boy across her said. Her eyelids dropped, surrounding her in darkness, in vulnerability in front of him.

She heard and felt him nudging around; the sound of cloths and his knees dragging along the carpet closer to her. The feeling of his fingers on her arm, he was—

Next, the girl felt his fingers within the strands of her tied hair. Successfully finding the hair tie, he pulled it down, and Annie felt the length of her hair fall down atop her shoulders.

He stood up, she could feel him, and after ten seconds or so she heard the clicking sound of the drawer, just like earlier when he hid the book away.

Sitting back down to where he was originally, he whispered, “You can open them now.”

She did. And there he was, greeting her with the softest of looks.

But, with one noticeable difference – he didn’t wear his armband. And neither did she, as she felt him take it off her. “They’re in my nightstand, don’t worry.” He says taking notice of Annie’s eyes in wonder. “I’ll give it back.”

Seeing how Annie was speechless in confusion, Armin took a deep breath, and began.

“The things we wear around our arms, they only have meanings because they teach us that they do. They teach all of us that those who wear them are lesser than those who don’t, and those with certain colors are lesser than other colors. But, in reality, they don’t define who we are.” Mid his words, Armin’s hand reached to her chest, and picked one of the flowers out of the pocket.

“You wear a yellow one, and I wear a brown one. But, as we are now, could anyone tell the difference between us? Could someone tell the difference between me, you, and some Marleyan kid our age?” He twirled the flower between his thumbs and index finger, looking at it with the gentleness that his mother had in the picture.

“They chose to see an armband and its color, and not the person who wears it.” His arm stretches to her face. “They’ll see a devil in the symbol you wear, but you, Annie, you’re not a devil. All of us, Eldians and Marleyans, every other race in the world – we’re only people. Anyone who calls you a ‘devil’, can be called a ‘devil’ just as equally.” Fingers tickle her earlobe, tucking in the flower and having it decorate the top of her ear.

Annie’s face couldn’t move, blazing and stunned.

“I… I understand.” Annie whispered her response to his speech. “And… thank you, for telling me that. But, uhmm… what about my hair, and… this?” Annie asked as she felt the flower under her own fingers now, with no intention to remove it.

“Oh, well…” Armin’s face was a deep red color, rubbing his sweaty palms against his thighs. “That’s because… you’re… you’re very pretty…” He managed to finish his sentence, in spite of his heart beating in his throat.

Spider or no spider, Annie felt like escaping through the window at his remark. All the laps she ran, and all the hours kicking and punching and panting, none of those gave her half the adrenaline rushing though her blood. She must look ridiculous, her face couldn’t possibly get any redder…

“The book!” Armin exclaimed suddenly, as if making an unforeseen discovery. “I found this book! I think you’ll like it!”

“Yeah?” Annie swallowed, and exhaled deeply. “What’s it about?”

He opened the book, the hard cover hitting the floor, and started flipping its wide pages at a speed that the girl’s eyes couldn’t follow. Coming to a stop, Armin flipped the book over so the writing wouldn’t appear upside down to her.

The girl’s eyes widened at the sight of the books contents. “I know those… Those are the ones—”

“—in front of the bakery.” Armin finished her sentence. “You… you always stop and look at that garden. You wouldn’t do that if you didn’t like them.”

Annie kept her gaze locked on the beautiful illustration of the yellow flowers she’d see every day. “Daffodil”, it read, and Annie was grateful, as she didn’t know their name before now.

“And this?” The girl pointed to her ear, “What’s this one called?”

“That’s a ‘daisy’.” Armin chuckled, “They bloom in early spring, and stay as long as the weather’s warm. You can find them anywhere, really.”

A smile, along with a light shade of pink, covered Annie’s cheeks, and she playfully exhaled in defeat. “Seems like… you do know something about me, then.”

“You think?” He questioned, not being able to take his eyes off of her upturned lips, and how full it made her cheeks look. “I think I know many things about you.”

“Really?” She questioned back, with sarcasm in her tone. “Like what?”

Armin looked at her softly, thinking how nicely her hair decorated her face, admiring how her eyes moved right and left as she silently read the contents of the book. “You’re curious,” he began, “you want to find out about things, and you’re a careful listener. Though, you don’t get many opportunities to, because you train too hard and too long.” His eyes burned into the bruising on her legs. “But you’d rather be in peace and quiet, probably eating pastries and admiring flowers.”

Annie’s eyes paused mid-page. Seeing how he grabbed her attention, he kept going, “You’re scared of bugs, but you’re not scared of putting bullies bigger and older than you in their place.”

The girl’s fingers nervously tucked her hair behind the ear without the flower. “You don’t like when others treat you specially, or give you praise that you think you don’t deserve. You want to be ‘normal’, and Annie, you are. Also, you’re very nice.” He boldly finished, but just to be safe, he added, “At least, I think you are.”

“That’s…” Annie’s eyes turned wistful, slowly closing them. “You’re overestimating me there,” she shared her opinion with him, “you are far better than I am.”

“Not at all.” He said without hesitation. “I just told you, didn’t I? We’re all the same.”

Her eyes opened, met with the sight of the remaining two flowers in her chest pocket. The “daisies” brought a bittersweet smile, and the thought lingered in her mind. Two dainty fingers picked one of the two out, and her gaze danced along each of the perfect, white petals.

Armin’s lips separated in surprise. He wasn’t expecting Annie’s cold fingers to tuck his hair behind his right ear and, just as he did earlier, decorate it with the flower.

“Wh-what was that for?” He stuttered.

“Because…” she pulled back, bashfully looking at a distant corner of the room, “…we’re the same.”

Then, maybe, her voice chimes in her mind, we aren’t so different, after all.

“Now, uhmm…” Annie clears her throat, “do you want to continue reading?”

Armin answers happily, paying no mind to his burning cheeks and ears. “Yes.”

And Annie turned the next page.

Chapter Text

“This time, be sure to tell me if something’s wrong, alright?”

Annie looked down to make sure that both her feet were not crossing the quickly improvised line which marked their starting point. “Mm…,” she mumbled in response to Marcel, who stood by her side and kept looking her way.

“I’m serious, you know?” He whispered quickly, as he didn’t know when their supervisor would start their tie-breaker, “You fainting again really isn’t worth this race. So, just stop or say something and—”

“Quit it already.” Annie interrupted him bluntly while reaching to grab her foot from behind, stretching her leg in preparation. Even though the memory of passing out that day was foggy and faint, she could remember clearly how excruciatingly hot it was, how the sun burned through her skin. She looked to the sky, the bright blue peeking from behind the puffy white clouds which were in abundance. “I’ll be fine this time. But, thanks.”

“I hope I can take your word for it.”

“Just… run your best.” Annie locked her gaze on the track ahead.

It was just the two of them, and their supervisor in uniform who kept his eyes firm on the pocket watch in hand, waiting for the clock to strike and start the race. Commander Magath and the rest of the warriors-to-be would be waiting for them at the finish line, to congratulate whichever one of the two crosses first.

To spend time with Marcel without Porco in the nearby was rare, and Annie was getting slightly overwhelmed by how reliable and, dare say, nurturing he was. She found out it wasn’t just something he did in front of the crowd for praise, in was simply in his nature.

You remind me of someone there…, Annie made the connection, but couldn’t possibly tell the boy that.

“Alright, get ready…” Their supervisor informed, and the pair got down to the ground and placed their hands in front. A moment later the man yelled out “Go!” and the two kids leaped off the ground leaving small clouds of dust behind their stomping feet.

They kept their pace in sync, running side by side and in a much less intense pace. This time around, the race was made on a much shorter route, and Magath announced that the time of their crossing the finish line didn’t matter as much. He kept it simple – the one who crosses first gets the record time.

The same way it didn’t matter to Annie days ago, it didn’t matter to her still. This was simply a formality from which there was no escaping, since Magath already didn’t accept her ‘give the title to Marcel’ as a valid option. And after first had experiencing Marcel’s thoughtfulness, Annie wondered if her fellow warrior candidate had also approached the commander with the same wish, with the exception of it being in Annie’s favor.

As if he knew what she was thinking about, Marcel turned his head Annie’s direction. Raising his eyebrows and nodding his head, wordlessly asking “Are you doing okay?”, to which Annie nodded back.

After running leisurely for the majority of the track, they both picked the pace up after the first sight of their peers awaiting them, namely Pieck and Porco. The pair waved from a distance to the racing duo, bringing a smile to Marcel’s face.

Shortly after, they were met with the tall figure of commander Magath. Alongside him, the remaining two warrior candidates – Reiner, who was very deeply emerged into his, by the looks of it, one sided conversation with Bertolt, who tried to keep his eyes on the race (more specifically, Annie).

The three warrior candidates began to cheer and clap for the runners, with Reiner reluctantly joining in in the end. And it was there, in the last few feet of the race, that Annie made the decision to have a change of pace.

After a second, she made her steps ever so slightly shorter, and fell behind her competitor. And the first one to cross the finish line was Marcel, with Annie following two seconds later.

Pieck and Porco both ran up to Marcel, who was slightly out of breath, and cheerily hugged him in congratulations. Porco’s face was especially radiant, with eyes wide and a huge grin. Annie could only guess exactly how proud he felt to have a praiseworthy older brother such as Marcel.

“It-it’s alright, Annie.” She heard a voice from behind, turning around to see Bertolt shyly approach. “You did your best, right? And that’s all that matters.” He tried his best at comforting her.

“I’m not upset.” Annie coldly replied, turning away to look at the Galliard brothers and Pieck again, “I don’t care. I think Marcel deserves it.”

Her hands dug into the pockets of her now slightly dusty training pants and shot a glare over her shoulder. Something she thought was coming was a snarky remark from Reiner, who certainly had something to say about the situation days ago when the tie-breaker was announced. But he simply stood silent for some time, and eventually made his way to Marcel to give him a pat on the back and his congratulations.

“Yes, indeed.” Magath cleared his throat to remind the celebratory children of his presence. “Congratulations are in order, Galliard. This will look well on your record.”

The commander approached the boy and reached out his hand for a handshake, to which a confident Marcel replied with “Thank you very much, commander!” He managed to keep the blush creeping to his face under control.

Amid all of the commotion no one, save for Annie, noticed the approaching figure in the distance. Two men, both relatively tall. With them coming close enough to finally interrupt the moment, the girl recognized that the first of the two was their supervisor from earlier.

The second man she remembered seeing before, and recently so. Tall, friendly and confident looking, with dusty blond hair and slightly wavy bangs over his forehead. But with a few alterations to his appearance, notable ones at that. And it didn’t take much trying to accept that she just didn’t remember his name. He gave the warrior candidate a smile as the two of them were saluted by Magath.

“Salutations, future warriors of Marley.” The supervisor spoke to the group, and seeing how the attention was centered on Marcel, he continued, “Well done, Marcel Galliard. We had our speculations about a bright future awaiting you, and you keep proving us right.” Hearing the comment, the boy’s back shot up straight as a tree, trying his hardest not to appear flustered.

“Commander Magath,” began the blond, young man afterwards, “we don’t mean to interrupt. However, your presence has been required as ordered by general Calvi. And I’m afraid it cannot wait.”

Magath huffed after hearing the orders. “Yes well, with general Calvi, there’s never any waiting around. Right then,” he then turned to the audience of children, “Marcel, you’ll be put in charge of the group. We’ll be returning as soon as this meeting ends.”

And so, the three men went their way to the headquarters, leaving the group of warrior candidates staring at their backs as they became smaller in the distance. When they reached a distance far away enough that the children were sure they couldn’t be heard anymore, they turned to each other in uncomfortable silence.

“I guess there’s no use in standing in one place like this,” Marcel spoke to the group first, scratching behind his ear. “Let’s go by the tree at the gate, sit and wait for Magath in the shade.”

Annie was the last one to get moving, and only did so once everyone else was ahead. She observed from behind how her peers had grouped up – Reiner with Bertolt, and Pieck with the Galliard brothers. She couldn’t hear what exactly the blond and black haired boy were talking about, but what she could hear was the latter group, still pretty giddy about Marcel’s received praise.

Nearing their destination, and already feeling the cool of the shade, Porco spoke up to the whole group. “So what exactly was that about, anyway? Calling Magath so urgently all of a sudden…,” he addressed as they all sat down underneath the tree.

“Must be something big,” his brother replied, “especially if the general said it couldn’t wait.”

“If it’s important for us, he’ll announce it.” Pieck followed, “And if not, we shouldn’t be asking him. He really didn’t seem happy when he heard that.”

They sat together peacefully for a while, leaning against the trunk and enjoying the refreshing breeze from the tree’s full, green crown. Not even Porco and Reiner spoke much, to each other especially. As a matter of fact, Annie began to notice that some of the boys were starting to doze off. However, Pieck (seated to Annie’s left), despite always being so tired-looking, was wide awake next to her. And after noticing Annie is too, she smiled her way.

The black haired girl leaned in, almost resting her chin on Annie’s shoulder. “I think your hair tie snapped,” she whispered.

The blonde girl’s hand flew to the back of her head, feeling that her hair indeed loosened up. Her fingers found the tie among the strands and pulled it out, hair completely falling down on her shoulders. A pout grew on her face as she looked at what was once her hair tie (and what was now just some piece of rubber string), which Pieck giggled at.

“Here,” Pieck whispered as to not disturb any of the napping boys and proceeded to undo her loosely tied pony tail. The black mess covered her shoulders and some of her back as she offered Annie what she took out of it. “Take it. It’s better to have a proper hair tie, that’s not just a rubber band,” she said in a playful tease.

Annie debated for a moment, and concluded that she should accept if the girl was being generous. She took the tie and continued to pick her hair up, but Pieck offered one more thing before she could finish.

“Would you let me do your hair?”

“What?” Annie whispered, taken aback by the question, “What do you mean, ‘do my hair’?”

“You know, tie it pretty.” Pieck proposed, but looking at Pieck’s own scruffy hair wasn’t particularly a selling point for Annie. “I can braid it, if you like?”

“Do you know how to?” Annie questioned.

“Sure do,” the girl answered confidently, “my mom taught me how to. So will you let me?”

Insecurity still lingered, not sure whether this was alright or not. But, she catches sight of her blonde hair, dangling in front of her face. A voice resembling ringing bells chimes through her mind, with it, a recent memory carved deep into her mind.

“That’s because… you’re… you’re very pretty…”

He… he liked it. My hair.

Afraid Pieck would point out the pink in her cheeks, she dropped the hair tie back into Pieck’s palm and turned her back towards her. “…You can do it.” She consents, much to the black haired girl’s delight.

Pieck repositioned herself properly behind Annie, and her fingers immediately made their way and brushed through the blonde hair. She wasn’t about to say it to her, but in truth, Annie never had her hair braided, or anything else of the sort.

“Your hair is really smooth,” Pieck complimented stroking it in downwards motions, “but it’s not too long, so the braid will be a bit shorter.”

“That’s fine.” The girl replied awkwardly as she felt Pieck had now divided her hair into three equal parts. Something then pops into her mind. “How come I never see you with braids, if you know how to do them?”

“Well, you know,” the girl began, talking not effecting her focus on the blond hair, “it’s hard to braid your own hair.” She pauses, almost abruptly enough to make Annie flinch, but continues to giggle a few seconds later. “My dad, he tries to do my hair. Wakes up before I go to training most mornings to brush my hair and tie it. He tries to braid it sometimes, but it, uhhh, it doesn’t really work out...”

