Eren let out a soft sigh at the peaceful silence that had overtaken the village. "Carlton must have gotten her to sleep," he murmured, pressing a kiss to Levi's temple.

Levi smiled slightly, keeping his gaze locked on the sea, specifically on the reflection of the full moon on the water. Despite the waves crashing on the shore, the water itself was quite peaceful that night. The upcoming day's weather would surely be nice. "We'll see how long it lasts," he hummed in response. "She certainly didn't come with that rocking chair-triggered mute button."

Eren laughed quietly. "We just got lucky."

Levi nodded, relaxing against Eren's shoulder as the comfortable weight of his husband's head rested on his own.

They were quiet for a few more minutes, eventually letting down their guard at the possibility of their granddaughter waking up again. Really, they didn't care about staying up so much, but they really didn't need Ymir screaming across the village and proceeding to wake even more people up again.

Eren gently squeezed Levi's shoulder and then spoke again. "I was serious when I asked you what kind of life you'd want to live if we could live again."

Levi shrugged. "I don't know, I've never really thought about it. All I really do know is that I'd want to live peacefully. I'd want to be stable."

Eren nodded. "I think we can agree on that. But what else? I'd like to be a better dancer, definitely. And I'd like to know more about medicine, but that's more because I'd want my parents to be alive. It would be nice if we could live together as a real family. As much as I love Mikasa, I'd want her parents to be alive, too. Maybe we could be neighbors or something so that we could sorta still live together? I don't know. And…oh! Maybe the full Turkish language could exist? I don't think I'd ever get you out of bed."

Levi rolled his eyes. "Very funny."

"C'mon, it's hot."

Levi snorted. "I'd be more lighthearted, yeah," he added, completely ignoring Eren's statement but simultaneously agreeing with it. "I wouldn't be as cold because there wouldn't be anything immediately threatening my or anyone else's life. I'd be able to relax and maybe have more fun. I would want to grow up in a happy place, definitely not in some hell like the Underground, and I'd want my family to be happy, too."

Suddenly, a thought struck Eren. "Wait," he gasped, "if there would be no Titans, then I wouldn't be a Shifter, so you couldn't…" He trailed off as the reality of their imaginary next life hit him. His grip on Levi tightened, and he said, "How would we have Carlton?"

Levi didn't seem nearly as concerned. "We'd all find each other again somehow," he said calmly. "Adoption, surrogate, don't worry, he'd be there."

Eren shifted slightly, a sad frown creeping its way onto his face. "What about…him?"

He didn't need to elaborate. Levi clung to his husband and said, "I don't see any reason why he couldn't live well and be happy, too."

Eren kissed his temple again.

"And…" Levi continued, "…I'd want the age gap between us to be smaller. I'd want us to meet earlier and be able to stay together longer."


My name is Eren Jaeger. I was born in a lower middle class town in New Jersey on March 30, 1983, the only child of two immigrant parents. We moved to the Lower East Side of Manhattan in New York City when I was four so my father could find better work.

My father, Grisha Jaeger, an only child, was born in West Berlin deep in the heart of East Germany in 1955. World War II had ended a decade earlier, and Germany as a whole was struggling, but his family lived well for the times. They had enough money to live in a two-bedroom apartment, and they always had at least two meals a day. Still, my father saw the struggles of many Germans and understood how lucky he was, especially when the Wall went up. He was only six when construction began, but, even as a child, he hated the separation. He believed that all people deserved to live freely and pursue happiness, and he hated how people who weren't German were deciding the fates of the German people. I suppose that he wanted to help people from an early age, so he started studying to become a doctor.

He met my mother when he was twenty-three. She was twenty-one at the time. Carla Jaeger was born in a small village in eastern Turkey in 1957. She and her parents moved to Istanbul shortly after that, leaving the older relatives behind, but separation was nothing new to her family. The fall of the Ottoman Empire and the multiple wars of the early 20th century had scattered her relatives all over the country, so the branches on her family tree were more like dozens of tiny twigs leading nowhere in particular. My grandparents were poor, but they made the best of what money they had. Istanbul was experiencing great structural change at the time, transforming into a modern city, but my grandparents still sought a better life for their daughter. They moved to West Germany in 1962 as part of the guest workers program that would contribute to the country's economic miracle in the coming decades. There, the life they built for themselves was better than anything they could have ever built back in Turkey, but they were determined to keep their culture alive.

