"See if you can get her to talk," Erwin told Armin, and his heart leaped.

Erwin is everything Armin wants to be, and encouragement from him ignites determination. He actually believes Armin can do this; he's entrusting Armin with this task—he believes that he has potential, just like Eren and Mikasa do.

Even though it's Annie… Armin's stomach pinches. He doesn't like tricking Annie, of all people. He passes through the corridors of the headquarters, weaving his way towards the door.

But to accomplish anything, you have to be willing to sacrifice everything, even humanity, Armin reminds himself.

"Is Marco okay?" Annie asks as he finds her leaning against the wall, wearing her typical bored mask. A chill seeps in through the door, even though it's shut tightly.

Armin nods. "He'll recover."

"Good." She offers him the tiniest of smiles, and it's moments like these when Armin's heart aches, and he wants to grab her and shake her and demand to know why she's spying on them, why the Military Police is so against them, and who is behind it all.

But he knows Annie. She won't volunteer that information willingly. His mind skips several conversations ahead, plotting out what he'll need to say.

"Ready to go?" Annie asks, prying herself off the wall.

"You know you don't need to help," Armin tells her. "You're supposed to be on your leave."

Annie shrugs. "I'm imagining what it'd be like if I'd joined the Survey Corps."

Huh? Armin's never pictured Annie as one for imagination. "Do you regret it?" he blurts out.

"I don't see the point in regrets. Things are what they are," Annie says.

And yet you're visiting us. Armin bites his lip.

"It'll look nice," Annie comments, gesturing to the pile of pine needles on the floor to make garland, the red velvet. "Festive."

Armin nods. "I think so."

"Was it your idea?" Annie asks, pushing the door open. Cold smacks Armin in the face, burns inside his ears. "Or Commander Erwin's?"

You aren't being that subtle. Are you even trying? Armin wonders. His nose stings.

"Hey!" Eren runs up to them, Mikasa behind him. Her scarf covers half her face today, and Armin's almost envious. Snow seeps in through his boots, numbing his toes. "Ready to go?"

"Mikasa can probably drag that tree back by herself," Annie comments.

Mikasa's eyes narrow, as if she's not sure whether Annie's making fun of her or being nice. Armin presumes she's just stating the obvious.

"Marco should be able to light it on fire," Annie adds, voice bitter.

Armin doesn't know what to say. The only sounds that echo are their boots crunching through the snow.

"It's strange to put so much effort into something jovial for once," Mikasa comments quietly.

"It feels like a distraction," Eren grumbles. "Fun, but a distraction. Hey, Annie, you don't know why the Survey Corps isn't allowed another expedition this month, do you?"

"A lot of people died on the last one," Annie responds. "And in Trost."

"Which is nothing new," Eren points out. "I mean, we haven't even been able to leave yet. I haven't been able to use my ability…"

"And you want to?" Annie presses, crossing her arms. Armin listens, his heart pounding.

"Of course. I can destroy them all," Eren vows. Snow starts to fall again, heavy like yesterday, big fat flakes.

Annie's mouth opens, but no sound comes out. She marches ahead, head down. They arrive at the tree, and Mikasa and Eren hoist it up.

"We can gather some boughs," Armin tells Annie as they realize they're useless. "If you want."

She nods, continuing on in the forest. "All this came from a book?"

Armin's breath hitches. "Yes."

"What else was in this book of the commander's?" Annie questions. She turns around to glance at him, bangs swinging.

"Just… things about traditions," Armin says. He keeps from her the fact that it wasn't the commander's book, it was his, and it's back in Shiganshina. "Winter traditions. Ice skating—putting blades on your feet and sliding over frozen lakes; snow fights, traditional foods and decorations—a lot of songs, beautiful ones—"

"Snow fights?" Annie questions. "I thought you said it was a celebration of peace." She kicks at the snow, as if it this revelation makes her angry.

"Well, it was for fun," Armin says. "Fighting for fun."

"How?" she asks, and Armin hates himself for this, but dammit, he can't turn off himself from humanity. Not right now.

"Like this," he says, kneeling down and packing snow together in his hand.

"Hm?" She peers over his shoulder, and he tosses the snow into her face. She gasps.

