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Jean Kirstein was wearing a full suit of armor, yet he had never felt more exposed.
Erwin Smith, the war king who had merely a month ago toppled Shiganshina's government and absorbed the state into his ever expanding list of territories, paced in a small area of the training grounds. Jean and the nine other soldiers in the top ten of Shiganshina's guard — referred to as warchargers — stood in a line in front of him. The lower ranking members of the military trained as normal in the distance, sparring and practicing their weapons handling independently.
Commandant Keith Shadis studied Erwin with the same level of suspicion that the war king was giving the warchargers. Erwin's bodyguard, Levi Ackerman, glared at Shadis from his position on the far end of the formation. Jean found the arrangement almost comical. If the men had guns, they'd be pointing them directly at each other. Instead, they had to settle for burning scowls and silent murder plots.
Erwin wasn't even a king in the traditional sense, nor was there any royal bloodline. It had been a title given to him and only two others after countless successful conquests around Paradis. Soldiers were taught to not engage them or their territories from their first day of training — for good reason.
"Just the men remain here, if you please," Erwin requested, polite but firm. "The women are dismissed."
Mikasa Ackerman, Annie Leonhart, Sasha Braus, and Ymir Diesch saluted him before leaving. Jean's gaze lingered far too long on Mikasa. Her black hair delicately brushed her face, sunlight kissed her skin, and her hips swayed like a goddesses' as she strode off. Jean's childhood friend, Marco Bodt, nudged him in the ribs to refocus his attention.
"What is he doing?" Marco whispered while Erwin began exchanging words with Shadis.
"Hell if I know," Jean muttered back. "He'll get to the point soon, I hope."
"War King Erwin," Shadis addressed Erwin cautiously. "Don't take this as disrespect, but I'd like to know your intentions. It will help me prepare this group of troublemakers appropriately, and I could give you recommendations based on your goals."
"I appreciate your efforts, but I need no recommendations. I simply need information on each one of these fine men, but I'd like to get a good look at them first." Erwin scanned the line intently once more, leaning in to focus on anxious facial expressions and tense body language. His eyebrow raised, both in judgment and curiosity. He pulled back to give them space. "You all may be at ease. There is no problem, I just have a particular need I'm hoping one of you can fulfill. This doesn't involve charging into battle or risking death, but it's undoubtedly the most important task you will be given in your life. That's why I need to be extremely selective. This isn't a task I can bestow on just anyone."
The mechanisms of Jean's mind turned as he attempted to deduce what this "task" was. So Erwin needed a single person, for a purpose not rooted in battle. It was still unclear whether said person would be the luckiest or unluckiest bastard in Shiganshina, but at least it sounded promising. Did he need a new servant for his palace, one who specifically had combat experience? Did he need someone to pose as his son for a foreign trip?
Something in Jean's brain felt like it clicked into place. That had to be it. It was something to do with one of Erwin's children, either Armin or Historia. His mysterious offspring who he was so protective of that no one outside of his personal servants could identify their faces, mostly because of the masks they wore on a regular basis. Despite their physical absence in many instances, both of these children had been instrumental in securing victory for Erwin. Armin was known to assist him in developing plans to claim territories, while Historia had ears everywhere, gathering intel and passing it to her father and brother. She had spies all over, or at least, people who were loyal enough to her to spill everything they knew. Armin was even rumored to have put the final piece of Erwin's Shiganshina conquest into place, ultimately being the reason why the state's guard now answered to the war king. Anyone who had ever heard of them couldn't blame Erwin for taking their safety so seriously.
It wasn't entirely out of the question that in a few years, the family's combined abilities would be the downfall of the other two main war kings of Paradis, Nike Dok and Dot Pixis. Jean mused that perhaps Shiganshina should be grateful that they were already under Erwin's banner — they had security for when the ruling powers of Paradis finally clashed, and left thousands displaced who had yet to join one of them.
Erwin passed by Jean before stopping in front of Marco. Blue eyes took in every detail about him, from his stance, to his armor, to the oddly happy look on his face. Jean wasn't surprised. Everyone who ever came into contact with Marco liked him from first impressions alone. If Erwin's assignment involved getting up close and personal with one of his children, they would surely find comfort in him, who matter who he was working with.
At least, Jean was pretty sure that Erwin was impressed, judging by how long he lingered on Marco before moving on to his other childhood friend, Connie Springer. The war king's face was devoid of emotion. He never said a word; he just stored unwritten notes in the back of his mind. He was clearly far less moved by Connie, as Erwin turned to rejoin Shadis within moments of looking at him.
"I think I've seen enough," Erwin declared. "You all are clear to return to your normal training. Thank you for your time. Commandant, I'd like to see the records for these gentlemen. Everything that's available."
Shadis gestured to dismiss the six men in front of him. They scattered immediately, but curious ears remained locked on the conversation. "You can see whatever you want, but the records don't leave the guard headquarters."
Erwin narrowed his eyes, vexed but holding his patience. "I assure you I have no intention of doing anything of the sort. I'd just like to fully understand who I'm dealing with."
The next day, Jean turned a street corner on his way home from the market, and was met with a sight that sent his mind spiraling with unease. A hundred questions and a hundred more terrible possibilities for what it meant.
Erwin Smith stepped out of the Kirstein residence and into an awaiting horse-drawn carriage. His eyes met Jean's for a moment before he vanished into the vehicle. Levi was so close he was practically stepping on the back of his feet, but somehow he always managed to be the perfect distance away so as not to disturb him. Levi hopped onto the side of the carriage, and the driver in front signaled the horses to move.
Jean dropped the bag of food he had been holding and sprinted to the house. The front door flew open and slammed into the wall, nearly breaking off its hinges. The state of the entrance was the least of his concerns. If he needed to fix it, he would do so later.
"Ma! Are you okay!?" he shouted, his head snapping in every direction that he was physically capable of. "Ma!"