Annie feels the pattern of Pieck working on the task at hand, how she moves the divided segments from right to left and vice versa. To her relief, it’s not an uncomfortable process. Or it wasn’t until Pieck continued on from where she stopped.

“I… I know it doesn’t look the best. My hair, I mean. But…” She breathes in deeply. “…I think it makes him happy. So I keep it the way he ties it. And that makes me happy, too.”

“I see.” Annie replies as Pieck tilts her head down a bit for a better angle. “But, why doesn’t your mom braid it for you? She’s the one that taught you, right?”

A sudden silence, and Annie feels the air grow heavy around them. The girl’s fingers stop in her tracks, not letting go of the semi-braided hair.

“She’s… I—” Annie hears her elongated whisper, from it already knowing what she was about to hear next. “She’s… uhmm… I-I don’t have—”

“It’s fine.” The blonde girl cuts in, feeling Pieck’s fingers tremble through the hair which connected them. “Me neither.”

“…What?” The black haired girls asks, hoping Annie would clarify.

“I don’t, either.” Annie says, wishing it would mean any consolation, and at the end added “Sorry, shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, no.” Pieck shakes her head, pulling herself together. Finally, she takes the tie and finishes the job by tying the remaining hair up, and leaving Annie’s bangs to hang framing her pale cheeks. “There you go,” her voice turning happy again, “I think it turned out very pretty. You wear that same bun every day, you must really like it if you never change it, right?”

Annie’s fingertips flew to the back of her head to feel the strands of hair interlocked with each other, since she herself couldn’t see how it looked. “I don’t care for it.” She replies while Pieck seats herself back against the tree trunk. “My dad always kept telling me to get my hair out of the way, and he insisted I tie it. So I just kept tying the bun.”

“But, switching it up every now and then wouldn’t be so bad, right?”

“I… guess not.”

Pieck fell silent as she attempted to nestle against the tree bark, trying to get more comfortable before shutting her eyes. The black mess of her untied hair making it seem like she had a pillow underneath. “Should I give it back to you?” Annie spoke up again, “When I get a new tie, I’ll give this one back to you.”

“What?” The girl popped one eye open to look at the blonde, “No, keep it, take it as a gift. I have more at home anyway, so it’s alright.”

As Annie was about to say her thanks, the conversation through whispers was suddenly interrupted by a grumble on the other side of the tree. Both Annie and Pieck turned to the side to see a frustrated Porco, unable to say still and quiet, stand to his feet.

“Come on! You’ll come with me, right?” He whispered, but loudly enough to be heard by everyone anyway. “I can’t just sit here anymore, and it won’t be any trouble!”

The person he was talking to was none other than his brother, who appeared unsure of whatever it was Porco tried to convince him into. “Pieck already said not to bring it up first,” Marcel reasoned in response. “Besides, I’m in charge, and I don’t think it’s a good idea either.”

Reiner and Bertolt, awoken from their short lived naps, joined in on listening to the brothers. “But no one in the headquarters will even know we’re there! It’ll be real quick!” They all have to hand it to Porco, at least he was making the context very easy to understand to his audience. “You’re really telling me that you’re not the least bit curious?”

“Curiosity killed the cat, Pock.” Reiner jumped in, unsuccessful at his attempt to hide that he was enjoying the display. “Listen to Marcel and don’t get yourself into trouble that you don’t need.”

And, maybe, that would’ve been a good piece of advice, if it came from anyone else. But to Porco, Reiner’s intentions were clear as day, and he didn’t hesitate with his reply. “You know,” he shot him with a calm, ice-cold glare, “you lick so many boots you can make a living off of it. So when are you gonna start licking mine for a change?”

Annie turned her head to look at Reiner as he stood up, Porco’s words must’ve stuck a nerve. The younger Galliard stood oppose him unapologetically, deliberately ignoring Marcel loudly whispering “Porco!” in his attempts to calm him and prevent anything unwanted.

“I wouldn’t act so high and mighty if I were you!” Reiner spoke loud and clear, “Not when they only looked at you because of who you’re related to!”

Now red-faced from the fury which was taking control, Porco growled and marched his way to pick a fight (a sight which the kids encountered not for the first time). Thankfully, Marcel was quick to jump to his feet and wrap both arms around his younger brother’s torso. He was strong, and the hug prevented Porco from moving, but not from talking back.

“You’re the bottom of the barrel here pal!” The tone of his voice was sharp and clearly with every intention to hurt the other boy. “So you better stop acting like a wise guy, because you’ll be drowning in embarrassment when you’re the only one left with that yellow armband!”

None of the other children interfered. Pieck shook her head in slight annoyance of the situation, somewhat used to it. Bertolt sat there looking at the ground, probably wishing it would be over soon. How he kept finding excuses for his friend’s behavior was a mystery. And Annie sat in between the two black haired kids, serving as an unwilling spectator of the argument.

Marcel kept whispering strings of words telling his brother to drop it already, and running out of options, he sighs and settles for “Fine, we’ll go.”

It worked like a charm, and Porco’s rage subsided for the most part. He turned to Marcel, wanting to hear what he would say next.

“You and I will go, just for five minutes and then we come back here,” he offered a deal. “If they catch us and ask us why we’re there, we’ll say we just wanted to check if my race time was officially recorded. No asking questions, and no making any noises. Does that sound like a deal?”

Having released himself from the restrictive hug, Porco looks down to his shoes and kicks some dirt into the air. “Deal,” he agrees, “let’s go.”

As if they haven’t already heard the entire thing, Marcel explained to the group that the two will be running off to headquarters to get some, if any, information on what was going on. He had faith that the three would keet sitting there as they were, and that Reiner would relax a bit in their absence. With that said, the Galliard brothers turned their backs, and left off running.

The remaining warrior candidates sat together in silence, watching the two boys grow smaller in the distance. Reiner sat back down and let out a frustrated huff, and no one was about to ask him to elaborate his feelings. Pieck was examining the tips of her black hair, and Annie kept looking somewhere to the side as her fingertip drew circles in the dirt. From out the corner of her eye, Annie saw that Bertolt was rubbing the nape of his neck as he looked up at the puffy, white clouds.

“Those clouds won’t bring any rain,” the timid boy sighs.

All turn their heads his way, somewhat surprised that he was the one to put an end to the quiet. He looks down, blushes when realizing they’d all heard him and hides his face away.

“What was that?” Pieck prompted him to speak again.

“Uh—Nothing.” Bertolt denies.

“Come on, don’t be like that.” She encourages and leans forward as she couldn’t see him the best with Annie blocking the way. “You mentioned how it wouldn’t rain, right?”

“Why do you care if it rains or not?” Reiner asks, joining it on getting the quiet boy to talk. “The weather’s really nice and warm, rain would be shame. Right?”

As a response, Bertolt shakes his head. “Uhm, well, right now, a few rainy days would be really good.” He begins, but isn’t sure how to string the next sentence together. He rubs the palms of his hands against his training pants and continues, “It’s been really hot lately, so we need rain to fall soon. Otherwise, the crops won’t grow at all.”

“Crops?” Pieck blinks, “I didn’t know you came from a farming family.”

“Sort of…” He looks as if he knows he isn’t supposed to tuck his head away or hide again, so he just keeps uncomfortably staring at the ties of his shoes. “The field’s not that big. And it’s just me and my dad anyway.”

“You and your dad, huh?” Pieck repeats gently, perfectly understanding what it’s like.

Reiner’s hand pretty audibly smacks against the boy’s shoulder, and he offers his friend a smile. “In that case, I hope it rains for a week! Starting tomorrow!”

The black haired girl’s shoulders bounce as she giggles at the wish. “We went through all those gun wielding training sessions in the rain, remember?” Pieck pokes in the blond boy’s direction. “After those, I was sure you’d hate that weather, Reiner!”

“This is completely different!” He immediately disagrees with her, “He just explained that they need the rain, so of course I want it to fall! Besides, it’s not like we’re going to do those exercises ever again.”

The meek boy’s cheeks get overtaken by a small smile, “Thanks, Reiner. I hope it rains for a week too.”

Among the chatty children sat Annie in complete silence. The three of them continued to talk, but Annie heard none of it anymore. It was by no means intentional, nevertheless, they said all the wrong words.

Exercise. Rain. Training session in the rain.

Her stomach twists and turns upside down. A pulsing headache making her feel like her forehead will burst open.

You and your dad.

She leans back and let’s herself get embraced by the tree bark, no matter how unwelcoming it feels. Suddenly very heavy eyelids cover her vision. She falls into the darkness.

Just me and my dad.

She doesn’t say in the pitch black for long. The sight before her changes, and shifts into one that she’s horribly familiar with. A memory she’d rather not relive.

Her house in the back, she could see the brick wall peeking through chipped white paint. The brownish green water falling from the sewage pipe with great intensity and speed. It was so loud, as if pouring straight into both her ears.

She remembers every sensation on and around her. The humid, heavy air making her lungs feel as though they had been cemented, persistently forbidding anything from leaving or entering. She could only exhale short, open-mouthed breaths; her cursed nose was never any good in these situations.

Then, it had been pouring for days, and showed no signs of letting up. A year ago, Annie was convinced that the rain had been brought by the devil, punishing her for ever being born.

It dripped from her soaked bangs as if they were an extension of the sky, and even her eyelashes felt heavy from the drops they carried. It came crashing all over her head and body, feeling like she was taking a beating from above. Her clothes too short and limb revealing from the weather left her catching freezing chills. They’d been completely wet, sticking to her body and hugging her without release.

Mud was a nightmare. Annie’s weak, patched together cloth shoes were no match as her feet kept digging into the annoying, mushy surface beneath. And there was no escaping it, the moment she’d wiggle and free one foot out, the next would bury even deeper.

Before her stood the kicking dummies, but in an edition worse than any other. The surface felt harder upon every kick, her feet feeling a splash with each contact. The mud stains from her shoes stuck to the dummies’ surface, and her legs dirtied more with each successive blow. And, god, the way it smelled…

The last thing she wanted to remember, the one thing she couldn’t leave out of any scenery. Her father, who stood straight as a tree beside her, and who didn’t seem the least bit phased by their working conditions. He stood with streams of raindrops sliding down his face, his eyes fixated on her movements and arms crossed in dissatisfaction.

Annie’s fingers tucked into her palms, forming a fist as tightly as her frozen hands allowed her to. She inhaled as sharply as she could after getting her foot unstuck from mess underneath. Her leg stretched out, a perfect straight line from the top of the thigh to the tip of her toes. A swing, some of the mud from her soles flying off and landing on her father’s equally wet clothes, he paid no mind. A wet hit, and in the second her leg fell down, something in her chest felt like it broke in two.

It hurt, terribly so. Unable to pull herself together, the girl took a step back. Her head fell forward, jaw desperately dropped open, and bangs covered her entire field of vision. She hoped to gain some balance, and gripped her knees with both hands, feeling her squeeze forced more water to leave the cloth and slide down her calves.

She stayed still like that for a bit, not long enough for the pain to ease up, but certainly long enough for her father to react. “What are you doing?” She remembers him asking, and she remembers herself not replying. “What do you think you’re doing, Annie!? Stand up straight!”

She’d heard him, loud and clear. And despite herself covered in water, her mouth was too dry from hot breaths to form words to reply. Her whole body ached and shivered, but her silence had the man running out of patience.

“I know damn well that you haven’t gone deaf!” He yelled as if she actually might have. “I told you to stand up straight! Keep going!”

Annie’s legs went numb from the cold, and her back had start to hurt from hunching forward. The sounds of her father’s deep voice easily overpowered both the sound of the sewage stream and the pouring rain. Her eyes had been unintentionally locked on the ground in front of her (or how much her fallen bangs had let her see) and how the rain drops left circles when hitting the mud. She heard her father move, and then saw his shoes barge into her visual field.

The girl’s gut twisted, following her swallowing emptily and dryly. She mustered the strength to lift her head, and came face to face with his gritted teeth and overemphasized vein on his forehead.

Not a second after she looked at him later, her father’s hand swing in her way, covering half her face in an audible, painful slap.

Annie’s legs gave out upon impact, and the girl landed on her side onto the muddy surface. As quickly as she could, she elevated from the wet dirt, hoisting herself with one arm. There had been a burning sensation which stung across the left side of her face, but she used her free hand to wipe off what mud had stained her cheek and lips. Annie looked up at her father, who continued on talking, seeing that she was paying enough attention now.

“You think that hurts?” He kept scolding angrily, maintaining firm eye contact with her. “You’re still a little brat if you think that hurts! You still have no idea what pain is!”

Annie shakily got up to her feet, in one hand holding the arm that she hoisted herself up with. Her posture and attitude had clearly upset him, he swung his hand in her direction again, hitting her cheek once more. Her torso twisted to the side, causing her to look away from him.

“You should be grateful that we do this,” he said firmly, “no one else will be able to do what you will. Do you understand how much this means for you? And you have the nerve to not take it seriously!”

The girl postured herself again, letting go of any part of her body that hurt. Yet, he swung at the same cheek once more, and she was sure that it had been glowing bright red as a result of how it ached and pulsated. She didn’t move, and stood firm as she did before the third slap.

“Your life has no meaning, Annie.” He begins again, threateningly, and Annie’s blood runs cold. “But I’m giving your life a meaning, here and now while we train. So work, because you have a duty to fulfill. That’s why you were given life.”

She resumed kicking after hearing his words, and he had kept repeating his training words of encouragement as she did. The girl labored in the rain for hours more, and came inside only when night had fallen so think that her father couldn’t make out how she moved anymore.

The words he spoke to her then had left a burning mark, and she went to bed that night with sore limbs and a heavy heart. She fought a great battle not to succumb to fatigue, staring at the stains on the ceiling, overcome by a haunting thought – what if it was all true?

But now, sitting against the tree and ignoring the three talking children around her, she can’t help but think of a different turn of events. If she had the strength and courage to assault him until he’s rolling on the ground back then, before he had even said anything to her, would she have ever felt that way? Would the emptiness of life continue to consume her as it did?

Should I ask… him?

Annie can’t help but think of that one particular someone she knows, hoping he might have the answer to her problem. But this thought is easily dismissed, quickly coming to realize she would not know how to even begin to explain where all of this was coming from. It’d be better for him not to hear it, anyway.

The chatter around her suddenly ceases, and Annie’s eyes lazily open halfway. “Here they come,” Pieck still announces, as if none of them can see the Galliard brothers running back to the group.

“Looks like they got caught after all,” Reiner remarks, alluding to the way the boys ran. Their step showed panic, the sprint far more serious than when they left off.

The two reached the tree out of breath, Marcel had arrived first and leaned himself against the tree, his chest was heaving intensely. Porco dropped to the ground on all fours, having equal trouble with catching his breath.

“Are you guys alright?” Pieck moves forward to Porco, lightly putting a hand on his back. “What happened there?”

“I’m telling you,” Reiner starts again, “they got caught. Now when Magath comes back, we’re all in for it.”

“Shut it,” Porco hisses between inhales. “We didn’t get caught. Did we?” He looks up to Marcel, who was in a better condition to answer.

“No, I don’t think so.” He replies, taking in a deep breath. “We hid in the hallway outside the conference room when they had the meeting.”

All eyes pointed toward Marcel, equally awaiting to hear the results of what had happened. The boy took a few more seconds to ready himself before sharing the event.