"Sorry," he stammers. "Snowballs—"

Annie narrows her eyes, and then she scoops up an armful and dumps it over his head. Armin squeaks, grasping more snow even as he shakes it out of his eyes. He throws them at her, but she hits him with another one in the face.

And then she's gone, vanishing into the trees and falling snow.

"Annie?" he calls, stepping forward, around one of the pine trees. The air smells wet, and dank. His pulse picks up pace. What if the Military Police—

Something hits him in the side. Annie. She knocks him on his back, in the snow, and he barely has time to gulp in air before he realizes that she's straddling him, a snowball in her hand, and her hand raised above him. And she's smiling—or she was. It slides off her face as if she's just realized that she scared him.

"Sorry," she whispers.

"Don't be," Armin tells her. "You're in it to win."

Annie's lips curve again, and she makes no move to get off him. Snow seeps through his jacket, through his hair, but his face flushes warm.

"Have you heard of snow angels?" he asks as she finally slides off.

"No."

"They look like this," Armin tells her, waving his arms and legs through the snow. She snorts, as if he looks silly. But when he gets up and they both take in the angelic shape, Annie actually grins.

"You can't tell the Military Police," Armin tells her as she makes one of her own. "Come on. Let me show you something."

"What?" She hesitates.

"Just past here," Armin says, stepping back into the trees. The snow comes harder, and Annie hesitates. "Annie?"

"Are you trying to trick me?" she demands abruptly. "What's back there?"

"A hill," Armin tells her. She knows. "For sledding." His heart thumps, and in the silent forest, he almost imagines that she can hear it. Have Eren and Mikasa gone back?

"What?" Annie's face falls. "Oh. I—sorry." She shuffles closer to him.

"You don't always have to assume the worst, you know," Armin says. His pulse still pounds, and he wants it to slow down, wants to feel calmer, wants to be wheedling information out of anyone but Annie.

"Sometimes, you do," Annie says.

"You can trust friends," Armin tells her, and as he says it, guilt slams into his stomach. I'm sorry, Annie.

"Do I really look like that kind of person to you?" Annie asks. "A good person?"

"Well…" Armin gulps. "I don't really like that term. A good person, to me, seems to be someone who's good for you. And I don't think any one person can be good for everybody."

She looks to him, eyes sharp, twisting the glove around one of her fingers.

You're not going to be good for us, are you? Armin thinks. And then we can't be good for you.

But oh, how he wants to, especially when she steps closer to him and he sees the snow beading her blond hair. "Let's see that hill."


The snow's pelting them now, and Annie can hear different voices bickering inside her head, screaming at her: Zeke's, her father's… Reiner's, even.

What are you doing? Annie shivers. Her lips ache from the cold, and her cheeks from smiling and laughing, like she hasn't ever except in dreams.

How did I become a spy for two organizations? she wonders. For the first, she knows: she had the right qualities, the perfect strengths to master the Titan powers. For the Military Police… maybe they can simply tell she's good at keeping secrets.

A good person…

She wants to be a good person to Armin. He's the first person who's ever told her she's actually pretty nice, not a bitch. She doesn't want to get him in trouble—and for what? For wanting to learn?

If your first bet pays off, what will it matter? He'll die anyways. He and everyone else who's a part of this cursed history.

She doesn't want him executed. If Armin has to die, it shouldn't be like that.

But she doesn't want him to die at all. The people in the Walls—they really don't know. They're innocents.

Like she could have been… but she has so much blood on her hands.

"We should head back," Armin tells her, his teeth chattering. She nods. Both of them are soaked to the bone and the snow's only coming down harder. So much for the boughs.

"How many more days will you be staying?" Armin inquires. Annie jumps back as a branch swings too close to her face. The wind's really picking up, and the needles stab her face. Ouch.

"I should leave tomorrow," she says. See Marlowe and Hitch again… and give her report to Zackley. Yes, Commander Erwin is involved in illegal activities. Like hosting a celebration. God knows these people don't have much to celebrate—ever. What's the harm?

But Hitch and Marlowe will have already told, she's certain.

"So you won't be around for Christmas?" Armin inquires.

