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Chapter Text

Annie had never really cared for flowers, but she particularly hated the patch of bright yellow weeds that were growing on the edge of their makeshift camp by Fort Salta.

When she’d first spotted them, it had nearly made her laugh. Most of the world had been flattened into nothing, from massive buildings to the tiniest of insects, and yet right here grew a group of dandelions so bright in colour it was almost as if no one had told them the world had ended. She supposed the colour was nice, or maybe others might have thought so.  She thought Armin might think so, though she couldn’t say much about what he was thinking, given how little they’d talked in the past few weeks.

She particularly hated the sight of those flowers now as she leaned forward and vomited hard into the dead ground beside them.

At least it was easier this morning. Well, it wasn’t necessarily getting easier, but more that she was getting used to it. Regardless, when she’d hacked up most of what was in her system, the nausea seemed to subside quite quickly, though that didn’t make it any easier to stand up straight.

Her stomach sank when she felt a familiar, heavy hand on her back.

“Have you heard from the doctor yet?” asked her father.

She grimaced. She hated her father seeing her like this. Being gone for so long was bad enough, but now, with these recent bouts of nausea, she’d given him something new to worry about.

Annie coughed and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “She said she’d have the results today. I’ll go see her later.”

His hand was still heavy on her back. “Want me to come with you?”

That might have been the last thing she wanted. She didn’t think anything major was wrong – she suspected it to be a combination of things, the loss of her Titan and years underground in the crystal – but in the slight chance there was, she wanted her own time to deal with it.

“It’s fine,” she said. “It’ll be nothing, anyway.”

She knew her father wasn’t particularly convinced, but he didn’t say anything. Neither of them had ever really been much for conversation.

When his hand moved, she shifted. At least now, it wasn’t as hard to stand again, and she made an extra effort to make it look easy, even though her knees still felt a bit weak.

“It’s fine,” she said.

“I know,” he said, but she knew he wasn’t being honest.

The good thing about her father was that he didn’t dwell on things, at least not conversation-wise. The topic was dropped as they went for breakfast and ate together in silence until their makeshift bowls, old, reused tins, were scraped clean. Still, it was almost a relief when he left to return their tins to the centre of camp, where rations were handed out. She didn’t really want to say anything more about her health now, right before she went to see the doctor.

It was almost easier when she thought she was going to die in four years. Now, she felt as frail as a bug. The nausea definitely didn’t help, either.

Maybe this was her punishment for everything – she certainly deserved it. But then, if it was, surely, at least, Reiner would be suffering, too, but he was in perfect health. Not to mention, if this was some sort of retribution, then she’d deserve much worse.

She sighed and pulled herself to her feet. There was no point in wasting any time. She needed to see if the doctor had gotten the results of her blood test, though she wasn’t quite sure what they were supposed to show. It wasn’t like anyone’s Titan powers had just disappeared before, and she was probably the only person ever to have spent four years encased in a crystal. Who knew what effect that had on the body?

She’d briefly considered whether it was stress causing all of this, though the thought nearly made her laugh. After everything, being sick from stress now would just be a kick in the teeth. The only one of them who was seriously stressed was Armin, though she had a feeling he wasn’t tossing his guts out every day. His tent was right next to Connie and Jean’s – she was sure they’d look a lot less well-rested if he was.

The thought of Armin nearly made her grimace, and she did everything she could to shove down the feeling that came with it, but it was to no avail. This was almost worse than the vomiting – when he came into her thoughts, at least once a day, and forced her to acknowledge the situation between them, which was the last thing she wanted to do.

Ever since the boat, since what had happened between them, things had been ... awkward. It wasn’t something she’d anticipated when they’d done it, though she supposed she hadn’t really imagined he’d still be alive in the next twenty-four hours. And, as nervous as they’d both been, somehow, it had been nice. She hadn’t even thought her body could feel so nice, so unused to it being treated like her own, rather than a commodity for suffering. He’d made it nice.

Now, any time they had to be near each other, it was almost agonising. Sometimes, he could barely look at her, and other times, his face would flush and he’d struggle to stammer out whatever he needed to say to her. That was unfamiliar. The last thing she could have said about Armin was that he had any trouble speaking to her. It made her wonder whether this was really the same guy who’d managed to convince the Marleyan military not to mow them down.

Not that she was any better. If anything, she was worse. It didn’t seem like Armin was actively avoiding her, though she was definitely making a deliberate effort to steer clear of him. Sometimes, she’d catch his gaze across camp, and he’d smile or wave, and she’d duck her head, flushed, and practically pretend she hadn’t seen it. He didn’t wave so much now.

Maybe that’s what she was stressed about.

The thought nearly made her scoff. Stressed about Armin? No, that wasn’t right. Not right now, not when she had a lot more pressing things to be worrying over. No, definitely not.

