Chapter Text
“Be careful with Armin. He's a nice kid, and he might not be the strongest on the battlefield—nowhere near a Mikasa, but he makes up for it with his brains. He’s sharp— very sharp. ”
That one night in the forest, huddled in late autumn, Reiner was tense, like he was telling a horror story, and he could have been. “Armin could have seen through that, Bertolt, you have to be careful what you say.” He buried his head in his hands, muffling his own words until they were mere mumbles.
Or you know… he could just be acting like he's weak as a kitten.
Maybe it's all just a show.
Or maybe we're just looking too deep into it.
Armin wouldn’t see through everything, right? That was such a small comment.
She could make out some of them at least. Sometimes Reiner muttered things to himself, almost unintelligibly, and if Annie just looked away and lost herself staring at the full moon just above her, or at the rustling of trees, she could convince herself that maybe his mumblings were just wind or maybe Reiner’s little episode was just a side effect of fatigue.
Maybe he wasn't just losing his mind.
Bert groaned. “I probably shouldn't have made up that story. I'm sorry.”
Reiner sighed. “What happened happened. Just… don't say anything, about the town or if anyone asks… just say you forgot.”
“Wouldn't you think it's strange at all for anyone to forget everything about their hometown?” Annie asked with one raised eyebrow. If she were stuck there listening, she might as well play around with Reiner’s already-fragile psyche.
“It's a side effect of PTSD—” Reiner stumbled over his sentences, as if he had almost bitten his tongue. “Either way, better amnesia than not knowing that lavender doesn't grow in the outer walls.
“I could have sworn I saw some on the way in.”
“That's what you forget.” Reiner chided. “People don't know what's outside—-”
If Annie didn’t stand when she did, interrupting whatever Reiner’s train of thought had been, the blond probably would have gone on some other long tirade. “Are you gonna waste your time arguing or do we go back in? We're gonna be late for curfew.” If anything, Annie knew she didn’t deserve that scolding, Bertolt did. She was a lot better at keeping to herself than the two, and if Reiner still felt like scolding Bertolt, he could find another time, and she didn’t need to be part of it.
“Just—” Reiner paused and stared ahead, like for a second he lost himself in his own thoughts. “Just don't say too much.”
“Or— don't say anything at all. Don’t talk to the islanders. Don’t play big brother to them.” Annie stood up first and looked pointedly at Reiner. She would have liked to at least pretend the suggestion was for all of them, but in truth, the only problem had been Reiner who was way too friendly, and although Bert kept to himself a lot more, he had a higher tendency of being less careful with his words.
A rustle of grass and right behind her stood Reiner, ready to make his way back. Bert remained, stiff on his seat.
“You okay?” Reiner asked.
“Hey Reiner… if any one of them finds out, will we have to…”
“If it means keeping up appearances and buying time to look for the founding titan, we should be ready to do anything,” Reiner said.
After that exchange, they all froze for a moment, and Reiner had been the first to gather enough strength and walk back to the barracks, and Bert had even overtaken Annie. Only when Bert was already a few feet away did Annie realize, she had stood, frozen on her tracks, staring down at the barracks just at the foot of the hill.
The campfire was lit up and a few of the cadets were sitting by. From her distance, they were like moths gathering against a flame. The unfortunate part was, there was no way of reaching the women's barracks without making a beeline through the campfire and benches
It was advantageous for their mission at least. Because she never had to go back with Bert and Reiner, she never had to meet with them, meaning she was less likely to be implicated with them. And with it, she was happy for her own personal reasons.
If it were up to her, she’d rather be acting alone, unless the mission required she act with them. But it hadn’t been that way in a while. Since they arrived at the military camp more than two years back, their mission had consisted of assimilating, learning to use the ODM gear, and taking advantage of their days off to search for leads on the founding titan.
By the time she arrived at the camp, Berg and Reiner were nowhere to be seen, and she made her way towards the edge of the mess hall. Maybe if she stayed close to the shadows, far from the illumination of the flames, she could slip in and out with no more than a glance at whoever was there.
“Annie… You're not going to sleep yet?”
He’s sharp— very sharp.
“Armin?” Annie raised her eyebrows in greeting. They were just wide enough to mask the way she jumped, the way her eyes widened. Did he notice the shock, the panic?
She shouldn't be panicking. But when they spent the last few minutes talking about him and about how sharp he was, of all people, and more specifically about killing him if need be, his mere presence was enough to heighten her senses.
She couldn’t help but entertain such an absurd prospect. Could he read her mind? Could he see through her?
“You okay?”
Annie shook her head. “Nothing… I'm just tired.”
“Figures… I expected you’d be asleep by now?”
“What do you mean by that, Arlert?” Annie gripped her hand nervously from behind her, playing with the tip of her sleeve. She couldn't think of much to say.
Armin put his hands up in some panicked attempt at defense and denial. “Yeah, but you do really well with the hand to hand combat, and you seemed to adjust so well to the military drills, so. Makes me think you probably got some training as a kid, maybe your parents got you sleeping early… waking up early, so I thought you're probably used to—” In retrospect, most of what Armin did say, made a lot of sense.
If he wasn’t as sharp as Reiner aggrandized him to be, he was, at least, observant.