"How often do you get days off?" Annie retorts. "Of course not."

"Are you thinking that the rest of us would be in prison or dead?" Armin asks, and the words slap Annie.

You know.

She glares at him, hoping he'll prove her wrong—that there's some other way to interpret his words, and there's not. He looks back at her, as if hoping for the same thing, but—there's no reassurance we can offer each other, is there?

Why does it have to be Armin? Tears sting at the back of her eyes. "How long have—"

"Since you came, pretty much. We knew they'd be sending someone," Armin says. "Why, Annie? What—"

"Would it matter if I told you? If I even knew?" she asks, the wind stealing some of her words. She tries to shout, her hands tightening on her gear. She has her blades. "Would you care?"

"Of course I would!" he yells back at her.

"So you never thought I was a good person." She takes a step back. She should move towards him, but she can't, she can't. She can't hurt him, even if his answer is what she dreads.

Armin's jaw drops. "I do! That's why I want to know—"

Annie throws her head back, laughing. "You do? Armin, do you know what will happen to you if I give a report to the Military Police? Forget eradicating the Titans. Saving your own skins would be impossible." She bites her lip, hard enough for pain and not heard enough to break the skin.

"Then don't give it!"

He says it like it's so simple, an obvious solution. Shit, he's pleading with her—he cares—

Annie yanks her hands away from her gear, turning and dashing through the trees. Another branch smashes into her face, tearing at the skin.

"Annie!" she hears him bellow, and then all she can hear is the wind, all she can feel is numbness settling on her legs, weighing them down, and eventually she trips over a root and falls, face landing in the snow that should be softer than it is, and warm tears trickle down her face.

When she finally pries herself up, she can barely see. Everything's white, everything's wet—she takes a step and bumps into a tree.

Where am I? Panic courses down her spine. The Survey Corps could be behind her, brought down by Armin—she whirls, but she can't tell, she can't see.

"Hello?" she screams, pulling out her blades. She can barely handle that in the cold. Her hands shake, and she jams her blade back in.

Shelter. She needs it, now.

Did Armin make it back to headquarters?

How could he have?

He's still out here. Annie's stomach plummets. And he's so small…

"Armin!" she hollers, cursing herself, but she can't help it. He won't die on her watch. Not now. "Armin!"

Nothing, and she's frantically pushing herself back the way she came—at least she thinks it's the way she came—branches tearing at her flesh, and what's scarier is that she can hardly feel the pain. Everything's so cold, so frozen. "Armin!" she bellows, as loud as she possibly can. "Armin!"

"Annie?" It's a weak voice, trembling.

"Armin?" She reaches out and her hands clasp a sharp branch. She curses and drops to her knees, peering under a tree—and she can see him huddles there, a brown and green lump in the middle of the white.


"Where are we?" she asks desperately, crawling under. Her face is red and raw, and her lips as blue as his must be.

Armin shakes his head. "I can't see. If we head out—" His clattering teeth chip his tongue, and he spits out blood. "We're just as likely to head further away from headquarters than we are to head towards it." Breathing is painful—his nose feels as if everything inside is freezing into knives, scraping his sinuses. "Our best bet is staying under this tree."

Annie shakes her head.

"Eren and Mikasa might come," he offers.

"No, they won't," Annie answers, and he knows she's right. She crawls closer, and they both look at each other.

"We should—" he starts.

"I know," she says, shuffling closer, as if she can't bear the thought of being this close to him. Is it because of their roles, his with the Survey Corps, her with the Military Police? Armin wonders as her arms wrap around him and his wrap around hers. Or is it because of me? he fears as her head presses against his, as she pulls her hoodie up, as her chest presses against his own. And he's so cold, but his body's more intoxicated with her closeness than he would have thought possible.

"Are we going to die?" she whispers.

"Maybe," he admits. He doesn't want to, though—stupid Christmas. He doesn't want Erwin to regret this celebration.

She snorts. "Armin—I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he ekes out.

"Don't you hate me?"

He shakes his head, because he knows it's true. "I assume you have your reasons."

She coughs, her chest shaking. He yanks his cloak around to cover them both, and holds her tighter. This could last hours.