Which was why neither side of my family was too keen on my mother and father getting married. My father was a German studying to become a doctor, and my mother was a Turkish housemaid for a wealthy German family. My paternal grandparents thought my father could do better, and my maternal grandparents wanted my mother to marry a Turkish man. Regardless, my parents were in love, and they got married in a small, private ceremony in 1980. Their honeymoon was a one-way trip to the United States.

We didn't have a lot of money when we were living in New Jersey. My father had to continue his studies while working another job, and my mother balanced taking care of me while housekeeping for wealthier families. Really, not much had changed between their lives in West Germany and the US, other than me and the new language. They were adamant about me learning English first, so they spoke it almost exclusively at home. You can imagine my accent, being taught English by a German-speaking man and a Turkish-speaking woman who spoke German with a Turkish accent. Still, English was my first language, though my mother seemed to have inherited the desire to keep her culture and traditions alive. Once I had my foundation in English, she made sure that I spoke Turkish, too. My father wasn't as obsessed with making sure I spoke German, but I ended up picking it up anyway. Being trilingual was hardly anything special though, especially when we finally moved to Manhattan. Our neighborhood in the Lower East Side was full of immigrants, so I grew up with many children who spoke multiple languages from all over the world. We lived next door to the Ackermans, a French man, his Japanese wife, and their daughter Mikasa, who was my age.

Money was tight when we were living in Manhattan, and we almost had to move again, but then my father finally finished his studies and opened his practice. My mother still had to clean houses during the day, but we finally had a small disposable income, something we had never had.

I ended up becoming very close with Mikasa. Our parents joked that we were more like siblings than friends, which suited us just fine since we were only children. In the apartment complex across the street from us lived our best friend Armin, who was also our age. The three of us were in the same class at school, so we ended up spending most of our time together.

When I was thirteen, Mikasa's cousin came to live with her.


My name is Levi Ackerman. I was born in a small village east of Paris, France, on December 25, 1978, the only child of dairy farmers. My mother died shortly after I was born, so my father raised me by himself.

My father, Kenny Ackerman, the sixth generation farm owner, was born in that same village in 1944, just one year before World War II officially ended. It was a miracle that all the fighting didn't flatten the village, especially since it was so close to Paris. The village was home to multiple dairy farms, most of which made cheese and cream for Parisian markets and restaurants. Our goat cheese farm wasn't big, and we had a lot of competition, but we did enough business that we lived pretty comfortably. If nothing else, we always had at least two meals a day, and my father and I each had our own bed.

My father was a strict man who didn't really believe in displaying affection. He was awake before the sun came up every day and worked until after it had set every night. He didn't believe in vacations either. Between managing the farm and taking care of me, he had no time for them. Paris was only an hour away, but we only went there a few times, each time for only a few hours, before I turned eighteen. My father rarely spoke about my mother, but she was originally from Paris and moved to the countryside to be with him. Her family had been against it, but she had gone anyway, cutting off all her ties to their money and influence. I'm guessing that, when she died, a lot of my father's desire to return to her home city disappeared with her. My father did have a younger brother, but they could barely stand each other, so the younger moved to the United States when he was in his early twenties. My father never spoke about him either.

Our world was very small, but it wasn't a particularly bad world. I didn't mind taking care of the goats and turning their milk into cheese, but I often felt like I wasn't supposed to stay on the farm forever. Whenever I had a break, I'd often spend it staring up at the sky and wondering what else was out there. Paris was a big city, several times bigger than our little village, but there was a world beyond even Paris, and I wanted to see it. I asked for English lessons for Christmas/my birthday one year, and, surprisingly enough, my father complied. I spent every spare moment I had on those workbooks, and I absorbed the language like a sponge. Whenever my father gave me a day off, I'd rush to Paris and look for tourists to speak with. I was fluent in no time.

The summer after I turned eighteen, I told my father that I wanted to go to the United States. Not for a visit, I wanted to live there. I told him this over breakfast one bright Sunday morning, and I was sure that I'd get the scolding of a lifetime for it, but he didn't react negatively at all. He smiled at me as though he had been defeated, swiped some goat cheese onto his roll, and told me that he'd take me to the airport whenever I was ready to go. To this day, I've still never been as shocked as I was on that day. When I asked him if he was really okay with me leaving the farm for good, he told me that he'd always known I wouldn't stay, that the life of a dairy farmer wasn't the life for me. He told me that, ever since the day I was born, I've had wings on my back and that I'd one day use them to fly to where I really belonged.

