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October 20th, 1861, 3:38 AM
–
Vivian had come to them on a chilly autumn night.
Mikasa and Annie were both deep in the grasp of sleep, a subtle twitch and reflex from both of them as their dreams would flicker into a darker memory. Mikasa’s room was warm from the firewood, burning crisply and encompassing the sleeping women with heat that was much welcomed during these colder nights in peak October.
Mikasa only awoke when she heard the agitated whines of Sigor. The old dog was huffing and nipping at her hands, pulling at the fabric of her sleeve, making her sigh out in displeasure.
“Annie.”
The blonde grunts in response, the arm that is hugging Mikasa’s frame squeezes in an indication of reluctance and mainly acknowledgement, and then she hums out a breath thick with lingering sleep.
“Annie, your dog wants something.”
Sigor’s frosted muzzle pokes Mikasa’s wrist, his whiskers twitching as he continues to whine. By now, Mikasa is wide awake and sitting up, forcing the blonde to remove her adoring hold on her. A strap from the black bra underneath the thin layer of clothing is loose, so Mikasa adjusted it with lazy hands. She illuminates the candles as in the room, the dog attempts to drag her by the wrist again, but Mikasa stands her ground before the old canine.
“What is it?” She whispers to the Beauceron, his cropped ears twitch upon her words, but the dog stares out into the window with a sudden still motion.
It is then that Mikasa hears it, a cry.
The sound doesn’t sound much like it, almost a distant wail like the helpless fawn she and Annie had found in the woods once during their rides. Regardless, the more she focuses on the sound, the more she comes to notice how similar it sounds to a crying newborn. Without much thought, Mikasa begins to dress, the rustling of her clothes seems to be what finally ushers Annie awake, who turns and faces her with tired blue eyes. “Where are you going?”
“There’s something crying outside.” Mikasa responds, buttoning her shirt hastily and slipping into her pants, “I’m going to see what it is.”
“On your own?” Annie questions, blinking the sleep away as she sits up, “It's late, Mikasa.”
“I know.” The other answers, “But it sounds like a child. I’m going to see.”
“Let me come with,” Annie says, slipping out of bed and sliding into her own clothes with haste as Mikasa begins to slip on her boots. Mikasa doesn’t wait, tossing a thick jacket over and gloves before making it out of the room, Sigor walking ahead of her with a slightly stiff gait. Opening the door and being greeted by an immediate chill has her shivering, and Sika along with Jekyll, wag their tails upon seeing her sudden presence. Those two preferred huddling together outside the porch, where Mikasa had initially met Sigor two years ago.
The dogs immediately stand and follow Mikasa, who follows Sigor down the slightly frosted path. Out here, the cry is evident, but the wind responds with a cold cry of its own.
Annie appears just as Mikasa is halfway from the house, arms wrapped around her own figure as her bangs blow in wild directions. She tries to catch up to Mikasa without much word, but nearly slips against the wooden stairs, cursing under her breath. Mikasa is far too ahead now.
When Mikasa gets closer to the sound, she can’t manage to spot the source. She glances around, stopping when the dogs make a turn and stop at a large tree, huddling around a basket.
When Annie reaches the tree, she stops.
In Mikasa’s arms, there’s a baby.
She opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Mikasa stares at Annie with disbelief, the baby in her arms continues to cry, and the fact that the baby looks small in Mikasa’s arms makes Annie realize it couldn’t be more than a month or even less old. Mikasa looks sentimental, like many thoughts of betrayal and even hurt pass through her mind and she cannot voice them. The wind cries along with the wails of the newborn, and Mikasa only gives Annie a glance before she walks towards the cabin in careful steps while Annie grabs the strange basket, catching sight of a note and a bottle before rushing towards the cabin, huffing crisp cloudy breaths.
The room is warm, Annie watches as Mikasa lays the baby on their bed, unraveling the cold blanket and seeing the goosebumps all over the baby’s body. She begins to undress, undoing buttons of her long sleeve and removing it along with the thin nightwear shirt.
“Who leaves a baby out in the cold?” Mikasa mutters, but any initial ire vanishes when she sees Annie’s solemn look.
“What is it?”
“There was a note in the basket.” The blonde murmurs, “Look.”
Annie then hands the piece of paper to Mikasa, who reads it with caution.
I can’t take care of her. I’m very sick and I doubt I will make it past a year. I hope you both can do it for me. Her name is Vivian, I love her very much and I must let her go.
Mikasa meets Annie’s eyes, and she glances back at the baby who begins to make a disgruntled cry.
“She’s freezing.” Mikasa mutters, reaching behind her back to unclasp her bra, shouldering it off and hovering over the baby while shushing and speaking softly. She grabs the baby, supporting her neck, before lifting the baby and pressing her against her exposed chest, moving her body in an up and down motion while shushing the baby. Skin to skin contact was ideal in these instances, and Mikasa’s body was a beacon of warmth. Annie watches as the dark-haired woman holds the newborn, her strong body and evident muscles flex from her careful movements.