What's it like to die from hypothermia? Armin wonders. He knows the process, but what does it actually feel like? Which of them will go first?

Not Annie, Armin vows.

"I really did want to see you," Annie chokes out.

"Really?" he manages.

"Y-yeah. I—you're the first person who ever told me I was nice. I wanted to be nice to you. To be good to you. I'm—it's—my weakness."

"I don't know," Armin says miserably. "Because as much as I talk about how I want to leave behind humanity—and I do think you have to, especially when we're fighting creatures like the Titans—I want to be good to Eren, and to Mikasa. They protected me so many times—I couldn't—"

"From what?"

"Bullies," he admits." When you're weak like I am, you're an easy target."

"You're not weak," Annie snaps.

Armin cringes. "Annie, yes, I am."

"Your mind isn't. And I'd rather have a strong mind than a strong body. Both can be exploited, but if you have a strong mind, you're more likely to figure out a way out of it."

Are you trying to tell me you feel trapped?

"You at least have the guts to stand up for what you believe in, and work for it. You and Eren both, even if he's a bit of an idiot about it." Annie shivers. They're both shaking uncontrollably.

"Why can't you?" Armin asks. "If you think you—can't—that's—that's also—all in your mind. And—you're mind's—not weak, Annie."

"You don't hate me for what I'm doing? For the—Military—Military Police?" she manages.

"N-no."

"You—might hate me—if I save your life—right now," Annie tells him. "And you know—you're—I'm stupid—because it matters to me—that you not hate me—but if I don't—you'll die—and I can't—I'll never forgive myself."

"What are you talking about?" Armin demands. He doesn't understand—save his life—what can she even do? They're trapped out here.

Annie shifts, and he's looking into her eyes. Her sloped nose is almost purple. "I'm sorry, Armin." Tears fill those blue pools.

"Don't cry—it'll freeze," he gasps, reaching out to try and brush that teardrop away.

She shoves him backwards, scrambling out from under the tree.

"Annie!" Armin screams, crawling. "You'll die! Annie! You can't see! Don't be an idiot!"

A crack, like lightning. Armin gapes up at the white mass that is the snow, that is the sky.

And then a face appears.

No.

Not here—it's impossible—he can only gape as a massive hand descends, pulling up up.

No!

And then he sees the face. He sees the golden strands before the snow blocks them again, and eyes the color of what he imagines the ocean to be.

"Annie—you—" he gasps out.

Tears still fill those eyes, but she curls up on the snow, pressing Armin against her chest, blocking the snow.

"Annie—no!" Armin shouts, tugging at the giant fingers. "Will you—what if you—"

She pries her fingers open only to look at him as if to say I know what I'm doing, idiot.

Annie's a Titan.

Like Eren?

No, Armin somehow knows. Her purpose is not so innocent.

But she's keeping him alive—she doesn't intend to kill him—"Why?" he screams at her, voice echoing in the cocoon she's keeping him in. Already his fingers are tingling, life stabbing back into the dying skin. "You're risking your own—for me?"

He matters, he knows, more than her purpose, more than her goals, whatever they are.

And you—you matter to me, Annie.

"I meant it when I said I thought you had your reasons!" he yells. "I want to listen, Annie, I want to understand too—when we're all through this, if you'll tell me—I'll listen—"

She doesn't lift her fingers up to look at him this time, but he knows that somehow, for some reason, she considers him worth it, and he can only cry. "Annie, you really are a good person, you know that?" he hollers. "You're nice—you're kind—you're brave—I—let me know that you're okay!" Now he's crying, fat tears streaming down his face.

She lifts him then, shifting her fists to make sure that no cold touches him, and now she holds him against her face, her eyes craning down in an almost comical expression.

"You're okay," Armin whispers, pressing his palm against the warm flesh.

Her lips curve. He grabs a strand of her hand and pulls himself up. She scowls now, baring her teeth, but there's a playfulness to her eyes.

Armin lowers himself against her mouth as she covers her teeth with her lips again. He presses his own against hers.


Stay awake. Stay. Awake.

Armin keeps drifting off, only to jerk himself awake. But he's warm enough, clutched in her hands.

I won't let you die, she promises him.

When he kissed her, a tear fell from her eye, and he wiped it away.

