Four days after Yvo had single-handedly destroyed almost a whole navy fleet, there was an order to expedite the transfer of titan powers of the remaining warriors—the one after Yvo was Hermine, and then finally, Dedrich.
It would also be that they'd get promoted thanks to Magath and Bernhardt being proved right. Magath became the commander of the Eldian Unit, while Bernhardt was bumped up to Captain of the Warrior Unit.
And you, well....
"Are...you serious...?"
Magath's honey eyes didn't waver the slightest.
"Entirely."
Bernhardt decided he'd let Magath do all the talking, turning to play with the cuff of his shirt while glancing at you from the chair he sat in beside you.
You stood, however, finding that you felt slightly claustrophobic when you were sat down and given news like this.
And you weren't upset; you knew you'd be given the order to ship out any day.
You just didn't think it would be this fast—at the drop of a hat.
"Does the brass..." you mumbled.
Magath dipped his head in silent confirmation, and you found yourself staring down at the floor for a minute.
You hadn't even given anyone a forward about this happening—like anyone.
"So, then...tonight," you affirmed to yourself, calculating how many hours you had left before you left, "and how long does it take to reach Western Ceanti?"
"A week to reach the Edrura continent."
The nausea from imagining the sea sickness you'd get was enough to make you somber.
If it took a week to get to the most western continent, you didn't even want to think how long it would take to navigate West Ceanti. Maybe another week since it was by foot and there was no reliable means to ensure you'd have transportation.
"It's safe to say that the whole operation could take an optimistic month," Magath said, pulling out a drawer and dropping a white box onto his desk. You could recognize them as cigarettes. The favorite kind that Magath had been rationing for a while now. "And we can't truly calculate how long the mission would take now that the war room has decided to tweak some original plans. We've been waiting to get the official declaration of war from Otril, but we just got it today. It should be put out on the paper tomorrow morning."
He brought out his old metallic lighter, scooted a thin roll of tobacco, and then lit it. He took a long drag from it, and you could just see how tired he was to not even crack open a window for it.
Bernhardt must have shared the same idea as you because he was the one to stand and head over to the windows. "I got it..."
"If we can't fight off all these enemies in a matter of a year or two...Marley will truly crumble under the pressure," Magath concluded.
His eyes met yours, and while they were the same, resolved eyes you'd always look at, you could find some sincerity in them.
"If we secure one of the missing titans, then we can truly put an end to this war. But if you feel like you don't want to risk your life any more than you need to, I'll put you on reserve."
The reserve wasn't enough. That was just a glorified position. A backup without any of the rewards. That's not what you wanted. You wanted security.
"That doesn't include Marleyan citizenship, does it?"
Magath didn't respond.
"Reserve isn't a bad idea," Bernhardt said, glancing you over his shoulder. "This mission is practically suicide. You still have a chance."
You couldn't help but give a sardonic smile.
A chance, huh...
You never had a chance. You couldn't even believe you had any opportunity that didn't include fighting for it since you were born.
"Thanks for all your help thus far, Commander."
He scoffed, grabbing his pen from the fountain it sat in.
"Yeager, this isn't any special treatment," he rumbled quietly. His eyes met yours, "If you don't make it back for whatever reason—I'll carry on like it's another day."
You smiled a little.
"I wouldn't think you'd do anything else, Sir."
He made a face indicating he was annoyed by your statement before dismissing you and telling you to call Eduard to speak with him. He must be getting the briefing, too, then.
You stood quietly outside the office, staring out at the courtyard before getting ready to busy yourself for a bit.
That's right if you were gone, it would just be another day.
And today was just that—another day.
==
"Hey, can I come in?"
You didn't wait for a reply and opened the door, seeing Bernhardt, Yvo, and Ded sitting at the round table of his office.
"You could come in," the oldest male muttered.
You gave a cheeky smile, zoning in on the two youths sitting across from him. "Sorry to interrupt your little man chat, but these two need to come with me."
Bernhardt must've been tired of you, having seen you not even two hours ago.
He sighed and dragged a hand down his face, lingering it around his mouth as he mumbled into it. "Yeah, sure, take 'em. You probably are going to, even if I say no."
