Disclaimer:

I don't own any recognizable characters from Shingeki no Kyojin or Attack on Titan, whichever you may prefer. This is, after all, a FANFICTION

Chapter I — Everyday

Carla Yeager, newly married and quite giddy at that, brushed her adoptive daughter's snow-like tresses. The girls sat, or rather kneeled and sat back, on their haunches atop simple cream bed sheets. It was a good-sized bed, one that would last the girl, Lia, a lifetime. But the same applied to the bedroom, or in reality, refurbished attic. Grisha had bought a home with a sizeable living area with well-kept slim rooms but most importantly: a basement and an attic. They didn't have a proper honeymoon, Carla didn't want one anyways because she felt honeymoons were a tad pointless, but instead had fixed up the small house, closer to the gate, to make it their own. Grisha, smart and thoughtful, had split both extra spaces so he would have his own study and a proper cellar. In the same way, the attic was split to make for a storage and/or study space with an adjoining room. Which was where they sat now. The wooden planks had been sanded smooth, though age had stained them grey. A whispering breeze tickled her skin, moseying in from the window Grisha had forced into the wall. It allowed for a natural lighting and filled the otherwise dead room with a bright energy and feeling. It was a good space for Lia.

Lia was such a small and fragile looking thing—and it was positively adorable how attached to Grisha she was! Really, the two were a packaged deal. She may have forgone the military training but living in a poorer district opened one's senses. There was a bond that the two held that was unbreakable, especially in Lia's case. Lia acted as if the ground would open and swallow her whole, as if she would be titan fodder, as if the world would cease to an end if Grisha disappeared. It was rather frightening to think what exactly spooked the girl into fiercely relying on her husband for support. Admittedly, Carla almost decided to ignore her growing affections for the man with how closely Lia guarded him. Fierce little thing, with a mouth that spat out snarky comments as easily as a fire crackled. But now, as she brushed the little girl's waist length hair, she couldn't help but think how pure and charming she was. She could understand Grisha's protectiveness as well. As fierce as she appeared, Lia was delicate like a ephemeral spring flower.

Lia showed very little reactions, almost as if she was conditioned—hardened like the many soldiers that paraded through the streets. But she would also shy away from crowds, opting to stand behind Grisha's large frame—out of sight, out of mind. At first, Carla believed the girl detested people, strange for an eight year-old, but then she actually tried to talk to her. Lo and behold, the girl's face morphed into surprise, looking beside herself as mumbled unintelligibly and shuffled away from her. She had a good laugh at that. Grisha—the amazing, brilliant, amnesiac doctor he was—informed her that Lia had always had trouble fitting in and insults coupled with verbal aggression being how people kept her away. Apparently, her mean-spirited actions were just an attempt to keep her in a place that she was familiar with.

(Remarkably, Carla hadn't even thought of how Grisha remembered this or his knowledge of medicine. He didn't remember anything else, strangely enough. It was either a coincidence or lie but love was blinding.)

As much as it seemed shallow, at least in her mind, Lia was her "practice child". Lia didn't need as much care, seeing as Grisha allowed her free reign—barely blinking when she would disappear for hours on end, and she certainly was far too resigned but she still had that jitter and shyness that every child seemed to have. Learning to tame something as contradictory and unpredictable as Lia would be a challenge, yes, but one with worthwhile and invaluable results.

A new marriage. A new commitment. Two souls to call her own.

A new life.

Carla's soft humming grew louder, a smile brightening her face as she sat the brush down on the night stand. With admiration in her eyes, she softly threaded her fingers through the impossibly white hair.

"Done."

Lia, quiet as ever, only ran her skinny little fingers through her own tresses, silently admiring the ease at which they ran through.

"Thank you."

Carla beamed; she had gotten Lia to say something to her!

"You're welcome, Lia."

Lia, looking at Carla's beaming expression, offered a small smile.

Lia thought Carla was sweet. She thought that Grisha had lucked out on marrying such a sweet woman like her. She was kind and unassuming in the sense that she did not instantly assume one's personality from their face but their actions. But, there was one thing that Lia would fault, and that was her fear of the outside.

(It really wasn't scary out there, the Titans were just gigantic pests.)

Carla wiggled off the bed, flexing her legs as she stood.

Lia watched the green-eyed woman as she fixed her clothes.

"Lia – " Carla stopped when she realized that the girl, one again, had darted out the window. Holding back a groan, Carla rushed to the windowsill and stuck her head out, only to catch the telltale flutter of Lia's white dress as she darted around the corner. "That girl . . . "

— [ + ] —

Lia, having once more evaded her step-mother – or did she call Carla her adoptive mother? Grisha wasn't her real father but he was her only comrade – no, acquaintance – left . . . decisions, decisions. . .