Armin tended to lower his head when he explained things, hiding his own value behind the curtain of blond hair just long enough to conveniently obscure whatever expression settled on his features, or with the way his voice trembled needlessly when he spoke.
“You’re right. I do sleep early most nights, then wake up early.” She neglected to mention that even if she was sleeping the hours Armin expected, four of those were probably spent lying awake reflecting on the lie she was living. “I guess I just needed some time alone tonight… then I’ll probably get some sleep.”
Armin averted his gaze. “Meanwhile, I'm struggling to get some sleep.”
Only when he said that, did Annie notice the cup he cradled between his hands.
“It's lavender.” He had noticed pretty quickly that Annie had been looking “We didn't have this back in Shiganshina… and I'm guessing you probably never got it too.”
Lavender was in fact a dime a dozen bushels in Marley, but Annie had to pretend somehow. “I've heard about it.”
“It helps… with sleeping problems. Mikasa, Eren and I got some during our day off… and I found it does work and maybe I should get more on our next trip out…” He held it in front of her. “You want some? If it’s this late… and you’re far from sleepy. It could help, maybe?”
That was how, twenty minutes before the scheduled curfew, they were still sitting by the fire. Armin had procured for her another military grade tea cup, a ratty wooden brown cup that occasionally bristled at the slightest movement of her lip. Sometimes, she missed the plastic available back in Marley.
“You know, the reason why lavender is so hard to find is because it dies really easily… It grows a lot better in winter and autumn, when the air is dry. When the weather gets humid during the summer… apparently, they die out much faster. And they die a lot… And I’m guessing… maybe overtime it became a luxury.. Or a status symbol… never brought it out to the walls… Or at least, that’s what the shopkeeper told me.”
Paradis was an island. As he spoke, Annie noted that the springs and summers were far more humid than they were in Marley. Most of the lavender had been imported from the Southern Colonies, from the valleys and mountains where the air was dry enough and the sun bright enough to produce lavender by truck.
“I’m thinking… maybe if we get out of the walls one day. Maybe they’d have lots more lavender. Maybe there are places out there where the air is dry all year round… that lavender can grow in fields, no fear of dying from the humidity.”
Annie didn’t feel it at first.
“I used to read a lot about rows of mountains, about bodies of water that stretch so far, and apparently… in the really big ones, the water is salty… they’re called oceans.”
She didn’t feel it until it was a juxtaposition, a contradiction, sitting on her shoulders. It was both heavy and light. Her own memories of her childhood of military training with the Marleyan navy were heavy, memories of the characteristic smell of salt and fish as she made her way up to the deck in the middle of the night, and retched everything she ate right into the ocean, almost half her body, hanging over the railings.
Meanwhile, Armin’s presence was a light caress on her shoulders, as the theme of his conversation shifted from the scarcity of lavender to an overly romanticized view of the ocean.
“You’re getting sleepy?”
Annie hummed. She didn’t trust herself to say anything else.
“Well, if you are, then the lavender’s probably doing its work— or I hope it is. Sorry, I’m not really good at telling… or maybe you just prefer to keep it to yourself, but either way, I hope it helps.”
“It did,” Annie said, and she didn’t have to shift her gaze to hear the relief, in the way he had let out a tiny exhale. “I’m gonna go to sleep.” She was slow and deliberate with her movements as she stood up. If she stood too quickly, he might even notice the stiffness of her extremities, or the way her voice had clipped as she spoke. She still didn’t trust herself to comment about anything.
Armin is sharp. Reiner’s voice echoed in her head, an uncomfortable ringing that slammed at her eardrums, and she was starting to feel the beginnings of a headache.
Don’t get too close. She reminded herself.
“Annie, if you have trouble something— or you know, I mean, if you just want more tea—”
“Thank you for the lavender, Armin,” Annie responded firmly. “But I’ll pass on the invite. I don’t think I’ll need it anymore. Good night.” She pocketed the cup and stood up, and turned her back towards him. How she wished she could have stayed a little longer, and maybe she could have at least appended that genuine greeting with at least a ghost of a smile.
But she didn’t trust herself.
If Armin really was as sharp as they said he was, then he was a dangerous combination. He was sharp, yet he was kind, considerate and selfless, while everyone else was competing to reach the top ten, even considering sabotage, Armin was constantly supporting others, putting their own welfare above his own.
“Just don’t be shy about it. It’s very calming, and I’ve been rationing pretty well.
If Lavender was a luxury… and it was only available in the inner walls…
It was very Armin to offer something he didn’t have.
“You don’t have a lot of that lavender, do you?” Annie didn’t turn to look at Armin. If she did, she might just be tempted to stay longer.
Armin didn’t respond in those few seconds she gave.
“If it is, then keep it for yourself for when you’re having trouble sleeping, or for Eren and Mikasa, and stop offering it to every single person you meet. Putting up this front of ‘kind and generous’ won’t make you any new friends, nor will it make you perform any better in those drills.”
And she walked away, albeit slow and steady, and hopefully she had looked relaxed or calm. She couldn’t tell, and she was only lucky Armin hadn’t asked her to stay.
Those few minutes carrying herself back to her room, she convinced herself that lavender was just a little excessive, especially when she didn’t have that big of a trouble sleeping. Besides, she could get all the lavender she wants back home, once they finish the mission.