"You should do a better job disciplining me then, Deer Captain," you teased slightly, gesturing for the two teens to stand.
Bernhardt grunted, "Don't call me that..."
"Leave the man alone, [Name]," Ded said to you as they walked to the door frame you stood under, "You've run him into the ground with that nickname."
"Eh? I have not—" You found yourself sputtering around Yvo's hand and being dragged out by him with an arm on your waist.
"Thanks for the advice," Ded said, waving goodbye to him while you tried to ask Yvo to let you go into his palm. He smelled like gunpowder; he may have been helping with the armory tests earlier.
Finally, the giant let you go once Ded closed the door, and you crossed your arms and glared half-heartedly at the two.
"Becoming chummy with the Man-Deer now, are we," you muttered.
Ded poked your forehead, an amused look on his face. "Why? Does that bother you?"
You leered at him through squinted eyes, "No, just remembered that you're too scared to talk to girls, so you must run to big-bro Bern for advice."
Ded reached to mess your hair up, and you blocked him, only for him to poke your neck.
"And that is why you have no...boyfriend!"
"I don't want one! Hey—not there! Not there—! Ack!"
Yvo blinked wearily at your behavior, fixing the front of his trench coat. "Was there a reason you wanted us out here?"
You were in the middle of having Ded in a headlock when you let him go, much to the relief of the former, who had to fix his glasses back into place and smooth down his hair.
"I know we've had a rough and busy week, and I decided to treat you guys to pretzels!" You grinned.
Ded narrowed his eyes in suspicion, "You seem awfully cheery...are you sure you're not going to make us pay?"
"What?" You mumbled, waving a hand. "Now, when have I done—don't answer that."
Yvo muttered, "You didn't even finish the question..."
You reached inside your pocket and flashed a few bills, a broad smile on your face. "I've been saving up for a special occasion! I say today is as good as any, right?"
The two looked at each other as if silently asking if you were really being truthful before you could see the silent conformation in each other's eyes and knew you had won them over.
"I want two."
"Two pretzels? Well, a young man still needs his nutrients to keep growing—"
"I want four."
"Four...? Yvo, please be easy on my wallet..."
==
You got Yvo to compromise on three. Dedrich got his two pretzels, and you settled on getting one.
The spot you took them to eat was outside the walls, which you could only do with being berated thanks to the red armbands the two males accompanying you had been switched to. It was a little irritating to have to use them as passes, or escorts for that matter, but it was what it was. You just didn't get picked like they had.
"That thing looks really funny no matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise."
You bit a chunk of your pretzel, the three of you watching the engineers working on a prototype for a contraption that was supposed to give the military access to the skies. It was a bit of a far-fetched pitch that had been put off since a year ago, if you could recall, but was finally given the clearance to proceed. Guess there wasn't much to lose if your enemies were trying to find ways to beat meter-tall titans.
"I think they're using some kind of gas to inflate the thing," Ded muttered on his second pretzel already.
Yvo hummed in agreement, "Maybe hydrogen."
"That thing catches fire quickly, doesn't it?"
And as if on cue, something sparked inside the small cabin and caused the engineers to panic, shouting for the gas to be turned off frantically.
"Guess we can't find out," Yvo said.
You couldn't help but laugh, feeling awful for doing so, but the timing was just too perfect.
"I'm not laughing—I'm not laughing," you said in a crackly voice, hoping to appease Ded when he gave you a poignant stare.
He shook his head silently, crumbling the baking paper that had become widespread use in bakeries and cake shops. "Whatever they're doing, it looks dangerous," he muttered, "Hope it turns out to be worth the risk to make it when it's done."
You finished your pretzel in relative silence after that, Yvo not too late behind you, and ended up laying on the grassy hill overlooking the river.
It wasn't too hot today, but it was sunny, and you wished you had worn a hat to block the sun from your face.
"What were you two talking about with Bernhardt?" You asked after the comfortable silence.
Ded shifted beside you, letting Yvo use most of his legs as head cushions as he had ended up laying out horizontally below you.
"How to deal with headaches," he mumbled, folding his arms behind his head to use as a pillow, "Unlike Bern and Yvo, I can't see much into what the past Armored Titan experienced. But sometimes there's a few seconds when I can, and it gives me migraines."