She always had to make decisions. Lia found it really annoying. Anyhow, Lia had managed to duck out from under Carla at the moment she turned her back. She hated that Grisha had told his wife to keep an eye on her. Really, she wasn't a baby – he knew that very well, the old codger. Maybe, Lia mused, his age was beginning to affect his reasoning. Why waste time protecting something that didn't need protection, much less attention? If this was his way of apologizing –

The white haired girl gripped her nape.

The emotion-stunting training never really worked with her. That was something she'd always gotten in trouble for. But now, she thought, taking in the other children across the street, she was the best in that category. How light did they feel, she wondered, being able to smile like that – to have such happiness illuminate your features without being scolded? Lia's perfectly blank features were soon replaced with a frown.

Always an outsider wherever she went, huh?

She was fine with that, she assured herself, continuing her steady walk down the maid road. She actually found that the road was a tad stupid. Yes, it provided the Survey Corps with a clean, clear path to travel down but in the event that they would suffer any type of invasion, the invaders would have a clear route to the main wall.

That brought up another thing she disliked.

The people were far too trusting of architecture and lacked trust in each other. Point in fact as she heard the tell-tale shouts of merchant and customer, the latter raging on about the "outrageous fuck-high prices" since the merchant wasn't selling "golden apples".

Lia returned her attention to the road in front of her. She didn't get why Grisha "subtly" – really, he wasn't subtle in his intentions at all, they were apparent to her – griped about her unsociability. He should know why, Lia thought, with him dealing with his people day in and day out being the best doctor in the Southern end of Maria; if she didn't like the people over there, then why would she like the people in here? The people here were so much more prejudice and divided—she hated it.

"I hate people."

"And that's why people avoid you."

Lia paused and tilted her head back, bending backwards to view the upside down, bemused expression of Grisha. His lips were twitching into a smile but she could tell he was trying to keep tense to retain the air of a scolding parent.

"Grisha."

"Lia."

Lia straightened up and turned towards him fully. "What are you doing here?"

"I went home early since a client cancelled their appointment last minute and expected to find Carla and you getting along—"

"—We were. She's too sweet, it hurts—"

"—and you, you had ran away. Again."

Lia rolled her eyes at him. He was certainly pouring on the fatherly figure attitude considering how much he disliked her originally. She didn't particularly like his two-faced attitude and his falseness but again, she was the only one who knew about that part of him. This living arrangement was going to go to Hell fast.

"I'm not running away," Lia huffed. "I don't understand why you're being so anal about this. Why can't I come and go as I please? The most dangerous thing here is you and me."

"I'm being anal," Grisha groused, snatching her wrist and dragging her in the direction she was walking away from. "Because you, little girl, are uncontrollable, intolerant of others, and all around inactive as a person."

"That isn't a bad thing." She sniped.

"Over there it wasn't seeing, as nobody liked your kind."

"Including you."

Grisha's eyes were unnaturally dark when his gaze met hers.

"You're going to have to change."

"No thanks."

Go fuck yourself.

— [ + ] —

"Grisha! Lia! You've returned just in time, I just finished cooking!"

Grisha sent Lia a pointed look, conveying, he hoped, that he expected her to help Carla around the house more and at least try to be civil in more ways than just tolerating her presence. But Lia, the annoying brat, wasn't even looking at him, but sniffing the air like a dog.

"What are you, a beast?" Grisha muttered.

"On one side of my family – it depends on which side you ask. One says yes, the other says no."

Grisha sighed, pulling out a chair for her and non-too gently prodded her to sit down. Lia wasn't paying attention after she smelt the food, acting subconsciously – she swore this on Lova's grave – and instead, angled herself to get a view of what exactly Carla was cooking. It smelled good, but then again, most things smelled good in comparison to whatever her and her siblings were given by their caretakers.

"Thank you, Carla."

His wife beamed in return to his thanks and sat down the pot before them.

"It's just about summer now but it was a bit chillier today so I made soup and bought some bread instead of the salad and roast."

Lia stared intently at the beaming smile on Carla's face. How domestic, she mused. The domestic life suited Carla quite well – even if she did have some fire in her. How sweet of a life Carla lead, Lia thought, when your only care was putting food on the table.

The eight year old stared at the meal before her, watching the broth shimmer with the fat and oil. Carla had given her a sizable portion, not as large as Grisha's or her own but still far too much that she was accustomed to. Damn, Grisha—manipulating Carla again.

— [ + ] —

For the lack of a better description, Lia would say Grisha was indeed a two-faced bastard – not in the sense that he manipulated people using different fake personalities but in the sense that he had a second face to him that no one really saw.

She saw it.

Lia took little pride in that though, seeing as Grisha, for all his passion, was actually a pretty good actor and that no one had siblings like her that told her to never trust the surface but what lies beneath – or something to that cliché effect.

BUT, back to the topic on hand.