But as she lay in bed, trapped in this strange state between drowsy yet restless, Annie couldn’t help but realize that magic lavender did work. It was a relaxant that preyed on her aching limbs, worn and beaten from hours on the ODM gear that day, but her mind was wide awake, pushing her limbs to give up on whatever luxury they had been given and stay alert.
Armin’s sharp.
He’s weak as a kitten, but he’s sharp.
Or maybe it’s just all for show?
Maybe Armin was a master of manipulation. Maybe Armin wanted himself to be seen as kind, as generous, as forgiving. And maybe she was falling for it. After all, kindness was the best manipulation tool, and of course someone like Reiner, who had first commented on Armin, had mastered such a tool to a T.
Maybe Armin’s kindness was all for show? Maybe he knew? Maybe he was goading some truth out of them? Maybe the comment on the ocean was—
Reiner’s words echoed again, much louder and more jarring in the dark of her own room.
If it means keeping up appearances and buying time to look for the finding titan, we should be ready to do anything.
Then and there, the warrior in Annie decided, Armin was sharp, and he was manipulative. With every waking moment, she grew more and more convinced, as she came to terms with the fact that despite that magic lavender resting her bones, her mind was wide awake, the cogs in full throttle, all because of a little exchange and whatever hell it could have meant.
Annie didn’t ask about the lavender, and she was thanking every god she didn’t believe in, that Armin didn’t confront her about it, nor did he ever offer another cup of lavender.
Was he hurt about what she said? Armin hadn’t been doing well in drills either, and if he was just genuinely kind and generous, did she hit a sore spot. Yet, all she had wanted to was push away before she pulled off the same mistake as Bert, and she justified every other time Armin had chosen to offer to help Connie with his ODM gear, or to support a starving Sasha over by giving some of his own bread to replace what she had lost over breakfast.
Only Historia had been as kind. Everyone else preferred to mind her own business.
Over time, she likened Armin toe a thread that weaved through each interaction so effortlessly. He was like the thickest thread, that flit effortlessly through the weaving panel, before tying the rest of the threads together, making one big picture— one Annie would hate to forget— of what military recruit life, beyond the endless drills and the fierce competition. It was about making friends, about supporting one another, about preserving the familiar while dreaming of the unfamiliar.
Armin was good at that. He always had something to share about something he read about life outside the walls, yet he also always had the patience and the profound curiosity to sit and listen, as someone explained something as ordinary as where the best milk in town was.
Armin was a thread over a tapestry, and Annie became keenly aware that she could have just been another row he’d weave his way in and out of in seconds.If their life in the barracks was a picture, woven together intricately through threads, Annie would have guessed that Armin was the artist behind all of it.
Manipulative, don’t you think?
Maybe he was, she hated to entertain it, but she was just another thread, but those small interactions left something for her to ponder. Sometimes, he would push her ahead of the line over breakfast.
“Sorry, I haven’t decided what to get yet… so I’d hate it if you had to wait for me to pick…”
The barracks didn’t offer many selections often, but it had been a special day.
Sometimes, he’d even just invite her.
“Gonna teach Eren some tricks on how to clean his ODM gear. You can join us if you want.” He grinned wryly. “We’re probably gonna be up pretty late.”
Armin’s sharp.
It was still a haunting thought.
How much of my life can you actually see? Are you suspicious at all?
She also wondered if he had ever forgotten what Bert had said about Lavender.
Everything about it had her mind going in every different direction at once. Armin was a mastermind, Armin was that one thread that held the tapestry of their military training days together.
He was smart, observant, kind, generous. He was everything at once, but Armin didn’t make it to the Top 10, and she thought it almost an injustice.
Any genius would have made it to the top 10, right? Admittedly, Armin wasn’t the most physically gifted, but he made up for it with hours and hours worth of stories among meals, of strategies in the mock battlefield. It was a shame they never recognized it, and she wondered why she even cared.
Because Armin was sharp and manipulative. Or maybe Armin just had a certain way of carrying himself, which made everyone just care about him. Everything had just been the “Armin effect,” she dubbed it so pathetically to herself. Some people were just natural talkers, not in the way a businessman would be, but in a way that seemed to connect everyone to a room, to make them all feel like they wanna belong, and sometimes, to draw people in, to force those same people to spend precious hours thinking about someone who probably had only ever set aside a minute of every hour she dedicated to him.
Yes, Reiner could be right. Armin could be sharp and manipulative, but he could also just be someone who saw purpose in life in bringing everyone together, in dreaming about the ocean, something Annie could only ever dream of ever feeling so profoundly.
They didn’t have to entertain the prospect of killing Armin. After all, the results showed, he wasn’t as dangerous as they made him out to be. She’d be lying if she said, his being left out of top 10, had somewhat set her own doubts and fears to rest.
Until Marco died—- Until she killed Marco.
Until she killed those titans.
Until she was lugging his gear to the inspection, and Armin had appeared behind her, with those inquisitive blue eyes. “You wanna walk there together?”
What was she supposed to say, no? The ODM gear was in a clunky box, a bit oversized for her small frame, and she was walking awkwardly, there was no opportunity to take a detour without looking suspicious. Armin had already settled to a comfortable pace right next to her.
“Oi!” And when Connie caught up…
“Were you guys ever able to get a good night’s sleep… After Trost?” Armin asked, with a sardonic tremble of his lip.