Carina Kirstein emerged from behind a wall that separated the living room and dining room. She pressed a handkerchief to her face, muffling soft sobs and catching tears flowing from her eyes.
"Jean Boy."
Jean ran to her as fast as his legs could carry him, stumbling over a bent piece of wood in the floor. "Ma, what happened!? What did he say to you!? Did his creepy bodyguard do anything to you!?"
The words poured from his mouth. His lungs burned, a flame smoldering within him. His chest rose and fell from the labor.
"Jean," Carina cried. She lowered the handkerchief just enough so that her lips were visible. "You're getting married."
Jean searched the house for some unknown object that he hoped would magically grant him clarity; a solution to their problems that could restore everything to the way it was before Erwin cursed the house with his presence.
His head spun with different concepts of plans. He had barely heard what Carina said. "Don't worry, whatever it is we can fix this. I'll ask Shadis to talk to the war king and—" He froze, her words finally absorbing like water to a cloth. "What!?"
Carina sniffled. She made her way over to the one the chairs in the living room. Jean took her hand to lead her over in her distracted state, making sure she sat down safely. "The war king wants you to wed his son. He said it's part of a great plan to show loyalty to Shiganshina and ease political tensions after taking power. All of our troubles are over, and you're going to be a husband! Isn't that wonderful? This is more than I could have ever hoped for for you!"
Jean's reply was a dumbfounded blink. He stared past her and at the wall. He wanted to bash his head into it to make sure he understood her correctly. "Sorry, I'm getting married? Erwin came here, you two decided this and no one bothered to ask me about it!?" His voice rose to carry throughout the house. His face started to turn red, and his entire body tightened.
"Jean, you know what this means right?" Carina argued. She reached for his hands and gazed up at him in a desperate plead. "We never have to worry about anything ever again. We'll have food. Protection. All of our debts will be paid. We get to live peacefully for the rest of our lives."
"I don't know about 'peacefully', Ma," Jean shot back. "I'm still a soldier, and this is the war king's family we're talking about. He's raising his kids to be as ruthless and cunning as he is, and you just handed me over to the person who's set to take his spot if he croaks. Armin could be a piece of shit for all I know!" He threw his arms up before slamming his palm onto a nearby table. Shots of pain coursed through his hand in a way that stung so perfectly. It was exactly what he deserved for berating the woman who only wanted the best for both of them. His chest ached, bleeding heart choosing his next words. "Not only that, but I told you before that I already have someone I want to marry. I'm trapped now with someone I hate, because you only thought about yourself!"
Carina inhaled sharply, rigid where she stood. Jean recoiled in regret immediately. Nothing Erwin could offer them in exchange for the marriage would let him take back what he just said. Tension hung in the air like a putrid scent even the strongest perfume couldn't mask.
He had been too distraught about Mikasa to think clearly. Now that the damage was done, he realized that he wasn't even making sense. Arranged marriages were common on Paradis, and it was especially common for someone to already take a lover before being betrothed to another. Tragic as it may be, Jean was not the first person this had ever happened to, nor would he be the last. Accepting that one may be married off to someone their heart did not belong to was a lesson taught from an early age.
He also supposed he had to admit that he couldn't say he hated Armin — he had never met him. The closest they had ever come to crossing paths was watching him ride through Shiganshina on his horse, mask concealing his face, while accompanied by Erwin, a masked Historia, and their group of bodyguards. While it was true that Jean could be walking into a dangerous marriage…there was an equal chance that the two of them could find common ground, and make each other comfortable in spite of the circumstances. Maybe their souls were never destined to be intertwined, but they could at least co-exist peacefully.
He hoped.
Jean decided he had to stop himself from digging his grave further. He rushed upstairs without saying anything more, the door slamming behind him.
"Can I curse?"
"You can say whatever you want here." Historia took a bite of a fruit pastry that one of the servants had brought her. Powered sugar coated her mouth and fingers, and she wiped herself off with a cloth on the vanity she was sitting at. "No one's going to hear you. If they do, they weren't supposed to be listening anyway, and I'll punish them for it."
Armin flopped onto his sister's bed, limbs sprawled out like a puppet who had been carelessly discarded. "I don't know what the fuck Dad was thinking. There were so many ways to calm political tensions if he wanted. Show Shiganshina that his intentions are to give Paradis a better future. Why did he have to involve me? Why did he have to bargain my life for his plans!?"
Historia laughed just a little. "Calm down, Overdramatic. I understand what you're saying, but you're not dying or being thrown into prison. You're getting married, and we both know that Dad wouldn't hand us over to anyone unless he knew every last detail about them. We're both getting to be that age where a betrothal was coming anyway. Especially yours, being that Dad wants you to inherit his title if something ever happens to him. I'm only surprised that he didn't have our spouses picked out years in advance."
Armin snorted, a small smile betraying the concern woven into his features. "True. I'm sorry for venting. We were raised our whole lives to expect this, but to actually be told that I'm getting married…" He raised his palms over his face. The light hanging from the ceiling produced a bright aura around his fingers reminiscent of the rising sun. He studied his hands like doing so would reward him with wisdom; a way forward through an uncertain future. "…I'm nervous. What if he hates me or is disgusted by me?"
Historia took another nibble of her pastry. She cleaned her fingers before reaching behind her head to guide her long blonde hair into a ponytail. "Then he's stupid. What was his name again? My ears in the military told me a few things about him, but there's so many people to keep track of I lost it."
"Are you supposed to be eating that? We're going to a funeral for one of the Shiganshina war families, and I remember Dad saying that they were going to serve us dinner afterwards."
She waved him off, answering his question with a mouth full of fruit filling. "He's not gonna know."
"Can I at least have some?"
She responded with an affirmative hum before handing it over. He took a bite out of it, the powdered sugar dusting his mouth.
"You're not getting off that easy," she said, "I need the lucky man's name, Armin, so I can find out everything about him down to his mother's favorite flower arrangement."