“You should get under the sheets.” Annie murmurs, “It’ll help regulate her temperature.”
“Good idea.” The other replies, passing the baby to the blonde who holds her awkwardly for a moment while the dark-haired woman removes her boots and pants. She slides under the covers then, and Annie hands the newborn to her, helping Mikasa adjust the baby on her exposed chest before covering her with the sheets.
“Maybe she’s hungry.” Annie murmurs, watching the baby immediately begin to nuzzle Mikasa’s collarbone, probably searching to nurse, unknowing that the warm flesh was not her biological mother’s.
“What should I do?” The taller woman asks, eyebrows pinched together in rising agitation. “I obviously can’t feed her.”
“There’s a solution, surely.” Annie reassures, sitting next to Mikasa and watching the little one’s small hand press against the woman’s chest, her palm so small compared to the lithe hand that holds her entire body. The blonde didn’t notice before, but she sees the soft fine hairs on the newborn's head, and a warm and strange sentiment arises in her chest at the sight. At the sight of Mikasa, exposed, cradling a newborn that isn’t hers and yet, the fierceness of a maternal instinct begins to take shape in the way she holds the baby protectively.
The blonde scoots closer to her, moving the blankets slightly to get a better look at the child, “She’s very small.” She finds herself saying, reaching forward with her index finger, the small hand wraps around it, nearly all the tiny fingertips press against the metal of her ring and she pulls away.
“I think a neighbor has a baby. I can ask for assistance.”
“It’s worth the attempt.” Mikasa says immediately after, eyes shining in reassurance. “Do try, please.”
The first night with Vivian was an interesting experience. Annie had left, asking her neighbor who was more than happy to aid them with the circumstances. Mikasa was a little embarrassed when the older woman came to their home, finding her exposed with the baby still in her arms, but she reassured the younger woman to be confident, as skin contact was a very important thing between babies and their mothers. Neither of them denied the statement.
Annie also noticed Mikasa’s fingertips tracing the edges of her healed scars, the ones from her harnesses.
Later that night, when Vivian was sound asleep and changed, Annie watched as Mikasa stared at the baby with a distinct warmth in her steely eyes.
“She is an orphan.” Annie whispers softly, gauging out Mikasa’s reaction. The other only makes a slightly saddened expression, “Like us.” She answers quietly, and then adds, “She just had the misfortune of being abandoned too early.”
Annie releases a sigh, “It was a selfless act of love. You and I know what it does.”
“Yeah.” Mikasa laughs softly, but her eyes seem to mist with sudden tears. The sentiment seems heavy, but Annie only reaches forward and glides a knuckle against the scarred cheek.
“At least, she is with us right, what do you think?”
Their bands gleam underneath the moonlight, engraved with a floral design. Annie stares at them together, ponders the question that carries a lot of responsibility, and after a long pause of quiet consideration, she finally responds.
“Of course.”
From there, the two became mothers.
—
April 20th, 1862, 3:34 PM.
—
Vivian Ackerman Leonhardt had grown into a very calm baby.
A love that had endured the worst of war, simply could not go against the final battle of society. Annie had purchased the rings, engraving them with their respective surnames. Her band had M.Ackerman on the inside.
Nobody had to know, the world moved with little care of its occupants.
So, the certificate for Vivian possessing both of the surnames was an intimate victory of the battle they couldn’t publicly win.
Vivian’s bright and blonde hair was like a lion’s mane, growing past her nape and nearly a carbon copy to Annie’s own golden locks. The only distinction between the two was Annie’s hair being far paler due to the exposure from the sun during war, bleaching it into a muted tone. Vivian’s eyes were similar to Mikasa’s, dark brown that made her eyes look grey in certain lighting, unlike the woman’s whose eyes were a shade that Annie couldn’t quite distinguish. In some angles, they looked grey, in others, they appeared blue.
Vivian was their adopted daughter, but she possessed similarities despite it. Her personality was distinct too, calm and verbal on occasions.
She was six months now, an age of discomfort as her gums began to itch with the promise of teeth.
Nothing seemed to soothe the ache. Mikasa had tried freezing slightly bitter fruits like strawberries, and although they were a sweet treat initially, their mushy texture once they lost their frozen appeal was not one that Vivian enjoyed. Annie had bought an ivory teether with bells, but Vivian didn’t enjoy it either.
At the moment, Mikasa holds little Vivian in her arms, speaking amiably to Annie about the animals. A Friesian ewe had given birth to two twin lambs, and Mikasa’s shire had healed from an uncomfortable horsefly bite from his time in the pasture. Their conversation is calm, with Annie eating a bowl of oatmeal with an assortment of berries to kill her hunger. The dark-haired woman isn’t wearing a shirt, just a black bra, as the heat of spring made the use of her usual (and tight) long sleeve shirts stick against her skin in an uncomfortable manner.