Annie didn’t respond. That meager four hours had turned to two with Marco’s death.
“Eventually,” Connie responded.
Armin sighed. “To be honest, if I could just go back to town on another one of those special overnight trips and get some extra lavender…”
And Annie didn’t know how long those two had been talking, before Armin turned to her. “You look like you haven’t been getting any sleep.”
“Do I?” Annie asked.
“Yeah, you seem more sluggish while carrying your ODM gear, and you’re just—-” He froze, but his eyes bored holes into her.
Armin was sharp.
The problem, Marco is you’re just too damn sharp…
He heard our conversation. We can’t let him live.
This is what makes us warriors.
And what would Armin have to do, what would Armin have to see, for Reiner and Bert to suggest that they’d have to kill him too. If they did, if they ordered him to kill her, would she be able to do it.
Armin’s sharp.
“Armin, it’s rude to stare.” She injected it with all the cold venom she could muster.
“Sorry… I just… was worried.”
Don’t look at me. She wished she could say it, because just staring at him, had her mind moving in dangerous directions.
Would Armin beg for his life the same way Marco had, if she told him about the large expanse of blue, about the ocean, as she took him out, if she told him that she enjoyed everything about their friendship, about his presence, would it alleviate that betrayal even just a bit?
Armin flashed her a look of concern. “Just make sure to get a good night’s sleep after this? Okay? We’re just waiting for enlistment, so there’s not much to do.” He slowed his pace to match hers, and Armin there, right next to her, was comforting to say the least, but it was more strange than comforting.
It was both a boon and a curse. He was comfortable, yet a voice was whispering closely, shaking her from the inside. She was a warrior. She shouldn’t be comforted by island devils, especially not this devil, the one she had pictured just killing.
Her gut clenched. She didn’t wanna kill Armin.
And the conversation soon shifted to enlistment, as they lay their gear out among the rows.
“If someone told you to die, would you?”
“What? No,” Connie responded.
“Then do what matters to you.” Her attention quickly shifted. “What about you. Armin?”
“I think I might, if the situation called for it, and I understood why I had to die. Not that I want to.”
“So you’ve decided.”
“But it has always been my plan.”
Annie was frozen, and stiff, just another cadaver standing in attention, listening idly as Armin broke the news. He spoke about death so sullenly, yet so maturely, as if he had accepted it, not as a probability, but an inevitable.
Her heart sank, yet the warrior in her stayed afloat.
She wouldn’t have to kill Armin. He may be sharp, manipulative, and a conglomeration of many other inconvenient things, but he was best friends with that suicidal bastard. He was a selfless bimbo, who believed more in ideals and dreams than their present situation.
Conveniently, by committing himself to the scouts, he decided to take himself out. And if he did take himself out, and take with him, his sharpness, his wit, everything that threatened the whole mission, she would never have to entertain those nightmares: forcing his ODM gear out of him, and watching him be eaten by a titan, she wouldn’t have to imagine talking him out to the edge of the barracks, over the view of the lush greenery, telling him about the ocean before pushing him off a cliff,
If she were honest with herself, if she were honest with Reiner and with Bert, she probably would have let Armin live, a combination of not wanting another death like Marco’s on her shoulders and not wanting the blood on her hands from killing someone who was in love with living as he was.
Live.
Armin loved living differently from everyone else.
Armin had a strong unwavering desire to live more freely, much more happily, more fruitfully than even a lot of the people back home, everyone who had mobility at their fingertips, going so far as Azumabito in the north East, those who had the big expanse of the ocean right at their door, something only Armin could only ever dream of.
So eager to live, yet so eager to die at the same time.
“You’re weak but you’ve got guts,” she said, and she meant it.
If it wasn’t a complete absurdity, which contemplated the abdication of her position, and a risk to her father’s, maybe she would have dreamed of taking him to the ocean herself. Then she wondered if she’d ever live that long to even consider it.
She had less than ten years left give or take. She was the idiot who was ordered to die in thirteen years, and she took it. And was it necessary? Was there a reason to die?
No, she wasn’t dead yet, and Armin would likely die much sooner than she would, especially if he was going there of all places.
“Annie you really kind person aren’t you… You don’t look like you want us to join the scouts.”
It could have been a thoughtless comment, or one laced with a thousand other thoughts, interjections and connotations Annie would hate to entertain.
She wanted Armin to join the Scouts.
Take yourself out.
Run into a titan’s mouth and get eaten alive.
Fall back down on the ground lifeless in some stupid ass attempt to save your best friend.
Or just fall stupidly off your horse and hit your head while you run.
Anything.
Anything.
The warrior in Annie should have known that she could be faced with the prospect of killing Armin if need be. The soldier— the one who spent hours in that tapestry of Armin’s life, another filler thread among others— was screaming for him to die… only so the warrior wouldn’t have to be the one to kill him, so Armin’s death would just be news, a mere passing conversation topic among Reiner, Bert and Annie, and all she’d have to show for it was some unwelcome grief, heavily adorned with a sigh of relief.
And that moment, she couldn’t help but even laugh at how pure titans would have done such a better job at taking Armin out, than she could ever do.
That’s how manipulation worked… I guess? Annie thought to herself in defeat.
“Do you have any special reason for joining the military police?”
“Not really, I just wanna help myself.”
The right flank. That’s where he’s being kept.