"Jean Kirstein." Armin had never met the man, but the name alone was going to keep him up at night for months until Erwin officially permitted them to meet. Paradis custom dictated that betrothed couples not come face-to-face until shortly before the wedding. It was beyond Armin who the hell came up with that and why. His history books mentioned "bad luck" or something ridiculous. All he remembered was how the first time he read it, he and Historia had laughed about it for hours until they cried and their stomachs hurt. "Dad says he's ranked sixth in the Shiganshina guard."
Historia had been twirling her hair to create a braid. Her hands froze when he said that, and stray locks fell against the side of her face. Her expression crinkled. "Six? Were one through five not good enough?"
"I guess not," Armin shrugged. "Though, he was talking to me about certain…preferences of mine the other day. Maybe he was matching members of the guard to what he knew I would want, and rank six happened to be the closest?"
"That sounds like him. See? He's looking out for us!"
Armin returned the pastry, then lied back down on the bed, keeping his chin tilted so he could maintain eye contact with her. "You said that your ears in the military have other information about him?"
"Yes." She secured her hair in a bun with a pin. Her reflection in the mirror spun as Historia herself turned to give him her undivided attention. "There's actually something important you should know. He's in love with rank one, a woman who's obsessed with rank five or something." She waved her hand dismissively like the detail was mundane. "This isn't about her. The reason I'm telling you this is because…"
"…He's pissed that instead of marrying rank one, he gets me instead," Armin finished dryly, seeing that ending coming like a poorly written plot twist in one of his books.
Historia pointed at him to signal that he was correct. "My ears didn't mention that he's complained about it, but I would bet that behind closed doors, he's unhappy. So be patient with him, and show him how irresistible you are!" She twirled back around to face the mirror, her hand swiftly moving to rummage through various tubes of makeup scattered around the vanity. "You'll have him wrapped around your finger so quickly he won't even remember rank one's name."
"At least someone thinks so." Armin considered her words for a moment, before something occurred to him. The identity of the one who held Jean's heart was far too intimate for just anyone to know. As was his mother's favorite flower arrangement. Exactly how deep were her ears embedded in Shiganshina's walls, only a month after the Smith family took over? "Hey, how do you even know who Jean is in love with? That's deeply personal information, don't you think? How do you even get that kind of intel?"
On the other hand, he supposed they didn't call her Princess Historia the Omnipresent for nothing.
Historia paused applying her mascara — an action that seemed nonsensical to Armin, given that her perfectly done makeup was about to be covered by a mask. "Oh, Armin. My dearest brother. You'd be surprised the kind of friends you can make when you put your all into it instead of reading books all day, you reclusive little devil. You should try it sometime." She smirked into the mirror, her devious expression reflecting back at him.
"I'll leave that to you. That's your talent. Mine is to take the intel and decide what to do with it to win battles and keep Dad happy."
Historia's lips pursed. "Suit yourself. I think you could knock some people dead though with a bit of practice."
"Even if I tried, I wouldn't be as good as you."
"That's true, but second best isn't bad right?"
"You're so annoying," he snorted, and she doubled over in laughter while clicking one of her makeup tubes closed.
"You said it, not me."
Armin's head turned to lock on the pair of masks laying next to him on the bed. His gaze returned to Historia. "Are you ready?"
Her eyes fell on the masks, and her mood changed to melancholy, like she personally knew the deceased who the funeral was being held for. Armin's fingers passed over the objects. He took one in each hand and extended Historia's out to her. It was distinguishable by its smaller size, along with the symbol on the forehead she had created for herself when she came of age. Armin had one too, and those symbols also adorned the armor they were wearing, and the capes that would complete their outfits.
"No, but let's get this over with," came her solemn reply. She took it from him and stared down at the face; the face she had seen countless times before, and yet didn't recognize. It hid her true self, as did the false names and backgrounds she and her brother used on rare occasions when they were allowed to go without the masks. A part of her hated cowering behind a facade, yet she had been doing it so long that it came naturally now.
It was all because of the death of their mother, Marie.
The victim of a political assassination, Erwin had decided from that point on that to protect his children from suffering the same fate, he would make it as difficult as possible for anyone outside of his personal attendants to know their faces, their fears and dreams, and most importantly, their weaknesses. At the cost of their freedom. Armin thought that drawing more attention to themselves had always been counterproductive to that goal, but it wasn't as if he could convince Erwin otherwise. Moving a mountain was easier than changing the war king's mind once it had been made up. And so he and Historia went along with it, with hopes that one day, the masks and false identities would no longer be necessary.
Historia brought the mask to her face, securing the strap behind her head. Armin did the same before positioning himself in the doorway, and planting his hand on the doorknob.
"Let me get our capes. I'll be back."
He disappeared behind the wall that led into the room. Historia sighed in exhaustion, before stuffing the remainder of her pastry into her mouth.
"Warmaster Aurbach. Good evening to you. I hope it treats you well, in spite of the circumstances."
Erwin waved to catch the attention of Warmaster Franz Aurbach of Shiganshina, approaching his family on his horse. Levi rode next to him, while behind the war king were his children, and a small army of six body guards around them.
The sun was setting on the burial grounds, the most expansive the state had to offer. Various weapons from swords to daggers to shields stood embedded in the dirt, marking where their handlers rested beneath them. Warmaster Aurbach and a small crowd of close friends and family gathered around a coffin, directing their eyes to Erwin's party as they drew near. They all wore black, and held candles with flickering flames. Their simple clothing was striking to Armin and Historia, who quickly realized that they were grossly overdressed.
Aurbach closed the distance, paying his respects with a salute. "War King. It's an honor to have your presence this evening. I hope we're not pulling you from urgent matters critical to Paradis' safety."