“We overhead them talking, commander Magath and general Calvi and the rest of them. They… they were making plans…” Marcel says heavily.

“Plans?” Pieck questioned him, “Plans for what?”

“It looks like… they’re going to war.”

And everyone fell silent.

Chapter Text

Before they could sanely take in what was happening, days had already started slipping by, one by one. But still, there was nothing.

Nothing that came directly from commander Magath, that is. But rumors and news spread like wildfire, especially in the enclosed streets of Liberio. Annie sometimes wonders if the folks living here ever had anything to talk about other than the lives of the warriors and their successors. And, in the blink of an eye, everyone knew of the coming war.

It’s hard for a country to go to war in secrecy, and that goes double for the ‘great nation of Marley’, which always took such pride in all its military achievements.

Once again, they were all together, sitting against the bark of the same tree. None of the kids were as chatty as they were days before, so they all sat in heavy silence and the somber atmosphere drowned them.

Annie’s mind can’t help but hear those words on repeat when she’s with them. The silence after Marcel’s announcement was awfully dispiriting, just downright scary. Back then, Reiner had spoken up first, “What do you mean? Are we going to war?” he asked, and Annie didn’t know if his tone was worried or morbidly excited.

“Not us,” Marcel emphasized, knowing how Reiner meant. “He was talking about the current warriors, I’m sure of that, and mentioned something about a nation to the south. And I think it’s going to be soon.”

It was easier to breathe, in a way, after knowing it wasn’t them who will be sent to war so unexpectedly. Yet at the same time, something about the situation felt like stones still rested unmovably on their chests.

The day after the Galliard brothers announced their finding to the rest of the group, Annie came back home to find that her father was already reading about it in the newspaper. His eyes lifted once he heard her arrival, half a nod for a greeting, and kept on reading slouched on a chair. He mentioned nothing of it, and proceeded to train and treat her the same as any other day.

But she couldn’t let it go without a try. Once she was sure of her father’s snoring that night, Annie snuck out of bed to find the paper on the table. She moved closer to the window, using what the moonlight had to offer to assist her in reading. With eyes squinted and ears focused on whether her father was waking up, she started to make out bit by bit of the tiny text in the jammed together columns.

“Troubles on Marley’s southernmost boarder,” the title read. “The government and the people of the latest nation Marley has expanded its sphere of influence over started minor rebellions several months ago, which have led to a full-scale armed attack on Marleyan soldiers stationed there.”

“‘Ungrateful people chose violence against those who wish to bring them prosperity. Any and all conflicts are worth approaching with full seriousness’”, she reads the comments General Calvi offered the papers. “‘Once more we will show the power of the Titans and make it so that the good people know that Marley is a country which will thrive against all uphill struggles, and fully accept them into the ever-expanding greatness of our land.’”

A day was all it took. Everyone in Liberio was whispering behind her whenever she walked by on the street. Everyone pretended not to look, but she felt their stares burn into her skin. And it wasn’t even her war to fight.

She assumes that the rest of the warrior candidates are getting the same treatment, as all of them carried something tired in their eyes which kept staring at the ground, as if chained to the dirt.

Annie always thought of herself as someone who disliked loud places and pointless chatter, as someone who valued solitude and the quiet. She has only ever enjoyed and sought after the company of one person. How was it, then, that this never ending silence was depressing her so?

She had enough of gloomy gazes and exhales. Tucking a strand of hair behind her, she spoke up, breaking what had been likely several hours of melancholy. “You all know it’s not us that are going, we’ve made that clear,” she said and the few heads turned to her. “So, why are you all in such a bad mood?”

“Yeah, she’s got a point!” none other than Reiner jumped to her aid. “There’s nothing we can do about it, so no use beating ourselves up over it!”

Annie looked around, everyone still had wistful expressions, but somehow even more conflicted. She wondered if she should have spoken up to begin with, seeing how it probably caused more bad than good.

“I know what you two are trying to say,” Pieck replied quietly, “but, it’s just so hard to ignore. It’s a hard thing to just… accept and move on with my day.”

“But this shouldn’t be a surprise.” Annie spoke. “You signed up for this, and you knew this is what it meant would happen eventually.”

“…I know,” she replied solemnly, and tucked her head into her knees.

The breeze rustled the crown on the tree above them. Annie thought that Reiner would jump in again, debate on behalf of his belief that this was okay for them not to think about. But he didn’t, and from the corner of her eye the girl spotted him nervously rubbing his hand through his short hair. As it turns out, he might have his limits as well.

Silence dropped heavy on them once again, but this time, not for as long. Porco suddenly and assertively stood up and looked at the group. When all eyes were on him, he took a deep breath.

“When was the last time someone came to check on us today?” he asked everyone.

“In the morning, when we got here,” Pieck answered after giving it a moment’s thought.

“And what about yesterday? And the day before that?” he followed up, even more determined.

“Pretty much the same, I’d say,” she replied.

“Porco,” Marcel interrupted seeing a mischievous spark in his brother’s eyes, “what are you getting at with this?”

“Alright, listen,” Porco prepared to share his restless thoughts, everyone could tell he was anxious when it came to what Marcel would have to say to it, “do we actually have a reason to be here?”

The kids, Marcel included, all stared with confusion at the boy. He straightened up, and continued with as much confidence as he could muster. “Everyone’s too busy with preparations and all that now, and we haven’t heard from Magath in days. And Pieck just said that no one is coming and checking on us, we aren’t a priority to them right now. So, I say, we don’t even need to stay here.”

Stunned and with jaws agape, the rest of the candidates just kept staring wide-eyed at him. Porco’s face became flustered as he finished and no one seemed to be able to reply, so he turned to the de facto leader of the group for an opinion.

“I… man,” Marcel stumbled when he picked up the hint from the pleading gaze of his little brother, “I can’t tell you that’s a good idea. It’s asking for trouble.”

Porco’s cheeks were redder by the second, “It’s not any trouble! Nobody will care!”

“Last time you came up with a bright idea and I listened, it didn’t end too well,” Marcel reminded.

Porco didn’t dare reply. He took the answer as a unanimous one, and he went to sit back down while trying his best at hiding his embarrassment.

“Where is it you want to go?” Annie asked before Porco could sit, everyone looking at her.

“Huh?” Porco let out, confused.

“You can’t just say you want to ditch and expect everyone to agree just like that,” Annie explained. “If you want to leave, where do you want to go? Home?”

In truth, Annie was more than intrigued by Porco’s declaration. It’s exactly what she was looking for; someone saying something, and something to get her (and them) out of this place and caged up state of mind. And if they left, she’d be the first to follow.

“No, no, we can’t just go home,” Annie had expected Porco to reply, but Reiner beat him to it. “I don’t know about you all, but I know my mom would be upset if I came back home too early.”

The girl knew the same applied to her. Or worse, in case father wasn’t upset, the two of them would train together heartedly. Neither outcome she would look forward to.

“My dad wouldn’t get upset,” Pieck continued off of Reiner’s claim. “But, I wouldn’t want him to think I’m not taking this seriously.” And Annie could see Bertolt also nodding in agreement.

“If you want to leave, we’d have to go somewhere else,” Annie turned to Porco, who was not as red-faced anymore. “Any ideas, then?”

The younger brother turned pleadingly to Marcel again, but he didn’t seem to be budging. “Look, Porco, I’m really not sure that—”

“We can just go out for a walk,” Pieck cut in, grabbing attention, and both Porco and Annie were silently grateful for it. “That wouldn’t be too much trouble, would it?”

The black haired girl stood up, and skipped over to Porco’s side to pat him on the shoulder, almost like a silent pact. She then spoke to her best friend again, “This sucks, and you feel that way too. We could all use a bit of fresh air, don’t you think?”

Marcel looked at them both, going from one to the other alternatingly as they all awaited the final verdict. He closed his eyes, and exhaled deeply. From that alone, they could tell that they won.

“Just a walk,” Marcel reluctantly announced, “but we all stick together. No one goes off on their own, and then all of us can get punished fairly if something goes wrong? Are you satisfied with that?”

“Plenty satisfied,” Pieck said cheerfully for the first time in days. A voice like hers was pleasant to hear.

The children patted down their pants free of any dirt, took one last look if the coast was clear, and made their way out the gates which enclosed the yard of the headquarters.

Annie stretched her arms in the air as they walked, and turned to see the headquarters building growing smaller in the distance. The sky was bright and the day was warm, and the air in her lungs suddenly felt a lot more breathable. But just as some weight was lifted off her chest, it landed on someone else’s.

“Give it a rest,” Annie says, looking at Marcel from the corner of her eye.

“What?” he asks.

“That face you’re making. You look like we’re all about the get a beating.” She took a step closer, quieting her tone, “Even if something happens, what’s the worst they can do? If they’re focused on their plans, they have better things to do than take their anger out on kids who went for a walk.”

“Right,” he smiles, but Annie wasn’t convinced. “I’ll try to remember that.”

When the building they came from was no longer in sight, the children were engulfed in a maze of buildings. They didn’t blend in with the passersby, they couldn’t even if they wanted to. Whispers followed them with every person on the streets, but unlike when Annie walks on her own, the whispers are muffled by the sounds of the group making conversation.

Pieck was in the lead with Reiner and Bertolt next to her. From the looks of it, she was trying to get the latter to open up more with mediocre success. Marcel talked with his brother, they resemble each other greatly when they smile.

“Anyway, Reiner,” Pieck changes conversation partners, “how come you supported the idea of us leaving?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Weren’t you all like, ‘Curiosity killed the cat, Pock,’ just a few days ago?” She mimicked his tone of voice and hand gestures as she teased. “What changed your mind about a little rebellion?”

“When a good opportunity shows itself, you shouldn’t let it pass you by,” he said after a moment to think it over. “Especially when finally something smart comes out of Porco.”

“Hey wise guy,” Reiner earns an aggravated tap on the shoulder from behind, “you wanna say that to my face?”

“You had a good idea for once.” Reiner wasted no time answering Porco’s challenge. He looks at him over his shoulder, a smirk nearly emerges. “It’s a compliment, you know?”

Porco grits his teeth. Replying with action first, he pushed the boy in front with both hands, making him trip and nearly fall on his next step. “You’re such a spineless waste,” he bites. “All you do is follow along whenever something suits you. That’s how I know you won’t achieve anything, ever.”

Surprisingly, Reiner’s composure remains as he balances himself. He turns to Porco in full, not hiding the smile this time. “I’m achieving just as much as you are,” he says confidently. “Try not to fall behind, Pock, okay?”

Porco’s composure fails him, he attempts to throw himself onto Reiner after that last comment. He doesn’t quite make it though, Marcel can read his brother well at this point. However, the call was close enough for Reiner to turn and start running in the opposite direction.

Marcel’s hold on his brother falters for a second, long enough for Porco to pry himself out and chase after his soon-to-be victim. He follows every step Reiner takes, turning a corner between buildings and disappearing out of the group’s sight.

“So much for everything we talked about,” Marcel sighs in frustration. He takes off running too, trying to catch up before tragedy strikes.

The three which remained exchanged a glace. They initially decide to stay put and wait, but after several minutes of nothing, Bertolt and Pieck got anxious about the outcome. The two ran off as well and Annie walked behind them, not caring about all the fuss they were making this out to be.

They come across another turn around a second building, following the impossible to miss sound of arguing. Pieck and Bertolt turn before her, and Annie sees their pace was suddenly cut off.

“Annie,” she hears Pieck from around the corner. “Come quick,” her tone uncharacteristically nervous.

Annie leisurely ran to the turn, around which she was met with a wider, more open space. And a gate blocking their way.

The two black haired kids of the group looked hesitantly at each other, then at Annie, then at what stood in front of them. Annie saw the barbed wire gate, and the road that continued on beyond what they could reach. The buildings beyond the border that made Liberio look sad in comparison. Two men in uniform stood guard in front, taking notice of the nearby group, but didn’t say anything yet.

“I don’t remember ever coming this close,” Bertolt says. His eyes stare up to the top of the wall, which continued to stretch up from where the gates peaked. “It looks so different from here…”

“Does it seem bigger?” Pieck asks.

“No, I don’t think that’s it…”

“I feel trapped,” Annie said, the two looked her way. “It’s like we hit a dead end. And what are those three doing over there?”

Somewhere halfway between Annie and the gate, Reiner, Porco and Marcel stood not at all calmly. As it turns out, Reiner and Porco have put their differences aside and were jumpy with excitement. And from the intense yet panicked way Marcel was looking at both of them, it was easy to understand what they were in a disagreement about.

“Looks like he needs some serious help this time.” Pieck said and began walking to them, Annie and Bertolt quietly following behind.

“But we can do it!” Annie heard Reiner say as they approach. “We’ll just make a run for it, they won’t catch us!”

“He’s right!” Porco agrees and pats Reiner on the shoulder, “They won’t catch us, only Reiner! The rest of us get to go wherever we want!”

“Hey!” Reiner smacks the hand away, “Say that again, you—”

“No one’s going anywhere! This isn’t what we agreed on!” Marcel snaps, visibly tired from the discussion. “Pieck, help me out here?”

Pieck looks at the closed gate for a bit, sighs, and turned to place her palm on Porco’s back. “He’s right, Pock. Besides, we don’t have permissions, and those guards would inform Magath about it. Training gear really isn’t a good disguise.”

“Thank you,” Marcel exhales in relief.

“But, but— aren’t you curious? At all?!” Porco asked the black haired girl, then turned to Annie and Bertolt. “And you two? Have you guys ever been out there?”

“I haven’t,” Annie replied. “And now’s not the right time. You’ll get your chance one day.”

She took a final look at the see-through gate. Life stretches beyond the enclosure of Liberio. She can see it on the tall building windows, and within the people walking on the street of the other side. She can see how no armbands grace the sleeves of their coats. Yet, this is the side she belongs.

“Guys, let’s just go somewhere else,” Bertolt suggests.

“Yeah,” Marcel agrees, taking the lead in the opposite direction. “We’re going back. Before someone gets another great idea and—”

The sound of running in the background cut his scolding short, and Marcel’s neck nearly snaps in half as he turns back around. He grabs his head, almost ripping his hair out in frustration. Porco and Reiner had run off behind them.

Their impulsive decision making left them no time to actually plan their escape into the free streets of Marley. They could be as passionate and stubborn as they possibly could be, but it didn’t change the fact that they were not very hard to catch.

The two soldier guards jumped to meet the boys before they could reach the gate, each trying to capture one in their arms. They fought, struggled and resisted, but couldn’t break free from the hold. The group afar could hear the insults and swears the men spat at the boys kicking at them to let go.

“Filth! Devils! You can all go to hell!” Words like those are hard to ignore.

Marcel reluctantly let go of his hair and swallowed hard. Drops of sweat formed on his forehead as he stared at the scene, trying to find the best way to intervene. As he took the first steps in front, Annie saw the slight trembling in her fingers.

“Excuse me?” A voice echoes into the scene, but it wasn’t Marcel’s.

A young adult man emerges from the in-between passage of two buildings. He’s tall and his hair is a gentle wavy blond, his attire is the same uniform the children all wore. Everyone preset turned to him, meanwhile he approached the scene calmly.

“Hello gentlemen,” he offered a smile, “nice day today, isn’t it?” The eyes behind his glasses looked at the two boys locked in the soldier’s arms, he didn’t falter for a moment. “I’m sorry for the trouble, but would you mind letting them go?”

