Chapter Text
A vessel shifts uneasily on the open waters. The spread masts pick up on the subtle breeze that accompanies a slow morning. The sun has barely risen, underlying the brisk chill with little warmth. Yet despite the slow rocking, that creates a weak buoying shadow on the still dark waves, the continuous tapping refuses to let up.
A nail against the bronzing frame, the view reflecting nothing but slowly lighting sky and unseeable waters. Still, looking down into nothing seems preferable to forcibly noticing every nauseating creak that can’t help but convey that it’s the only thing separating the waters from swallowing up another meal into its suffocating depths. And yet, the ship lurches on.
Along the railing of chipping paint, the nail chimes along with the ebbing flow of the deck. The rough red jagged edges, below which is pinkening flesh, are still something to get used to. The once promised safety net of regeneration is a forgotten nightmare. Yet another unexpected consequence. Once there was no underlying threat to these nails. Regardless of their wear and tear, it was never permanent. And even if they were to be mangled, it’s not as if death would frown at another casualty.
Nonetheless, like so many other things, it reminds her of how much is different now. The floorboards creak beneath her issued boots and despite her hatred of the swirling shadows, anything is preferable to what’s underneath. In fact, if she strains her ears she can hear the nervous clamor of irritable voices. But why would she do that? It detracts from the whole reason she chose to find company out here, with such an unyielding and lonely force.
The sea promises nothing but separation and loss, she can’t help but lament. With every voyage, the only constants are farewells and uncertainties.
Pulling a hand through her tangling locks, she almost misses the usual updo. She came out here to relax. Yet her body seems to creak along with the ship: remembering its rigid shape that protests against such uncertainty. Even here on this stupid and ugly ship, she can’t help but listen for the sickening noises and question with each lurch whether danger will soon embrace her once more.
At least she’s not downstairs listening to all of them yammer on.
She tugs her uniform tighter, the thin fabric of the forest green offers little warmth. That’s one similarity she can count on; something that’s never changed. Another job, another uniform. However, she can’t help but still cling to wearing one. You’d think she’d be sick of them by now. But between Armin’s speeches, Connie’s one-liners, and Reiner’s tears there’s only so much she can take.
Besides, the familiarity they steadily approach only offers change. Arriving at Paradis now promises stark contrasts and acts as a reminder of what’s been lost. Yet those dumb kids, adults now she corrects herself, can’t help but get excited.
The small smile drops from her lips as she hears the faint trace of footsteps and she braces herself for the possible encounter.
At least in this sense, such reflexive tendencies are still beneficial as the protesting swing of a door is heard against the rocking waves.
“Annie”, he calls.
God, did it have to be him? Every one of these conversations and she can’t help but regret initially leaving Hitch in some way. Why did she have to choose him, she pointlessly wonders. But damn if those years didn’t wear her down.
She turns to the timid boy. Timid might not be the right word. Tepid peace and turgid politics seem to suit his frame more. His posture holds less of that uncertainty, fear of death, and guilt. Yet between them...that seems to be one uncertainty that still unnerves him. She watches his snailing approach and offers no support.
“We’re getting close now”, a master of words and appeasement, yet he appears laconic.
“Alright, I’ll come down in a second” she hesitates before adding “I still don’t love this”.
Armin weakly smiles, “I know”.
She hears the clanging of metal on metal and turns back out for one last moment to collect herself. She could be nicer to him, alleviate some of that helpless churning as he navigates for some rock to cling on to. Then again, why provide a rock without any foreseeable land. No reason to provide the false hope of survival, of chance. She sighs and turns towards where Armin retreated. Regardless of the apprehension she's repeatedly expressed, Annie finds herself a little excited as well.
It’ll be nice to see her again.
As she descends to the lower deck, the pings of her worn black boots ring out her arrival; the barely still attached aglets chime a more offbeat tempo, clanging against the metal stairs. Some of the heads turn to her. Seeing them fidgeting with their appearances inspires her to run one last tug through the discombobulated blond locks that had earlier been so neatly brushed.
“You ready?” Pieck’s soft and melodious voice sounds out from her seat at the table. Her hands attempt to organize the mass on maps and papers. Despite not being as naturally talented as Armin in these things, her dedication to the Alliance’s cause is often heartwarming. Now it causes Annie to avert her eyes.
Annie instead turns to the wall of similar bags, grunting in answer. The disordered wall thematically fits in with the rest of the room’s chaos. She finds her specific sack, less jammed full than the rest, and reaches to unhook the hanging bag. Annie slings it over her shoulder, blending in with her long overcoat. It seems no matter where she goes, the darker shades of green always cling to her.
She hears the scraping of wooden chairs as the rest of the crew stands and gets ready to dock. Beginning to tune in their conversations, Annie hears the ongoing back forth between Jean, Connie, and occasionally Reinner.
“Well, I for one hope they won’t arrest us on sight”, Jean claims as he rests his palms on the messy table and stands up.
Reiner appears most nervous as he shuffles his feet while pushing in his chair, asking “Do you really think anyone will be waiting for us at the harbor?”
”They do know we’re coming and that is what Historia wrote in her letter”, Connie reminds them offhandedly.
“Can’t imagine they’re just going to let a bunch of war criminals loose around the island” Jean retorts.
Reiner furrows his eyebrows, suddenly defensive Annie imagines, it’s not as if she’s closely known him for many years.
“But we can’t even turn into titans, how much damage can a few traumatized veterans even cause?”
“Famous last words”, Jean scoffs.
He gives the rectangular mirror on the wall one final look as he elaborates, “I doubt they’ll believe all Allied Nation Representatives are actually unarmed.”
