"You can do it, Christa," Ymir encourages.

Her palms burn even under the bandages Ymir applied. Her legs shake, and she wants to beg the wind to stop, stop blowing, give her a break. She makes the mistake of looking down at the deck well over a hundred feet below. Eren and Mikasa look up at her, swaying as she attempt to climb the rigging, and she can't even make out their faces. It's so far, she thinks, her toes and fingers tingling.

"Christa!" Ymir shouts. "Look at me. Not at them."

Christa tilts her head up, an inch at a time. Ymir peers down at her, brown hair swirling around her face and freckles popping. At least the small squall last night gave way into a beautiful day.

"You're not going to fall," Ymir says. "I'd catch you."

It's so ridiculous Christa actually laughs. "You'd have to dive down for that."

"Eh, so I would." A grin splits Ymir's lips.

Just a little further. Christa moves her feet, her hands. Her shoulders scream at her. "I can't—"

"Climb or fall, Christa." Ymir's tone hardens.

She gasps.

"Of course, there's a part of you that wants to fall, isn't there?"

Christa narrows her eyes. The sun stabs at her scalp with its hot rays. Her heart thumps. How much do you know?

"I'd prefer you to climb, though," Ymir adds.

Christa bites her cheeks. Bitter blood fills her mouth. Gulping, she drags herself up further. Almost there—almost there—

"Got you," Ymir says as her hand clamps over Christa's wrist. She hauls Christa into the lookout, Christa crashing into her. "Good job."

Christa pulls her face away from Ymir's shoulder. "Thanks."

"Don't thank me for bitching at you."

She blinks.

"You don't regret joining these pirates, do you?"

"No," Christa answers, settling down. She peers out at the horizon. Azure ripples all around them. A chill skips down her spine. We're so small.

"Of course not," Ymir says bitterly. "You want to die. Participating in a war, if covertly, is a noble way to go even, isn't it? People will praise you and that's what you really want, after all."

Christa's chest tightens. "I—"

"You shouldn't want to die," Ymir snaps. "You should want to live, Christa, even if it's just to spite the bastards who made you feel this way. Although that's not even your real name."

Christa's chest tightens. Her palms slicken with sweat, and she scrapes them against the rough wood. The wind blasts her face. "What do you know?"

Ymir folds her arms around her knees. "I don't know your name. I know you're the illegitimate daughter of the king. I know you're the rightful heir to the throne now, but they've told you that you don't deserve it and—well, I'm guessing they've drummed it into you so deep that you actually believe them. And so you're determined to prove them wrong by dying a noble death. I think you should prove them wrong by living your life the way you want to, under your real name, and damn the consequences and damn what they think."

Christa's jaw falls open. Her mother's face—the bloody knife—her stomach churns. "How?"

"I overheard people talking after your siblings were slaughtered. Did they even know about you?"

"Frieda did. She came to see me. Every week." Christa wipes at her eyes. My sister… murdered.

Possibly by that Eren's father. She peers down to watch him trying to fence with Mikasa and Annie, the latter of whom gives him pointers.

"Fuck them," Ymir says. "Not Frieda. But fuck the king, and fuck everyone else who made you think you were worthless. It's hard to realize they were full of shit. I know. We're alike, you and me, you know that?" Her voice trembles.

Christa turns to face her. "How?"

"I was made to live in a certain me because my existence, however necessary, made certain people unhappy," Ymir says. "But now I am living as Ymir. I don't care who knows who I am. They're bastards, you know, in a way you're not. You don't deserve to still cow to what they want from you." She snorts. "I have secrets too, you know."

"Why do you care?" Christa blurts out. "Why do you—why does it matter to you what I—"

"Because, I told you. We're alike." She laughs. "I am a really shitty, selfish person."

"You're my friend," Christa says, her voice quivering. "You saved me from the streets."

Ymir wipes at her eyes. "I just wanted you close to me. Because you reminded me of me."

"You saved me from the streets regardless of your motivations," Christa repeats. "And lest you forget, I asked you to take me on."

"I suspected you would ask."

Christa grits her teeth. Stop being so stubborn, please! "You're my friend. I'm on your side."

Ymir turns to gape at her. Tears sting Christa's eyes. You cared. You cared, even if you were selfish, and that's something no one except Frieda ever did for me before.

Ymir leans across and catches Christa by the back of the neck. Christa startles. What are you doing?