Still, she wasn’t exactly happy about the situation. Sometimes, when she thought of him, she wondered if he regretted it. They certainly wouldn’t be acting like this if they hadn’t done it. Or, maybe, it was less that, and more that his supposedly grand feelings weren’t as grand as he first thought. Maybe their time together had been enough for him. Maybe that was all he’d needed to get her out of his system.

That would be fine if it wasn’t so fucking uncomfortable.

She let out a breath when she reached the main entrance to the fort, helping to ease her nerves, if only for a moment. At least there was an Eldian doctor in the fort. Initially, she’d been surprised to find out that she was given her own office in the fort, though she imagined Armin’s sharp tongue had something to do with that.

Still, she wasn’t exactly thrilled to be in a Marleyan fort. Children, the elderly and the disabled were given the option to sleep in the barracks, and Annie was glad for the hard floor and her tent outside. Even though the Marleyans here were being very cooperative, she didn’t count on it lasting, especially not when Marley managed to restore most of its civilisation. Soon enough, she was sure, they’d all be back to wearing armbands and being corralled into anywhere the Marleyans wanted them. Even Armin wouldn’t be able to talk them out of that.

Thankfully, the doctor’s office was set up close to the entrance, probably so none of the Eldians in the camp would go snooping through the rest of the fort, though when Annie reached its door, she still hesitated outside. It took her a few moments to catch herself doing it. So, what if she were dying? It would still be true regardless of whether the doctor told her or not. So, she forced herself to knock on the door firmly, three times, and did her best to unclench her fist afterwards.

The door opened only a few moments later, and she was met with Dr Wolff’s familiar, smiling face. At first, she’d found her smile to be agitating, but now, something about it was oddly comforting. She was getting soft.

Dr Wolff smiled. “Annie. How are you feeling?”

Annie shoved her hands into the pockets of her hoodie and said, “Fine.”

Dr Wolff stepped aside. “Come and take a seat.”

She hated the way her stomach instantly sank, though she tried not to let it show on her face as she entered the office. It was just a small meeting room, converted as best as they could for the doctor’s purposes; the actual rooms with medical equipment were reserved for the Marleyan medics. There was a single chair facing the doctor’s desk, and as Dr Wolff clicked the office door shut, Annie moved to sit in it, though when she did, she wished she’d just stood. It felt flimsy and rickety. At least she wouldn’t be here for too long.

“Right,” said Dr Wolff with a sigh as she settled down at her desk. It took her only a moment to pick up a small stack of paper on her messy desk before flipping through to the page she wanted. “I’m glad you’re sitting down.”

The statement made her heart sink, though she didn’t say anything. Maybe she really was dying. What a place to find out, in a tiny, renovated conference room with a doctor she barely knew. She supposed she might deserve it, after everything.

“So, I have your results,” she said. “I can’t say we know much about the Titan curse ending, or the crystallisation process you underwent, so I wasn’t too sure where to start with that. So, I initially was just looking for anything abnormal.” She sighed and added, “And, well … I found something abnormal. At least for you.”

“So,” said Annie, voice flat. “Am I dying or what?”

Dr Wolff offered a strained smile. “No, you’re not dying.”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Then what’s wrong with me?”

Dr Wolff sighed, dropping her gaze. She paused for a second before she raised her eyes again to meet Annie’s, and said, “You’re pregnant.”

For a moment, Annie thought that she hadn’t quite heard her right. Actually, her first thought was that she must have imagined the words that fell out of her mouth, a nightmarish concept that shouldn’t, couldn’t be true. But when a second passed, and another, and Dr Wolff didn’t say anything else, Annie realised that she hadn’t imagined her words at all.

“What?” she croaked.

Dr Wolff’s eyebrows drew together. “I’m assuming this isn’t the news you wanted to hear.”

Annie dropped her head. “That doesn’t – I can’t be … pregnant.”

“Have you had sexual intercourse recently?” she asked. “In the last month or so?”

“I …” Her face burned, and she felt like she might vomit. “Yes.”

Dr Wolff sighed. “Then you are very capable of being pregnant.”

Annie didn’t say anything. She couldn’t even lift her head up to look at Dr Wolff. Her eyes were focused on her boots, old and outdated, the same ones she’d been frozen in when she was sixteen. They looked different now, even though they weren’t. Maybe it was because she was four years older, or maybe it was because it felt like the entire room was spinning.

“Miss Leonhart,” said Dr Wolff. “Can you look at me?”

She raised her head. She hated the way Dr Wolff was looking at her. It was like she felt sorry for her. Then again, in that moment, Annie was feeling pretty sorry for herself, too.

“You need some support,” said Dr Wolff gently, and Annie resented it. No one spoke to her softly, like she was something delicate. Well, except for –

“Is this okay?”

