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It’s an ordinary Tuesday afternoon. Annie is wearing an ordinary dress. Their friends are preparing an ordinary dinner to follow an ordinary ceremony. And because Armin finds joy in even the most mundane, everything is perfect.
“Didn’t you have an old friend back on Paraids?” Pieck asks in a mumble, her mouth full of pins. “What was her name again?”
Annie watches Pieck’s reflected movements in the mirror in front of her. “Hitch,” she says. Pieck brushes strands of hair behind Annie’s ears, then pins them carefully behind her head. “If she knew I was getting married without inviting her, she’d probably kill me.” Annie doesn’t actually believe that, and she does wish Hitch could be with her, but relations between Paradis and the rest of the world are tumultuous. Hitch can’t leave. Not now.
“She sounds great,” Pieck snorts. “A perfect fit for you.”
Annie can’t hide the smile creeping at the corners of her mouth. “We’ve tried. To kill each other, I mean.”
“Oh, I bet.” Pieck twists two strands of Annie’s hair on her fingers and confirms they hang at the same length. Satisfied with her work, she smooths out Annie’s dress and clasps her hands as she steps back. “When everything’s settled over there, you should introduce us.”
“I will,” Annie promises.
Pieck takes one last, long look at Annie, from toe to head. The teasing edge doesn’t quite leave her voice when she muses, “Who would have thought Annihilator Annie would be so eager to settle down?”
The Annie that Pieck had grown up with didn’t care about her own life, and she certainly didn’t care about others, either. But Annie has changed. She has Armin to thank for that. “I’m glad I’m not the same person I was back then,” she says honestly and earnestly.
For seven long years, all Annie had cared about was reuniting with her father. She should have expected it–that she wouldn’t want to be separated from the ones she loves. She wants to spend the rest of her life with the one that stayed at her side through her darkest times.
Walking through Liberio’s remains had become something of a habit for Annie and Armin. There wasn’t much left–just fragments of bricks pressed deeply into the packed soil and splintered branches floating in and out with the tide–but it was the only home Annie had ever known. There was a sense of familiarity in the air, in what used to be the streets, and in the shoreline. Despite everything, Armin was still drawn to the sea. He would stare–sometimes in awe, sometimes in reverence, and sometimes in grief. They didn’t need to speak during those times. Grasping each other’s hands and stepping in time with each other was enough.
She doesn’t even remember what day it was. There wasn’t anything special about it. They spent an hour or so sitting at the water’s edge, staring out towards the empty horizon, and then they began their slow trek back, hand in hand.
A lone flower–she didn’t know what kind–poked through the clay and reached towards the sun. Its soft blue petals reaching out in all directions looked like weeping waterfalls. The earth was healing. Maybe she could, too.
“Armin,” she said.
He stopped, holding her hand tightly in his and looking towards her with wide, concerned eyes.
She had spent so much time thinking when she had been crystallized, all those long years ago. That day, she didn’t think at all. She merely said what was on her heart. “I want to walk by your side for the rest of my life.”
He froze, but not coldly. The way he looked at her was familiar, with wonder and amazement that tugged at her heartstrings. She had made him confess to her twice. It was only fair that he received the same from her.
She buried her nose in her shirt, mumbling, “I-if you’ll have me.”
His lower lip trembled as the shock wore off and the realization washed over him like a tidal wave. His smile was brighter than the sun, his eyes gleamed with joyous tears, and the embrace that followed wrapped Annie in warmth for the next two weeks as they eagerly planned a whirlwind wedding together.
She didn’t want to wait. He didn’t either.
Pieck rests a hand on Annie’s back and looks at them both in the mirror. “You’ve found a new reason to live. I’ve never seen you happier.” There’s something melancholic in her voice when her hand drifts away. She glances to their right. “Someone’s here to see you.”
Annie follows Pieck’s line of sight. Sure enough, Reiner is standing awkwardly outside the doorway. She strides over, the fabric of her dress that Pieck had just smoothed bunching up where she holds it at her hips. “You’re blocking my exit,” she says plainly.
He lets himself inside, but he continues to stand stiffly, staring down at his feet. She can’t even see him breathing.
“Why are you getting all emotional? It’s my wedding, not yours.”
He doesn’t move, although she sees his shoulders raise in what must be a shaky breath. “I never thought any of us would get married,” he says, glancing from Annie, to Pieck, and then back at his feet.
“Hm.”
“We’d bring it up sometimes–when we were soldiers–what we would do when we were finally free, and who we’d want to spend our lives with. Jean was always first to share.”
Both Pieck and Annie chuckle. “Figures,” Annie says.
“But we warriors, we would never get that chance. We were murderers living on borrowed time.”
Annie hadn’t been expecting the new lease on life. Already, waking up after her four years of slumber had been like being brought back from the dead. And now, with decades at her fingertips to live peacefully with those she loves is more than she could have ever asked for.
She’s drawn out of her thoughts when Reiner places his hands on both of her shoulders. “I want you to be happy, Annie. That doesn’t mean much coming from me, but it’s how I feel.”
His sincerity never fails to bring a lopsided smile to her face. “I’m here today because of who we were before–because of our choices–and I wouldn’t change any of them. I’m glad you’re here to celebrate with me.”
His fingers quiver against her shoulders, and Pieck pulls him aside before he breaks down in tears. “Alright, let’s leave before you drip snot all over her dress. The groom will have that taken care of.” She shoos him out the door, then pokes her head back in to offer one final congratulations to Annie. “Your life belongs to you. I think this is what it means to be free.”
As she leaves, Annie walks over to the window and peels back the curtains to stare up at the sky. A flock of birds soars overhead.
The ceremony is small, attended only by Liberio and Survey Corps survivors, in an ordinary chapel in one of the few cities untouched by the Rumbling.
Armin waits at the end of the aisle, refusing to turn around until he feels Annie’s hand slip into his. And when she finally reaches him, when he drinks her in with the same wonder and amazement he reserves for her, Annie can feel herself crying with him.
The altar is covered in flowers–the same as she saw the day she proposed. Blue irises–hope for a better tomorrow. When she kisses him, when she tastes their salty, happy tears, she knows that their ordinary future will be everything she’s ever wanted.