“I figured out what helps Vivian with her teething.” Mikasa says after a while, making Annie look up at her with a smile of surprise, “Really?”
“Yeah.” Mikasa nods, and she turns around slightly for Annie to see. It’s a moment that has the other woman laughing, nearly dropping the bowl of oatmeal.
Vivian was biting Mikasa’s front delt, rubbing her sore gums repeatedly against the firm muscle. Nearly two years helping Annie flip calves and cutting wood had refined her muscles greatly, and it seemed that their firmness helped in other things besides physical appearance.
It wasn’t the first time either.
After the discovery of Mikasa’s shoulders, Vivian would not do anything but bite them. Mikasa could be reading a book with her in her arms with no worry that she’d disturb her reading abilities, as she was always too occupied soothing the ache in her gums with her shoulder. Whenever Mikasa showered, Vivian would fuss, and despite Annie’s shoulders being finely toned as well, they did not compare with Mikasa’s shoulders. One instance, Annie had come back from an errand to the town to find Mikasa asleep on her side, while Vivian munched away at her delt. Another instance, which was vaguely similar to the first, was finding both Mikasa and Vivian asleep, with the baby seemingly having slept mid-bite.
When Vivian’s teeth started to poke through, it was then that it stopped being a harmless ordeal. Mikasa was no longer inclined to spare her shoulders for the baby to utilize, and one time she hissed in contained anger and pain, but it made Vivian cry regardless.
“Sorry, baby, your mother doesn’t want you drooling on her shoulders anymore,” Annie murmured as she shushed the crying baby in her arms. “You have teeth now. Those aren’t fun.”
Vivian seemed to momentarily stop her crying to only stare at Annie with a pout. Her tear-filled eyes blinked, and she glanced back at Mikasa, who was wiping the small tear on her shoulder with alcohol.
Needless to say, the pout only grew before another wave of tears followed.
—
April 30th, 1862, 2:20 PM.
—
Becoming a mother is not an easy task.
Mikasa thought that she had been placed through the hardest trials that the human body and mind could possibly endure. A war of years, one that crumbled her body and soul and forced her to wield the shattered pieces as a weapon.
She’s drowned nearly too many times, both physically and mentally, and has found that even after the war had ended, her body and mind was a lingering bomb waiting on a trigger.
And while she was stubborn and trying to acclimate back into a society that had long advanced without her presence, Annie had known that the safest place to linger would be the outskirts of a ranch, far away from civilization. There, she could tick away with no fear of an unwanted outburst. Living with Annie in this solitary lifestyle is something that amended Mikasa’s broken remains. But when Vivian came to their life, it was she who healed her soul. Vivian dulled the edges of the fragments that were left of Mikasa, had taught and reminded that love exists, and it can fix what hate had destroyed.
Vivian had also been the most difficult challenge that she had been given the fortune to endure.
Loving Annie was not the same as loving Vivian. Annie was storms and wild thorn bushes coated in dew; Annie was the temptation that urged the sailor forward in treacherous waters.
Vivian startled a love that was raw and strong, but it was tame. Vivian was the calm of a storm, the appreciation for the clearing skies on a cool day. Vivian was the embodiment of horses running free, and Annie was the embodiment of horses running wild.
So Mikasa, in all her glory, finds herself sitting on a blanket. The dogs are running around ahead of her, and Vivian watches their playful endeavor with curious eyes. Annie is perched upon Hart, with Vivian sitting in front of her and lodged between the woman’s thighs and the horn of the saddle, and eventually the blonde ushers the buckskin stallion forward, taking their baby down the countryside towards the dogs.
A picnic, but one where Annie was excited to introduce the wilderness to Vivian, who all but stared in awe at her surroundings.
And while the blonde was busy entertaining their daughter, Mikasa occupied herself by sketching. A hobby that she had begun to practice and at times enjoy, she has picked up charcoal and paper on many separate occasions, capturing the essence of objects and wildlife into her books.
One thing she can sketch with precision is humans, and Annie has always been a wonderful subject.
Right now, she is adding the final strokes and details to this specific sketch that she had been working on passionately for the past week. In it, Annie stands and holds Vivian in her arms tightly, but not protectively. It is evident that the manner she holds the baby is not meant to restrict but to allow. Both of them are glancing at a leopard, a mighty creature that Mikasa chose to draw instead of incorporating herself.
When the last essence of the leopard’s whiskers is added, and Mikasa sketches a scar or two on the animal’s printed back, she pulls away to admire her work. It's one of her favorite pieces, and she smiles softly at the image.
Further down the hill, Annie is following the dogs at a softer pace.