Armin stayed silent, but latched onto the way the man had said it. Erwin's toppling of the Shiganshina government had, understandably, spawned diverse reactions from celebrations, to caution, to resentment — largely depending on one's social standing. Though, there were many who were supportive or critical of him in spite of their statuses. Armin's method for reading someone usually involved analyzing tone, reading body language, or carefully assessing the way they responded to Erwin's attempts at conversation.
Armin's father had merely told him that Aurbach was a "friend of a friend," who supposedly would be grateful for the Smith family's presence at the funeral. Apparently gratefulness was overshadowed by anxiety, as Aurbach's voice had shook ever so slightly. His body was stiff and his salute was angled incorrectly.
Erwin raised his palm in a motion for him to be silent. "Not at all. The pleasure is mine to bring my family here, and to honor your brother's noble sacrifices to your great state. If the rest of your military is anything like him, I feel very fortunate to be at the command of such exemplary soldiers. As you all are aware, I am Erwin Smith." He gestured behind him with his open palm. "These are my children, Armin and Historia. You'll find that they too strive to create a place where you and your families can prosper for generations to come."
Armin jumped a little at how casual all of it seemed. "Charmed to meet you all," he said, trying to collect himself. "It's truly been an honor to get to know the people of Shiganshina."
"Everyone has been so welcoming. We can only hope that we're able to express our gratitude properly," Historia added.
They lied as naturally as breathed, but that was the game they had played their entire lives. Pretend to be genuinely interested in people's lives for a few hours, and receive payment in loyalty, obedience, and in Historia's case, intel.
Aurbach let down his guard, growing flustered. His salute transformed into a nervous scratch. "You flatter us, War King. That's very kind of you."
Armin could swear that the way he spoke was injected with a hint of poison, though he wasn't sure if it was because of Erwin personally, or because of the family's intrusion of the intimate ceremony.
Armin hopped off of his horse and went around Historia's to help her down. The talking resumed behind him as his sister pressed down on his arms to keep her balance. She landed on her feet, standing perpendicular to him.
"A little too much sugar, don't you think?" she whispered, referring to her father's honeyed words.
Armin looked over at Erwin's back, and blinked as he heard more compliments spill from him. "Yeah, he's really piling it on isn't he?"
"Do you think Aurbach secretly doesn't want us here?"
"Yes, and Dad's trying to convince him otherwise."
One of the women in Aurbach's party glided across the grass to hand Erwin a lit candle. Her attention then shifted to Armin and Historia. The wall of bodyguards stopped her from going further.
"May I approach the war prince and princess?"
Armin and Historia exchanged glimpses, and their bodyguards addressed them for approval. They both nodded. Historia stretched her hand outwards as the guards parted to give the woman room to enter the formation.
"You may."
The woman kept her head down while walking her candles to the center. The siblings stepped forward to each take one from her, giving her a bow of thanks. When she was done, she spun around and scurried out of the circle.
Armin cupped his hand around the flame of his candle. The heat tingled his fingers and caused his skin to turn red, but a part of him welcomed the pain.
"Guards, away with you. Positions on the outskirts of the burial grounds," Erwin commanded.
Levi turned on his horse to move away from the ceremony. He cut through the formation and made his way across the grounds, until he was nearly out of sight completely.
"You heard him," he said as he passed the guards, jerking to avoid where Historia's horse was settled. "You're scaring everybody. Make yourselves useful somewhere you're not in the way."
They followed him, only leaving the Smith family behind.
Erwin spoke up again after a minute. "My apologies if their behavior was unsettling. I keep them around because my children's safety is my top priority. Trust that our purpose here today is to honor Lukas as he deserves."
"Your respect is appreciated, War King. We are thankful," said the woman who had supplied the candles.
Aurbach waved the three of them to approach the coffin. "Come closer. Please. We're about to start."
Aurbach's party scooted closer together to create gaps around the coffin, which were then filled as Erwin, Armin, and Historia stepped forward.
Marking Lukas' grave was a shield, with writing engraved on the edges above his name and date of death.
For those whose bodies pave the path to peace.
"This is embarrassing."
Armin grumbled as he leaned back his chair in the dining hall of the Aurbach residence. A full plate of food with a mildly expensive wine sat in front of him, and he couldn't eat any of it. Nor could Historia, who impatiently swung her crossed leg back and forth in her chair. Her body was positioned to the side, away from the meal taunting her. She rested her head in her palm. Both of their stomachs rumbled faintly.
"I know. I hate dinner parties," she whined back. "Why do you think I was eating that pastry earlier?"
"I'm sorry for giving you a hard time about that."
"Apology accepted. We both get one next time?"
"Deal."
While their masks were easy enough to ignore most of the time, dinner parties quickly turned from joyous events to tests of will. Other attendees could eat and let wine flow as they pleased. They themselves had to wait hours to be escorted to a private room where they could finally indulge. It was one of the most severe drawbacks to Erwin being so protective — they couldn't remove the masks under any circumstances, even as their hosts didn't hide their disapproval, glaring daggers at them from various places at the table. It felt like a cruel form of torture, or a punishment from their father for something they had done wrong.
The scents of fish and sweetbread danced in the air and seeped through their nose openings. Armin's eyes snapped to look at their father, who was laughing and conversing happily with a close friend of the Aurbach family. His wine glass was half empty, and he had made a sizeable impact on his dinner plate.
Anger bubbled within Armin, for reasons beyond his own hunger.
He reached over to tap Erwin on his arm, before addressing the man his father had been talking to. "Please forgive me, Sir, but I would like a word with my father, if I may?"
The man nodded and turned away to say something to a woman seated next to him. Erwin shifted his attention to his son. Fingers laced together, he leaned over so Armin could whisper in his ear.
"Dad, I know this isn't a good time, but can we talk later?"
"I'll have your escort show you to your private dining room in a few minutes. I apologize for making you wait to enjoy your meal," he replied.
"It's not about that. It's about my marriage." Armin's voice had a graveness to it. "We haven't discussed this since you told me I was engaged two days ago! Can I at least know who this man is before it's too late for me to do anything about it? Don't you think I deserve that much?"