Her face hovers across from Christa's, her breath warm and lips so close, her eyes focusing on Christa's. The freckles across her face blur as Ymir leans in, her lips taking Christa's.

Christa's never been kissed before in her life. She doesn't know what to do, but this feeling, soft lips against her own—she likes it.

"Now you know," Ymir says as she pulls back, abruptly. "I find you attractive. That's why—"

Stop your bullshit, now! Christa wants to shout. "And why is that?" she demands instead.

"Half the guys on this ship are in love with you after only a few days, because you're small and pretty and nice and—smart, and determined, and there's a part of you that won't give up, because there's a part of you that knows that they were all wrong, that you're capable and—"

Christa flings herself forward, catching Ymir by the shoulders and kissing her again. She hopes this is how you kiss. She's not sure. But Ymir's fingers entangle with her hair, and Christa's hand grips Ymir's back and she feels, for the first time she can remember, wanted.


"You and the rest of the new crewmembers are invited to dinner tonight with the captain," Oruo tells Annie as she sheaths her sword. She can feel Marlowe and Hitch's gawps.

"I presume this isn't a request that can be refused?" Hitch asks, voice shaking.

"No," Oruo answers. "It isn't."

Eren pries himself off the deck, wheezing. "Thanks, Annie."

She nods. Mikasa glares at her, clearly unhappy with Annie knocking Eren to the deck again and again and again, and with giving him pointers when he faced off with Mikasa. Annie ignores her. The kid doesn't give up. And she admires that, like she admires Marlowe and Armin.

You have principles.

She's a ship without a mast, floundering in the waves, certain to founder in a storm.

Annie pushes past Armin—don't look at him, don't look at him—and climbs down the hatch. Armin thinks she's a good person.

I'm the worst person for you, Armin.

Her boots hit the floorboards, and she straightens to find Reiner waiting for her, his arms crossed. Bertolt leans against the wall behind him.

"Do you need something?" Annie snaps.

"To talk," Reiner says. A laugh rings out, and a yelp.

"You can't eat that!"

"I need to taste it to make sure it's good enough!"

"Turns out the stowaway can cook," Bertolt says with a soft smile. Annie nods. Sasha's friendly enough. She knows nothing about ships, but then again, Eren, Mikasa, and Armin, plus that Christa girl, know nothing about them either.

"Let's go to the hold," Reiner says.

Annie scurries after them, trying to shake off the cobwebs of guilt. The tiger cat mews somewhere in the dark recesses of the hold, where damp air clings to Annie's skin and she stumbles over a sack of grain. Bertolt carries a lantern, and as light dawns, Annie spies gold and diamonds spill from a chest. Was that from Jean's ship, or some other one?

It doesn't matter, she reminds herself, leaning against a crate. The cat meows again, and Annie clicks her tongue. "What's going on?"

"Good to see you too," Reiner retorts, crossing his arms. Bertolt nods.

"Took you long enough," Annie says. "The entire time I was worried that Zeke would show up too early and get spotted, or I'd get blown to smithereens."

Reiner huffs. "It all worked out."

"Yeah. Thankfully."

The hull moans. Gold coins skitter across the deck. Bertolt hooks the lantern on a hook, his face pale.

"You're getting awfully friendly with some of them," Reiner says.

"I see I'm getting Pissy Reiner today," Annie retorts.

"What are you talking about?" he demands.

"You were pretty helpful earlier. To Marco, when he was repairing that sail. And when we were firing cannons at Zeke's ship."

"I aimed away!"

"At first," Annie says.

Reiner's eyes dart about. He squeezes his hands together. "Well, we have to keep our cover. If Eren Jaeger really does have a map to that—Zeke will—"

"Do you think he knows?" Bertolt breaks in. "About his father?"

"No," Annie answers. "He's oblivious."

"His mother died," Reiner whispers. "When we attacked Fort Shiganshina."

"Now who's feeling badly?" Annie taunts.

"I'm impressed they managed to escape the refugee compound," Bertolt says. "You were one of the few who bothered to leave, Annie, and you weren't even really ever one of them."

Was I? Annie wonders. What am I, and who have I been? Is there even a real me? "Clearly, however Grisha Jaeger brought his kid up, he taught him enough to question the king's edicts. And to value his friends' lives if not his own, because he does seem to be overly eager to fight to Marlay."