The three begin walking towards their bags before heading to the stairs. They overstep the cabin’s clutter, narrowly avoiding stacks of papers and other navigating trinkets that didn’t make it to the central table they had been sitting at. Armin chimes in as he files in behind the trio, “I think it’ll be ok guys. We did after all technically stop the Rumbling, and like Connie said earlier, let’s trust in Historia” he pauses to smile, lacing his fingers together in front, “besides Mikasa is definitely waiting for us as well; she promised in our last letter”.
Annie ignores the sudden rush in her chest as her breath hitches, instead, she focuses her thoughts once more on the events of that day. Again she questions to what degree they actually played a positive role in stopping the Rumbling. It sometimes feels like they were allowed to stop Eren more than actually end anything or save anyone. And that’s looking past all their previous actions, most of which lead up to the event in question.
“I sure hope they see it that way”, Pieck states–reflecting Annie’s doubts and remarks from earlier that morning regarding all their past deeds–“I find that the distinction between villain and hero is as fickle as the shoreline. One day we’re martyrs and the next mass murders. But, unfortunately for us, one’s not as easy for making peace negotiations”. Her sweetly lilting tone doesn’t voice anything the rest haven’t experienced firsthand.
As the six make their way to the deck, Annie can’t help but have her thoughts shift towards the island’s denizens. In particular those two.
At least towards Hitch, she knows what she feels. The ever-present guilt is definitely not a feeling Annie particularly enjoys but it beats the whole swirl she refuses to address when it comes to Mikasa. This is most likely not the ideal situation, especially as Annie’s pretty sure she’s about to come in contact with her and is absolutely unprepared.
Throughout the past three years, after the whole thing with the Rumbling went down, she would have liked to say her life was peaceful for once. No worries of alliances, betrayals, death, or fighting. But in reality, Eren’s death left no shortage of a mess.
The unrest coupled with the collective mourning of people on every side was felt by Annie even through her reconnection with her father. It especially found its foothold in the guilt that lay in waiting for her. Even with all her ‘resting’ in the crystal, she’d never really had a moment to pause and breathe. Yet, the second she had, all that guilt poured in. It’s not like she had much in Marley other than her father anyway, and thus she barely considered the country back then and now a home. Besides there was the fact that there was scarcely anything left of it anyway.
Furthermore, she found that she’d never put much thought into what came after if she’d ever succeeded in seeing her father again. The complex and confusing nature of their relationship definitely didn’t feel like a home and made her feel even more unsettled. Perhaps it was this guilt, and no real home to return to that made her say yes to Armin’s proposal.
When Armin first asked Annie to join the alliance it was still a half-baked idea that had sprung about in the wake of confusion that lay in whatever the Rumbling failed to crush. Initially, Annie gave the proposal a lot of thought. But between her guilt, lack of belonging, and still present gratitude towards Armin–it didn’t seem like the decision needed much deliberation.
From there the next three years had been a constant nightmare with few actual rewarding moments that made her feel like everything they’d been doing wasn’t for nothing. But Armin was right; they just needed time. Especially with this recent expedition, to make peace with the infamous island of devils, it was hard to brush off the alliance’s growing importance and accomplishments.
If anything, the constant work that came with being a representative was probably a relief. Annie had never imagined she’d be living that long of life. And so between her father’s initial parting words and Eren’s removal of the curse, she found herself in a position she’d never imagined. And while the aftermath of the Rumbling had been the primary concern for the Allied Nations’ Representatives, and thus a not such a strong form of escapism, it kept Annie away from the cursed island–and most importantly away from her.
At least with Hitch, she received the chance to apologize, thank, and say goodbye–albeit in a half-assed way. But with her...she hadn’t seen her since that day. It’s not that she had no ways of reaching Mikasa, after all, she and Armin kept in contact through letters the past few years. It’s more like she took the path of least resistance, as she always has, and simply fled. And now as the ship allows them to begin to make out faces along the shoreline, she fights with herself and the need to seek her out.
Standing out on the deck lined up with the other five and blocking the sun from her eyes, she initially spots a group of people, one of which stands a little pronounced from the rest.
Historia stands reminiscent of her current position, hands clasped in front of her and poised posture. Even without being able to make out Historia’s expression, Annie is sure it stands as poignant and stern as ever. The fact that she’s dressed in a staunch military uniform does not detract any part from her regality and if Annie stares at her long enough, she can imagine the crown she’s seen her in before. The uniform also conveys an underlying message that’s not lost on Annie’s well-trained eyes.
Living as a spy for so many years sharpened her ability to spot the most subtle nuances, something that would usually aid in saving her from rather unfortunate situations when she had been scouring the underground for information. Essentially Historia had shown, without having spoken a single word, that she allies herself with the current militant excitement brewing in Paradis. The real question is who the message is for; her old allies or the current fanatics cautiously watching her reunite with said allies. Needless to say, Annie does not find it reassuring.
The group of tense military higher-ups, some of which she thinks she recognizes, could explain why she has yet to spot her. While Armin has explained that they’ve somewhat reconciled with Mikasa’s existence there. From what Annie has gathered it’s more of a tentative and tense situation where the remaining Jaegerists are aware that she’s around, want her gone, but are careful to make any moves under Historia’s watchful eyes. After all, Annie does remember the two women getting closer throughout the years. She assumes it’s the island Eldians’ previous familiarity with monarchs that both keeps Historia on her throne and gives her the power to still subtly protect her old friend and prevent the matter from being further discussed.
As she’s reminded of this Annie looks further down the harbor, past the gathered officials. It’s only now that she finally spots her. Oh. It appears Armin had been telling the truth about her attendance.
There, past the initial group standing on the wooden dock, stands Mikasa.