“Does it feel good?”

“You’re so pretty, Annie.”

She forced herself to focus on Dr Wolff when she started speaking again.

“You have options,” she said. “You can continue on with this pregnancy, or there are ways to … terminate it. However, they are risky under normal circumstances, and in times like these, with the lack of facilities, well … they’re life-threatening. But that decision is yours.” When Annie didn’t answer, she added, “If you’d like to know more, I can explain.”

But even then, she couldn’t say anything. It was like her tongue was just some useless weight in her mouth, dead and heavy.

Dr Wolff cleared her throat. “If you do continue with this pregnancy, I think it might be best for you to keep it to yourself for the foreseeable future. You can discuss it with me, of course, but … after what’s happened recently …”

She didn’t finish her sentence, but she didn’t need to. A handful of Eldians stopping the Rumbling didn’t automatically wash away hundreds of years of prejudice. Annie was sure everyone would be thrilled to hear about a new Eldian baby coming into the world.

“That being said,” said Dr Wolff. “If the father is … still alive, it might be worth discussing with him. If … well, if that’s something you want. Of course, it’s your choice, first and foremost. Would telling the father be dangerous?”

The father. What a stupid label. It didn’t suit him at all. Then again, mother was much worse for her.

Eventually, Annie shook her head.

“Alright,” said Dr Wolff. “Well, if you wouldn’t mind, please let me know of your decision. While you’re still at Fort Salta, I can help you through this as best as I can.”

Annie nodded. Then, after a moment, she managed to say, “Thank you.”

When she fully came back to her senses, she rose to her feet. Then, without even bothering to bid Dr Wolff goodbye, she slipped out of the room, making sure to carefully shut the door behind her.

Chapter Text

“You look tired,” said Connie.

Armin frowned, though at this point, it was more out of habit than anything else. Connie’s words were part of their morning routine at this point. Once he emerged from his tent and Jean offered him a polite “good morning”, Connie’s “you look tired” would always follow. At first, he’d also said good morning, but now, he didn’t even bother with that. It had turned into his regular greeting, at least for Armin.

“I slept fine,” he said, though that was the furthest thing from the truth. He never slept well, and he was certain they knew that, too. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Yeah,” said Connie as he stretched. “Like a baby.”

“An annoying baby,” said Jean. “You roll around in your sleep. Every night.”

“Well,” said Connie pointedly. “It’s clearly not that much of a problem considering this is the first I’m hearing about it.”

Jean scoffed, but he didn’t bother replying. That was a sure sign he was tired, too, or maybe he hadn’t fully woken up yet. He looked more closely at him for a moment and found no trace of dark circles under his eyes. Well, at least Jean was sleeping better than he was. He supposed one of them needed to have their shit together.

Then again, given he was the one having constant meetings with the Marleyan military in the fort every day, he was probably the one who needed his shit together the most. Admittedly, the constant reminders of how little of his shit he had together from Connie every morning weren’t helping anything.

At least the meetings were probably going to be over soon. Well, the ones at Fort Salta, anyway.

“So,” said Jean. “What’s the plan for today, then, Commander?”

Armin tried not to wince. It was bad enough when Levi used that word with him, but it grated against him when the others did. He knew it wasn’t done with bad intent, but that didn’t mean he liked the way it got under his skin.

He knew it only bothered him because he was tired. No, that wasn’t quite right; it bothered him because he was fucking exhausted.

“Nothing’s really on the agenda,” he said. But then, he paused, and added, “Well …”

“Well?” asked Connie, his eyebrows furrowing. “Well, what?”

Armin sighed. “I had a discussion with Muller yesterday.”

“Oh, right,” said Connie, his eyebrows drawing together. “You were in the fort all day.”

“Must have been one hell of a discussion,” said Jean.

That was an understatement. By the time Armin had left the fort, night had long since fallen, and his body was heavy as he crawled into his sleeping bag. He must have slept, but it didn’t feel like he had at all.

In Muller’s defence, it had only gone on for so long that Armin was certain of every possible detail. Muller had invited him to his office to propose a plan: send those of them who had come to stop the Rumbling south to vouch for the refugees here, and to help start reorganising civilisation. Word had already been sent, which meant at least one of them had to go, meaning he, at least, would have to go. Muller promised no armbands and no other form of Eldian identification. They would be as free as any of the Marleyans themselves.

Armin hadn’t initially seen much weight in the idea, at least not for the others. They’d been living amongst the Marleyan military for a month, and miraculously, there’d been no incidents, not since right after the Rumbling had ended. The only genuine perk seemed to be the privacy – apparently, they’d be set up at a property just outside of the city, in the country, with their own cook and security, and most importantly, their own bed.