"Can we blame him?" Reiner asks with a bitter laugh. "If it were my mother—my father—"

"Your parents didn't want you," Annie says bluntly. "Not as much as they wanted a free life for themselves. Same with you, Bertolt."

"And your father does want you?" Reiner snaps.

"No," Annie says. "He apologized, but he still did it."

"Forgive me. Promise you'll come back," he pleaded.

Why now? she wanted to scream. Why do you care now, when it's too late?

"We have to do it," Reiner says. "Or else they'll—they'll all die, because of us."

"We will do it," Bertolt says, stepping forward. "We're warriors."

"It'd be helpful if you were more open with us, though," Reiner adds, focusing on her.

The cat rubs against her legs, purring. Annie leans down and picks it up, scratching behind the ears. You have a name, kitty? "How?"

"Well, why are you training Eren?"

"Why are you being kind to him?" Annie retorts.

"We feel sorry for him," Bertolt whispers.

"I don't remember why," Reiner says with a frown.

Bertolt sucks in his breath.

"You don't remember?" Annie demands as the cat rests its chin on her shoulder.

"He's fine," Bertolt says quickly.

"Horseshit."

Bertolt flushes.

"Nice language," Reiner snips.

"As if yours is any better."

"I'm around pirates. I have to act the part."

Annie straightens and takes a step closer. "Are you acting?"

Bertolt's brows fly up his face. Reiner looks gray even as shadows pass over his face with the rocking of the ship.

"I have to do this. This is what we were born for," Reiner says in a hard voice. "We're warriors."

We're warriors… blah, blah, blah. Words are cheap. Annie knows this. "And if things were different?" she questions, cocking her head.

"They aren't different!" Reiner shouts. "There's no point in even considering it! And I don't—don't ever bring that up again, or I'll tell Zeke, so help me. I will."

"Reiner!" Bertolt grasps his shoulder, looking stricken.

"Are you threatening me?" Annie lets the cat go. It darts for the ladder, and almost instantly, cold floods the void where she held it against her chest. Gooseflesh rises.

"Don't make me have to," Reiner snaps.

"If you want to go at it, right here, right now, we'll establish who's in charge really fast," Annie says, bracing herself. Her fists clench. I can take you.

"Stop!" Bertolt shouts. "Please! Annie—"

"I won't have you questioning my loyalty again," Annie says, her voice hard. "Keep him in his correct mind, Bertolt." She stalks out.

"I'm not insane!" Reiner insists behind her.

"I know," Bertolt says, but his tone gives it away.

We're sinking, Annie thinks as she spots the kitty. She reaches for it, but the gray thing scampers away from her. Tears clog her throat. Damn cat.

We've got a leader who's losing his mind, I'm helping people I'm going to have to kill, and all Zeke would say is that it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter, they don't matter.

She thinks of Hitch giggling and Marlowe's determination to fight corruption, of Eren's determination to end the war—same as theirs, only more innocent—and Armin's earnest faith in her.

We're going to sink.


Christa kissed me.

I should push her away, Ymir thinks as she combs her hair back. But she already knows she won't. Christa's the only person who's ever seen her as what she is and still treat her with kindness. More than kindness.

"Ready?" she asks Christa, whose blond hair lies loose around her face. She really does look like an angel.

Christa nods, and they sweep out of their sleeping quarters. Reiner grins at Christa, and Ymir slips her arm around her, tossing Reiner a smirk. Keep trying.

All of the new crewmembers show up, even the soldiers, who look as if they're being asked to dine with their worst nightmare. Maybe Erwin is their worst nightmare, a compelling image of what they could become. Levi and Hange are there too, Hange with some blood smeared on her shirt. Levi cringes as he notices it.

"Welcome," Erwin greets them. Platters of meat, biscuits that actually look soft, and greens lay out on the table. The scent of garlic hits Ymir's nose. Wine swirls in the goblets.

"Meat!" gasps Sasha, practically lunging for it.

"Hey, leave some for everybody else," Connie complains.

"Want some potatoes?" Ymir offers Christa, who nods eagerly. What kind of food did they feed you, back at your estate?

There's so much she wants to know about Christa.

"Thank you," the short blond boy, Armin, squeaks.

Erwin smiles. "My pleasure."

"How did you really become a pirate?" Jean can't help but ask.

Levi snorts.

"It's a long story," Erwin says simply. "And it's one I don't feel you're ready for."