The kids all stare wide-eyed at him, and after a moment, Porco kicks again. “Yeah, let go! We’re with him!”

“I didn’t say that—”

But before he could finish, the boys dropped to the ground and panted in relief. The two guards grumbled as they fixed their uniforms. “You have any business here?” One of them asked the young man.

“As a matter of fact, I do.” He reaches into one of his chest pockets and pulls out a folded piece of paper. He hands it to the guard, whose eyes fly over it to get to the point.

“Alright,” he nods. “You’re free to pass.”

The man thanked them both as he waited for the gates to open. He looked behind to the group of warrior candidates. His gaze lingered on Pieck and Marcel, before looking back at Porco and Reiner. He sighed, and motioned his head for them to follow.

The kids exchanged looks between themselves. Worry and uncertainty sparkle in their eyes due to the men in uniforms, and due to the open gate in front. Is this alright? Is this allowed? They searched for the answers among themselves.

Pieck steps out first. As she reached their savior’s side, she turned her head to her group and smiled, telling them to follow suit. And they did, reluctantly. But they got there, ready as they could be to head into the never before explored.

“Stop right there!” The guard stood in front of them. “Where are your permits, huh? Can’t step a foot outside without one, or are you willing to get the beating in return?”

“No beatings necessary here, I’m afraid,” the young man explained. “I gave you the permit, no?”

“Yeah, yours.” A nasty grin on his face, “But these little devils can’t go anywhere.”

“Check again, if you will. Nowhere does it say I’m the only person with the permission.” He smiled back at the guard, not nasty, but cunning. “Signed personally by commander Magath, and we all are in his unit.”

The guard huffs and hands the paper to his colleague to read again. He shot the young man with a glare, “Who exactly do you think you are?”

“The current Beast Titan, sir. You should be treating me more as an equal now.” He turned to overcast a hand over the gang of children, akin to an actor making a dramatic scene. “And these children are the future of your country! The reason you will have a fire cracking every night and bread on your plate every morning!”

“It doesn’t specify the number of people allowed out,” the other guard whispers into his colleague’s ear, handing him back the paper.

“Fine,” he grumbles in defeat under his breath. “You can go.”

“We won’t be long!” He yelled out, while in enough distance to not cause any problems.

Along with everyone else, Annie walked onward silently. She’d turn her head around every few seconds looking the dissatisfied men growing smaller in the distance. She kept turning until she could no longer make their faces out and they had turn their backs to the now closed again gate. So, she looked in front.

At the first turn into the next street, some of them rejoiced. Porco and Reiner’s energy matched as they both jumped for joy, accompanied with Pieck’s little smile. Marcel and Bertolt looked around themselves with flustered cheeks and sweaty palms. Annie looked at the young man, who looked like he’s stuck carrying a boulder on his back.

When they walked enough and he made sure no one was close enough to listen, the man made the warrior candidates line up, seemingly ready to give them a scolding. “Alright,” he sighed, taking off his unusual-looking glasses and cleaning them with his shirt, “does Magath have any idea you all left? Whose genius idea was this, exactly?”

“We all agreed to it,” Pieck explained. “And… no, the commander doesn’t know.”

“But we didn’t mean to come here!” Marcel jumped in, “It was meant to be a short walk, and then—”

“Let me guess,” he interrupted, “was it these two?” His head motioned over Porco and Reiner. From the shame on their faces, he knew he guessed right.

“Will you turn us in, sir?” Bertolt asked after the moment of silence.

“He won’t,” Pieck cut in just as the man was about to open his mouth. “He vouched for us just now, if he wanted us turned in he would've let the guards handle us. Isn’t that right, Zeke?”

A charming little smile grazed her cheeks, at which the man sighed in light-hearted defeat. “You don’t stop being clever, do you, Pieck?” He smiled at the bunch, waving a hand in the air. “You can roam around. But no more scenes and you’re here only while I am. And if commander Magath asks, I’ll say it was my idea.”

The man Pieck addressed to as “Zeke” explained that there was a fountain nearby, and told the group to meet with him there in an hour. From Annie’s impression, Zeke didn’t seem like a bad man. But he was hard to read, and to her, unnatural.

To keep track of time, he gave a pocket watch to Pieck, and told her she was the one in charge (at which Marcel earner elbow pokes and whispered teases). In return, Pieck kept smiling, stepped forward and childishly tugged Zeke by the shirt.

“You know, if you listen well, you will hear our stomachs grumbling,” she said. “I think there’s a chance we might starve, and I don’t think we have any money on us…”

“Right...,” he played off her humor. Nonetheless, he reached into his back pocket and dug out a bundle of money, counted through some bills and handed them to her. “As clever and devilish as they come, little Pieck.”

The kids were ready to depart, but before they could, Zeke grabbed the two most excited boys by the back of their uniforms. “Not you two troublemakers,” he said, “can’t have you putting Pieck in any uncomfortable situations. You’ll be joining me on my very important business trip instead.”

Pieck and Marcel giggled at the sight of Porco and Reiner mumbling under their breaths as they were being dragged away. The four of them remained, in the middle of an unfamiliar street in the part of their world they had never before set foot in.

They started walking again, no known aim or destination.

“You can finally start breathing again, yeah?” Pieck teased Marcel, “Now that you’ve been replaced as the boss.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he pushed back. “What got into you back there?”

“Nothing got into me.” The smile hadn’t left her lips for a second, and Annie thought Zeke’s description of her was proving very accurate. “Because Pock was right – I was curious.”

The streets of Marley echoed with the sound of their collective marching. The sounds of their voices; their chatting, giggling, poking fun at one another. Their gasps which escaped with every wealthy-looking building and the statues that decorated them, their hungry eyes which worked quickly to absorb every corner of their surroundings.

And they were free to explore and enjoy the expansion of their world in this way. So long as no one was approaching them, they could forget about who they were, and be carefree children like any other.

But Annie felt the approaching wasn’t necessary, and she knew the rest of them could feel it too.

The glances, the stares and the under-the-breath whispers they’d earn from people walking past them on the street. People who looked at every step the children took as if it covered the road with poison. None of them brought it up, and they silently chose to ignore that everyone they passed on the street was from a world better than theirs.

They walked all the way to the sound of streaming water, and found themselves at a bridge than spread across a river.

“Is this a good idea?” Bertolt asked.

“I don’t see why not.” Pieck took out the pocket watch Zeke lent her. “The hour isn’t up yet. And we still haven’t gotten anything to eat.”

On their way to the other side of town, Annie lagged behind the group for a moment. Drawn to the sound of the stream underneath, she approached the stone banister and leaned over it. She stared into the clear flow, realizing this was a sight to take in. But, as the bangs of her image waved along the stream, she found the reflection’s eyes stared back at her with more emptiness than she expected.

Her reflection earned a companion soon enough. A messy bundle of black hair appeared next to it, with it came a voice. “Something on your mind?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Annie replied.

“Nothing at all?” Pieck looked into Annie’s reflection, as if that was who she spoke to. “Must be something fun for you if you’re staring so long.”

“It’s nice,” Annie sighs. “It’s clean and it doesn’t smell like trash. Is that enough?”

“Perfectly enough.” Pieck pushed away from the banister, and pulled Annie to come along with little resistance. “Let’s go find some food, okay?”

It seemed that the further you got away from the interment zone, the livelier the town got. The other side of the river was full of people who dressed in nice suits and dresses and carried those important-looking leather bags. It was full of noise, both those of chatter and those of machinery.

“Hey, guys, look over there,” Marcel pointed. “It’s a car!”

Cars are owned by the well off. They weren’t something never to be seen in the internment zone, but the sightings are rare enough to make you stop and stare whenever one would drive by. And they were never driven by someone who wore an armband.

The car drove past them quickly enough, the four little heads turning back to watch it leaving them behind. “It’s really loud up close,” Annie said.

“I wonder what makes it move on its own like that,” Bertolt asks.

“It’s the wheels, right?” Marcel brings a hand to his chin. “Carriages have wooden wheels that need to be pulled, so are the rubber and metal wheels what makes it different?”

“No, no,” Pieck furrows her eyebrows, intensely staring at the direction in which the car disappeared, pretending she can still see it.

“Then what do you think, group leader?” Marcel poked her with his elbow.

“Wooden wheels move because the horses pull them. Nothing that isn’t alive can move on its own,” Pieck shared her thoughts.

“I don’t think the car’s alive, if that’s what you’re—”

“Of course not, it’s a machine. But the man driving it is alive. If there are no horses pulling it, the man must have done something that made it move,” Pieck explained. “Probably something inside the car that we can’t see. Like firing a shotgun. It won’t shoot until you pull the trigger, but you don’t see what it is that makes the bullet fly out. That explanation is more up your ally, isn’t it, Bertolt?”

“Yeah, I—” Bertolt blushed at the remark of his shooting “—I guess that makes sense.”

Pieck pats both boys on the shoulder, grinning. “Now, seriously, are we going to go find that food or not? I hope I didn’t con that money out of Zeke for nothing.”

And so, they walk. They continue to walk with curious, wandering eyes. They look, they gasp, they point and they smile. They try their best, in their own ways, to keep taking in the world around them.

But, they aren’t oblivious to how the world around takes them in as well.

Most of those who pass them by weren’t that bad. They pretend they don’t see the group; men grit their teeth and turn their heads around, mothers gasp and cover their children’s eyes. But they’re nothing compared to the hateful ones they were about to encounter.

The hateful ones didn’t hold back. They spit at them and curse their existence. A man in a fancy suit slammed his bag into Marcel’s stomach. The boy slouched over, quickly patted on the back by Pieck. The man didn’t flinch or stop, he walked along with his head held high, proud of what he did. A gang of afternoon drunks yelled and threw empty bottles at the kids, breaking only right in front of their feet.

Through it all, the kids didn’t hide. They didn’t run away. Instead, they stepped over the shattered glass, and walked as if they’d heard and seen none of it.

“Look, Pieck,” Marcel smiles, “there’s a food vendor over there.”

Pieck’s face lights up. Along the street in front of them stood a cart of considerable size, with a large umbrella above, and the cart’s surface topped with food. There was a man sitting behind the cart, reading what looked like the newspaper. He had a face that looked like it didn’t smile often, a large stomach and a thin layer of hair on his head.

As the group got closer, Annie noticed the food on the cart seemed familiar. It’s pastry, she notices. She’d seen it through the windows of the bakery she passes by, and a similar smell dances in the air around her. Pieck reaches into her chest pocket, preparing the bundle of money.

Hearing their footsteps, the man’s eyes shoot up from the newspaper. He tried to put on a smile and “Hello”, but even the smallest attempts at pleasantry disappeared when he looked at the patches of yellow on their arms.

“Hello,” the group leader comes up to the cart.

“Get lost.”

Pieck blinks. “Excuse me?”

Beads of sweat form on the boys’ foreheads. Marcel tries to reach for her, before he does, the man continues.

“Food isn’t meant to be sold to devils,” he says coldly.

Pieck’s smile remains despite her visibly flinching. Except, instead of an innocent smile, it’s the smile of the clever little devil. “But, sir, we have the money to buy it.” She shows the money she held in her hand. “See? We can all walk away happy.”

“I don’t need your filthy money,” he bites at her negotiating. “Now get out of my sight.”

The girl doesn’t budge, and she chooses to ignore Marcel and Bertolt getting more nervous by the second. Instead, she puts her genuine self on display, showing the exact qualities that made Magath and the military so fond of her. She’s confident, witty, durable and not about to back down.

“This,” she points to one of the pastries on display. “How much is this?”

A vein pops across the man’s forehead. He leans over to where Pieck pointed and spits on the food in front of her. “Twice as much now.”

Marcel tugs on her elbow like he does with his brother when he saw Pieck’s smile dropped. She doesn’t fight him off, but still she refuses to move. “None of this is necessary, sir. We’re just a bunch of kids, and we can pay you any amount you ask for. So, would you be so kind as to—”

The man stood up abruptly, shaking the whole cart when his stomach slammed into it. Pieck’s breath hitched when he grabbed her by the collar, pulling her up to her toes. Bertolt steps back with a shake, while Marcel lunges forward, hugging her from behind.

“Listen here, you daughter of the devil’s whore,” he hisses at her through gritted teeth, his eyes look like they could explode. He’s less than inches away from her nose, and she’s trying her hardest to not look scared. “Go burn that money you stole, no one’s gonna take it out of your filthy hands.” As he pulls her in closer, the collar gets too tight around her neck and Pieck gasps out for air. “And if you’re hungry, go to a pigsty and grab a handful off the ground. That’s perfect for the likes of you, you little—”

He’s cut short by a grab. All eyes widened.

The man’s wrist was in the clutches of a dainty, pale hand. Eyes filled with ice stare into him.

She didn’t wait for him to spit something at her, she didn’t care for talking back to him. And one wouldn’t expect such strength in a hand that small in size. He gasped in sharp pain when Annie twisted his hand around, releasing his grip on Pieck.

The girl fell back down to her heels in a crouch, Marcel patting her on the back. The man was enraged, now swinging his other hand to grab at Annie.

Swiftly, Annie turned out of the way, striking him square in the nose with her elbow. He yelped in pain, the momentum of her blow making his back slam against the wall behind. His hands flew to cover his nose, and without wasting time, Annie grabbed whatever four pastries she could reach first.

With her free hand she yanked the money out of Pieck’s hand, throwing it over the cart onto the man. “Run,” was the only thing she told the group, and they all jumped at the opportunity.

They fled the scene as quickly as they could, ignoring and pushing through the mobs of people on the street. They were yelled at and cursed, but nothing and no one made them stop. They stopped when they ran across the bridge, and realized they’re not going to get caught this far away.

Letting out open-mouthed pants, they slowly regained their composure. “Are you alright, Pieck?” Marcel asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she breathes out, running a hand across her neck. “Thanks to Annie.”

“Man,” Marcel straightens up, “if I thought you and Porco were crazy, then Annie’s absolutely insane.” The three of them look at the girl breathing through her nose, still carrying the pastries. “I never thought you’d do something like that. What the hell, Annie?”

Annie looked at the group that looked back at her in disbelief. She shrugged in response, looking down at the food in hand. “He was hurting her,” she justified.

“And the pastry? Seriously?”

“I didn’t steal it,” she justifies again. “I paid, didn’t I? And if he wants the ‘filthy money’, it’s all his.”

“Uh, guys,” Bertolt interrupted, he held the watch that had fallen out of Pieck’s pocket and he picked up, “hour’s almost up. We should head to that fountain.”

After picking up all the pieces of themselves, they followed a now slightly more familiar path back to where they came from. From there, they remembered Zeke’s instructions to the designated reunion spot. Tired from the run, they walked leisurely.

The crowd thinned significantly, and the streets grew warmer in color from the sunset. Annie had handed each their pastries, and before biting in, Pieck split it down the middle to the best of her abilities.

“What’d you do that for?” Annie asked.

“I’m saving this half,” Pieck smiled, bringing the other half to her lips. “This one’s for me, and this one’s to bring home to my dad.”

Hearing her words, Marcel repeated her action. “That’s a nice call. I’ll give this piece to Porco.”

Bertolt shyly smiled, he did the same. “And for Reiner.”

Annie looked down at her own piece in hand, still full and intact. A frown emerged. But she’d have to think about it later, interrupted by their arrival at the fountain.

Porco and Reiner were already sitting on its edges. Their faces didn’t seem the most pleased, but light up when seeing the group coming towards them. They both jumped to their feet and ran to meet with them halfway.