You know what you might have to do to get everyone out of the way.
When Reiner first explained it, he was careful with his words, as if he was at the least mildly aware that Marco’s death had done things to her psyche.
Might have to do?
Reiner was careful with his words, but it was more insulting than encouraging.
What you’re going to have to do. She corrected to herself.
Eren wasn’t the only suicidal bastard. Every single person who joined the Scouts, had probably come into terms at some point in their induction that they probably wouldn’t make it out alive.
Armin probably wouldn’t make it back either. Likely, given his constitution, his skills with the ODM gear— not good, but not bad either, he was facing a very probable death. At the same time, he was smart, sharp, manipulative, but he was facing a very likely death like it was tea on a hot afternoon.
“So if someone ordered you to die, would you do it?”
“I think I might, if the situation called for it, and I understood why I had to die… Not that I want to.”
The way he had put such a quick disclaimer in the end was almost laughable. Nobody wanted to die. It was human nature to want to survive, but to stare at a death so probable and keep moving forward.
Suicidal Bastard
The word suicidal didn’t fit Armin at all, in the same way that it did Eren Jaeger. In fact, it didn’t fit him at all.
Armin joined the Scouts, and he was a boy smart enough to understand statistics and probability, to understand survival rates and every single dreadful implication that came with the scouts and their numbers. At the same time, he was so in touch with his dreams, and his thoughts, and if Annie had laid out everything in front of her, every passing conversation back in the barracks, Armin had been the most in touch with reality, the most in touch with life.
There was more to life than survival. There was more to life, and maybe it was stupid to think so far ahead, but maybe that was the only way to keep going.
She could still see her father.
And maybe whatever he was on, had been contagious.
She would look ahead, she would think only of the mission, She would maim, kill, murder… massacre in order to survive.
That is…Until he was right in front of her, eyes wide, helpless, the hood of his Survey Corps hood falling uselessly behind him. He was warm, and even before she pulled at his hood, she had noticed he had been trembling.
He didn’t wanna die. He’d face death like the inevitable that it was, but he was scared of it just like everyone else. Armin was only human after all.
And maybe Annie could have gathered the courage to hurl him miles away. He’d either die from the speed of the throw or from the impact his body would make as it hit the ground or some tree. Maybe she could have gathered whatever part of a soldier’s stone heart would be needed, to raise her knee and lower it quickly over where he knelt. He’d die immediately.
But he was warm to touch, as he sat frozen. Unmoving… yet shaking. His eyes were the same ones, the ones that looked at Bert, observing and thoughtful, as the latter had mentioned something about lavender growing outside the walls. Armin was terrified, but his mind was still moving.
Annie had just snuck too many glances, not to notice such a minute detail.
Armin was sharp, and whatever he was thinking could be her downfall. It would have been easy enough to just angle her knee just right, or let go, smacking her hand hard on the ground, or even just hurling him straight ahead like he was a baseball. All that would have done the job.
Armin didn’t cry, nor did beg for his life, not like the many others she had killed before. She could have chalked it up to a sense of selfishness. Maybe it would have been easier to kill him if he begged.
It was likely all of it at once that had her frozen in indecision. Armin didn’t cry nor beg, but he wanted to live. She didn’t sit silently, listening over lavender tea, only to forget such a salient part of him.
It was in those wide blue eyes staring up at him, those same eyes that told him about that vast beautiful expanse of blue with enough salt so everyone wouldn’t be eating tasteless porridge in the morning.
Now that she did think about it, his eyes were the same hint of blue as the ocean on a clear day. And there was innocence, and naivete, just enough of both to convince her, Armin wasn’t that sharp, he wouldn’t know, he wouldn’t tell, and she bolted straight ahead, and let out soft huff. Running in her titan form, when all she could see were canopies, and the sky just above, she could pretend she was flying.
Armin was sharp. He was manipulative.
But it could have all been just mere conjecture or paranoia. After all, it had been a long time since someone felt like a reprieve to her, since someone felt like home.
How much would Armin know? How much was she sacrificing keeping him alive?
In that moment, that had been third or even fourth down her list of priorities, a signal blinking faintly at the back of her mind. Her first priority had been to find out where Eren was. She had taken out the whole right flank, as Reiner had advised, but Eren hadn’t been there.
Did she go further into the formation? Did she keep running?
What if she just… goes home?
If she kept running, she’d make it to the edge. She’d climb the wall, run further, all the way up to the port, and Marley would eventually send a ship, and she could just live off whatever was growing at the port until then.
And when they catch her? When they find out she deserted the mission with nothing to show for it, three days later?
That problem could wait, at least until she was over the wall, far away and maybe waiting by beach
For a while that had been her first priority, as she stared ahead at the horizon. It was a tranquil moment, so rudely interrupted by the clang of metal on titan muscle, then a sharp pain. The timing wasn’t in her favor, to say the least. Her rhythm and pace a complete mess, she keeled over, swinging her arms behind her, in a successful attempt to catch her balance.
Someone had thrown their ODM gear at her ankles, and looking back, she found there were more urgent matters. She couldn’t think of the founding titan’s location, nor could she dream of getting home, if she couldn't even take out the hooded figure in front of her.
A detour, or a supervening other priority, whatever it was, Annie could get it done quickly, with the smack of her wrist on the horse. The soldier wasn’t particularly quick on his horse, nor did he have the reflexes to dodge.