He could barely remember the last time he’d slept in a bed. He remembered the last time he’d lain on a bed, though it had been the small one in his cabin on the boat to Odiha, and he hadn’t been alone then, and he certainly hadn’t been sleeping.

The memory made his stomach lurch. He became aware, then, that the feeling might be showing on his face. So, he forced a smile and said, “How do you feel about sleeping in an actual bed?”

Both of them were elated, though he hadn’t exactly expected them to be disappointed at the prospect. After all, they weren’t really sacrificing anyone by coming with him; both of their mothers were back on Paradis. He knew that fact alone worried them – it was only a matter of time until the island found out they’d helped stop the Rumbling, but there was nothing to do about that. Staying here certainly wouldn’t change that. So, a warm bed was clearly more than welcome.

That was the easiest part. Not long after, he went to speak with Levi and Onyakapon, but both preferred to stay. He understood, but he was a little disheartened, especially by Onyakapon’s absence – a non-Eldian voice would have been more compelling than anything. But he was staying while Levi recovered, because “someone he can trust should really stick around”. Armin thought he might recover better in an actual bed, but they couldn’t be swayed.

After that, he didn’t go and talk to the others. He knew he should. He was certain he should. But every time he thought of talking to the others, she came into his head, and his heart fluttered and sank all at the same time.

There was no way Annie would come with them.

Since the Rumbling had ended, he and Annie hadn’t really talked, and any conversations they’d had probably couldn’t even be labelled as such – some embarrassed, fumbled words from him, and curt phrases from her where they somehow managed to say nearly nothing of substance. His biggest strength was his ability to twist words, yet now, even saying hello to her had become borderline mortifying.

It was his fault, really. He couldn’t blame it on her at all. Annie had always kept to herself – just because of what happened didn’t mean that had to change. It wasn’t like they had become a thing after that.

No, he was the one getting flustered all the time, and it was making things awkward. He knew he was acting ridiculously, especially when they all had much bigger concerns to deal with, but still – he didn’t quite know how to behave around her, especially when she seemed fairly disinterested in him now.

Often, when he caught her gaze across the camp, offering a poor excuse for a wave and a smile, which she never responded to, he wondered if what they did on the boat was the right call. It didn’t take much thinking to know it wasn’t. Still, when he thought about it, he knew he’d do the same thing if he had to do it all over again.

He knew it had meant more to him than her, but even then, that hadn’t fazed him. When she’d appeared at his cabin door, not long after they’d spoken on the deck, asking for things he’d practically dreamed of her asking, well – how was he to refuse?

To call it a moment of weakness would have been an understatement. Annie was hurting, and she’d wanted to feel good for once in her life, and she’d wanted him. It was fleeting, just a moment, but he’d been more than happy to oblige.

He could nearly laugh at himself when those thoughts flooded his mind. The others turned to him for guidance; Eren, in his muddled, desperate state, had told him he’d be the one to save the world. How on earth could he do anything like that when he could barely even look Annie in the eye?

That made him feel especially pathetic. He knew he had to be strong, for everyone’s sake, yet even thinking of having to talk to Annie made him put off talking to the others for another hour.

Eventually, though, he forced himself to do it, mostly because he caught sight of Reiner and his mother across camp while he was pretending to be busy.

He decided to be direct about it, though he realised once he was done explaining the situation, that he maybe should have asked to talk to him privately. As soon as a few moments of silence had passed, his mother had eagerly answered “Yes” for him, while Reiner stood there hesitating.

“I understand if it’s a no,” said Armin.

Reiner paused for a moment before he shook his head. “No, it’s a yes. I think I owe you that, at least.”

He wanted to say that he owed him just as much, if not more, but he didn’t want to get into the details of their history in front of Reiner’s mother. So, he thanked him and told him he’d let him know the details once he’d confirmed everyone who was coming.

Thankfully, Reiner told him where Pieck was – resting in her tent with her father – so he didn’t have to risk seeing Annie and talking to her first.

When he found her tent, Pieck was outside, crouched on the floor and drinking what looked to be coffee in a tin can.

“Hey, Armin,” she said when she caught sight of him.

“Hey,” he said.

Her eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Is everything okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I just needed to ask you something.”

“Okay,” she said. “What is it?”

He cleared his throat. “Some of the others – me, Jean, Reiner and Connie – are heading further south to start negotiations with the remaining powers and vouch for the Eldians here.” Then, he added, “Muller’s request.”

Pieck nodded. “So … I assume you’re here to ask me to come, then.”

“Yes,” he said, before he sighed. “I’d understand if you wanted to stay here, with your father. I can’t say your help wouldn’t be a great asset, because it would. But the choice is entirely yours.” Then, he added, “You’ll also be able to sleep in a bed again, but I don’t know if that’s much of a selling point for you.”

Pieck smiled. “Do you think I like sleeping on the floor?”