Erwin lifted his glass to swirl the wine inside of it. "I told you before. His name is Warcharger Jean Kirsten, ranked sixth in the Shiganshina guard."
"That's not what I mean," Armin seethed, dragging his nails across the table. "I know nothing about him other than that. I don't even want to get married to be honest with you, but if I have to do this for our family, at least give me a say in who I give my life to!"
Although Erwin had moved away, he kept his volume low so as not to draw attention to them; not to capture the interest of unwanted ears.
"I understand what you're saying. Unfortunately I won't be able to give this discussion the time it deserves until after Warfather Eld's engagement celebration. I'm sorry. My time recently has been consumed with dealing with our acquirement of Shiganshina and making sure everything is in place for the future as their soldiers join our ranks." His finger brushed the curve of his chin back and forth, deep in thought and smiling a little. "I believe some rearranging of assignments may be in order after observing the skill of their military. This is a good thing, Armin. They'll be quite advantageous to us."
Had Armin been eating anything, he would have choked on it. His fingers dug deeper into the wooden table until a metallic smell entered his mask. "Wha—Warfather Eld's engagement party is in a week! You have time to spend on all of these people you hardly know personally, but don't have any time for me? Dad, am I not that important to you? Am I just here as a means to continue the rule of the Smith family?"
He was glad he was wearing a mask for once. His father couldn't see the tears welling up in his eyes.
Erwin's eyebrows raised like his words were a dagger that pierced his heart. "Armin, if this were just about continuing our family's rule, I wouldn't spend so much time protecting you. I wouldn't work day and night to ensure your public reputation was flawless, or find out every detail about your potential suitors. I noted everything you've ever told me about your preferences, you know, which is how I ultimately decided on Warcharger Kirstein."
Armin leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed. "Then why is it too much to ask for you to tell one of these Warfathers, Warmasters, whatever-the-hell to wait while you deal with a family matter?"
"I assure you that everything I do is for you and our family, even when it may not appear so. Give me the week to tend to those other affairs and gather some documents for our meeting. You'll understand why the delay is necessary." Erwin paused, then shot him a sly smirk, "And why I believe wholeheartedly that you'll be quite satisfied with Kirstein."
Armin growled, his patience wearing too thin to even respond. Erwin's expression relaxed into a genuine, reassuring smile, before he turned back to the others at the dinner table. He lifted his arm to flag down one of the servers who was walking nearby.
Historia placed a comforting hand on her brother's arm.
"I'll have everything I can get on Jean Kirstein in your study before Warfather Eld's party," she whispered.
Armin released a deep breath. His arms unraveled to dangle at his sides, and his shoulders dropped. His head tilted over the back of his chair. "It doesn't solve my problems entirely, but it helps. Thanks."
"No problem. I actually need your help with someone in the Shiganshina guard myself, but I'll tell you later. It can wait."
"Is that why you're being so nice to me?" He asked flatly, snapping his head towards her. If she could see his face, she would have seen his half-lidded eyes and irked expression.
"Of course not! You know you're my favorite brother!" She held up her pinky. "Just consider this a favor for a favor, in the interest of making sure neither of us end up locked into something that'll make us miserable."
"Well, I do owe you after all this," Armin stated matter-of-factly. He locked his pinky with hers. "Deal."
The idea of knowing everything about Jean before meeting with his father ignited a small spark of guilt within Armin, but he quickly dismissed it. If Erwin was going to make him wait in order to "prepare," he might as well do some preparations himself.
War King Erwin Smith worked fast, but Princess Historia Smith the Omnipresent worked faster.
Although Jean hadn't met his future husband yet, he was already beginning to enjoy the spoils of being part of the ruling family.
He strode across the ballroom of Warfather Eld's estate, feeling like a foreigner in another country. Crowds of people huddled for conversation. Women glided along the tile floor and gossiped in hushed tones. Men held drinking contests and gambled. Couples danced in the center of the ballroom and kissed in corners. He didn't know any of their faces or the names attached to them. He didn't know the first thing about the culture of Shiganshina's upper class or how the highest ranking warfathers lived outside of the battlefield. He didn't know anything that could help himself appear as though he belonged. He simply wandered, searching for any kind of opening to blend in. With any luck, someone would engage him in conversation and save him from looking like the lonely fool he was.
He could hardly pronounce the names of the wines endlessly flowing into glasses. The lights were too bright. The band was too loud. The clothes cost more than what he made as a soldier in a year — and his salary as a warcharger was generous. The food was in too small portions, sacrificing satiation for presentation.
Frankly, Jean was disappointed. He had joined the military to one day live a comfortable life, and provide the same for Carina, but all he could see was a room contaminated with pomposity. Some of these people had never stepped foot on a battlefield in their lives.
They were flaunting their wealth on the corpses of deceased soldiers who came before them.
He sighed, snatching an hors d'oeuvre from the platter of a server who passed him by. Not a second after devouring it in one bite, he heard heavy footsteps pound the tile behind him.
"Warcharger Jean Kirstein," A deep voice said, one that could make a grown man tremble from the vibrations. "It's an honor to finally meet you in person. I apologize that up until now the extent of our interactions has been me glaring at you from across the street."
Jean spun around, and craned his neck backwards when he was met with a wide chest and broad shoulders.
War King Erwin Smith peered down him with a sincere smile. He wasn't sure what surprised him more — his welcoming, kind expression, or the fact that one of the war kings of Paradis had just spoken his name. More than a month ago, Erwin was merely a figure in the stories of his comrades; some kind of untouchable god who he could never imagine seeing in the flesh. Now, Jean was less than a year away from weaving familial ties with him…unless he could somehow convince him to stop the engagement.
Jean laughed nervously, instinctively backing up so as not to seem like he was too close. "With all due respect, War King, you undervalue yourself. You also looked at me a few times on the training grounds remember? That's worth something."