This would be easy.
But easy, had so quickly become difficult, when her priority switched once again. She wanted to head home. She wanted to take Eren. She wanted to take down those soldiers after… Yet, as the soldier flew back, his hood fell away, revealing cornsilk hair… that familiar cornsilk hair.
She wished she could have been agile enough to catch him as he tumbled a few feet away, with a gut wrenching thud. She didn’t even feel like she had been in control, as she covered the few feet to where he lay.
Lifeless?
No. He’s still alive.
If he died, it would have been nothing but an inconvenient accident to anyone else in the Scouts, and to Reiner and Bert, maybe it would have been more of a convenient accident, or at least to the warriors inside them. She wouldn’t be surprised if Reiner had done another rendition of “I WILL AVENGE YOU,” similar to how he had pulled off the greatest act of “avenging Marco,” only after the latter had had half his body devoured by titans.”
Annie, you have to be ready to kill anyone who stands in the way. Bertholdt and I… our hands will be tied. If we transform, or if we even try to help you, we’ll be found out.
The words from Reiner’s briefing echoed in her head, like a prayer and like a mantra. She had taken a day off from District Patrol, and Hitch had covered for her, and Reiner and Bert had led her to a far side of the District of Wall Rose for one final briefing.
Kill… even our own comrades?
They aren’t our comrades. They’re the island devils, the ones the Marleyans have been telling us about for years.
The people we’ve spent years training with? Shared dinners with, shared stories… shared rare tea leaves? She kept those last parts to herself, no way in hell did she want to show Reiner she had gotten soft.
But admittedly, maybe she had, and he probably saw through it.
Annie, you’re alone in the Military Police Barracks anyway… I want you to reflect, and think long and hard about this. Our success here will depend on who you decide to kill, and who you decide to keep alive.
Armin’s eyes opened slowly, half open at first, before they stared up at her again, wide with shock. His mind was moving, like it always had been.
Something inside her clenched, as she took in the fear in Armin’s gaze. For a second. His mind was moving, evident in the way his gaze flitted up towards her. There was a glint of understanding, becoming permanent. Like he always had been, he was building castles worth of theories or maybe just thinking once again about the ocean.
If she stomped the ground, crushed him just underneath, it would all be over. She wouldn’t have to make any stupid bets anymore. She’d be able to go home.
If you have to kill anyone, do it. You have to let go. You won’t have to see them again, once this is all over. Think of your father. Back then, the warrior in Reiner had been talking then, as if he had noticed that yes, for certain, Annie had gone soft. If it were up to her, no one would have to die.
Yet, she couldn’t help but think, wasn’t it a bit unfair? She was being stared at, rebuked like the monster she was, while Bert and Reiner were playing hero.
Even for just a second, she wanted to play the hero too. The hero inside the monster, if it ever could be called heroic to spare her victim.
And she justified it.
Armin could have been the sharp, observing, manipulative bastard that he was, and wearing his hood over his head had only been part of the plan, but hose blue eyes, staring at her… observing… that was just Armin dreaming. He had dreams much larger than this, and maybe he’d never fulfill them. Maybe he’d die trapped inside the walls, or maybe he’d die in a raid by Marley.
But maybe… Maybe she could come back, maybe she could warn him…
But it was so far off. Would she even be alive for it?
Something pierced her back. She had been distracted, and she had probably wasted a very precious few seconds, bending over just to check on Armin. She cursed to herself, as waved her hand behind her, turning to the source.
Jean Kirschtein.
A small prick was a mere annoyance, but a lucky strike to her neck would be enough for the mission to go awry. She placed her hand over her nape, ready to grab at the gear.
Even if she did catch him, would she be able to kill him?
She didn’t even know if she had the courage to pull at his cables.
“Jean avenge that suicidal bastard!”
Avenge…. Suicidal Bastard—-Eren Jaeger?
Did I?
“That’s the one! That’s the one that killed him! He rushed to his death on the right flank. Avenge him! It crushed my best friend! I saw his body under its foot.”
Did she really crush Eren Jaeger? Was Armin saying all this to confuse her? Or was he just a poor boy who had witnessed his best friend die at her hand? And if he was? Where was Eren?
Armin is sharp.
He's manipulative.
Think long and hard about it.
But thinking long and hard about something means stopping in your tracks and scanning your surroundings.
And she had fallen for every single one of it,
Armin’s shrill screams had her head spinning. This would be her downfall. She felt it, but at the same time, she held onto the hope that this wasn’t true. THat maybe in a perfect world, Armin could survive and she could finish her mission and go back to her father.
That maybe in another perfect world— only in an alternate dimension for sure— she would take Armin to see the ocean, tell her there was a lot to live for. Or maybe, he would be the one teaching her just that.
This wasn’t a mission anymore with contingency plans. It was a bet between her and Armin, and it was a bet he knew nothing about.
If Armin was as sharp and as manipulative as Reiner had said, then Armin would be alive and she would lose. If Armin was just a kind and innocent soul with just too many questions, with a way with words and a little magic to his step, then this would end with her at home, and with Armin and his own dreams alive.
