This was sitting in my drafts pile and I figured it deserved some attention, so here it is
Side note: I totally thought I would only spend a little time on this, and that it would end up as less than 100 words, but obviously that didn't really happen...
She is eleven.
She is sitting at a table, tracing the patterns in its wooden surface with her fingertips.
"Annie!" a man barks, "Pay attention."
She is bored. She does not want to pay attention.
There are faces in the wooden knots, and birds, and clouds. There are villages and walls and forests, too, and she wonders what it would be like to disappear into them.
Her nails scrape the table. She does not care.
A hand grips her wrist firmly. "Annie, look at me."
She doesn't really want to.
(Of course, she does anyway.)
He presents her with his open palm. There is a ring inside it, metallic and drab. It glints dully in the light, and she eyes it cautiously.
"Take it."
She gingerly grasps the piece of jewelry and studies it intently, flicking open the hidden blade for good measure. It feels heavy in her hands, almost ominous. She wishes he would take it back.
"Do you understand," he asks sternly, "What you must do?"
She doesn't–not really, anyway, but she nods in affirmation all the same.
"With words."
She is tracing the table again, pretending the gouges are rivers far away, and that her fingers are the fish swimming through them.
"Answer me!"
She remains mute.
The man glares; she stiffens. He grabs her chin sharply. "Do you understand?"
His breath is hot on her face.
She glances at him; her eyes are wide. "I understand."
She doesn't. She is a liar.
Her father's lips curve into a smile, and then–
Annie Leonhardt wakes with clammy skin and a hammering heart. It is three am.
Unceremoniously, she kicks off her blankets. The floor is cool underneath her bare feet, and the moon shines obnoxiously through her window.
She reminds herself to get thicker curtains.
In exactly five small paces she is able to cross the room to reach her dresser. There, she rummages through the tiny jewelry box she keeps tucked inside.
After several mishaps with the sharp edges of multiple earrings, her hand finds the cool, round edge of what she is looking for.
There it is; the ring sits in her palm, as plain and unassuming as it was in her dream. Her fingertips trace its surface, almost desperately.
They find nothing but smooth, unblemished metal. And yet…
There is an uneasy sensation in her gut, a feeling that settles like lead and refuses to go away.
(Is it sadness?
Guilt?)
She's searching for a word she knows she won't find.
She's not sure she cares.
(She's not sure she cares about much of anything anymore.)
It's late. She's tired.
Like clockwork, the ring is returned to the box, the box to the drawer, and she returns to bed.
Her covers are left where she threw them, caressing the floor in a sordid embrace. She doesn't have the energy to retrieve them, and the room is unbearably hot right now, anyway.
Annie Leonhardt falls asleep again, and this time, she does not dream.
fin.
So... this has been in the works for a while (and by a while, I mean I first planned this when I was actually active in the SnK fandom). I finally mustered up the motivation to finish writing it, and maybe in the summer I'll find more motivation to continue the series (which, by the way, is a compilation of drabbles and one/twoshots revolving around the 104th's reincarnation and memories). As always, thanks for reading!