Armin let out a breath of laughter. “No. It just seemed like the most important thing to Jean and Connie.”

She hummed. “Yeah, I can see that.” Then, after a moment, she sighed and said, “Well … if Reiner is going, I suppose there might be something in it worth doing.”

His eyebrows rose. “Is that a yes?”

“Temporarily,” she said. “I’ll talk with my father first. Then I’ll get back to you.”

He nodded and began stepping back. “Okay. That’s fine.”

“Oh, and Armin,” she said. “What about Annie?”

Even the mention of her name made his stomach sink.

“What about Annie?” he asked.

“Is she not coming?” she asked.

“Oh,” he said, awkwardly dropping her gaze. “I haven’t asked her yet. I was about to.”

Pieck’s lips twitched. “Saving the best for last?”

Armin’s face warmed. He forced out a sigh to try and seem more comfortable, but his cheeks were still clearly very pink.

“Honestly,” he said. “I think she’ll say no. That’s why I haven’t asked her yet.”

Pieck looked like she wanted to say more. He knew she was sharp, but the way she was looking at him now made it seem like she knew a lot more about his troubles with Annie than he’d first thought. Surely, she was just assuming – there was no way Annie would have told a soul about that.

He was glad when she didn’t push the issue any further. Instead, all she said was, “Well, I hope she’s a bit more willing. She’s smart – that would definitely be helpful, considering we’d be with those three.”

Armin smiled slightly. “Yeah, I suppose it would.”

Once he was done, he knew he should go and find Annie. But instead, he found his feet carrying him back to his tent, which would be the last place he’d find her.

He knew he was being cowardly. Talking to Annie shouldn’t be scary at all, especially not after all the things they’d done to each other, good and bad. But now, it was less about the actual talking, though that had been difficult in the past few weeks. Now, it was more about her saying no, and not coming with them – not coming with him.

As awkward as things had been, at least when they were both here, he always knew she was around, just across camp with her father. He knew she was safe. He couldn’t know that if she stayed while he went off to some unfamiliar Marleyan city to play politics. Then, there was that other, niggling worry: If she said no, he might not ever see her again.

It was ridiculous and dramatic; he knew that. But that feeling wouldn’t quite disappear, even as he walked back to his tent.

The thought lingered on his chest until his tent was in sight. But when he focused on it as he moved closer, his eyebrows furrowed.

He usually secured the door – or flap of the tent, if it could really be called a door – shut before he left, so that, if it was particularly cold, it would at least keep some of the heat inside. But now, the door was ever so slightly open, as if someone else had been inside his tent when he wasn’t there.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. It must be nothing – at most, petty thieves rummaging for rations, which he couldn’t particularly judge in times like these. But still, he approached the tent with some trepidation.

His hand reached for the edge of the flap, slowly, so that whoever was in there would be aware he was coming in. But there was no movement.

Maybe there really was no one in there. Whoever had been there had probably left a while ago now.

He sighed and finally pushed open the door fully. As he did, the light streamed in, and he caught sight of a figure, and that alone nearly made his heart jump out of his chest. But then, as his eyes adjusted to the slight dimness, he recognised exactly who was in his tent.

His expression softened. “Annie? What are you –”

“I needed to talk to you,” she interrupted. Then, after a moment, she asked, “Will you come in?”

Armin hesitated. “Okay.”

He did his best to ignore the quiet as he awkwardly climbed into the tent, before carefully closing the flap door behind him. Then, he settled down in front of her, cross-legged, and even then, neither of them filled the silence.

He considered telling her what he needed to talk about, about the mission down south, but even as the words flitted through his mind, he couldn’t force them out. He wasn’t sure if it was a comfort that Annie seemed to feel that exact same awkwardness. Then again, maybe it was worse; maybe it would be better if it were all in his head.

Annie was the one who finally broke the silence. Eventually, she let out a breath and said, “I need to tell you something.”

He finally met her eyes. “Yeah. You said.”

She nodded, but still, she didn’t explain what she wanted to talk to him about. It dragged them back into that weighty silence, and he hated the feeling so much, it actually made him consider something to say.

After a few more moments, he swallowed and said, “It’s good you’re here, actually. I needed to talk to you about something.”

Her eyebrows pinched together. “What about?”

“Politics, really,” he said, forcing a smile. “Boring things.”

Annie scoffed. “Yeah. I wish I had boring news.”

His face softened. “What is it?”

She sighed again, one of those deep sounds that made her shoulders drop dramatically. But still, she was quiet for a few more seconds, and with each one that passed by, he felt his heart rate pick up even more.

Finally, she lifted her gaze to his and said, “I’m pregnant.”

Armin’s heart dropped, hard. “You’re … what?”