Erwin responded with an amused hum that was just short of a chuckle. "I suppose I did."
"Uh…" Jean straightened his back, rigid as a blade, and saluted him. His arm was trembling and his stomach twisted. "It's an honor to meet you as well, War King, and a privilege to be chosen as Prince Armin's consort." He felt ire crawling up to his core, and used every bit of his inner strength to suppress it. The act of merely saying it made him want to scream so loud that the entire party would go silent. "I mean no disrespect, but I was hoping I could ask why you chose me of all of the suitable warchargers you saw that day? I have a friend, Marco, who's admired you for a long time, and he touches anyone who meets him. I don't doubt that he could have been a fitting spouse for your son."
...And one who would allow Jean to continue in his efforts to court Mikasa, freeing him from a fate he never asked for.
Erwin's expression unraveled like he had just asked for secret military intel. He turned his head to eye a section of the ballroom near the far wall, unoccupied and away from the rest of the crowd. He gestured that way without a word, making his way over to it. The warcharger trailed closely behind. His head swirled with every possibility of what the answer to his question could be — if Erwin would even give him a straight answer.
Erwin hugged the wall as close as he possibly could. "As I'm sure you can imagine, I performed all manner of research on you, on Marco, and on the other warchargers who were presented before me. Marco was originally my first choice, and he would be standing here in front of me now if that were purely my decision. But as Armin's father, I carefully took into account the qualities I knew he wanted in a spouse. He will spending his life with this person, so I owe it to him to consider his needs, wouldn't you agree, Warcharger Kirstein?"
"Yes, Sir, I would say that's true," he replied hesitantly. Was this a trick question? Was he being tested?
"I'm glad you think so," the war king nodded, "That brings me to why you're standing here and not Marco. What my son wants and what he trusts he needs are qualities shown in you, not Marco. You'll get some resistance from him at first as he adjusts to the change, as I'm sure you're feeling as well, judging by how tense you are at the moment…"
Jean's eyes expanded to the size of the plates dinner was being served on.
Fuck.
"…But I've made my selection with the belief that with time, you'll grow to appreciate each other greatly." The war king smiled again. He was back to that same warm demeanor he had when he first approached Jean. He looked more like a regular man this way, if one who had been through several lifetimes. He lifted one finger in the air to emphasize his next point. "I merely have but one request for you as you prepare to join our family in a few months, Warcharger Kirstein." His face darkened again without warning, seemingly neutral, but with a menacing aura bubbling underneath. "The world knows me as War King, but first and foremost, I am a father. I expect you to uphold the highest level of respect and dignity, for yourself as well as my son, and treat him as the most precious thing in your life. Because he will be. Is that clear?"
Jean recoiled. He could feel the light above him burning his forehead and sweat trailing down his brow. The air felt suffocating and the voices chattering around him were muffled. He brought his hand up to salute him. "Uh, yes, Sir."
"Good. Of course you'll have a proper ceremony to speak your vows when the time is appropriate, but it's important for me to establish that as soon as possible." Erwin began to walk away, peering over his shoulder as he disappeared into the crowd. "Do feel free to enjoy the rest of the celebration. I will be happy to answer any other questions at a later time. This will be far from our last conversation."
"Wait, Sir!" Jean flailed his arm in the air. "Prince Armin is here now, right? In this room?"
Erwin came to an abrupt stop. His brow furrowed, and he looked displeased. "Yes. He is. But it's considered bad luck in our culture for children of the war king to meet their consorts until shortly before the wedding. So if I could impose on you as to make another request, do not seek him out."
He kept walking, before vanishing into the endless pool of overdressed bodies.
Jean stood dumbfounded. Any words had been stolen, as if Erwin had pulled them from his throat as he left him alone.
Erwin chose him as Armin's consort…because his qualities matched what Armin wanted?
He chuckled a little to himself. Jean had to admit that he could be the perfect man for anybody — who wouldn't want him? He could make Mikasa fall in love with him with time, too. And he would, no matter how long it took. He just needed Erwin to void the engagement so he could get back to what was truly important.
Except…if he wanted the engagement voided so badly, why was he suddenly feeling melancholy at the thought of Erwin calling off the wedding? Jean might not have wanted it, but he was certainly intrigued by Armin now. He wanted to meet him for himself. If he wouldn't be his husband, maybe he could at least make Armin his friend? There was never a disadvantage to having connections, especially ones within the ruling family.
Until Jean could successfully sway the war king's decision, the hand of fate was still pushing him towards Armin. It would be wise to have knowledge of who the man stealing his freedom was, especially now, while he had an easy opportunity to do so. A large crowd, minimal supervision aside from bodyguards scattered amongst the partygoers, and no one to scold him for not following directions.
It wouldn't be easy. Prince Armin and Princess Historia were known to wear masks at all times, and yet not a single person in the room donned one. That left too many possibilities for what the ruling family was planning behind closed doors.
Jean proceeded back into the crowd, slipping past people conversing and dodging coins being hurled from the gambling table. He accidentally stepped on a woman's gown, and received the wrath of hell in a single stare. He put his hands up in surrender and crept backwards to give her space.
The action caused him to bump into someone else. A small blonde woman who yelped at the impact of Jean stepping into her. He whirled around to help her, stretching his arms out so she could grab onto them for balance if she needed them.
The woman spun to face him. She had blue eyes like diamonds and a soft face, long blonde hair tossed to the side.
"Sorry! Wasn't watching where I was going!" Jean apologized. "Hey, while I have you, you don't happen to know where Prince Armin is do you? I have some business with him. Hoping I can…get him what he needs as soon as possible."
The woman raised her eyebrow, her face crinkling in confusion. She shook her head agonizingly slowly as she considered his question. "No. I'm sorry, who are you? I know just about everyone at this party, we're a tight knit community, but I've never seen you before. Are you new to Shiganshina money?"