The only way to ever find out if your wager was right was to keep going, and when Reiner appeared in front of her, when he did another one of his almost laughable yet somehow believable heroic displays, carving the location on her hand, she ran ahead towards the forest and for a moment, she rested that little wager somewhere in the locked in the crevices at back of her mind, just until they could get to Eren.
“Looks like you’re a full-fledged member of the Military Police now.”
To say the least, it felt strange to see Armin again. Their time as soldiers, his presence had always been a relief or a boon, a reprieve from her warrior existence, but a sense of foreboding seemed to settle in the air, nipping at the tips of her fingers, at her nose, at her ears.
Shame maybe? Sadness? Hell, it could have been a relief at seeing Armin alive and healthy. She hadn’t seen him since she had run towards Eren’s flank during the expedition.
How much did they know? She stood back and waited. Armin was notably talkative, as he rattled on about some plan to smuggle Eren out of Wall Sina.
Was he telling her this because he trusted her and because she was the only Military Police they knew and trusted? Or was he telling her this because he was leading her into a trap?
“Just to buy enough time. We’re gathering information that will definitely overturn the council’s decision.”
“Over turn it… What kind of information?” Annie had known for a long time, but she wasn’t as smart as Armin, but the acceptance of such a fact, had at least made her more wary. She was studying the way he shifted his gaze, and the way he bit his lip.
“Sorry I can’t say,” he murmured.
Armin knew. The worst case scenario was that he knew. It was all just a trap, and the overthinker in Annie had been right along. She could lose the bet to herself, that bet against Armin.
But she could still salvage something out of it. “Sorry, I can’t accept then… but I will keep quiet about it. See you.”
“Annie, please! At this rate, they’re gonna kill Eren!”
It was another tactic, or it was a genuine cry for help. It was indisputable, Armin cared for Eren. They had known each other long before they even set foot in the barracks, and who was she to deny them that? If she was their only way out, who was she to deny them this simple freedom? All because of a little paranoia?
And if the warrior in her had been wrong the whole time, if Armin was just that simple-minded nerd, with a mind too wide and too intricately woven for someone born in such a narrow piece of the world, or maybe he was just a simple kid, so fond of books, he decided to stupidly dedicate his life to some suicide squad,.
“A bunch of people who know nothing are unwittingly pushing humanity to extinction.” Armin paused for a second, but he didn’t stumble over his words.. “I realize it doesn’t sound convincing but…but we have no choice but to bet on everything now.”
A bookworm? A simple-minded country boy with dreams too big? A mastermind? A manipulative bastard?
She really couldn’t tell. “Do I look like this good of a person to you?” she asked, in an attempt to uncover a little more, at least enough to disentangle her thoughts: the identities inside her fighting for their own space, the many people Armin could be.
Armin lowered his gaze. “A good person…” He was slow to speak at first, or maybe Annie had just been bracing herself for some revolutionary response, something that could pull at one of those threads in her mind, freeing everything else.
Yes or No?
An experiment?
A toy to play with?
A colleague?
A friend?
Or… an enemy?
If he knew that much, then—-there was no denying it—- Annie was an enemy.
Armin continued. “I’ve never been fond of this type of phrasing because I feel like it’s only ever used to refer to people you use for your own convenience and I don’t think there’s any person out there who’s convenient for everyone. Which is why, if you do say no to this… then to me you’d be a bad person, right?”
Only Armin would give an answer that came with nothing at all.
That should have been a sign enough that he knew what he was doing, that he had chosen his words carefully, and only people who were working their way through a precarious position, leading others carefully and deliberately into a trap would speak that way in response to such a personal question.
But while all she had were the speculations of a child raised to be a soldier, a child raised to distrust, she wanted to take such a simple answer at face value. Armin had always been kind to her, and he had always been generous.
And her time in the barracks had been a time of reprieve, if not all because of him, then mainly because of him,
She wanted to be a good person to Armin. She wanted to be with him. Yet, how many times had she been a victim to those same deep blue eyes, that half smile that had played at his lips, enough times that she had lost too much time and too many opportunities.
Enough times to know that he could be leading her into a trap, and she donned that silver ring, and followed him through the alleys.
Armin was sharp. Armin was manipulative, and that had been her downfall.
“It hurts, you know.”
She spoke slowly, softly and deliberately, only loud enough that she wouldn’t hear the tremble in her lip. How pathetic would it be for a soldier— a warrior, entrusted with one of the seven titans, to be crying over something she was supposed to have known from the start.
“Since when did you start looking at me with eyes like that?”
To Armin, she wasn’t an experiment, a toy, a friend… and maybe, an enemy would have been a more merciful alternative to what he actually saw her as.
Those were the same eyes the Marleyan soldiers had, when they drilled her through every transformation, through every hardening drill, and even when they sent her out to one of Marley’s territories, she had seen those eyes, in the troops before she felled them of the top of the walls with one swoop.
She was a monster to him.
“Why did you have Marco’s ODM gear?”
“I found it and took it.”
“So you did kill the titans?”
“Maybe… but if you knew… why didn’t you act then?”
Why be kind to me? Why tell me your life story, your dreams and hopes? Why tell me about the ocean?
Why be my friend?
She was toyed with, experimented with, manipulated, and everything in between, and maybe she would have preferred him ripping it off like a band-aid.
She was a monster to him, and it fucking hurt.