“I’m pregnant,” she said again. Then, she scoffed and added, “I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure out whose it is.”

For a few moments, as his thoughts raced through to the answer – even though the answer, especially to him, was beyond obvious – the world seemed to stop moving. But his heart didn’t stop beating. No, his heart was pounding in his chest, even as the world stayed completely still, making him feel sicker with each beat.

Eventually, he cleared his throat and said, “You’re … you’re pregnant.”

“Yes,” she said. “I just told you.”

Armin pushed a hand into his hair. “And … it’s mine?”

She sighed. “Yes. Who else’s would it be?”

He knew that himself, but hearing it from her brought on a fresh wave of panic. Because of course it wouldn’t be anyone else’s. Who else would Annie have been with in the time they’d been here? Back then, things had been different. Now –

“It’s mine,” he said again, the panic now evident in his voice. “You’re … pregnant, and it’s mine.”

“Armin?” she asked gently.

His eyes flickered up to hers.

Her brow was furrowed in a way that wasn’t entirely familiar – it was concern, and it was all for him. It looked so soft on her face.

“Are you okay?” she said.

He swallowed and nodded before he forced himself to say, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

But he really, really wasn’t.

Chapter Text

In the past few weeks, Annie had become very familiar with nausea.

It hadn’t been something she’d experienced much of before. Of course, she’d been sick when she was a child, but her Titan abilities had sort of prevented her from really suffering from any sort of illness. The nausea in those years had been a result of violence, often her own, rather than any sickness she might have caught. Now, the feeling was more frequent, prevalent and nagging, and almost as familiar as her own reflection.

So, when she looked at Armin’s face, green and pale, she knew there was a high chance that he was about to throw up.

“Do you need to go outside?” she asked. “You don’t want to throw up in here.”

Armin blinked, eyebrows furrowing at her, almost like he’d just remembered she was in the tent with him. She hadn’t really let herself consider how well he might take the news, but it was clear he wasn’t exactly taking it well.

“No, no, I … I don’t need to throw up,” he said. Then, after a moment, he added, “I think.”

She nodded, but she didn’t say more. It only took a few more seconds before they were engulfed by the silence that always seemed to hang over them now. It lacked the same awkwardness, but it was tense, and it was difficult to decide which was worse. Something about it made her want to shake him – he was supposed to be the practical one, and now, he was green and pale, and his skin looked a little shiny, almost like he was sweating.

Then again, what did he owe her? She was the one throwing this information at him. Maybe she wouldn’t have, if the consequence of what they’d done together wasn’t about to start showing very, very soon.

Eventually, she forced herself to say, “Look. You don’t have to … do anything. I just thought you’d want to know.”

His gaze met hers then, and for a moment, somehow, it felt like the world stopped. She was only vaguely aware of the way her heart was beating, just a little too fast in her chest, but not unpleasantly. It felt almost like it did back then, when his hands first grazed over her skin, gentle but wanting – at least, that’s how they’d seemed in the moment.

How long had it been since he’d been this close to her? Even in the dimness of his tent, she could make out the different hues of brown and green in his hazel eyes. They were like a woodland pond, with soft mud and green reeds and lily-pads, drifting in a gentle, breeze-blown current. It had been so long this he’d been so near that she’d nearly forgotten what they looked like.

“What do you want to do?” he asked gently.

His voice brought her back to reality, and his eyes were just hazel – nothing more, nothing less.

Her eyebrows furrowed. “What do I want to do?”

He nodded.

She let out a huff. “There’s nothing to do. In about eight months, I’ll have to push a kid out of me, which isn’t exactly my idea of a good time.” Then, before he could answer, she added, “I’ve already considered my options, and getting rid of it’s going to be risky. I’ve just about come to terms with not dying, so I’d rather not risk that.”

“Annie,” he said gently, a weight behind it that she didn’t quite care for. “Childbirth is risky, too.”

She scoffed. “Yeah, I’m well aware. But people have been doing it forever, so I like my odds more.”

And it gave her at least eight more months, though she didn’t say that part aloud. It was strange, really, given how, when she’d thought her father was dead, she’d been ready to give up. Even afterwards, when she and Gabi and Falco went to meet the others, she hadn’t thought past that, at least not in terms of a life for herself, of anything that might come after. Now that she didn’t have a definitive expiration date, she wasn’t ready for things to end so soon.

Armin’s face had softened, his gaze gentle and his brow furrowed, and it didn’t hide anything. For a moment, she wondered if that was deliberate. Why would he want her to see him so vulnerable? Then again, it might be the tiredness – she was well aware of the dark circles beneath his eyes, puffier than she’d ever seen them. That softness on his face made her think of the way he’d looked at her on the boat, his hands pressed into her waist, and the warmth in his eyes when he was on top of her …

Even thinking about it made her chest hurt. Not that it was his fault; she’d been drawn in by his softness, that side of him she thought was only reserved for her. It was her fault for being such a fool for it.