Zeke stood by the fountain, nodding in acknowledgement of their arrival. Smoke trailed up in the air from his face.

They all sat down along the fountain, sharing the pastries and catching up on what they saw outside. Zeke’s face contorted with disbelief when he heard the story of the street vendor, and the kids looked at him with worry.

“Do you think we’re gonna get punished, Zeke?” Pieck asked. “Is he going to report us?”

“You’re one hell of a feisty leader, that’s for sure. And all that after I told you ‘no more scenes’,” Zeke sighed and inhaled another smoke. “If he does, I’ll make sure I be the one to handle it. I doubt it will reach the higher-ups, they’re busy enough as is, so you guys will be just fine.”

“That’s our story.” Marcel turned to Porco, who was much enjoying the treasure his brother shared with him. “So, what was the ‘important business trip’ you guys had to go on?”

Porco sarcastically snorted and pointed his head to Zeke. “It’s right there, dangling from his mouth.”

“Are you kidding me?” Pieck asked, and she couldn’t suppress the chuckle. “This was for a pack of cigarettes?”

Zeke’s finger shook in the air in defense, “Not a pack of cigarettes. But several packs, yes.”

The group’s reaction was versatile, Pieck snickered, Marcel rolled his eyes, and Porco and Reiner grumbled in annoyance.

“It was so boring,” Reiner complained, “and it’s not even anything useful.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong, Reiner,” Zeke replied and dropped the cigarette butt on the ground, rubbing it in with his shoe. “For famed smokers such as Magath and several others, cigarettes are the absolute essential. When stressed, all Magath needs is to light one up and he’s back on track. And especially for what’s about to come, we’re gonna need to bring several boxes, running out of them is not an option.” He looked at the group listening to him, smiled and said, “They’re not good for your health though, so best none of you pick this habit up.”

He didn’t say that one word that’s been on everyone’s lips. There’s no need for him to.

“Zeke,” Pieck raised her eyes to meet with his, “when will you be going?”

He sighs as he looks back at her. “The sendoff is in two days, the day after that we’ll be on our way.” He takes a step closer, patting her on the head, “You guys be sure to come and see us, a part of it will be in Liberio. It’ll be a good thing if you get noticed there, you know, show some loyalty to Magath and the rest.”

“Are you scared? You don’t have experience with this, do you?” Marcel asks.

“Not as the Beast Titan, but everyone has to debut somewhere,” Zeke says, taking out another cigarette from a small metal box and lighting it. “Besides, minor uprisings shouldn’t be that difficult to deal with.”

Annie stares at the most visible difference between them. The one thing that separates him from the rest of the group. “What is it like?”

“Hmm?” The young man mumbles, smoke coming out his nostrils.

“When you became a Titan. What was it like?”

He takes a moment to think. A looks swims through his eyes, he’s remembering something. That something hurts him, but Annie can’t tell whether he doesn’t want it to hurt or if he wants to hold on to it. Annie remembers how unnatural she thought he behaved, and she felt that in this moment, he was as natural as he could get. He adjusts his glasses.

“Well, it’s hard to say,” he says, “it’s different for everyone. Personally, I regained consciousness while still down there and remembered nearly everything. Some new warriors get knocked out for hours, can’t remember anything that came before.” He smoked through the cigarette rather quickly, again stomping on it on the ground. “I remember feeling hot, and it hurt in a way like I was going to burst. After that, it’s like falling asleep, but violently.”

He must’ve noticed that the children were getting frightened. Their eyes were wide, and he could hear some gulps from some. He quickly smiled, playing everything off. “Of course, you guys will just wake up in the infirmary beds feeling like you’ve slept like babies for a week. I’m a rare case, after all.” He claps his hands together. “Anyway, we should be on our way back now. Dust yourselves and let’s get going.”

They do as they’re told, and form a line walking back to the gates of the internment zone. They group as they do, Pieck with the Galliard brothers and Bertolt with Reiner. Annie stays behind, observing them as they talk like they normally do. As unpredictable as it turned out, their walk served its intended purpose.

“Sounds like you can really pack a punch,” Zeke walks next to her, keeping an eye on the kids in front. “Annie, was it?”

“I guess.”

“You’re unsure of whether you’re Annie?” He tried to laugh but, seeing how non-reactive she was to it, he stopped. “Not the kind for jokes, I see. Then, who are you saving that for?”

He refers to the pastry still in her hand. A slight tear tingles its side down the middle, but it stops short. She looks at it, debates for a moment, and answers, “No one. I’m eating it.” And she finally takes a bite.

Annie had thought about it. Copying Pieck and bringing a piece of it home to her father, but she quickly realized how undeserving he was of it. When asking the question of who, then, would be deserving of it, she remembered how she constantly keeps receiving from Armin.

Bread and fruit. Flowers and reading his books. Every question he asked her and smile he’d offered her. Half a pastry she elbowed a man to get wouldn’t be enough to return her debt, but it could’ve been a start.

However, she wouldn’t see him today. And there was no use carrying it around uneaten, so she chewed as she walked in silence.

“I never personally saw you fight, but even Magath praises you in private.” Zeke spoke up again after Annie swallowed the last piece. “If all of that is true, you will make a good Female Titan.”

Annie looked up to him when he said that last part, waiting for him to continue.

“Skilled warriors who are girls are hard to come by, which is a shame. The Female Titan has the great potential, very versatile, but recently the ladies who have carried it fail to make anything of the name.” He explains, seeing how he has her attention. “Someone like you seems to be the perfect fit for it. You could be the one to make a difference.”

“I don’t care for making a difference,” Annie says with great ease. “It’s just going to be another part of my life, that’s all.”

“That’s not something you should let the others hear.” Zeke smiles at that comment, and the girl isn’t sure why. “But, it sure is an interesting way to think, little Annie.”

The talking ends there, as they reach the gates to Liberio and walk back into its walls. Zeke stays behind a moment to talk something over with the guards, waves away the kids and tells them they are free to go home now.

As she leaves in content, Annie turns around a last time to see the barbed wires closing. A smile plays with her lips.

I have a story to tell him next time.

The gate behind closes completely, shutting away the world of the ones outside.

Chapter Text

Annie doesn’t know what her first memory is.

Sometimes, she tries to remember. Tries to go years back, back before warrior training and back before she knew how to punch and kick. The latter always proves to be harder.

She remembers knowing how to kick as far back as knowing how to walk. She remembers her bleeding feet, the dirt on her knees and the pain in her chest long before knowing how to tie her shoes. He would scold her for it.

“Tie your damn shoe, Annie.” His voice was deep enough to make a four year old flinch every time. He bent down to the ground, his large hand swallowed her entire foot. “Didn’t I teach you how to? Don’t let it happen again.”

Annie ponders on that memory. It’s an early one, yes, but certainly not the first. She wonders if it came from a place of caring. When she remembers the blood that dripped from her ankle later that day, she dismisses the thought.

Her father expected that she would know how to do things for herself. How to tie her hair, lift her shirt over her head, make her bed. He was strict with the things he passively didn’t teach her, he was even worse with the things he actively did. He yelled at her when she wore her shirt inside out, and pushed her to the ground when she couldn’t kick as high as she did yesterday.

At the age of six, Annie was more or less aware that her father wanted one thing from her.

One day, just before the sun set, her legs ached more than they usually did. Her legs stretched upwards, kicking the side of a hard, wooden pillar her father stuck in the ground in front of their house. With every breath, her heels dug into its side. She kept going at it until she, with a single strong enough kick, finally tore a chunk off.

Suddenly frightened eyes flickered to her father. Despite every potential reaction she could’ve expected at that age, the one she received caught her by surprise.

“Perfect,” he smiled. He took a step closer, the palm of his hand rubbed the crown of her head. She felt her stomach twist as he ruffled her hair. “That was perfect, Annie.”

Perfection.

Annie felt something that day. When the affection ended, her heels didn’t ache. She stood there with messy hair and a feeling in her gut and looked at the piece of wood she kicked out on the ground. The image of her father’s smile burned into her mind.

Soon after that, Annie found that that was something she strived for. Because she got it right. When she would get it right – father was happy. And that made her happy.

But “perfection”, she found, was an ugly word. It was a goal that would always take too long and drain too much to achieve. A standard of his she couldn’t reach most days.

Soon after that day, Annie was enrolled into the warrior program. It was there that she got to know not only a new side of what life was, but a new side of her father as well.

Some things had a familiar air to them. There were adults present, standing tall and proud like her father always would. They’d yell out instructions and orders, and she saw that not all children were used to it. Day after day, some of the kids would fall to their knees and break down in tears unable to continue, either physically or emotionally. Kids like them stopped showing up, they’d either get kicked out or drop out by themselves.

In the earliest days of training, Annie saw parents picking their children up. No matter how sweaty or bruised, they’d smile at each other and hug. They’d hold each other by the hands and walk into an unknown warm distance that Annie gazed upon with envy. Suddenly, the memory of her father’s smile had gone sour.

She still longed for his praise. Hearing “Good job, Annie” always made her feel far better than any harsh word he’d say in-between could hurt. “Perfection” was still the least she could do to make the most of her life.

“Next, where does the strength of a good kick come from?”

“From rotating the body.”

“That’s exactly it, Annie. We will work on that tomorrow.”

Every meal, every bath, every walk – that was all they ever talked about. A seven year old had no idea what any of the things she had to memorize meant. However, learning them was harmless. None of these conversations ever drew blood or made her body numb to the point she couldn’t hold it upright. More importantly, praise was easier earned, and she’d earn it often.

She wanted him to smile at her more. She wanted him to pat her on the head, lightly ruffle her hair and tell her she did good.

Her wish was something she held on to as a young child, for a while she tried to only think of those moments. She’d tried to convince herself that the training was nothing horrible, nothing that hurt, nothing to cry over at night. The man that would smile at her was her father. The man who yelled was someone else.

Memories of the smiles would start to crumble with time. His expectations of her grew as she did, the pain rose alongside them. Now, what she would see far more often than not were the wrinkles on his forehead as he frowned. His voice echoed with the patience he was losing. His presence was horrible to witness.

How can you ever even smile, when you’re capable of making a face like that?

Annie never truly found the answer to her question. It hurt too much to think about.

There was a phase he’d tell her often. Repeat it over and over again whenever she was losing her will or strength. Initially, she hated it, couldn’t stand to hear it. It was something which came opposite to every smiling “Good job” she’d ever earned, it was cold and scolding.

“You were born to fulfill your duty.”

If this is why she was born, then being born was cruel. If this was what life was, then life was painful. If this is what being alive meant, then to live is meaningless.

Yes, she couldn’t stand to hear it, because she never understood it. But she had accepted it, and those words burned deep inside her skin and crawled their way into her heart.

“I was born to fulfill my duty,” she would repeat back to him, years of doing so made it a habit.

Eventually, it stopped mattering. The little girl would stop concerning herself with trying to dig up answers to any question she’d have. All answers rested within that single phrase.

The pain was what stayed, it grew into her constant companion. Even though this was what life was, she couldn’t help but detest coming home. She couldn’t help wishing she could rebel in the slightest bit, she dreamt of making her father feel the way she did. One day, she’d learn that it wouldn’t end up so rewarding.

Presently, at ten years old, she stands swallowed in a crowd with a racing heart.

She never liked crowds. Not loud places and not the child-filled training yard at headquarters. Such places made her nervous, made her want to disappear. But now, she is chained.

They push through the crowd trying to make their way up front. Annie is and always has been small, and if the only thing she could see were other people’s back, then it might have been better not to see anything at all. Here and there they get hisses and pushes back at them, but they stop soon after, always because of the bright yellow.

Finally, they burst out into the clear, stand in the front line with no one blocking the view. It was a sudden shock, because when you have everyone’s back standing in your way, it’s easy to forget what a sunny day it is.

Liberio had never seemed so colorful. The streets were packed with Eldians, every age group was present – from children seated on top of the adult’s shoulders to the elderly looking upon the display with a certain degree of fondness.

When Annie heard the now familiar ruckus of cars, the crowd erupted in cheer. The built up whispers in the streets over the days unleashed themselves in screaming and clapping. They stare at the display with wide eyes.

Annie watched in silence as the cars drove by. She looked at the warriors, a generation counted as old and at the end of their lifetime, despite none of them likely being older than her father. She looked at Zeke, the only one among them with an air of youth, and his smile which tried to be charming as he waved to the crowd from the back seat of the car.

She listened to the comments people shouted at the warriors. “Heroes,” they yelled. “Make everyone proud! Come home alive!”

Commander Magath and general Calvi and other officials sat in a separate car. Calvi’s stern gaze never left the road ahead, Magath eyed the people while maintaining his serious face. Annie was pretty sure he saw her for a second, nodded and looked away.

There are more people present than the street can hold. Those who watched the send-off through building windows nearly fall over from nudging each other to take in the sight. Teenage boys climb the street lights to see over the men’s heads.

The crowd moves to follow the vehicles as they leave sight. They do so until they come to a freer, wider space and the cars shut down and the warriors stand up.

Sudden silence engulfs the scene, everyone’s ears perk up to hear what comes next.

General Calvi stands up and Magath joins him. He blinks slowly at the mass of Eldians in front, turns his head to the latter and says, “You may take this one, Commander.”

“Eldians of the internment zone of Liberio, we know why we have gathered today.” As the one put in charge of the warriors of Marley, Magath looks at these people differently from the general. His voice speaks with pride and confidence, yet his face shows quiet conflict.

“Tomorrow morning we set off, and today your proud warriors stand before you. Look at them and feel gratitude for their deeds, it is they who erase your sins and redeem your bloody history. They give themselves selflessly for the motherland, and they expect the same of you and any children you should bear. Look at that them with pride and envy, and for today only, you may rejoice.”

Theo Magath isn’t always a man of many words. His breed of commander is better suited for short, direct commands rather than motivational speeches. Still, the crowd clapped, the overly dedicated ones even shed some tears.

Calvi leans to the side. He tries not to be heard, but Annie can see the distaste on his lips, she can see it as he mouths “Too much”.

Annie claps as well, without much vigor. Her eyes point up to her father by her side and sees the focus with which he stares at the collection of red armbands. He notices, the clapping stops as he grabs her by the hand.

“What do you think, Annie?” He readjusts the hold on his crutch.

“About what?” Her hand trembles from the cold of his squeeze.

“That will be you up there, one day. Soon enough.” He smiles however much he can. “Are you not excited?”

Annie swallows and looks away. She searches for an elsewhere to look at, feeling her heartbeat throb in her captured fingertips. The sensation of her violent kicks rushes through her body, his victorious laugh rings in her ears. Every “Good job” crawled up her skin, from the bottom of her calloused heels to the tips of her tied hair.

Don’t smile, she tells her father in her mind. I hate it when you smile.

She braces before she asks, “This is what fulfilling my duty is, right?”

“It is,” he answers, rather pleased. “It’s good you understand that.”

“Are you excited, father?”

Annie made sure to keep her stare firm on the photographers in front. Groups of men with cameras came to commemorate the occasion, they stand underneath the cloth and flash lights at Calvi and Magath shaking hands, then at the warriors standing together in line. It doesn’t stop her from feeling the weight of her father’s head tilting downward, staring at the blonde of her head.

“Yes,” her father says with the next flash of light, “I do look forward to it. You standing up there will be the reward we’ve worked so hard for.”