When my father dropped me off at the airport later that same day, he embraced me, told me that he loved me, and gave me all the money he had been saving just for this day. The flight to New York City was a blur, mostly because of my grateful tears.

My uncle, despite hating my father, welcomed me with open arms and brought me back to his apartment, where my little cousin and her next door neighbor friend were playing.


When Mikasa introduced her cousin to me, I felt an odd stirring in my chest. My cheeks suddenly felt warm, and "beautiful" was the first word that came to my mind in all three of my languages. He was small but imposing, and he exuded a sense of majesty. His eyes were sharp and narrow but not threatening in the slightest. His skin was a smooth ivory, and I could see muscles even through his clothes. His midnight black hair looked so silky, and I found myself wanting to run my fingers through it. Why I was suddenly thinking all this was beyond me, but I had never seen someone so captivating in my life, and I couldn't tear my eyes away.

Levi lived with Mikasa and her family for about two months before he moved into his own apartment. Since it was summer vacation, I had a lot of free time, and I wanted to spend as much of it with Levi as possible. Or, really, I would have been satisfied with just being near him. Once, Levi took us out to lunch, and I might have rushed a little too quickly to sit next to him in the booth.

I didn't see Levi much after he moved out until about a month later. He was waiting outside my school, hands in his pockets and absentmindedly kicking a rock from side to side. I could have just stood there staring at him forever, but I wanted more. Mikasa was home sick that day, and Armin had an after school club activity, so I was on my own, and I used that solo time to approach the man who had captivated me. When I tapped him on the shoulder, he turned, smiled at me, and offered his hand. I took it and he walked me home. I fell in love that day.


I didn't remember thirteen-year-olds being as beautiful as Eren was. I tried my best to keep my cool facade, but my heart was pounding a million miles a minute. Suddenly all my French and English flew from my mind, leaving me mute and only able to stare. His chestnut hair looked so soft and touchable, and it lovingly framed his young, sweet face. His skin was a gorgeous bronze, kissed by the sun of the Middle East. And his eyes, oh, his eyes, I had never seen such a bright, vibrant green before. His eyes were huge and sparkled in a way that would make the world's most expensive emerald jealous. He radiated warmth and hope and love, and I wanted all of him.

And the little brat lived next door to Mikasa. I could see him whenever I wanted. Suddenly, I didn't want to move out. I didn't care if my uncle came to hate me (he still doesn't, thank god). I just wanted to be close to Eren. Would his parents let me live with them? Nah, that would be creepy, if I suddenly started hitting on their son five years my junior. I was technically and adult, too, so I couldn't be with him by law. I started getting a little sneaky to see him more often. Did he and his friends want to go out to lunch? Oh yeah, Eren, you can sit next to me, no problem.

The apartment I moved into was tiny and crappy, but it was enough for me. I scrubbed it from top to bottom the moment I officially moved in, so at least it didn't make my skin crawl. But I still missed Eren. I still wanted to see him. One afternoon, I skipped out on work and went to pick him up from school instead. I'm not sure why I offered my hand so quickly, but I did, and he took it. We walked home together that afternoon, and I fell in love.


I couldn't wait to grow up. I couldn't wait to be old enough to date Levi and move in with him.

Middle school finished without too many incidents. I somehow made enemies with Jean, a jerk who totally had a horse face, don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Unfortunately, he and I were stuck together in every class in high school, too, made even worse by the fact that Mikasa and Armin were in different classes. I only saw them during lunch and art class. And, of course, Jean had to have a crush on Mikasa, so he used every excuse in the book to get around me and closer to her. It wasn't like it was all bad though. I made other friends. Jean and I spent several after school detentions with Connie, a kid who thought he was going to be the next big thing in late night comedy television. Sometimes Sasha would join us, as she had a tendency to eat during class. I excelled in physical education, which I had with Reiner, Bertholdt, and Annie. The three of them were super close, even if Annie often denied it. She was cold but not necessarily mean, though we all made sure not to get on her bad side. Reiner was twice her height and weight, and she could flip him over her shoulder without breaking a sweat. Reiner and Bertholdt were both big guys whom everybody loved. The former was charismatic and popular while the latter was shy and reserved, but they were both loyal and supportive. All of us were a little confused as to why Historia of the wealthy and famous Reiss family attended our working class school, but she was sweet and kind and really cute, so nobody complained. She spent a lot of time with Ymir, and that was the real mystery. Ymir was a sarcastic, annoying pain in the ass who wasn't really liked by anyone. So of course Historia had to date her, obviously.