“I’m sorry,” said Armin.

Her eyebrows drew together. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“I do,” he said, suddenly looking very uncomfortable. He shifted slightly, dropping her gaze. “It’s … I’m the reason you’re in this position.”

Even though that much was obvious, the words made her face flush. It was the first time he’d acknowledged what had happened between them. She wondered how often it crossed his mind. Was this the first time he’d thought about it since then?

That didn’t matter. What mattered was the fact it had happened and, as much as it’d be nice to blame someone else, she was the one who had shown up at his cabin. He couldn’t exactly be blamed for that.

“No, you’re not,” she said. “I think it’s my fault, all things considered.”

His expression softened, but he didn’t say anything. That gentleness made it hard to look away, at least for a while. What was he looking at her like that for? Maybe he felt bad; she could say it was her fault all she wanted, but maybe he couldn’t put the blame on her.

Eventually, she forced her gaze away and sighed before rising to her feet. “That’s it, anyway. I just thought you should know.” She moved to step around him to reach the tent’s exit and added, “I guess I’ll see you around.”

“Annie,” he said, reaching for her hand. “Wait.”

Her face warmed at his touch. She’d nearly forgotten how big his hands were, too, at least in comparison to hers. Even after four years, he hadn’t grown too much. Sure, when she’d first seen him, she’d been surprised by the change, though what had shocked her most was the way he’d lost most of his boyish softness, the way he’d filled out. Compared to the others, he certainly wasn’t tall. But his hands made her feel small in a way she was unfamiliar with. Even now, they did.

“I still need to talk to you,” he said gently.

When he realised she wasn’t going anywhere and let go of her hand, she started to come back to her senses. After a moment, she moved back and slowly settled down on the ground in front of him.

He was still quiet, so she said dryly, “Don’t tell me you’re pregnant, too.”

He let out a huff, though he didn’t smile. His eyebrows drew together, and he said, “No, not quite.”

After a moment, she asked, “What is it?”

He sighed. “Well … Muller’s asked a favour of us.”

She scoffed. “Oh, really?”

“Yes,” he said. “Really.”

Annie didn’t particularly care for Chief Muller. She wasn’t exactly fond of most Marleyan military personnel, but given the fact that Chief Muller was ready to have his soldiers fire on them only a couple of weeks ago, he wasn’t exactly in her good books.

“Let me guess,” she said. “It involves risking our lives.”

Armin’s eyebrows drew together. “I imagine our lives will be just as at risk anywhere.”

She didn’t say anything, and eventually, he sighed again, reaching up for the back of his neck to rub it. “He wants us – everyone who stopped Eren – to head south and start … negotiating,” he said.

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Negotiating?” But then, his words settled on her, and her expression relaxed. “Right. So, he wants us to go and prove that we’re all good Eldians.”

She could tell she was right because Armin didn’t say anything. Instead, he dropped her gaze, and it seemed like his shoulders had sunk, if only a little bit.

“Do you really think they’ll believe that?” she asked. “After hundreds of years of … this?”

“It’s different now,” he said.

“Is it?” she said.

In spite of his tone, his voice was gentle. “I think so. If Muller wanted us dead, we’d all be dead. We’re completely powerless now. It’s far too convoluted to go through with this when all it would take to realistically get rid of all of us is a bit of ammo.”

She didn’t say anything. She appreciated his optimism, though she knew that would do little for them in this situation. He was idealistic and, even with his knowledge, he’d never had to live the life of an Eldian on the continent. Those left in Marley already had their preconceptions, and what could any of them realistically say now, after Eren had killed so many people?

When he noticed her expression, he said, “There’s already been correspondence.”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Has there?”

He nodded. “The train line south is still operational, too.” Then, after a moment, he added, “Marley’s remaining powers are apparently very eager to meet the people who killed Eren Yeager.”

Annie levelled his gaze. “You mean, the man who did it.”

To his credit, he didn’t shy away from her. She liked it when he was like this, the Armin she knew who didn’t back down from a challenge.

“Yes, I suppose,” he said. “But they’re equally interested in everyone who stopped him.”

She didn’t answer right away. At least now, when they fell quiet, it didn’t feel too awkward, nor did it feel particularly tense. It was nothing more than a lull – why couldn’t all of the silences between them feel this way?

Eventually, she asked, “Do you really think talking will make a difference?”

He looked at her, and she was again briefly distracted by the muddy ponds of his irises. Maybe she’d been wrong; maybe she’d never actually looked at them so closely.

“I do,” he said.

Armin was a good liar, though she’d long since gotten familiar with what his lies sounded like, and this wasn’t one of them.