Stop smiling. Her heart sinks. She can feel it without having to look. Let go.

The weight of every person surrounding them makes her tremble. It only gets heavier as the crowd starts to thin when the cars drives out of the interment zone. The passersby see them together. They see a father and a daughter.

Please, let me go.

They see them and at first glance they have no way of knowing. No one here knows how his voice sounds when he’s angry. No one knows of all her sleepless nights, of all the times she tried and failed to wrap her bruises up.

Not a soul knows how much pain she feels home. How much misery swims around her stomach as the hand holding hers starts pulling her along. It tells her to walk, it drags her down deeper.

It hurts. It hurts when you hold me. Her hand is so strong, yet so helpless in his grasp. Please, please let me go.

Her father turns to her when her feet don’t budge. His face twitches. Annie readies herself when his mouth opens to say something, but a different voice beats him to it.

“Annie!” The voice of the little devil from the other day rings in the street, except to Annie it sounds like an angel calling. “Hey, Annie!”

Both Annie and her father turn around to see three kids on the other side of the road, and she recognizes Pieck and the Galliard brothers. Pieck smiles and Marcel waves to her, inviting her to them.

“Who are those children calling you?” Her father’s grip doesn’t ease.

Annie swallows while trying to come up with a response.

“They’re—” They can’t be friends, they distract you. They can’t be nobody, they aren’t worth time. “—comrades.”

“Comrades?” He tilts an eyebrow at the answer she gave.

“Yes,” she tries to say more confidently. An opportunity showed itself, and she’ll be damned if she lets it go by. “They’re warrior candidates, like me. They’re wearing the yellow armbands, look.”

True enough, the three wore their yellow armbands. Annie was used to seeing them, but never outside training. She’d never seen Pieck in a dress before. The gap between Annie and the across the street where they stood waiting felt like it was possible to jump across.

“The new warrior told us it’s good to come today. He said commander Magath would like it.” She prepares herself to take the jump, she just needs a little more. “I should go with them. It will be useful.”

“Annie! You coming?” Pieck calls again in wonderful timing, seeing how still she stood.

Her father debates internally, the blonde girl could see that much. Quickly after, he releases her hand, and uses it to adjust his hat. “Fine, go,” he says. “But be home before dark. Remember, we have work to do.”

The freedom of her hand evokes a spring in her step, each one feeling so light. The gap is now not a gap at all, a bridge has been built across it and she wastes no time running across it and away from her father until they are no longer in each other’s sight.

“Well, you sure seem energetic,” Marcel greeted.

“Sorry,” Annie breathes in response, “I was waiting for my dad to say I can go.”

“For a moment there I thought he wasn’t going to,” Pieck said. “Don’t take it the wrong way, but, he seems pretty scary.”

“More like strict,” Porco adds. “He looks like he could give Magath a run for his money.”

“You have no idea,” Annie answers, her thumb running back and forth over the knuckles of her other hand.

“Are you up for a walk?” Pieck suggests, already prepared to take the lead. “No street salesmen to beat up this time, though.”

Pieck smiles as if the ordeal was a fond memory, as if the man hadn’t began choking her. When Annie agrees, she turns around and leads the way through what was left of the mass of people. The skirt of her dress fluttered merrily with every jumpy step she took.

“Did you watch the whole thing?” Marcel asked. “The commander’s speech and all?”

“Yeah,” Annie nodded. “Front row.”

“It seems kinda crazy, right?” Porco began. “That’s probably gonna be us up there next time.”

“Uh-oh,” Pieck teased. “Are you gonna start talking like Reiner now?”

“As if,” his hand waved in front of his face, like shooing away the mere thought. “I’m just saying it how it is. I mean, you saw how worn down those guys looked like, right? This is gonna be a last hurrah for them. After that, it’s us.”

“Don’t get too excited, Porco,” Marcel patted his brother on the shoulder.

“Uh, guys,” Pieck playfully warned. “Don’t look now, but I think I summoned him.”

Across the street, far enough for him not to notice the four, Reiner walked with a rare, genuine smile on his face. Along him were three adults, one of which was a blonde woman whom he resembled greatly. She wore a proud smile, one Annie was too familiar with. Tightly holding Reiner’s hand was a toddler. Probably not much older than two years old, the child had a thick patch of brown hair and a grin which screamed mischief.

Annie hadn’t even thought about it, despite walking with the three of them. Just like her, the others came here too, and not just the future warriors. Whether it is to kiss up to the military or to give a send-off because it is the appropriate thing to do, what seemed to be all of Liberio had gathered within this single wide street.

Could it be that he was among this crowd as well? Did she pass him by already without noticing? Was there a chance she would find him still?

“Let Reiner be,” Marcel smiled, “he’s with his family.”

“Hey, Pieck, speaking of,” Porco called. “Did your dad not come today?”

“Oh, uhm,” Pieck’s skirt stilled when her palm rubbed the back of her neck. She blinks slowly, and answers after a moment. “He’s in bed today. But even though he couldn’t make it, he really wanted me to go. He picked this dress out and did my hair for me, so it’s fine.”

“We’ll pack some lunch for you to bring back home for him,” Marcel said, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and brining her in. “He’ll get better soon. I know it.”

“Thanks,” she whispers, she fights to bring her smile back and after a second, the fight was hers to win.

Her cheeks flush when she sees them all staring at her, and Annie can’t help but think she prefers Pieck with a smile on her face than any other way around.

They walk a bit more, aimlessly for the most part. Even though the mass has thinned, the ones still out were in high spirits and all chatting happily. Them and the kids exchange their “Hello’s” and “Good afternoon’s”, reminiscent to how Armin greeted his neighbors.

She looks at every person and searches through every group. The boy was nowhere to be seen. At moments Annie could feel her companions notice her search, but they never said a word about it.

After a while, a woman’s voice calls from behind. “Marcel! Porco!” she calls for the brothers.

They turn around to face her. Marcel waves back and yells, “We’ll be there in a second!”

“Sorry, Annie,” Porco tells her. “Mom’s calling us for lunch, and yesterday we invited Pieck to come over.”

“You can come too, if you want?” Marcel invites. “It might be a squeeze, but I’m sure that—”

“I’m fine,” Annie says. “I have somewhere to go already anyway, but thanks for the offer. And thanks for the walk.”

They exchange a glance and in it they’re sure that the answer is alright. The boys tell Annie to take care, and Pieck lingers a second behind them.

“It was nice seeing you,” she tells her. With both hands she takes one of Annie’s in, and gives it a squeeze. “I hope you find what you were looking for.” After that, she hops along, her skirt very pretty as it flutters.

When she turns around to face the street, Annie blushes. She knows it’s a hope she harbors as well.

However, the question was whether or not that hope was a tangible reality. His face was not among any of the children on the most people filled streets which the kids walked around. And with the entire internment zone under the open sky today, if she hadn’t ran into him yet, the chances she would are slim.

“But be home before dark,” she remembers her father’s parting words. She looks up at the sky, the sun nowhere near setting.

“I have somewhere to go already anyway,” she remembers her own parting words to Marcel. She lingers on the thought for a second, wondering if she really meant that.

Before, there weren’t many places she could look for him. She embarrassingly remembers the time she spent waiting at the playground, believing that a gust of wind might blow him her way and they’d reunite as if by accident.

Accidents like that didn’t seem to be a rarity for them. They brought them together a handful of times already. But if she would be capable of taking matters into her own hands, she would wait for happy accidents no more. So, that’s what she does.

Now, she knew of one more place where she could find him. One more likely than any other.

She’d be lying if she said she isn’t nervous, but her feet push forward nevertheless. Too much time had passed since she spoke to him, too much for her liking. Annie decides to pay him a visit at home.

Annie then walks along the streets not looking at anyone she passes by, with her new goal in mind, there is no one to look for. The buzz doesn’t cease though, and even if it’s her they might be mentioning, she doesn’t care to listen.

Memories work in a funny way, she finds out soon. As she leaves what was mostly familiar behind, and enters the part of town where he resides and he had shown her, her stomach flutters reminiscent of Pieck’s skirt. There are so many days she can’t remember in the slightest, but her body manages to remember how it felt that one day she was here. For some reason, it decided to remind her.

She remembers the old lady’s face and voice, the one Armin spoke to while she leaned out the window. Annie recognizes her sitting on a single plank bench in front of someone else’s house, two more elderly people by her side, chatting. The lady catches sight of her and waves, and Annie waves back before swiftly turning her head around.

The world around her stills when she’s just a few houses away. Her heartbeat suddenly thumps in her ears when she sees that sign again, the one hanging in front of the entrance reading “Arlert Carpentry”.

When she stood in front of the closed door, she was met with a different kind of thumping. Granted, it sounded more like a hammer’s banging. He said his grandfather’s a carpenter, Annie reminds herself. That’s him inside, working.

Something so mundane and simple still gave her a scare, his grandfather wasn’t home when she came here first. On the bright side, the trip won't turn out to be for naught as someone is here to at least open the door. Annie exhales in encouragement, reaches up to take the door knocker, and knocks three times.

Her chest drops when the banging ceases, she swallows as she hears footsteps approach.

The man opened the door, probably expecting someone else since he stared emptily in front before averting his gaze down to a much shorter visitor. When his eyes widened in surprise, Annie’s face nervously contorted. She quickly started staring at her shoes.

“Hello,” the one she assumes must be Armin’s grandfather greeted. His voice so soft compared to that of Magath and her father. “What can I help you with, little lady?”

She couldn’t look at him very long, but noticed wrinkles and sweat on his forehead. He wore the work apron and protective gloves she saw in the workshop last time. On his chin there was a beard and under his nose a moustache, both gray from age, between them the man’s lips curled in a smile.

“I, uhm—” it dawned on her that she really showed up to this man’s house without an invitation. She had no proper excuse to be here. “I’m sorry, but, uhm – is Armin home?”

“Oh? Armin?” he repeats in surprise. A long second later, he chuckled sweetly. “Then, you wouldn’t happen to be Annie, would you?”

“I am Annie,” she hugs one arm around her frame, gripping her armband.

“What a nice surprise,” he says. He moves to the side and extends an arm. “Well, please, come right in.”

Annie steps into the workshop, the smell of wood and its dust hitting her again. Weirdly, the scent was becoming more pleasant. She sees the hammer with which the grandfather was working with, and a large closet in the process of being made. The man moves its yet-to-be-attached doors out of Annie’s way, looking around as if everything was too messy.

“Sorry,” Annie said, helping him move the closet door. “I didn’t mean to be trouble.”

“Nonsense,” he waves away. “To tell you the truth, I wanted to meet you for a while. I had trouble believing him you were even real at first,” he ends the thought with a laugh. “But, here you are, in the flesh!”

Annie’s cheeks burned. “Is… is Armin upstairs?”

“Oh no, no. He’s through that door,” he pointed to the door Armin said led to the backyard. The man sighed and took off his gloves, “I haven’t seen him much today, boy’s been sitting out there since the morning. You can go see him, I’ll come soon and bring you something to eat.”

With that said, Armin’s grandfather climbed up the stairs and left Annie in the workshop standing in front of the backyard door. A repeat of what happed before she knocked on the door happened. She could taste her heart in her throat as she grabbed the handle, her only wish was that he’d be as happy as his grandfather by her visit.

She twists the handle, the sunlight from outside hitting her eyes, and takes a step outside.

The yard’s ground was covered in grass, unlike the one in front of her house which was nothing but dry dirt. Her attention was immediately caught by what looked like a miniature house, the inside of which she couldn’t see, blocked away but a twin door with a plank shutting it tight. There was a small, round table close by, and two logs shaped into chairs.

Next to the wall of the house, the boy was lying on the grass, his eyes fixed on the book he held on his chest.

He heard the footsteps which brought her outside, but didn’t seem to realize it was her standing there. Armin closed his eyes, a certain puffiness surrounds them, the book falling open against his chest. “Grandpa, I don’t need anyth—”

“No,” she says carefully. “It’s me.”

A few more painful heartbeats pass, and the boy springs up, launching the book off his chest and onto his knees. His eyes widen and lips part, staring at her like her presence was impossible. “Annie?” he finally breathes.

“Uhm… Hello.” Annie would kick herself in the gut if she could. She has no idea what to say.

Armin snapped out of his shock and quickly shut the book and laid it aside. His head turned around, and he brought both palms to cover his face. A few seconds later he shakily inhaled, and asked “Why’d you come here?”

Disappointment hit her harder than a kick would have. Shame came immediately after.

“I’m sorry I just dropped by like this. I know I shouldn’t have and I’ll go now, so—”

“No, don’t go,” he faces her again, and realizes he might’ve said that too loudly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just… what brought you here?”

“What… brought me here?” The question looms above her, the answer is something she wants to know as well.

Every day that goes by becomes a day she wished he was in. It didn’t matter in which way, whether the day was dedicated solely to him like last time or if he’d simply pass her by on the street. She was aware that she hadn’t know him that long, still, she wished he was part of day to day routine.

“What brought me is…” she can’t explain it any way, other than, “I wanted to see you.”

Annie can’t look at him as she says so, but she’s fairly sure he’s staring at her.

“…What?” he breathes out.

“What I meant is, uhm,” she tilts her head downwards, the hair framing her face blocking her view, “I was looking for you today. In town, at the send-off parade thing. But I couldn’t find you there, so I thought, I don’t know, that I could come and find you here.”

Armin doesn’t answer, leaving her to wallow in how embarrassing she must sound. To both of them.

“That’s pretty stupid, right?” Annie asks, her hand squeezes her armband again. “Yeah, so, I’m going to leave you be and—”

She got interrupted by the door to the yard opening beside her, and getting lightly bumped into by his grandfather, nearly knocking over the tray in his hand.

“Oh, my, I’m sorry dear,” he says politely, “I should’ve watched where I was going there. Armin, what do I keep telling you?” He directs to his grandson, and Annie had never seen scolding so gentle. “Don’t sit on the grass, up you go. You’ll get your clothes dirty and catch a cold.”

Armin does as he’s told, patting himself down and picks up his book off the ground. His grandfather lays the tray he brought on the wooden table, and gestures for the kids to take a seat.

When Armin goes to sit, she figures that was her sign that it was alright to stay. He would’ve said something in protest otherwise. She approaches as well, taking a seat on the log-chair after removing the small pillow on top.

“No, no, dear,” the man gently scolds her now. “The seat cushion stays, otherwise the chair isn’t much better than the grass.”

The girl awkwardly places it back the way it was, and sits down with stiff shoulders. When she doesn’t say anything, he playfully laughs again. “She’s as pretty as you said, but I didn’t think she’s quite this shy,” he whispers to Armin, whose face disappeared behind his palms. “Call me if you need anything, alright?”

“Wait, grandpa,” Armin calls after the man turned his back to leave. He reaches over the table, giving him the book. “Keep it inside.”

When she got a clear look at it, Annie recognized the book. She was pretty sure she did, at least. The leather binding was the same as the book she knocked over up in his room last time. Her stomach dropped at the memory of getting caught with it in hand.

His grandfather nods, takes the book and leaves them alone. The sudden silence is awkward.

“I’m, uhh,” Armin begins, his fingers fidget for one of the cups on the tray, “I’m sorry about that. Grandpa always means well, really.”

“It’s okay,” Annie blushes, and mimics him as she reaches for the second cup.

“Did he… tell you anything else?”

“He said he didn’t think I existed. That’s all.”