You craned to look at him with a slight frown, "What? You didn't want to tell me this?"
He lowered his brows apologetically, "I didn't want to worry you."
Didn't want you to worry...
How would you even begin to tell him the news without worrying him?
Maybe you shouldn't.
"See, that's the face I didn't want you to make."
You shut your eyes, giving a low grunt from your throat. "I'm not making anything! You should have just told me! If it's just some lousy headaches you have, then I would have understood!"
Dedrich...
You hoped he could forgive you for this one day.
"What'd I tell you, Yvo? You owe me that cash."
"You bet on it?! Hey...look at me, you two!"
You hoped they'd all forgive you for this.
Because you knew you would not be able to.
==
They accidentally dozed off on the hill, looking over the river. You couldn't nap as much as you wanted, pent up with anxiety and nerves for your departure. You still needed to pack up what little you could take and slip out of your house without being detected.
You couldn't believe you were such a coward about this. You killed a man—you rammed him with a stick. You were ready to face and kill anyone who touched you and Ded down in that cellar. You shot dummies with the faces of people who had been shipped off to Paradis during practice. You were a soldier—a hardened tool.
Nothing should scare you.
Right?
"Bern wants to meet in the afternoon tomorrow to discuss deployment. So, remember to wake up early."
"Don't need to remind me..."
"..."
"...What are you both looking at me for?"
Your grumble was good-natured, but you were getting into a sour mood the closer you came to your house.
"Just don't sleep in, alright?" Yvo told you, drifting from your side to near the brick fence leading to his apartment home. He told you he and his parents could move as soon as the documents were approved and processed. "We still need to go to HQ early to help with shipments for deploying squads."
"I know," you sighed, "I could always just let you two go on your own. I'm not allowed in the meeting until Command decides to keep me or Eduard for reserve."
Yvo came back closer to poke at your neck, to which you scrunched your neck to trap his fingers, but he was too quick. He pulled away before you could get back at him.
"Don't sleep in!" He repeated, a little firmer and with a grunt.
You huffed under your breath, glaring at his back as he approached the apartment building door. "I won't, jerk!"
While the slight tease would have lifted your spirits a little, it only made your chest clench. Who knew when you'd see your giant companion again?
You walked away before Ded could comment on your lingering gaze, praying he didn't pick up on it.
One down.
One left to go.
Like most walks home with Ded, a comfortable silence took hold, but you should say that it might have been one-sided.
Dedrich knew you as well as you did him. It was vice-versa if you could pick up on his micro-expressions or tone. You would need to be careful—
"What's on your mind?"
And, of course, you already blew your cover.
It was time to play dumb.
"Hm?" You peeked at him from the corner of your eye, putting on a lazy, confused façade.
Dedrich's eyes became half-lidded with suspicion. "I know when you have a lot on your mind. You put on a convincing act, but your eyes are a dead giveaway."
That shouldn't have made you so self-conscious as it should have. You patted your face close to your eyes and immediately tried to pout to recover.
"Got to get your eyes rechecked," you told him, reaching over to take his glasses sitting over his nose, holding them up to the evening sun for inspection. "Doesn't seem like these glasses are doing you as much good as you thought. I can put in a request to see the doctor tomorrow while you're at your meeting."
You could see his lips dip into a deeper frown from the very corner of your eye, and you tried to ignore looking at him with all your might. Surely, these glasses of his were much more enjoyable.
"[Name], you're not going to distract me."
"Not trying to," you said, returning his glasses, keeping your gaze ahead. You could spot the red tile roof of the apartments you lived in. If you could just reach it fast enough, you could get away from him. But then you'd have to start over again with your mother and Adette, and potentially Milo. "I don't know what you're trying to pick at, Dedrich. I'm just trying to get through another day, that's all."
You could always just run home.
Even if he had gotten faster and more robust, you were confident in your abilities.
He wouldn't want to cause a scene at your place, either. He'd just figure he could try again tomorrow.
He wouldn't have a clue you would be gone before then.
What a coward you were.
You were about to sprint away, had Ded's hand not shot out, gripped your wrist and forced you to stop.
"...[Name]..."
This damn boy.
When did the roles begin to switch? This was never meant to happen. Right?