Jean scowls. Ymir bites into a biscuit. It tastes almost buttery.

"How long does it take to get to this island?" Reiner questions, rubbing the back of his neck.

"We're making landfall tomorrow, brat," Levi says. "At a port to make a few deals and stock up on supplies. After that—" He glances to Erwin.

"A couple weeks," Hange puts in.

"So it is a real map?" Reiner continues, his brow furrowed.

Of course, you dolt, Ymir thinks, but she can't let on that she knows.

"What do you think might be on the island?" Eren asks. "What could possibly help end the war?"

Mikasa casts him a look full of so many emotions—sorrow, hope, pity. Ymir recognizes all of them from how she feels right now, with Christa taking her hand under the table and squeezing.

You really trust me, don't you?

Erwin sighs. "I don't know."

"Have you ever robbed a Marlay ship?" Marco questions. Ymir smirks. She's noticed how he looks at Jean.

"I've encountered Marlayans, if that's your question," Erwin answers.

"What are they like?" Marlowe asks.

"They're people," Hange says with a snort.

"We all used to be one kingdom," Erwin says. "Under the a royal dynasty known as the Fritzes. But part of the kingdom was treated poorly in comparison—"

"Eldia?" questions Eren.

"No," Hange answers. Eren pales. "There's been a war ever since the Fritzes died out. The crown would rather have the Marlay be seen as monsters," she adds. "It's easier to kill a monster."

Ymir takes a sip of wine. It burns, pleasantly blanketing her mind. She shifts in her seat.

"They are monsters," Eren shoots back. "They killed my—"

"We all have people we've lost to this war," Hange says.

"But you'd think—if we were once one nation—then the Marlay might live—"

"No," says Erwin. "The Marlayans, as well as the former East Sea nation, were all exterminated by the crown."

Christa stiffens. Ymir rubs her thumb over her knuckles. Her heart pounds. Will Christa reject this news? Or accept it?

It's true.

"In Marlay, Eldians are rumored to still live," Erwin continues. "In camps, with their freedom restricted."

"We should rescue them," Eren declares.

"Yeah, I'm sure that's possible," Jean snaps.

"How do we even know to trust this information?" Marco demands.

"I've heard such rumors myself," Reiner says quietly. Annie and Bertolt both turn to stare at him.

"I had a book once," Armin says. "That suggested as much. It was a forbidden book; I lost it when Fort Shiganshina fell. And maybe they wouldn't even be receptive to rescue. Maybe they feel abandoned."

Ymir almost chokes on a piece of meat. Bertolt drains his wine.

When the meal ends, she asks Christa if she's okay.

Christa nods. "Do you believe it?"

Ymir swallows, and nods.

Christa shakes her head, clenching her fists. "I'm so sorry."

"You aren't responsible for your family's actions," Ymir assures her.

"I think I'm going to head to sleep." Christa rubs her head.

"Want help?"

"I've got it." Christa wobbles slightly. Have you ever had wine in your life before?

"I can help," Reiner offers, reaching for Christa's arm.

Oh, no you don't. Ymir practically elbows him out of the way.

"Thanks, Ymir," Christa murmurs as Ymir helps her to her hammock. Her eyes flutter shut almost immediately.

I need some fresh air, Ymir decides, heading for the ladder. Reiner waits for her there, arms crossed. "What?"

"You didn't seem all that surprised by what the captain said over dinner."

Ymir turns to face him, the scent of garlic still heavy in the air. Her stomach feels full and content for the first time in weeks. "Despite your idiotic ploy questioning, you didn't seem exactly shocked either."

"Really." Reiner arches an eyebrow.

"Are you going to let me pass or are you trying to cop a feel?" Ymir snaps.

Reiner's jaw drops, and he looks truly offended. "I didn't think I looked like the kind of man who's interested in women. Just like you don't look like the type of girl who's interested in men."

You're not interested in Christa that way after all, are you? What does she represent to you?

Hope. The things you wish you were. Ymir knows this well. "Does Bertolt know?"

"He has enough going on," Reiner says. "He doesn't need to know his best friend's got a crush on him."

"Up to you," Ymir says with a shrug. "You make your own decisions, and you're responsible for them, no matter the outcome."

Reiner frowns as she pushes past. "What are you saying?"

Ymir pauses halfway up the ladder. "It's something that's taken me awhile to learn. You own what you decide to do. Whatever it is."

Reiner pales.