Armin’s face fell to the table with a bang. “I’m so sorry, that’s so—”

“Don’t be sorry,” Annie says and Armin peeks back up. “He’s nice. I think you’re lucky to have such a nice grandpa. He’s totally different from my dad…”

The girl catches herself off guard by what she just said and, by how his eyebrows rose up, captured his attention. Quickly, she distracts herself with the cup in front of her, swiftly taking it in hand and bringing it to her lips. It doesn’t go as well as she planned.

The moment the sweet smelling drink met with her mouth, she spit it out by impulse. A girly shriek escapes when it poured down her hoodie.

“That was so hot,” she puts the cup down and straightens her hoodie out to look at the damage. “What even was that?”

“It was… tea?” Armin looks at her with surprise and confusion, “Did you never have tea before, Annie? Are you okay?”

“I don’t remember,” she says. “My tongue stings.”

“Next time, blow on it so it cools down,” he advises with a smile and hands her one of the pastries from the tray. “Here, the scone should help with the stinging.”

After finishing the scone (which did help) she calmed down, her next concern being “Will this leave a stain?”

“It will if you leave it to dry. I can give it to grandpa to wash it out, if you want?”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” she says and takes the hoodie off over her head, remaining in a white, short-sleeved T-shirt.

“You wear more layers when it’s this warm outside?” He asks, pink painting his cheeks.

“Mhm,” she hums and looks down to her ghostly pale biceps. “I burn easily in summer.”

“In more ways than one, looks like it,” Armin jokes with a smile, and Annie takes no offense. He takes her hoodie and runs inside.

Annie’s content as she waits for him to return. Following his advice, she blows on what was left of the drink in her cup and eats the scones with it. A combination she didn’t know existed and didn’t except she’d like this much.

Armin returned only to run back in almost immediately after. Met with the sight of an empty wooden tray and Annie’s mouth full, he grabbed it and reemerged with a dozen more scones.

“I’m happy you like them so much,” Armin smiled, sitting across her. “Grandpa really likes them too, bakes them all the time. It’s the only recipe he asked my late grandma to teach him, so he says.”

Annie’s head tilts to the side, after swallowing she asks, “Late?”

“Yes,” he’s still smiling, but it loses its cheer. “It means she isn’t here anymore.”

“Not alive?”

He shakes his head. “No. She passed away when I was really, really young, so I don’t remember her. But, it’s okay.” He plays with the cup in hand then takes a sip. “Grandpa said that she was very happy when I was born. So even though I don’t remember her, I’m glad she met me.”

Annie stares at him in silence, marveling at how much fondness he has in his eyes and voice. How much he can care something, someone, he knew when he was too young to remember.

“Sorry, sorry,” he smiles away, picking up on her quiet. “Let’s talk about something else, okay?”

“Okay,” Annie nods along. “So… why weren’t you in town today?”

“Hm?” He perks up.

“Do you know about the war?”

“Oh, uhm,” the smile vanishes. “Yeah. Everyone knows.”

“They had a send-off for the military and warriors earlier today. It felt like everyone in Liberio was there, but you weren’t.”

As she was talking, Armin reached for a scone and played with it. He took it apart, bit by bit, crumbles of it everywhere while he was looking at nothing in particular.

“I…” he breathes in before continuing. “Grandpa and I agreed to not go. He… doesn’t like the military, at all.” The last bit came in whisper, as if it’s a curse to say it too loudly.

There’s a certain weight that his words carry, heavy enough for her to feel it fall on her shoulders. Annie reaches to grab her arm. When she’s met with the cold of her skin instead of her armband, it dawns that her armband is still hooked on her hoodie, currently with his grandfather.

“I—I’m in the military. But, he was really nice to me?”

“No, it’s the adults he doesn’t like. You didn’t do anything, Annie.”

“And you?” she asks. “How do you feel about the military?”

He rubs the nape of his neck, “The same way he does. But, that doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

“H—” Annie stuns, hiding her face into the empty cup, “how do you feel about me?”

Armin looks down at the table, cleaning up the crumbs on his side. He isn’t as flustered as she is, and he’s calm as he explains. “Did I ever tell you you’re the first real friend I ever had? I know it sounds silly, but it’s true. I’m sorry if I made you feel unwelcome earlier, I was just surprised.”

A memory gets triggered, she has no control over it.

“You can’t have friends, Annie. They distract you.” The voice chimes in her ears.

“Am I your friend, Annie?” he asks sweetly.

Every memory of bleeding feet and middle-of-the-night crying get outshined by him. She doesn’t think about the military preparing their voyage to the south of the land to fight for some intangible glory. She doesn’t think about the kicks and sweat and the panting that awaits her when she departs from this yard.

She looks at him with certainty, no longer feeling flushed or embarrassed. All the memories she can’t remember and all the ones which bring her pain, none of them feel like they matter.

This moment will become a memory as well. This one she knows will burn into mind and stay there. Whether she in the future will look back at it with fondness or with sadness doesn’t matter, she wants to keep it with her.

“You’re a distraction,” she smiles.

“A… distraction?”

“Yes,” she happily confirms.

“I’m sorry,” his eyes downcast, trying to look like he isn’t struck by it, “I don’t understand.”

“I’m not good with words,” Annie says instead of an apology. “It means that I will keep coming to you, even when I’m not allowed. Being my distraction means a lot more than being my friend.”

Despite believing that she isn’t good with words, the words she chose came across loud and clear. Their meaning reflecting on the toothy smile spreading wide and rosy cheeks.

“You’re always invited,” Armin says like a promise. “Any day you can.”

“Then you’ll see me a lot these days,” she promises in return.

The sun emerges from behind a passing cloud, kissing her skin. At peace, she accepts it, and if she comes home with red-tinted arms she would have no regrets.

“Kids!” The door creeks open behind them. “Sorry for interrupting, are you up for more tea?” Armin’s grandfather asks.

Annie looks into her empty cup, only half full to begin with. She can’t help smiling along as both of them smile at her with such cheer. She turns to the man, an answer never came so easy.

“That would be nice.”

Chapter Text

“That one.”

The melodic rhythm of his reading comes to a pause. He takes a second to reread to himself.

“Hmm, sorry, which one?” he asks after all.

“Implore.”

“Ah, alright.” Armin clears his throat, maybe he’s imitating a teacher. “Implore means ‘to desperately beg someone for something’. In this case, the bird begs to keep on living.”

Annie hummed as he finished the explanation.

Somehow, without noticing, it had grown into a routine of theirs. He read, she wouldn’t understand some word or something, then ask, and he would always make anything she didn’t know clear as day. Admittedly, she was embarrassed at first. Especially at the frequency of which she would ask what something meant, feeling like an idiot at every other word. But Armin never so much as blinked, and with the ever so gentle tone of his explained every single time.

She’s lying on the grass of his backyard, legs crossed and hands resting on her stomach. The midday sun was above them, and the two found shelter under the single, thin tree that stood by the small, house-like building in his yard. She never asked him what it was for.

The button-up top of her uniform laid folded beneath her head as a make-shift pillow, leaving her in her white, short-sleeved undershirt. Covering her entire face from the sun was a straw hat that he lent her, cooling her down nicely as she closed her eyes underneath.

“How do you know what everything means like that?” she asked.

“Hm? Oh,” he snaps back into attention, momentarily gone elsewhere in his read. “From reading, I guess. You read a lot, look stuff up, and remember them. Sometimes, I ask grandpa too.”

Annie heard the sound of him closing the book and setting it aside. The sound of rustles in the grass and his exhale. The unease of eyes creeps on her skin, so she pops an eye open.

She could make Armin’s face out, hanging above her but shadowed by his dangling hair. His eyes, however, shine through. “You know I can see you, right?” she makes fun. “This hat has a lot of holes in it.”

Annie supposed she expected him to get startled and jolt back. Instead, he remained put, and chuckled. “Those aren’t holes,” he said through smiles. “It’s a woven hat, that’s just the weave.”

“You have tablecloths with holes in them upstairs as well,” she recalled. “They kind of look like flowers. Is it meant to be like that?”

“Yes,” he laughed still. “That’s called ‘crochet’. It’s made that way on purpose, so it can look pretty. Do you think it’s not?”

“It’s pretty, I guess. But, why do the holes need to be there? They don’t do anything.”

“They don’t need to do anything. It’s just decoration.”

“Decoration?”

No need to define that word, Annie most definitely knows what a decoration is. What was it that baffled her; the need for them to begin with? Her home had no decorations. Essentials only – the table at which they ate, beds, counters, closet and such. And the kicking posts, the essentials.

“Yeah,” he keeps looking at her, Annie thinks he’s tracing her face through the weave of the hat. “Sometimes, people simply like having and looking at pretty things. It makes them feel good.”

How did I get to this?

She nodded, telling him she understood. “Like flowers?”

How is this my life now?

When he turns away, she tilts the hat to the side, peeking at him going through his book. “Sure, like flowers.” There was something about the dedication on his face, it turned her peek into a stare.

Never would she have imagined such a change of pace was possible.

Armin teaching her the meanings behind words was a little habit that made its way into their daily lives. A habit that turned out to be just one of many.

Some were planned, mapped out schedules that both of them would follow; her arrivals, which she tried to have not be in the earliest hours of the morning, and her departures, during which he would escort her halfway home at the sunset. Some were spontaneous, little moments that seemed to repeat themselves; Armin’s grandfather calling them up to lunch and the boy bashfully trying to make him leave, and Annie growing less and less shy with accepting whatever sweets they would have as snacks in the in-betweens of whatever they did later on.

“You know, grandpa said he would buy a bag of cherries today.”

“That’s nice to hear,” she hummed through the straw hat.

“They’re really good on days as warm as this one. An old neighbor down the street has cherry trees in his yard, we buy from him every year.”

This really is my life now…

The nights were as hard as ever, at least physically, they were. Annie’s father remained, to Annie’s bliss, entirely unaware of her whereabouts during the long day’s hours. She’d leave home when she always would, never telling him the warrior training was, for the time being, put to a pause. She’d wear her uniform each time, which she’d take off once seated on the grass next to the boy.

Another pair of little rituals. Annie would take off her military top, and use it for whatever else – as a cushion, pillow, as a rag for the light sweat on her bangs. And the second – the one Annie was likely fondest of all – they both would relinquish their armbands when together.

Maybe the roots of that one should be traced back to her first visit. A little display in an attic to help bring his point of view to life. It is just… a thing, after all. A thing that many would give anything for, a thing that brings upon her starry-eyed gazes and sighs of envy from those who can’t obtain it. A thing that Armin can discard with the greatest of ease.

Armin would take and hide them up in his room, and return them before they stepped foot on the street. When looking at the bigger picture – it’s insignificant, for no one’s eyes but their own (and Armin’s grandfather’s, who would smile sweetly when seeing it every day), and showed they lacked what it took to take their statement into the public eye. Annie knew all this, and yet, it meant more to her than she could have imagined.

“I think we should stop for today,” he called her out of her thoughts.

He’d say that sometimes when reading, but how was she ever supposed to explain what a novel feeling that brought? Far from an unfamiliar phrase, she’d hear it almost on the daily. The circumstances, however, were as different as could be. From the mouth of her father – they brought her salvation. Now, they bring her something bittersweet.

“Why?” she asked. To her father, she only nods in obedience.

Armin cast the book aside and laid down beside her. She peeked at him, seeing his closed eyes and hair spread over the grass. “You just… don’t seem that interested in this one.”

“I am,” she sits up, hat falling to her knees. “Come on, are you not gonna read the poem to the end?”

The boy inhaled deeply, and seemed as though he was getting pulled down deeper into the grass. He looked so entirely serene. “I can, if you insist. But it’s alright, you know? I’m happy you gave the poetry a chance either way.”

Annie’s palm rested on the nape of her neck, looking elsewhere (the log-stools she decides) as she spoke. “I mean, it’s… kind of harder than I thought it would be. Stories are much easier to understand, even if they are longer, because they’re always to the point and—” her eyes momentarily dart to him, a second later she hurls the hat atop his face, “—and don’t you dare fall asleep!”

It couldn’t have hurt him, of course. Laughing emits from underneath the straw. “I won’t, I won’t! I’m listening! I promise!”

A swap of their original positions occurred as Annie reached over for the book and listed through the pages Armin had marked (with strands of grass that he plucked on the spot, which Annie was amused by, she thought he’d be one to be better prepared) and Armin let the hat comfortably sink into his face. Unlike Armin, though, Annie didn’t read aloud. An embarrassment of some kind messed with her head.

“You marked the easy poetry for me, didn’t you?” she asked through biting her lips as she flipped the rest of the pages. “These other ones, I can’t figure any of it out…”

“Anything is difficult when you start with the hardest options first. I thought those would be good for now because they’re a little shorter and—”

“I don’t understand the easy ones either.”

Armin’s immediate silence was a sign she said that more harshly than intended. Seconds feel like forever as neither of them moves or speaks and, while she doesn’t know about him, Annie doesn’t blink or breathe.

“I just don’t get it.”

Then, finally, he carefully brings himself off the grass. Annie’s brows knit together, thinking she should say something, but just couldn’t think of what. Her eyes fixed on the pages, not moving across to read, but simply staring in place. Armin bent forward, trying to see her face better, and she in turn lowered her head, hiding behind whichever part of her hair she could.

“It’s not as bad as you think, Annie. You’re just not familiar with it,” he told her, in his best efforts trying to sound both reassuring and understanding. Why was he always so gentle? And after she hadn’t replied, it seemed he decided to take a different approach. “Does it… make you that sad? I can help you understand, if it would—”

“I’m not sad.”

She wonders what face he must be making right now. Wonders if she should fix her habit of not looking at him when flustered. The corner of her eye can only see the ends of his hair.

“…You’re not?” he asks.

“No,” she breathes. “Just… I-I don’t know how to say it…”

“Frustrated?”

Annie’s feelings are bottled up more often than not. Father doesn’t discuss the matters of the heart – he has no idea what feelings shackle Annie’s day to day. In reciprocation, apart from what her eyes can see, she doesn’t know a thing about the man that raised her. Her relationship with the warrior unit isn’t one of such intimacy, even if some of them have it with one another.

It couldn’t be too much, could it? Too much to share some of what burdens her with this one and only boy? To bare some of her heart for him to see?

“That’s nothing to beat yourself up over,” Armin scoots closer, reaching over and taking the book back. “I get frustrated all the time.”

The girl forgets about the heat pooling in her cheeks and turns to search for his face. He’s looking down at the book, the constant they exchange, closes its pages and runs his fingers up and down the spine. “Do you really?” she asks.

“Of course,” his eyes don’t move and his fingers don’t stop. The smile sits still on his face but, from how solemnly his eyebrows curl upward, she sees it’s not a smiling matter.

“I’m not good with most things,” he says. “I can’t run very fast. I was never able to properly climb a tree or roof. I couldn’t ever get the other boys to stop picking on me.” His smile twitches, and he battles to have it stay the way it was. “I’m so weak, it’s laughable. And… being frustrated… that’s something everyone goes through. So don’t sweat it, Annie, alright?”

She’s staring at him. Aware that her body is unmoving and her eyes are unblinking and not leaving his face. Armin knows it, he must, since he clearly doesn’t know what to make with his expression. It was an attempt to make her feel better, no? But did he just make himself feel worse?

And, maybe, objectively, he wasn’t being incorrect. Yet, one thing made Annie’s gut twist.