You were the strong, dependable [Name]. The 'nothing-could-hurt-me-girl.' The scrappy neighborhood child who'd pick fights when her skittish and pushover best friend was being bumped around.
When did you become such a disjointed mess? Had reality humbled you this bad?
"You can count on me, you know."
That was supposed to be your line. You were supposed to be the one to take care of each other.
"I...I'm on your side. Whatever you're having trouble with...if you need me to...you can always count on me."
You were glad he couldn't see your face then.
Your eyes were probably a little glossy.
But you needed to gather yourself and march on.
And so, you closed your heart off a little, swallowing the emotions that threatened to escape.
"...Thanks, Dedrich."
You told him, looking back at him with a tiny smile. You pulled away, glad to find out that his hold loosened when you wanted the autonomy of your hand back.
"Don't worry about me! I'm just itching for something in my stomach!" You patted your abdomen, letting off a grumbled laugh. "You two...sure know how to put a dent in my savings."
Just leave it.
Leave it be, Dedrich.
This was for the best.
"But having a good time with the both of you makes it worth it! See ya, Ded!"
He didn't chase after you.
And some part of you, while rejecting it, still wanted him to reach for you again.
You were sure you would have changed your mind then.
And you would have stayed rooted in your spot.
You would have stopped because it was Dedrich who reached out to you.
==
"Welcome home."
When you got inside, barely through the threshold of the door, you were greeted. Things were already being set up at the table, and like a few days before, Milo was at the table, placing bowls and plates in their individual spots while your mother and Adette were at the kitchenette.
You hadn't expected the man to be here today, but it wasn't unwelcome.
"Good evening, Milo," you greeted as you slid off your armband and coat.
He answered back warmly, "Evening, [Name]," he walked from the kitchenette to stand beside one of the dining chairs." It's getting pretty cool out lately, isn't it? They might have you switch uniforms for the colder months."
You smiled wryly, "I'm just glad I'm not allowed to wear shorts. Yvo and Dedrich looked awful in them before they got their new ones."
"No boys flipping your skirts?" Adette asked, no doubt trying to get a bit of a rise out of you.
You seat yourself at your usual spot, unbuttoning the top of your shirt for more breathing room. "Afraid the men are too afraid of acting barbaric when officers are nearby. I can't slug any of them. A shame."
"That's good," Milo said, looking slightly smug at your response. "And if anyone does, just send them my way. Working with metal and hammers all day gives anyone the arms of a bear."
He was going to try to flex an arm, but Adette walked up behind to put it down when she needed to set his bowl of potato soup before him.
"Time to eat up, Mr. Bear," she told the blond, patting his shoulder before taking her seat, "Need your energy for work in a few hours. Otherwise, you won't be able to lift those arms of yours."
Your mother brought over a bowl for you and herself, nudging the basket of bread from last night that had been unfinished off her forearm and onto the table.
"You can eat up and take a bath first, [Name]," your mother said after you pulled out her chair. "Since Adette went first last time."
You reached for a cut portion of slightly dried bread, shaking your head. "You can go first. I want to help wash dishes today."
Something normal. Some control over your life. That's what you needed. That's what you always searched for at home.
Something to pretend with. Space out over. Something mundane.
Something boring so you could pretend you weren't being shipped out into the trenches of war.
Your mother eyed you softly from the corner of her eye before returning it to her soup.
"If that's what you want."
You appreciated her being patient with you more these days. More understanding and lenient.
"Thank you."
You tried to engage in the table talk like you always did. But you...couldn't quite remember what you had even said.
And then you realized you had been scrubbing dishes and held a bowl in your hand.
The late evening oil burned, and dinner was over.
"Let me help with that."
Milo approached from the side, sliding himself next to you to help clean out the pot your meal came out of. There weren't any leftovers this time around.
You nodded quietly, trying to push back that fog in your brain that gradually overtook you over your dinner.
The sounds of movement in your mother's bedroom and her low mumbling when talking to Adette accompanied your scrubbing and rinsing. Milo didn't try to converse with you, perhaps sensing your want to be silent.
After he was done washing the pot, he needed to dry it off, and seeing as you were the only one cleaning dishes before his arrival, he needed a drying towel. There was one to his left hanging on a hook installed on a cabinet, so he reached for it.