Now you see what I am.

Somehow Annie doesn't think Armin has the same impression of who she is, what she is, and it infuriates her. She wants to claw her way back, claw her way up to the pedestal of good, but she doesn't know if she can.

If you knew about Shiganshina…

More tears fall, and she can't help it. For the first time in years, she doesn't even want to help it.

Your father will always be on your side.

Always?

She might have to test that, now. What if I can't do it, Dad? What if all I want is to be safe, to be me, to be with Armin?

It's impossible, she knows.

But it's not impossible to keep Armin safe.

The storm starts to die down, and Annie closes her eyes, lifting Armin out. He gasps as the frigid air saturates him again, and then Annie transforms. She stumbles, back in her human legs, which feel peculiarly weak.

"Annie!" Armin grabs her.

"You know," she manages. "Some of it…"

"Huh?" He looks at her. The sky's dark, but a few streaks of violet mar it like bruises. Snow still falls, but it looks far less deadly. They can see.

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me, Armin," she confesses. "Things you might—not want to know."

"Maybe not, but I want you to tell me anyways," Armin says, clutching her shoulders, and dammit, he looks so earnest.

"Did you mean it?" she asks weakly. "When you kissed—"

He leans in again, and this time she can respond. Her lips embrace his, and she digs her fingers through his hair.

You're beautiful, she thinks with her eyes closed. You're a beautiful human being, Armin Arlert. "I'm sorry," she says. "There are lots of things—terrible things about me—"

He kisses her words away, absorbing them, as if to say that they can't change his mind. And when he pulls back, she sees anxiety riddling his face—as if she'd reject him.

"You," she says. "You're who I want."

They make their way back to headquarters with their hands clasped. Snow reaches up past their knees and their teeth chatter. When they draw closer, Annie hesitates. The castle sits there, a beacon of survival, and yet she knows what she is, and Armin knows too.

"You don't have to tell them just yet," Armin offers. "Not if you don't want to."

"I want to stay," Annie tells him. "I don't want to go back to the Military Police."

Armin sets his jaw, and it's that look that first attracted Annie to him, sitting at a desk listening to Keith Shadis blather on about military strategy—the look that means he's formulating a plan, and it will be something no one will have thought of, and it will work miracles. "You won't have to."

"Armin!" screams Eren, and he flies at them. "Annie!"

Mikasa appears, her scarf wrapped tight. She hesitates, and then holds out her hand to Annie. Tears form in her eyes, and Annie realizes just how terrified Mikasa must have been about losing Armin.

More swarm as Eren and Mikasa usher them inside, whre warmth, true warmth, closes in around Annie. That redheaded lady, Petra. The rest of Levi's squad, Ymir and Christa, Connie and Sasha—her eyes swollen—and Reiner and Bertolt, whose face caves into such an expression of relief that Annie feels weak.

They all care.

Even Reiner.

Jean hobbles out. "Good grief, you two. Marco's been up all night crying because of you."

They all look at him. Eren scowls.

"It's true." Jean narrows his eyes at Annie. She flinches.

"These brats almost snuck out trying to find you guys," a dour voice says. Captain Levi claps both Eren and Mikasa on the back of the head. "We had to lock them inside."

"We were about to head out, though," Christa says. "Are you guys okay?"

"How did you survive that?" demands a deep voice.

Commander Erwin.

Annie swallows.

"Armin, you wouldn't believe it," Eren chatters. "We almost thought there might a Titan out there, so we got no sleep—well, Mikasa and I were locked in a room, and Jean was too because he tried to free us—but we saw everyone else preparing for a battle."

"There was a lightning strike," Reiner offers, crossing her arms. Ymir raises her eyebrows at Annie.

How do you know?

"We didn't see it," Annie answers. She's not ready. Not for this part. Not yet. She'll tell Armin first.

"We huddled together for warmth," Armin says. "Under a tree."

Commander Erwin raises his eyebrows.

"How close?" Reiner teases.

Annie glowers at him, but Armin squeezes her hand.

"Commander Erwin," Annie says, her heart thumping. "I've got something to tell you. About Zackley."


Thanks for reading! Up next: Levihan.