Jean chuckled nervously. He started fixing his tie that was still perfectly in place. "Yeah, kind of. I'm still trying to find my way around here."
She lifted a wine glass she was holding to her pink-painted lips. Red liquid collided with them as she took a small sip, maintaining eye contact with him. "What was your name?"
He saluted her.
"Warcharger Jean Kirstein, rank six in the Shiganshina guard."
The woman's mouth opened like she was saying "Oh," but no sound came out. Her face lit up in what Jean could swear was realization, and possibly…familiarity?
"Could I trouble you for your name as well? I don't know anyone around here, you see, so…I would appreciate being able to make myself acquainted with everyone," Jean asked politely. He tilted his head at her. Something about this woman seemed suspicious. She felt oddly put together, almost…regal. Dignified and refined. And her remark about knowing everyone rang alarm bells in his brain.
The band seemed to grow louder, the air carrying the plucking and shrieking of string instruments.
"Krista Lenz. I'm the niece of one of the warmasters," she replied with a warm smile. Her eyelashes sparkled under the light. It gave the appearance that she was just being polite like anyone else in the room, but she faked it the best, admittedly. Good enough to make Jean wonder if she may have actually been completely genuine.
"An honor to meet you, Krista. Forgive me if this seems bold, but you looked like you might have heard of me before."
She blinked. "Hmm? Oh, I've just heard so much about you from members of the military close to my uncle. You're a warcharger right? You and your comrades do incredible work for our great state, we're forever grateful." She batted her eyelashes, voice as smooth as the wine that was sloshing around in her glass. "Wonderful meeting you, but someone is looking for me, so I should be off. Have a wonderful evening, Warcharger Jean Kirstein!"
She leaned over to pick up the bottom of her dress to prevent it from dragging on the floor, bunching up the fabric in her hands, and scurried off. Her wine glass was left abandoned on the table, half full.
Jean let out an exasperated sigh. Perhaps the conversation with Erwin had left him with some unresolved tension.
He noticed a door to the garden towards the back of the room, and made a beeline for it.
He needed some fresh air.
A cool breeze caressed Armin's face. Colorful flowers ranging from roses to catmint to marigolds rustled in the bushes near him, occasionally brushing the stone bench he was sitting on. His arms were crossed and his eyes stared up at the sky absentmindedly. His back was leaned against the wall of Warfather Eld's estate. The moon was full with an ethereal aura, complimenting the beauty of the garden. The air was quiet. It was a welcome change from the deafening music and chatter inside. Armin could finally hear himself think. He could finally breathe.
Historia had a full report on Jean in Armin's study five days after the funeral. She said it look longer because certain information had been difficult to uncover, but her ears in the military pulled it off. And Armin had spent every hour of the last few days he wasn't in meetings reading over it.
He now had all the details he needed about his fiancé. Erwin had also allowed the siblings to go without their masks for Warfather Eld's engagement celebration, citing that it was better to blend into the crowd rather than stand out. These facts were a small comfort, a departure from where he was a week ago — sitting at the Aurbach residence starving, masked, and with no knowledge of his future husband other than his name and military rank.
Armin still wasn't sure how he felt about the situation, however.
"His comrades describe him as a bit of a jackass, for lack of a better word," Historia had said after he received the report, "But I have to say, the finer details seem promising. I don't think trusting Dad on this would be the worst decision you've ever made."
Her fingers slid down the page as Armin held the report in his hands. Her perfect nails stopped just above a section about Jean's leadership qualities, and his talent for concocting spur-of-the-moment plans. Armin's lips pressed in a thin line as he skimmed it. Someone like this would indeed be a valuable ally in the middle of battle.
"Thanks again, but I'm still going to give Dad hell for this," Armin replied.
Historia hummed in contemplation, blue eyes fixated on the paper turned away from her. "Your feelings are valid, but still, I think you should keep an open mind. You might look back on this and wonder why you were ever afraid."
Since reading the reports, Armin had to admit that he wasn't entirely against the thought of marrying Jean. Indeed, Erwin had selected someone who was nearly a perfect match to everything he wanted in a consort. But the fact that his father had gone behind his back to choose a spouse, and then forced him to wait over a week to discuss it — prioritizing various war figures over his own son — still boiled his blood. If Erwin was so careless with something as significant as his children's marriages, what did that mean for the future of the Smith family? Perhaps, more than the person he had chosen as consort, that was always what bothered Armin most.
Armin exhaled through his nose, his eyelids growing heavy. They fluttered closed. For some time, he sat there listening to the gentle breeze and allowing his body to relax. He could still hear music, but it was muffled by the stone walls of the estate. It was almost soothing now.
"Can I sit here?"
Armin's eyes snapped open. His head turned to acknowledge the source of the question, a tall man with brownish hair. He was pointing to the other end of the bench.
Armin waved his hand dismissively. "Yes, that's fine." His tone was shorter than he intended, slightly aggravated that he had been interrupted.
"Thanks." The man sat down and mimicked Armin's position, slanting against the wall of the estate while crossing his legs. He pointed inside with his thumb. "Pretty loud in there, huh?"
"Yeah. Warfather Eld likes his music loud enough to keep his neighbors awake," Armin remarked.
The man laughed and slapped his knee. "I can't imagine living next to him. I'd never get any sleep." He shifted his gaze to look directly at Armin. "Are you new around this whole Shiganshina upper class scene too? Everyone else seems used to this."
"Sort of. My mother and I have been apart of it for a long time, after she became a prominent chef who cooks for celebrations like this, but we're just visiting Shiganshina for now," Armin lied. It was his go-to story in rare cases where Erwin allowed him to go without his mask in public. He cocked his head towards the man, intrigued. "You mentioned this is new for you? What brings you to Warfather Eld's estate tonight?"
"Oh, I just got engaged. I don't want to say to who, the family's really strict about their privacy, but they started inviting me to these things ahead of the wedding."
Armin froze. He had to use every bit of strength in him not to lurch his body forward and start shouting a hundred questions.