Barely anything changed in high school, except that I turned eighteen during my senior year.


Only a few more years and I could be with Eren.

I started working at a major publishing company, as I had dreams to make it big. I didn't have a lot of money, and my position was an entry-level desk job that paid just enough for me to make rent, but I knew that it was a stepping stone towards bigger and better things. A few positions above me was a man named Erwin Smith, who took a liking to me right away. We supported each other, and he helped me move up a spot in just year's time. I was a good worker anyway though, probably due to all my time on the farm. My cubicle neighbors were Hanji Zoe and Mike Zakarius. The former was a wild woman who loved her research job way too much and was noisy as all hell, but there was something I could appreciate about her zest for life and her positive work attitude. All of that was tough to find in one package. The latter was a quiet man who worked just as hard. He really only spoke unless he had something important to say, which I could also appreciate. He wasn't stuck up, he just didn't like to waste words or time. The two of them were a dynamic duo of sorts and happily welcomed me to the team, though the two of them were also a few positions above me and had their own smaller teams. I'd have to work for mine, but I knew it would be worth it. I guess that was my American Dream, to have the corner office and the view of the city and the skilled team working for me and the vacation time to travel all over the world. I started believing in what my father had said about the wings on my back.

A few month after I turned twenty-three, Eren turned eighteen. By then, I had moved up in the company and had moved into a nicer apartment. I was determined to bring him with me.


Levi and I dated for two years before we told my parents. We sat across from them in their apartment over cups of Turkish coffee and baklava, and I told them that I was in love with Levi, that he made me happy and that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. I hadn't been in a relationship with anyone else ever, not even a little school crush, but I knew that I was meant to be close to Levi. Something was pulling me towards him and telling me that I was meant to stay with him. I clutched his hand as I poured my heart out to my parents, fearing their response. My father was a steadfast man who didn't accept nonsense. My mother was a traditional woman who believed very deeply in family. Surely they'd reject our relationship.

Only they didn't.

My mother burst into tears and started going on about how happy she was that I had found someone I loved who loved me in return. My father smirked at Levi and said that I was a handful, between my short temper and loud mouth, but Levi just smiled back and said that he loved me anyway. With that, my father nodded and gave us his blessing. My mother embraced us, still in tears, and shouted in Turkish about how she needed to cook a feast.

I graduated from college when I was twenty-two, and I moved into Levi's apartment later that same day.


I wrote a letter to my father shortly after Eren and I revealed our relationship to his parents. I was a little worried about his response, but, hell, my father and I were over three thousand miles apart, so there wasn't much he could do if he didn't approve. Luckily, he was fine with it and wished us luck in our lives together. I smiled at his response letter, still in shock that he had let me come to the US in the first place.

Things only got better from there. Erwin, Hanji, Mike, and I all rose in the ranks at work. I had a real office and my hand-picked team working for me. Everything happened so fast that I was worried my co-workers would hate me or think that I'd slept with someone to get a promotion, but I found nothing but support. People actually thought I deserved it, that I was a great worker who could be trusted with the responsibility to lead. I was touched honestly. Even when Erwin brought me to a meeting with a sort-of-rival/sort-of-partner company, his equivalent, a man named Nile (who seriously needed to learn how to manage a beard), shook my hand and told me that he had heard nothing but great things about me. It was incredible.

But…I started to feel like something was missing.


In 2007, Levi came to me and told me that he wanted a baby. To say that I was surprised would be an understatement, but I wasn't opposed to the idea. Like I said, my mother was a devout believer in the family, so it was obvious that she wanted grandchildren. And, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I'd love to have a kid. I wanted to give someone the same good, happy life my parents had given me.

But we were a same-sex couple who couldn't get married.


"Levi."

I turned.

"If you and Eren really want a child, I'll carry it."

I embraced my cousin the same way my father had embraced me at the airport that afternoon in Paris, and I could only say "thank you" over and over again in both English and French.

On January 30, 2008, Carlton Jaeger was born.