It would also be that you had glanced over to see when you spotted something slip out of his trousers pocket.
It was a honeyed colored paper folded into a square. You could see from the blank surface that faced you that there were many wrinkles and a bumpy pattern as if it'd been crumbled before folded.
You remember seeing a stack of those yellow papers sitting on Magath's desk in his office today—the same papers meant to be sent out tomorrow for today's draft lottery.
Your skin felt like it had been pricked a million times over.
Milo was oblivious to your staring, though, having to gather the courage to ask, "What? What's the matter?" after your eyes remained glued to the paper.
And then he followed your gaze, and he, too, stared.
Neither of you said anything, but his face turned sullen.
He bent to pick up the paper and pocket it before hesitantly returning to drying the pot.
After a stark amount of silence, you mumbled to him.
"When do you..."
Milo glowered down at the pot he held.
"...In two weeks...I have to show up for training..."
You swallowed the small lump in your throat.
"She doesn't—?"
"—It'd break my heart to tell her—"
He cut you off, gripping the pot's handles tightly now as he sneered down at it. He was refusing to meet your eyes.
"How...? How do I even begin to tell her...?"
Although he was whispering, his hoarse voice sounded louder than cannon fire in your ears. All you could do was soak in the travesty of the situation, almost in disbelief that he had been drawn out.
You hadn't even left, and things were falling apart already.
Swallowing again, thickly, you crumpled the drying towel in hand and leaned your weight on the tile of the basin using your palms. And then you began to think until you found your voice again.
"Get married."
That was enough to pull him out of his anguish for a bit. "What?"
"Marry Adette," you told him, keeping your volume low. "Marry her."
"I can't just—I don't even have my mother's ring anymore—" he stammered.
You grabbed hold of the sleeves of his shirt, pulling him to face you, making him wide-eyed.
"Use our mother's—she'll give it to you if you tell her, but you need to marry her as soon as you can, Milo," you relayed to him, trying to contain the anxiety in your tone. "They're going to ship you out as soon as you're done with training—and your chances of coming back are slim to none. I...I know you love my sister, Milo. And because I love her too...I'm telling you to marry her."
You had only then realized that you were squeezing his arms uncomfortably tight, your hands turning white. After this finding, you almost completely released him, only lightly holding onto part of his rolled-up sleeve like you would when you were a child with your parents.
"Please...Milo, just...trust me."
He stared at you painfully, his eyes giving away the conflict and turmoil that must be going on him. There were so many unspoken things you knew he wanted to ask. You both knew that marrying into your family would not affect freezing his future deployment. You weren't a Warrior and were not given the perks and privileges they received. And then there was the fact that if he married your sister, all that would do was tie her to him. If he died out there, Adette might never be able to move on from it.
And yet you demand that he do so anyway without much explanation. You were asking him to just do as you dictated.
After all these years of spending time with each other, you had never given Milo a reason to mistrust you. You admired his loyalty to your family and his character. He truly loved your sister and cared for you and your mother.
"...Alright."
You think he left soon after that.
And while the other two women were getting ready for bed, you were lagging, sitting at the table and staring into the candle's flickering flame.
It was your last night here for a while. You'd miss the warmth of the candle and oil lanterns like this. Sitting at the table and nodding off while your mother cooked in the background, Adette talked about her latest woe into the air.
If you tried hard enough, you could pull remnants of your father from the past into your mind's eye. It had been a long time since you'd thought about him in this way—too bitter about the mess he had left behind for you to clean up, but you were a little sentimental at the moment.
Back then, he would sit at the head of the table and show off the latest book he purchased from the shop to you, a sparkle in his eye when you moved in to look at what he pointed to in the text. You remember him smelling like your shop: leather and dye. But that was all you could remember of his actual person aside from his personality—how tired and worn out he looked, yet always happy and smiling. Maybe you had repressed traits of him, or you truly had been too young to remember him entirely, but he would always come out faceless in your recollections.
You remember he had the same colored eyes as you, something you had inherited from him, but you couldn't remember anything else. You had even forgotten his voice, the way he would call you endearingly in his native tongue once in a blue moon. Perhaps you were a little too young when he finally succumbed to his disease.