After a moment, she said, “Talking isn’t my strong suit, Armin. You know that.”

“You wouldn’t have to be involved,” he said.

Her eyebrows drew together. “What?”

He reached up to rub the back of his neck again. That was a habit of his she hadn’t noticed, though maybe it was just something he’d picked up in the last four years. Maybe he’d done it a few times while he’d spoken to her in the crystal. She wouldn’t have known.

“I’m not asking you to be involved,” he said. “Not … not now.”

“Then what were you asking?” she said.

He hesitated before he said, “I was asking if you’d come. Not if you’d be involved in negotiations. I know you’d hate that.” He let out a breath and added, “Initially, I was thinking it’d be nice to have you there … there’s strength in numbers, and you, Pieck and Reiner are familiar to them. Positively or not, you were on Marley’s side. That makes a difference.”

“Are Pieck and Reiner not enough?” she asked.

“Likely,” he said. “Having Pieck around is helpful, given she never lived on Paradis – I imagine they’d trust her the most. But you and Reiner might also make me, Jean, and Connie seem more trustworthy, since you lived amongst us.”

She let out a huff. “I’m not sure I could say much to reassure Marleyan officials that you’re trustworthy.”

Armin shook his head. “That’s not what I want now. Now, I just … I just think it’d be best if you came.”

Her expression softened. “Why?”

“I know you’ll want to stay here with your father,” he said. “I understand that. But does he know?”

His question made her stomach sink. She knew exactly what he was asking, but still, she said, “Know what?”

“That you’re pregnant,” he said softly.

She dropped his gaze. “No. I do plan on telling him.”

“When?” asked Armin.

She met his gaze with a slight frown. “Whenever I want to.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then, he said, “If you came along, you’d have more time before you had to tell him – or anyone else. We’re supposed to have our own private lodgings, just outside of the city. You’d have your own bedroom, so no one would see you dressing. There’s not supposed to be a bathroom each, but I’m sure there’s a way where we could split them so only you and I use one of them, so no one could see anything.”

Anything. The bump she was going to develop very, very soon. She was glad for the hoodie, but how much longer would it be before she was too big for her pants? She imagined not very long.

After a moment, Armin said, “You’d be able to look after yourself.” Then, he added, “And I could help, too. If … if that’s what you wanted.”

She dropped his gaze, her eyebrows furrowing. If she were honest, she didn’t want to have to deal with any of it, though that wasn’t an option. She had to admit, the idea of her own bed sounded nice, and she did find the idea of Armin waiting on her, hand and foot, a little amusing. Not to mention, being able to hide it for longer, especially from her father, sounded especially appealing.

Her father. What on earth was she going to tell her father?

The thought of him brought her back to reality, and she said, “I can’t leave my father.”

Armin’s eyebrows furrowed. “I only want you to take some time to consider.” Then, after a moment, he added, “Please.”

Her lips parted, but she stopped herself from saying no immediately. She didn’t like that look on his face, sad in a way she wasn’t quite familiar with. She’d only seen him smile once since she’d broken out of the crystal. It was on the boat when she’d said something dry beneath him, and it had made him laugh, breathy and gentle, and for a moment, it had made her heart feel full. She wondered, then, if she just said yes, whether she could make him smile again now.

But she couldn’t do that. So, instead, she said, “Fine. I’ll think about it.”

She didn’t miss the way his shoulders relaxed. “Thank you.”

She nodded. Then, after a moment, she asked, “When do you need an answer?”

“In a few days,” he said. “That’s when we’ll be leaving.”

“Fine,” she said.

Then, without another word, she rose to her feet. She tried to ignore the quiet as she stepped past him, ducking her head slightly as she reached for the tent’s door. But then, just before she could slip outside, he spoke.

“Annie?”

She stopped and turned to look down at him. He’d twisted slightly so he could meet her gaze, and it was soft on hers.

“If there’s anything I can do, please, just … just let me know,” he said.

She nodded. “Okay.”

“And … well, if you do come south with us,” he said, “I’ll … I’ll do everything I can to take care of you.” Before she could answer, he added, “If that’s what you’d want.”

Under different circumstances, the comment might have made her laugh. Armin, taking care of her? But maybe she was still thinking in terms of when they were young. Since then, he’d given in to her, made her feel good when she needed it most, and then, he’d stepped in front of her when the Marleyans levelled their guns at them, giving her more of a chance to run if she needed to. Maybe he was already taking care of her, in more ways than she really knew.

And then, as he looked at her, so gently, it took her back to that moment, on the boat again. His hands moving over her body, his voice sweet in a way she’d never quite heard, and his lips soft on her warm skin. She’d never thought anything could be so soft.

She became aware of his lips then, and she turned away before he noticed her face go red.

“Thank you,” she said.

Then, without another word, she slipped out of the tent.