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He loved her-the realization pierced her like a barb through her heart.
What Annie couldn’t figure out was why.
Had she not tried to kill him? Had she not slaughtered his companions?
Their death cries still haunt her,
(More haunting still is her own conclusion that she would do it all again if it meant returning home to her father.
She would do it again and yet she wishes she could take it all back. She wishes that burden had never been placed on her shoulders.
What does that make her?)
The ship rocks beneath her and she grips the railing, uncertain.
This is hardly her first time on a boat.
It’s just been… years.
Armin’s presence beside her is not entirely unwelcome. She just isn’t sure what to make of it.
Especially not after his confession.
He hasn’t said anything since then.
Neither has she.
She swallows thickly and decides that it’s time to break that silence.
“...why?”
No matter how hard she looks, she can’t find what he sees in her.
She’s a monster.
Armin stills.
“I don’t understand,” she whispers, softer still. She won’t look up at him, unable to face those eyes, always so gentle, when she knows she deserves none of his compassion.
A warm hand covers her own.
When she raises her head, surprised into glancing at him, he blushes and looks away.
“I realized something,” he admits, just as softly. “During all that time I spent talking to you while you were in the crystal,” -an involuntary shiver runs up her spine at the mention of her self-imposed prison. Back then, Armin’s voice had been her only comfort, the only thing that kept her from going completely and utterly mad- “and remembering what…” he falters, voice catching. For a moment, she wonders if he’ll drop it, but he keeps going, “what Bertolt remembered.”
His fingers wrap loosely around hers, but then he’s pulling away from her to wrap his arms around himself as he leans against the railing, staring out into the distance.
“I wanted to be angry with you. And I was.” He hunches his shoulders, pulling in on himself, like this confession is something he’s ashamed of. “I never wanted to believe that you were the Female Titan.”
“But…?” Annie presses. Her heart is pounding. She knows that she deserves his anger. His hatred.
Instead, he loves her.
“You were just doing what you had to do to survive. Just like we were.”
It sounds so pretty coming from him.
“Don’t do that.” It sounds more bitter than she had intended.
“Do what?”
He looks surprised. Maybe even hurt.
She can’t deal with that. She looks away.
“Make it sound so poetic. I’m a murderer.”
“So are we. So am I. We’re the same.”
Something twists uncomfortably in her gut.
“We’re not the same.”
“Annie…” He grabs her hand and when she spins to pull away, the earnest look in his eyes stops her short. “You forget,” he smiles at her sadly, “I have Bertolt’s memories. I know what he saw. I know you.”
“You only know a part of me,” she whispers. She drops her eyes, suddenly ashamed to meet his gaze.
“I saw what they forced on you,” Armin says. “You really only wanted to protect your family, didn’t you?” He forces a laugh that startles Annie. It sounds wild and pained. It leaves her feeling disturbed. “It seems no matter where, we’re always the demons. The hated Eldian race. The world won’t be free until we’re gone.”
Annie looks out over the water. “Yeah.” She knows she sounds impassive, but she also can’t help it.
She feels numb, like someone scooped her insides out and replaced them with unfeeling sand.
She has the blood of so many people on her hands. Innocent people who never once did anything to hurt her.
Yet she told herself again and again that it was all in self defense.
The Eldians were the descendents of demons.
Kill the ones who dared resist and you and the rest of your kin will be spared.
Such a pretty lie.
She had almost believed it.
How was she, at ten years old, supposed to speak out against the ones who forced them into camps, who sent them out to die?
Who turned them into monsters?
“I don’t agree.”
She raises her head, listening to him silently. He’s always had a way with words. Unlike those of the ones who sent her here, his pretty words never came from a place of malice. Instead, they sprang from a desire to understand the world. To understand people.
To make sense of things that would make no sense otherwise.
(Maybe that’s what pulls her in.)
“We’re just people, aren’t we? All of us, just people.”
All of us, just people. We’re all just people.
Without thinking, she reaches out and grabs his hand.
The action startles them both, but before Annie can think to pull away or wonder if Armin himself would pull away, his fingers wrap around hers in a firm hold.
This feels nice, she thinks, unbidden as she’s filled with warmth, and almost immediately feels guilty for doing so.
Is she allowed to feel this way after everything?
As though she’s afraid he might be snatched away from her, Annie holds Armin a little tighter.