In this imaginary setting you were conjuring, you set this faceless man—beside you at the table, with a text of a language you couldn't even guess, and Adette just entering the home, announcing her arrival to anyone in earshot. The room smelled of spices and herbs from the stew your mother made. Your mother dried her hands off with a small towelette, welcoming Adette back home, and then told your father to put away his book. All four of you would have some candid conversation, and the oil and candles would burn a little later, replacing the evening sunlight that was no longer filtering through the windows as you had dinner.
And then you'd....
You pressed your palms onto your eyes and let out a quiet, shaky breath. Your fingers came to press into the scalp of your head, nails digging into your skin as you shook.
"[Name]...! Time for bed."
You sat silently for another minute before blowing out the candle and heading for your room to pack secretly.
And in this fictional scenario that you conjured up, you'd go to bed and, like clockwork, do it again the next day.
====
He swung by early as planned, albeit a little earlier than would generally be agreed upon.
Yesterday's goodbye left him feeling restless the whole night. He had ended up just caught up in the web of his thoughts over it and not having much of an appetite for dinner, instead deciding to wash himself of the day's sweat and griminess and lay in bed.
He just didn't like how hollow he felt watching you leave. He could've just checked again to see if you were actually faring well, but he stopped himself.
Why? He wasn't sure.
Maybe he was falling back on old habits, turning back to his cowardly ways.
He might be working himself for nothing.
But he just wanted to make sure.
You could call him all sorts of names and shout his ear off if you wanted.
He just wanted to make sure you were alright.
It would be discourteous of him to wake up the rest of your family over it, so he just planned on tapping on your window until you got up and checked.
He tapped at spaced-out intervals of thirty seconds.
He ended up tapping for about two minutes with no response.
You might have been a somewhat heavy sleeper, but you'd eventually rouse yourself from sleep to see what was causing such a noise at your window. And yet...
He was at the point where he stood at the door of your residence, halfway through debating on knowing and getting closure to his growing worry.
He could hear the knocker-up greet him from behind, to which he greeted back with a mutter.
"Beat me to this one, aye?" The older man chuckled, passing the home.
He quietly made a face, hearing the tap-tap of the long, wooden knocker against the glass on the apartment house next door, and turned back to the wooden door hand about to strongly rasp his knuckles against the door...
But ultimately, he never did so, having dropped his hand.
It was still dark out. The sun wouldn't rise for another half hour or so.
He might be a fool.
He might genuinely be overreacting.
He might...
He knocked.
And the one to answer wasn't the face he was exactly hoping for.
"Dedrich?" Adette's sleep-ridden voice rasped out. She clutched her shawl a little tighter around her, and he noticed she was still in her nightwear. He felt a little embarrassed by his inconvenience. "It's...it's a little early to come by and pick her up yet, isn't it? She hasn't even emerged from her cave yet."
He smiled wryly at her teasing insult.
"We have a meeting today," he said, slipping in a bit of a fib, "It starts a little earlier than usual. I know her internal clock wouldn't wake her up this hour, so I..."
Adette bobbed her head, stifling a yawn.
"Got it..." She mumbled, opening the door a little wider. "Come on in...while I wake her up..."
"Sorry for the intrusion."
"Mm, 't's fine..."
He closed the door gently after himself, noticing your mother coming out of her bedroom.
"Dedrich?" she mumbled.
He shifted his weight awkwardly, "Morning... Ms. Dunst."
He never could seem to grow out of calling her that. He was sure she didn't mind because he was never corrected.
"Are you here for—"
"—[Name]'s gone."
Numb.
His body went numb.
A cold numbing, the kind that seeped into your muscles and penetrated your bones.
"....What are you saying, Adette?"
"She's....she's gone... She's not in her..."
Adette's voice faded from a whisper to silence.
The walls felt like they were slowly closing in.
The world felt excruciating still.
Your mother silently rushed to your door.
He stared at the wall, where a candle sat on the shelf between the rooms.
"[Name]...? [Name], you...!"
He felt ill.
"......Really are......gone...."
He should have chased after you.
His throat plummeted into his stomach, remembering the smile you had given him yesterday before running off.
He should have grabbed your hand.
He would have never let go of you ever again.