"…I have to say, it has its advantages, but I'm not sure how I feel about this life yet. Everyone inside is so pretentious. It makes talking to people feel difficult," the man continued as Armin's mind swirled, and he struggled to pay attention. "Maybe I just need some time to get used to it, I don't know."
Armin's face unraveled, becoming sympathetic. "I know what you mean. It's challenging for me to talk to others too. I've never been fond of these kind of events in general, to be honest."
"My mom's pretty happy though. My dad used to say I'd never amount to anything, but I've worked hard enough to rank up in the Shiganshina guard. It's finally paying off by getting me noticed by important people. If anything, at least I can make sure we're both comfortable now," the man mused. "My mom raised me by herself since I was little, so I owe it to her."
Armin clutched his arms. His nails dug into the skin of his biceps. He breathing became heavy, his heart pounding in his chest.
An image of Historia's report flashed in his mind, one that described Jean's family situation as being his mother, with an estranged father.
"That's wonderful," he replied through his teeth, forcing a smile to combat his building uneasiness. He gulped, then asked the question he wasn't sure he wasn't an answer to. "How high have you ranked in the guard?"
"You're talking to Warcharger Jean Kirstein, rank six." He remained slumped on the bench, not getting up to make contact or initiate any other formalities. "Sorry for not saluting. It's been a long night, and I've done it about thirty times already."
Armin was at a loss for his next move. He thought he'd be able to avoid his fiancé long enough to have a proper conversation with his father. Not only had he come face-to-face with Jean before discussing the engagement, they were meeting months before they were allowed to by custom of the ruling war family.
Armin had been mere hours away from a potential argument with his father over the man sitting in front of him now.
Should he get up, make a poor excuse to leave, and forget this ever happened? Had Jean been sent intentionally by some higher power to confront him? Armin's sense of logic told him to abandon him, because it's what Erwin would want, but a part of him wanted to spit on logic and do things his own way.
Jean cocked his head in his direction. "What about you? Who do I have the pleasure of being annoyed at the rich and powerful with this evening?"
Armin sighed, his shoulders dropping.
Fuck it. Jean would know his true name within the next few months anyway. What benefit was there to lying?
He placed a hand on his chest and bowed as much as his sitting position would allow him to.
"Prince Armin Smith the Ineluctable, at your service, Sir."
Jean jerked backwards so much he nearly fell off of the bench. Light brown eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Oh. I…shit. And I didn't even give you a proper salute. Hold on, let me…" He started to rise from the bench to do so.
Armin extended his hand out to signal him to stop. "Wait, no. No, no, please. That's not necessary. Honestly I'm enjoying the fact that no one here knows who I am."
Jean's sympathetic stare lingered on Armin, contemplating his words as he slowly sat back down. "Life is rough being the son of the war king, huh?"
The war prince rolled his eyes. "Ironically, it's impossible to have any privacy with this mask, and everyone treats me differently than they would otherwise. It's a pain in the ass. As much as I don't enjoy parties like this, it's been nice blending into the crowd for once."
Jean crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall of the estate. The night breeze sent a light chill up his spine. "I hear you. I can imagine how hard it must be. So what made him allow you to go without the mask tonight? There's a lot of people here, enough to potentially compromise your safety, right? Doesn't that go against everything the war king is trying to do?"
"Sometimes he lets us go without, like in large crowds at formal events. Having them on in that case is not only disrespectful to the host and guests, but it makes us more obvious. More people looking at us. It's better strategically to hide away and not draw attention."
Jean's eyes rolled into the back of his head like he was considering it, but his face said all Armin needed to know, and was well aware of for as long as he could remember. "That's...strange. I don't understand that. Sorry."
"I don't disagree, but I've spent the last fifteen years trying to convince him the masks are ineffective, and I haven't managed it. Make no mistake, I know I live a very fortunate life, and I don't mean to sound ungrateful," Armin put his hands up, surrendering to a battle neither of them had declared, "But I just wish I could be treated like a normal person instead of someone who constantly needs protection. Someone who's ultimately a means to his father's ends."
"Right…" Jean's voice trailed off as he said it, his gaze slowly redirecting to the ground. He sat there in deep thought for a few minutes. Armin studied him closely. He looked like months or even years worth of thoughts were spinning in his mind, like he was questioning things he thought he knew so well. Armin thought back to all of his conversations with Historia, and remembered the one key detail she mentioned before the funeral: Jean's feelings for another woman in the Shiganshina guard.
He inhaled, faint but sharp. She was undoubtedly haunting the man's thoughts right now, making him hesitate.
Jean's lips parted as he released a breath. "Listen, Prince Armin—"
"Let's address that first," he interrupted sternly. "It's Armin in private, okay? I never liked the term 'prince', and if we're going to be married, then I owe it to you to not waste your time or breath saying things that don't matter."
"Your father would tell me otherwise, but fine." Jean shook his head. "Armin. I know this is against what your family wants, bad luck and all, but I'd like to get to know you on our own time and see where this goes. What I think if we're going to be married is that we should understand each other before saying our vows, because otherwise what's the point? What do they really mean if we say them after only knowing each other a month before the wedding?"
Armin blinked, caught off guard by the admission, but certainly not in a bad way. After he had a moment to take in Jean's words, he beamed warmly, his face flushing a light shade of pink. "I'm glad you said that. I know that I'm bound by what my father wants, but what I want is do things differently, and I think that's a good place for us to start. We'll be better off than many others before us, you know."
Jean smiled smugly. He raised his arms to stretch, before resting his head in his palms against the wall. "That's my goal, and a little taste of what you get by being married to Jean Kirstein. You intrigued, my prince?"
"I am. And I look forward to learning more about my future husband."
"So do I. War King Erwin won't know what hit him."
Armin reached over to offer his hand.
With the smell of roses and catmint in the air, and the moonlight bearing witness, Jean took it without hesitation.