She could see it, Grisha's disdain towards the people here. His expressions of rage were no longer shouts and cries and vicious outbursts but quiet, subtle movements. His jaw would clench, his teeth would grit silently and his eyes would look flat behind his spectacles. Sometimes, whenever he was particularly rather unimpressed, his lips would turn into a frown and his fingers would twitch as if remembering that hurt – and not just physically. Even rarer, he would actually snap in return, something foreign to the people of Shiganshina who worshipped him as their savior, to the point Lia was sure that were considering the possibility of immortalizing him as some kind of deity. She could tell he hated it. As much as he liked to appear as someone gentle she knew his real face so there were no such thing as lies between them – not with his inability to conceal his intentions from her and her, with her brutal honesty.

So, with brows furrowed, Lia leaned back against his official desk and watched him write beside her. She noted, somewhat lazily, that he always looked older when he wrote into his journals or penned letters and certain legal documents. Grisha would sit with his back hunched and head tilted downwards until his chin almost met his chest. His glasses would slide along his nose the slightest bit and his face would sag with a seriousness that wasn't present when he was playing the happy-go-lucky, amnesiac Dr. Grisha Yeager.

"You could have denied the request."

"I could have," Grisha agreed, "but it was an almost impossible opportunity I was given. Just because I don't like it doesn't mean I can't do it. Didn't they teach you that?"

"For your information they did. Secondly, is that would you told him whenever he would express doubts?"

Grisha immediately bristled. "I thought we came to an agreement about that."

Lia shrugged nonchalantly in return, hopping onto the bare corner of his desk. "You snipped, I snapped."

"Troublesome child you are." Grisha returned to his work, rereading the last few sentences to regain his flow before continuing. "I'll let that jab slide since I suppose that the two of us have something greater on our agendas."

Lia straightened, pulling her legs up to sit cross-legged, her hands in her lap as she spun to face Grisha's side profile rather than glance at it from the corner of her eye. "The invitation to the capital. It's been a year now, and a two weeks since you married Carla. I always assumed you never had the intention to continue seeing as you've all but become a pacifist."

Grisha paused again, the ink steadily bleeding through the paper as he breathed deeply. "Pacifism and strictness is what kept my father and mother alive, even going as far as to turn on their own to abide the law. And he followed that doctrine as well. My nature as it is now is more likely to win over those in the Inner Walls."

"And do you really think," Lia scoffed at his mindset, "that that King would even choose to hear a whimper of your true case?"

"No, not really." Grisha admitted, leaning back in his chair and pushing his glasses to sit on his forehead. "But in every kingdom there is some kind of disagreement."

"That is the most foolish notion I've ever had the displeasure of hearing." Lia so desperately wanted to smack some real sense into the man. "Did he ever relay any kind of information to you about the Nine? The power of the mind – to enslave and wipe clean, is the power of the king. Why do think I was being trained apart from the others? My mind is different but yours and theirs are not. With his sense of cowardice that he probably past down to his children and their own brood, the majority of the upper echelon knows jackshit."

"You're eight. Stop being so pessimistic and don't curse."

"Cursing is stress-relieving and I have every right to be, considering the lifestyle I've been conditioned to adapt to since birth – and don't go off topic!"

"I trusted my son and look what he did to me."

Lia paused, taking in his words. "You trusted a boy with the ocean when he'd just discovered the puddle after a rainstorm."

"I don't understand how Carla thinks you're some kind of shy little girl with an issue with crowds. You're despicable."

"I could say the same for you, you villain."

Grisha offered her a glare in return to her retort. Why was he paying attention to her again? Really, the child was more pesky than he could handle on his lonesome, drove him mad most days or frightened him out of his skin with her wordless departures that could range from hours to days. But more importantly, she drove his attention away from his work – his work that cemented his position and was knowing giving him an opportunity to be seen as someone worthy of the King's audience. Throwing his glasses down, and hunching over again, Grisha scrapped his letter – now stained with excessive ink – and laboured to recreate what he'd spent an hour beforehand deliberating and writing.

"Don't die."

His pen froze above the parchment.

"If I felt alone before, I feel so even more so now. You're all I have left as a memento as crappy of one as you are. I will not stand for the man that terrified my little friend into treason with mere words, lacking threats and torture, to die on foreign soil because he assumed that clueless morons could be deemed safe."

Grisha was beside himself, bemused at her attitude. "If you were afraid to lose me you could just say so. Evil I be, I am not a monster."

Lia's foot flashed forward to kick his left arm. Hard.

"To my own people – not in this form, at least."

Lia cracked a smirk at his concede.

"It'd be too quiet if you die, Grisha. I don't like quiet."

Okie. So this chapter is a bit hard on the eyes because wow, paragraphs of THAT size. I also tend to ramble when I write so theres that as well. For the most part, the next few chapters will be pre-canon and this is OC-centric for the most part.

Read and Review.

Empryexl