“You—”

“Armin!”

The both of them twitch at the sudden shout. Armin’s grandfather’s voice, calling from inside the house.

“Armin! Go upstairs and set the table! I’m heading out!” he calls.

“I will!” he yells back, gets up and pats himself down. His hand reaches for Annie’s, pulling her up. “He’s heading out for those cherries I mentioned,” he tells her. “Let’s go, it’s lunchtime.”

“R-right,” she stutters, and he’s already halfway inside, leaving her gut to keep twisting.

Annie enters right behind him. The inside of his home is never unpleasant.

His grandfather’s workshop doesn’t fail to draw her attention. She would always stop to take in whatever new projects the man had undertook, and today, it happened to be a half-finished bedframe. Armin tells her “Watch your step for nails” every time without fail, and she does. The sound of saws cutting and hammers banging has become too familiar, and the smell of cut wood fills her with satisfaction.

They helped out once. Armin’s grandfather had an awfully busy day then, and pleaded the two of them to lend him a hand. Not the slightest of problems, Annie’s curiosity was killing her to begin with. They sandpapered the shelves of a cupboard set, Armin having to show Annie the ropes, her accidentally blowing dust in his face. He laughed it off, of course. And got revenge.

“Watch your step for nails,” he calls out from the top of the stairs.

“About that,” Annie retorts, leaving the workshop behind, “have you ever actually stepped on a nail?”

“Not me, but I heard from grandpa that it ‘hurts like you can’t imagine’. And I don’t want either of us to find out what that must be like.”

He’s ever so amusing. A lot of the time, he tries to be. He finds ways to go on and on whenever she seems interested in something, capable of going through books at a time and never stopping or needing a break. Sometimes, he looks as though he’s trying to impress her with his finds. Annie wonders if he knows she already is.

But he amuses her now, without trying to, without him even knowing. With these little things she’s grown to like about him. How he seems to care for her every step, telling her to watch out, or reaching his hand every time she climbs the ladder to his attic. How sometimes he sounds older than he is, like someone who’s taken it upon himself to look after her. How when his grandfather isn’t there, he takes it upon himself to act like head of the house.

Annie likes the mismatched chairs at the dining table. In her mind, they each have a personality of their own. She’s taken a liking in particular to the tallest of the chairs. Not tallest by a lot, but tall enough for elbows to rest on the table comfortably. Armin always sits to her right, on one of the shorter chairs, but they even out their heights.

He’s taller than me, Annie thinks, even though she already knew, watching him get up on his toes to fetch the bowls out the cabinet. Well… everyone is taller than me.

She likes watching him do stuff. Just now when he cracked open the window because it’s awfully warm inside. Just now when he checked the stove to see if the wood inside is still burning. Just now that he’s taken her bowl and filled it with hot stew before setting on the table before her with that smile of his. Maybe he also likes to act older than he is.

He does the same for himself, then gets them both a piece of bread and sits in the usual chair.

“Thanks,” Annie says, getting her spoon.

But, before she could get a change to eat anything, Armin’s own spoon dives into her stew.

“Oh, shoot,” he whispers, as though not to alarm her. “One got in, after all.”

“Wait, what are you—”

In his spoon there was piece of chopped eggplant that he fished out of her bowl and brought to his. “Sorry, I tried to be careful.” He went on with eating as if nothing happened.

“And what was that for?” Annie asks, stunned.

“‘Cause,” he blows into his spoon, “you don’t like it, and I don’t mind.”

Confused no less, Annie blinks. “But I don’t mind, either. I’m not a picky eater like that.”

“I’m not saying you are,” he gets up to get a glass of water for each. “It’s just that yesterday, you didn’t seem like you cared too much for the eggplant in the stew. So I thought, I don’t know…”

One of the only things their two households had in common is that yesterday’s meals get saved for tomorrow. When it’s just two people, you don’t finish the entire pot. They had this same vegetable and duck stew for lunch yesterday, and, well, maybe Annie had played around with the eggplant a bit. She still ate it, though.

“Were you watching me eat? That’s a little—”

“No!” Armin’s shoulders stiffen, head dropping so low his hair almost dipped in the food. “I just noticed, that’s all. A-anyway, I’ll tell grandpa not to add them in next time. But he really likes them, so I don’t know…”

And then, as if summoned, the two stopped eating when they heard the man huffing up the stairs. Armin often froze up if all three were in a room together, now stiff as he was, his head still pointing downwards.

“Oh, hah, the older I get the more steps there seems to be,” the old man laughed to himself, greeting them. “Ah, I see you’ve already started with—Armin, I swear!”

The boy’s eyes turned up from under his bangs, his grandfather dropping the bag of cherries on the table.

“I know you have better table manners than this!” the man scolded. “You’ll get hair in your food and food in your hair, then what will you do? I tell you, you need to tie it from time to time, like dear Annie does.”

They both blushed. Armin presumably at the criticism he got, while Annie…

“Well, anyway,” his grandfather continued when Armin’s posture was fixed, “Annie, dear, I hope you like cherries. These are as sweet as can get.”

While Annie was having real trouble adjusting to the ‘dear Annie’s.

“I’ll dip these in some water. They’re cooler if they sit like that a bit, and when—”

“It’s alright, grandpa,” Armin cuts in. “I can do that.”

“Hmm?” It’s funny, the way his grandfather’s moustache twists when he’s confused. “In that case, make sure to—”

“Yes, I know,” he cuts in again. “I got everything, so, you can go now. Please.”

He probably has things he wants to say, definitely things he’d like to add. Instead, however, the man smiles at his grandson and his grandson’s first ever friend, wishes for them to enjoy the meal, and heads down into the carpentry shop.

It’s not that Annie doesn’t share Armin’s feelings – she does. She wouldn’t like for him to stay, sit and eat with them either. Yet, she can’t help but feel horribly awkward.

They finish eating, their bowls completely empty. And just like he did before, he goes back to acting more mature. Annie watches, head resting in her arm, elbow on the table. Watches as takes the bowls to the basin and washes them. Watches as he grabs a chair to reach a glass bowl from the cabinet’s top shelf, fills it with water, and dumps all the cherries in. When he swirls the cherries around, Annie asks him a question.

“Is your grandfather angry with you?”

“No,” he whispers. Then repeats more confidently, “No, he doesn’t get angry like that. But, I do feel bad about it, really.” He’s uncomfortable, clear as day, and trying to find the right words as he stares at individual cherries in the water. “I always apologize to him, and he knows I mean it, but it’s just… sometimes he’s a bit too…,” he picks one out, twirling it around, “…chatty, is all.”

“But, you’re chatty too.”

“I am?” he looks to her, almost with a pout.

“You don’t hear yourself when you talk?”

He scratches behind his ear, “Not like that, I suppose…,” then throws the cherry in his mouth.

“You shouldn’t be angry with your grandfather either.”

Armin’s eyes widened as if Annie said something impossible. Quickly, he grabbed a smaller bowl from the cabinet, and spit the cherry pit in it. “I’m not angry at all, where did you get that from?”

Not getting up, Annie reaches, leans across the table, joining him in snacking. “I don’t know. I shoo people away like that when I don’t want to be around them.”

“Oh no, not at all,” he says and, in spite of being a little panicked, it was genuine. “It’s just… kind of embarrassing.”

Ripe and sweet and soft. It had a nice rhythm to it, fishing a piece of fruit out, then hearing the pit hit the bottom of the bowl, slowly piling up. She hadn’t had quite like this in far too long, if ever.

“Embarrassing how?” Chew, spit, talk. Such simple pleasure this brought, talking over bowls of food. The topics had no restrictions, no rules, no correct answers. The freedom to talk about whatever you wanted. “If you ask me, you and he seem alike.”

“Huh? Really?”

“Yeah.”

“How?”

The supply in the water never seemed to get smaller, but the pit stack kept growing taller. Annie took a moment to think.

“You work hard at stuff.” You’re grandfather seems tireless, I never hear him take breaks. I’ve never seen you so much as roll an eye when you need to do anything. “You’re both very cheerful.” Or maybe he’s just polite, but he keeps smiling away at me, no matter if I’m not smiling back. And your brightness… it doesn’t seem to end. “And you both care, a lot.” About me. And I don’t understand why… but you do.

Could he hear them? The thoughts that swam behind her words? She wondered, why else would his face be so bright red?

“I-I’m flattered, if you really think so.”

Armin smiled. A shy, guilty smile as his hand disappeared into his honey hair, ruffling it around. His sleeves dangle around his arms, and his shirt too loose around his torso, still too big for him. The blush on his full cheeks is far too sweet, and sincere, and Annie could look at him like that for as time allowed it.

He is, after all, really cute.

“I really think so,” she brings another cherry to her mouth, “so, cut your grandfather some slack. He’s always so nice.”

“Totally different from your father?”

She chokes on the half-eaten cherry, pit and all. Armin wastes no time at all jumping to her aid, repeatedly patting her on the back as she’s trying to cough it up. She does, spitting into her hand, then into the pit bowl. The boy then pours her a glass of water.

“You scared the life out of me,” he rubs circles where her back connects with her neck as she drinks. “Are you alright?”

“I’m good,” in one way, but in a separate way, she was horrible. Her hoarse voice, though, might be unconvincing. “Just slipped down the wrong way.”

“It happens. I think we should take a break from this too.”

Annie nods, and wishes for the floor to swallow her whole. “I’m the embarrassing one, not your grandpa.”

“Huh?” He sits on the chair next to hers, curiosity all around him.

“Come on,” her arms cross on the table top, her chin resting on them. “I spit tea, choke on cherries and I drag you into reeking alleyways. What a mess, right?”

His expression softens, and he tries to conceal how much he wants to laugh. “I mean, sure,” he waits for his smile to settle. “Compared to what you’re physically capable of, your behavior can be a little unorthodox sometimes—”

“What’s that mean?”

“‘Something not normally expected or accepted.’ I guess what I’m trying to say is, you can be surprisingly clumsy. You’re not what you looked like you’d be like, and I like that about you.”

Annie didn’t fully comprehend what Armin said, he didn’t give her enough time to. Instead of waiting for a reply, he stood up and double checked if everything around the kitchen has been taken care of. Satisfied, he invites her to go climb into the attic.

The attic – his room – is nice. His whole house is nice, but there’s no room she likes more than this one. Somehow hidden, tucked away safely from everything else, warm and smelled like the mountain of books it stored. Armin smelled like books too, like their pages once you open them, only sweeter. The one flaw, if you asked her, were those wretched ladder stairs you had to go up. He held her hand, like every time, leading the way.

Her feelings of intrusion have disappeared over all the times she’s been up there. She’s grown to love his bed covers, how soft they are and how they swallow her completely. Once they reach the room, Annie lays down, closes her eyes and breathes in the scent of the fabric. She listens to him do as he always does; opening the window, welcoming in the breeze and rummaging his shelf, picking book by book to find whatever it is he will present to her next.

Sometimes they don’t go downstairs to read on the lawn, staying up instead. Sometimes he’d climb into the bed beside her, read out loud as she stares into the ceiling or the patterns of the different carpets.

“I imagine you wouldn’t enjoy the history books,” Armin says, she hears him taking out a book or two but placing them back almost immediately. “You probably hear enough about that already.”

“History is a chore,” Annie replies. “All we gotta do is memorize it the way they tell us.”

Footsteps approach her. The boy’s weight shifts the sheets around her, she moves to make room for him. Armin sits to her side, she sits up to join, crossing her legs.

“I remember that day you saved me, you said you had a test,” he begins, and Annie tries to remember how the test in question went. “You told me all the questions, and the answers, I remember them. And I also remember thinking how… alike it all sounded.”

“That makes sense, doesn’t it? They tell us what to say and all we do is say it back how they want it. That’s all that history is.”

“You’re right, in a way,” he crosses his legs too, facing her. “It’s how they want you to say it. Titans are horrid monsters which come from people who are horrid monsters. Everything that the titans do is evil, so everything we do is evil. Every question on that test wanted an answer that was along those lines.”

“Yes…” Annie thought for a moment before answering. “We need to hate ourselves. As long as we hate ourselves, to the point of where we obey everything they say, nothing else really matters.”

The boy nods, slightly, gently. A silence drops on them, it’s chilling, unsettling. Then, Armin breathes in, and asks her something she never thought she’d hear.

“Annie… do you hate yourself?”

So, now, she needs to think about it. But think about what?

Not about Titan Wars and the murders and people eating and everything Eldians are hated for. She hasn’t done any of that. Think about the people outside, the Marleyans that hurt Marcel and Pieck simply on sight and threw things at them while spitting curses? Think about her father, her house, her kicking dummies? The things he’d tell her about her life and purpose? Think about the woman she could have called ‘mother’?

“No,” Annie replied. “I know what being hated feels like. And I don’t hate myself.”

One of the things about Armin that Annie liked so much was his ability to have an answer to anything. Anything she couldn’t ask anyone else. Yet, now, he is speechless and his silence feels like eternity.

In truth, Annie wished it was as simple as being speechless. It’s worse than just that, because Annie knew his mind is as loud as it could get. He’s thinking. About what he asked and what she replied and, probably, her entirely. Her palms were sweating, her eyes attached to the ceiling. They can’t possibly move now, she knows he’s looking at her.

I… should I have given a different answer?

“Okay,” he says. The girl’s heart falls from her throat back into her chest, steadying itself. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

Annie feels like a book. Her text is scarce, so he reads between the lines. Yes, he said he likes that about her. It’s more than her words – it’s the way she says them, and the way she doesn’t say anything. It’s the way she sits, she eats, she reads, the way she looks at him and looks away. He takes bits of her apart, like gliding through lines of an open book, under the nightlight of candles. And she lets him.

“You said something down there,” she collects her knees, bringing them to her chest. “You said I’m not what I looked like. So… what did I look like?”

She already knew, roughly, but she wanted to hear it from him. She wanted to hear everything from him.

Armin doesn’t look at anything, she notices. No specific object, simply looking at the center of the room, mind wholly elsewhere.

No, she realizes, he’s looking right at me.

He’s looking at her while she stares at broken bottles in an alleyway. She sits by herself in a dust-covered, broken playground, swollen eyes the only part of her peeking through her hoodie. She shows up out of the blue, beating three boys up without breaking a sweat. She crushes a caterpillar without giving it a second thought.

“You looked cold,” he whispers. “Not like you were mean, although, you didn’t seem friendly. You were cold like… you were lonely. And you always looked sad.”

“Sad and lonely,” Annie huffs into her knees. “So, I looked really pathetic?”

Armin turns, looking at her now. There’s another smile on his face, different than any other until now. There’s something behind it, something hidden away and she can’t see. Still, she wonders, what is it?

“Enough for someone as pathetic as me to want to make friends with you.”

To Annie, Armin feels like a puzzle. Not like one of those intelligence puzzles the military gave the children when they signed up. There’s a correct answer and you find it, and then, you’re done. They’re completed and they do nothing. He’s far from that. His piece after piece is supposed to lead to something greater than that. And when it’s finally complete, it will be something worth marveling at.

Armin gives her some of the pieces, he’s not stingy on them, he’s happy to share. How fascinating, how nearly complete. Half-way done just won’t do.

The girl detaches her legs from her chest, crossing them again. His back straightens up as hers does. She braces herself, because it feels dangerous. Dangerous, prohibited, worse than leaving the internment and worse than disobeying father.

“Armin?”

“Yes?”

“Who are you?”