Then, just as she thought, she wasn’t a monster. His face softened from terror to desperation. “Because I didn’t want to believe it… I wanted to believe everything I saw was all wrong,” he said. “Still, that fact that you didn’t kill me back then…. Is why we’re in this situation.” He seemed almost sorry.
At that point, Annie had hardened her heart. The warrior inside her had been right all along, yet for some strange reason, she had listened to the soldier, that farce of a Eldian cadet between the walls, and child refugee from Wall Maria, and she had taken a high risk yet completely lost bet. Reiner had warned her already, yet she didn’t listen. “Yes, I believe that with all my heart. I never imagined you’d end up cornering me like this…Why didn’t I do anything then…I’m a failure as a warrior.”
“Annie we can still talk—”
No.
Talking was Armin’s game. It was virtually giving him the home court advantage in a game he had years to master, and how could she trust that same boy who had wrapped her around his little finger, who had toyed with the soldier inside her, enough to suppress the warrior instincts.
She had been suspicious from the start. She wasn’t stupid. Yet, those few short moments when she made the decisions that brought her to that point, she was stupid, and that was enough to derail the whole mission.
The game was over. There was no going back home.
Armin won a game he didn’t know he was even playing. That’s how sharp he was. That’s how much of a genius she really was, and maybe she had been underestimating him.
The world spun around her, Mikasa’s voice, the whizz of metal were faint background noises, and for a moment, all Annie could hear was her own booming laughter.
When there wasn’t a mission anymore and she was backed up against the wall. What point was there in having the warrior inside her have the last say, when the soldier inside her, was the one clenching at her heart and choking a sob.
“I'm so happy I was able to be a good person to you…” And she meant it.
I feel like it’s only ever used to refer to people you use for your own convenience and I don’t think there’s any person out there who’s convenient for everyone.
Now that she had let go of that facade, it had been much easier to realize, that phrase had been more loaded than it had been at first glance.
She was a bad person to Reiner, to Bert and to the entire Marley, because she let Armin live. Would her father be sad, would her father be disappointed? Was she a bad person to her father because she chose to let an island devil live?
If she was a bad person to all of them, and if she was a bad person to everyone in Paradis, who was she a good person to?
“You’ve won your bet, but my bet begins now!”
Those last few moments, before titan flesh consumed her, she let out that sob that caught at her throat. It could be her last battle, and at that point, she realized, even if she lost it, she’d probably be fine.
There probably wasn’t much point living, if everyone saw her as either a monster or a traitor. Bert and Reiner would brand her a traitor, the first chance they get. Marley would have her killed.
And the friends she had spent the last few years with?
Mikasa sliced at her legs,
“Annie, if you don’t kill me now… your sore excuses about how you’re betting on this will be worthless!” Armin was right below her.
Jean grappled with her from behind.
And they ran, she followed. And fell right into a trap.
Armin, the other cadets she had trained with, they all saw her as a traitor, and as she lay on the floor, as she broke free of the barrels and ropes, as she fought with Eren, she slowly realized, she couldn’t blame them. Who wouldn’t see the one who killed their friends as their enemy?
Marco shouldn’t have died right?
How many Scouts did she kill during the expedition? Hundreds? Thousands?
You can make the whole world your enemy…
Even if you make the whole world your enemy, I’ll always be by your side.
If she had any reason to continue fighting, it had been that. That’s what pushed her to climb the wall, contemplating at least surviving long enough to say goodbye to her father, before Marley took her away, branded her as a deserter and had her eaten by the next in line.
She didn’t realize that that sob she had let out had been more than what she could have suppressed. With everything happening at once, first in slow motion, then with the speed of late in such sporadic intervals, she didn’t realize that she had been crying whole time.
“Annie, fall.”
Not until Mikasa had sliced her fingers off and she fell back down on the city streets, not until the nape of her titan was ripped open, and the cold wind above, caressed her cheeks, and what had been hot tears were suddenly cold enough to numb her cheeks.
Nothing mattered anymore, she was everyone’s enemy, and now that she couldn’t return home, maybe she had even become her father’s enemy.
I feel like it’s only ever used to refer to people you use for your own convenience and I don’t think there’s any person out there who’s convenient for everyone.
The world around her disappeared with a white flash, and ironically, she found comfort in the most thoughtless comment, from someone who probably hated her.
No, Armin definitely hated her. She hurt him. She killed Marco. She killed so many scouts. It was the operation she, Reiner and Bert instigated that likely killed their friends and family. She would never be a good person to him again.
Yet, those few moments, had she been a good person to Armin?
Would he remember her mistakes as good deeds, as acts of mercy, as a new lease of life? Or would they just be forgettable moments, convenient turns of events, reduced to military reports?
To Armin, was she nothing to him but a monster, an enemy or a plaything?Or maybe, she was all of them at once.
At the end of the day, it had been Armin, it had been his sharpness, his manipulation, the one Reiner had warned about, that had her beaten to a pulp, desperately climbing the wall and trapped in a crystal in less than an hour.
And if he decided she was nothing but an enemy to take down, she couldn’t blame him. He won every bet, and he had every right to go about every victory as he pleased. He had every right to see her how he pleased. She wasn’t a good person either.
Still, it would be nice to be remembered, maybe even just a passing thought in the palace of his mind.
Armin was a genius, a mastermind, and completely manipulative, and she had fallen for every part of him.