Chapter Text
It would have been wonderful if she could have escaped that unfortunate torture but of course it was her duty and she could only stand still, trying to disappear in the crowd and why not, be a wallflower for the rest of the night. Her eyes landed on the couple who should have been her escort but was finally dancing together after Annie had destroyed Zeke’s feet. She had always had two left feet. She was neither a lady, nor a dancer and she was not elegant or beautiful in the least, nothing compared to the other ladies in the ballroom but somehow, her military success made her the object of men’s desire, a pity that her carnet for the evening was filled to the brim, even if with fake names she had invented to escape the dance floor. No one was going to make her change her mind.
- Miss Leonhart – her heart lost a beat, and she forced a smile when Bertolt, Reiner’s best friend came over and bowed
- Good evening –
- Yes, it seems so. Are you enjoying the soirée? –
- Well… I’m not sure. I… don’t usually attend these parties not as a lady at least. I mean not as just a lady I… I was on duty – he smiled
- Of course. We all know your incredible actions. Admirable –
- You mean that since I’m a woman my military successes are admirable? – he smirked, maybe she could have shut her smart mouth…
- No, I’m saying that all these men wouldn’t have been able to do what you did – Annie blushed a little -of course some of them can be saved – he admitted looking up at the commander standing at the end of the stairs chatting with some officers. She should have been there with them discussing war strategies and joking about the cadets not waiting for a dance proposal.
- Is there still some place for a dance? – Annie blinked
- Well… I guess so – she whispered unable to refuse since Peak and Zeke were nodding intensely – but I must warn you: I’m a terrible dancer –
- I won’t judge your performance. I just want to chat with you a little longer –
At least the melody was lively. Not as lively as a fight but not as boring as she would have expected from this type of party. She had actually stepped on his feet twice when she found herself in the arms of another man, she landed between his arms perfectly, gripping gently on callous hands that were kindly holding hers, when their gazes met Annie’s breath got caught in her throat especially when those blue gems stared directly into her sky-blue ones.
- We meet again, Annie – he whispered into her ear
She had no time to reply, she was forcibly led to meet with Bertolt once again. The dance required so. But her eyes did not leave him for a second and he, well he sometimes looked at her but did not ignore the lady in front of him, a girl she knew to be an Ackerman. In that moment she forgot how to breath. And the air became suffocating, she needed to find a way out.
- Are you okay, Annie? – Bertolt’s voice sounded distant
- uh? –
- Is there something wrong? – he asked holding her elbow, worried that she might be feeling sick
- I… need some fresh air, please do not follow me, it would be inappropriate. T-thank you for the dance – Bertolt bowed and let her go. The cold air made her shiver but at least she came back to her senses and finally Armin Arlert-Smith was out of her head.
- Are you fleeing from your gallant suitor? –
She turned and grinned – and you? Why did you follow me when you were dancing with such a beauty? –
- Are you talking about Mikasa? Because if that’s the case I always dance with her even if she doesn’t need my help in finding suitors, she’s a beauty indeed but she’s just a friend – Annie nodded.
- Not that I care –
- Of course – he replied walking towards her, he leaned against the balcony, beside her and they faced the hall full of dancing couples
- I heard you’ll soon become the new commander –
- My father thinks it is time for him to retire. I guess that it is a good idea since apparently, we live peacefully now –
Annie’s face was brushed by the cold nightly wind, in that moment she missed that awful, decorated shawl that Pieck told her to bring – here, you look cold –
- Nothing that I cannot… - stand. The smell of the ocean, salty as its water and fresh as its coldness made her brain stop working. That familiar fragrance that haunted her dreams since what it seemed to be an eternity surrounded her and made her heart flutter like butterflies. Armin Arlert-Smith smelled exactly like this: like freedom and…home. She brought her gaze on his face that was a few inches too close to be appropriate, he had grown into a handsome young man, and no one could deny the change, at least his father’s genes worked some kind of magic during his teenager years. And the attraction she felt ages ago forced its way into her mind, making her body tickle as if she was ready to shoot her prey during hunts sessions. She blinked, slowly and automatically her lips parted waiting for a kiss that was not going to come.
- Why did you surrender? You told me you wanted to be an independent woman – the question left her speechless, she narrowed her eyes and took some steps backwards putting some distance between them, for safety. Here she was, ready to lose any self-restraint. Shameful.
- I did not surrender, Armin. It’s my duty as a woman, as a role model. All those girls that grew up hearing stories about me need to be reminded that this society still requires women to be married and provide healthy sons and daughters for their homeland –
- So you’re telling me that you would let your children go to war? –
- No, I wouldn’t let them if I could stop them but… my father did raise me with certain values, and I would never deny anything to them. If their wish is to become a warrior, I will, if unwillingly, accept their decision - she then cleared her throat – but as you said, we live peacefully now, am I right? –
- Yes, you are –
Looking at him, Annie realized that that young man was the only one to cause her to lose control. When she was around him she became unpredictable. When he was around her, he became… authoritative. And she loved a man with a temper. He took a step forward grabbing her hand, covered by a satin white glove.
- Are you here to find a husband? –
- I could ask you the same question –
- I’m here because people kept pestering me about the marriage matter –
- No one, apart from Bertolt Hoover came to me tonight. I do not know if I have to feel relieved or not – a bitter laugh escaped her lips.
- Will you dance with me? –
- I’m sorry? –
He held out his hand for her to take – please, it’s been ages since we last danced together… shouldn’t I check if my lessons were useful? –
- They were not – she replied gritting her teeth
- Pretty please? –
Annie rolled her eyes and gave in to temptation, the closeness of his body, his hands on her back, his eyes fixed on her made her feel desired even if she knew he did not have feelings for her, surely, he was into more feminine women. She wasn’t pretty, she wasn’t talented… she was a warrior for fuck’s sake not a doll. And Armin was a fine man that was surely looking for a suitable wife who could be able to handle all his colleagues during pleasant soirées. Not a soldier. Not a counsellor. But in that moment, Annie let herself believe that he desired her. It was a beautiful lie that kept her unrequited love at bay. It was just a childish dream that made that farce easier. When the music ended, Annie’s breath was unsteady, her cheeks red and she didn’t want to let go of his hands.
- Goodnight, oh I really need to go –
- Go where? – he inquired confused – we can dance a little more if you… -
- I’m sorry, I can’t do that –
- Are you feeling sick? –
- No it’s just… - she searched for Pieck and found her among some older ladies – I’m sorry – she withdrew her hand, he gripped it but the only thing that rested in his hand was her small glove
- Annie – he whispered but she was already gone. In a swing of gowns, she disappeared just like she did every morning in his dreams. Yes, they could never be. It was obvious that she did not have any kind of feelings for him. And probably she never had … his heart ached a bit, the bitter taste of his unrequited love lingered on his lips, and it was as bitter as her intoxicating perfume that lingered on his hands. He stared at the glove and hid it into his pockets before retiring, too tired to face anyone.