Author's Note: Hey gang! So here's the itch that I had to scratch. This could go down in flames or you might enjoy it as much as AQR - I have no idea. All I know is, I wanted to play with all the questions left (in my view) unanswered at the end of the manga, and give Historia some meat on the bones of her story.

Oh, and write more Rivahisu. Of course.

This just asked to be written in First Person; no idea why, just felt right. I don't normally write in this POV, so if it sucks, I'm sorry. We will get to the romance, but you need to forget I said that at the start, because Historia has A LOT of growing to do first. This is, as usual, slow, burn.

Final note, the start of this chapter is literally a scene at the end of chapter 52 where Historia is recounting her story. Just go look at the panels. Her eyes and Levi's face interested me, and here we are ...

The Other Side of History

Green Cloak, Golden Crown.

2

The Depths of the Forest

"After that, I lived in a settlement for two years … Entered the training corps when I turned twelve …"

I lifted my gaze from the emptied bowl on my tray. His eyes were the first things that greeted me. That expression he wore was telling; the food on his own tray left untouched. Odd, to see his usual stoic mask fractured so obviously. None of the others noticed, though. They were all still staring at me, hanging on my every word as we sat around the long, sturdy table. The only sound my comrades had made as I recounted the tale of my childhood was the tap and scrape of utensils against crockery.

I kept my gaze straight ahead. Fixed to his.

" …Then I met all of you."

Well. That wasn't strictly true, was it?

His eyes narrowed after a moment. And then he looked away. I knew he was aware of the small lie I had just told.

The Captain's was a face etched into my memory from long ago. A face I could not forget.

Four Years Previous

The downpour was relentless. I'd crept into the depths of the forest for shelter in the fast fading twilight. Even here though, fat raindrops managed to slip through the canopy, chilling the back of my neck and my exposed forearms as I walked. I hadn't the time or the forethought to snatch a cloak as I'd made my grand escape, and now the damp material of my dress clung to my skin, making me shiver.

Would they notice my absence yet? I tried to push away any thoughts of the little settlement where I'd spent the last year.

Each time a twig snapped underfoot, or my thin shoes scuffed against exposed tree roots, the noise was painful. The sound seemed to carry impossibly amongst the trees - a beacon for the hungry, wild animals that stalked in the shadows. They would surely appear to devour me before long. I found myself wondering how much it would hurt, to be eaten alive by wolves, or worse. What would my bones sound like, splintered and crushed between snapping jaws? How long before I would pass out from shock? Such morbid thoughts for an eleven year old. But I was no stranger to death. I'd watched my own mother's blood spill onto the ground at my feet as she was murdered within arm's reach of me. It had been a year, and still her last words echoed in my head. Around and around.

If only you had never been born.

If only.

I might not be able to grant her that reassurance in her dying breaths - that my past existence could be erased so easily - but perhaps, out here in the woods on this miserable night, I could remove the burden of my existence from the world's future.

A noise somewhere behind me made me glance over my shoulder. It was impossible to make out anything through the inky gloom; the clouds blocked out the moon's light. I hadn't even realised how rapidly darkness had set in around me. I faced forwards, stumbled ahead. My feet began to beat a frantic rhythm against the damp earth. Beneath my ribs, my heart beat harder.

Why was I running? Why fight this? Wasn't this the end I'd hoped for?

Before I could think on the question, my shoe snagged on a tree root, and I tumbled. The ground was soft with moss; it stained my dress as I tried to scramble to my feat. A howl tore through the trees.

I managed to run a little further, but the blood pounding in my ears and the burning in my chest won out in the end as I reached a small clearing. The visibility was only marginally better here without the canopy of the forest; the clouds were still dark and heavy with rain as they shrouded the full moon. A gnarled, lonely tree stood at the centre. I fell against it's trunk, drawing my knees against my chest as my teeth chattered. I knew it wasn't only because of the cold, seeping through my dress and biting into my skin.

I was afraid.

For the second time in my life, I felt a gut-wrenching fear take hold of me. Pathetic, really, that even in the face of a death I had made myself come to terms with, I was still afraid.

The sound of panting and whining crept into the clearing. I clutched at the soaked fabric of my skirt until my knuckles were white and trembling. Shrinking into the hollow between twisted roots, I curled myself into a foetal position. Nine pairs of eyes appeared at the fringe of the trees, glowing in the murk.

Please. Make it quick. Just let it be over quickly.

I should never have been born. Erase my existence.

Snarls joined the rhythmic beating of rain against the Earth. I squeezed my eyes shut. The thudding of rain grew heavier. So heavy, in fact, that I could feel the ground vibrate beneath me.

Wait -

A blast of cold air hit my skin as something rushed past me into the clearing. There was a clatter as an object struck the ground near my shoe, then the screech of metal on metal, like when the scythes were sharpened for reaping back on the farm. Why would I think of that now? My eyes snapped open, but before I could make out what had fallen, I caught a blur of movement in the darkness a little way ahead of me.

It was huge. Monstrous, in fact. My heart lurched. The snarling was suddenly replaced with a yelp. And then another.

My vision adjusted. I realised that the object at my feet was a lantern; it's flame dimming as it lay on it's side. But the dying light was just enough to make out the thing before me as it flew around the clearing with disturbing grace. It was cloaked and hooded, swinging blades, and I suddenly realised that it was not one huge monster, but two beings: a horse and rider.

I stayed rooted to the spot beneath the tree, mouth agape, body still shaking violently. Metal glinted just before the lantern flame gave out, but I could see how the silver was coated a sickly crimson. The figure rode in arcs around the clearing, slicing through the wild animals that had hunted me, as though they were nothing.

These movements … they couldn't be human.

Images of evil, supernatural creatures crowded my mind. Perhaps this was death himself come to claim me personally, since I never did belong in this world in the first place. I was a mistake, and here he was to correct that. Well good, then, I thought. Let him deal with me quickly and be on his way.

My barely gathered, brave thoughts soon subsided, though, when the figure pulled it's steed to a stop. The whining of dying animals had ceased, and now all I could hear was the snorting of the horse. The sweet scent of sweat filled my nose as it began to evaporate from the animals skin, even in the downpour, creating an eerie mist around the pair.

The hooded figure's feet met the forest floor with a dull thud. I scrambled backwards as it advanced towards me. My back pressed against the rough bark when I couldn't recoil any further. I could do nothing but stare, eyes wide, as it stopped directly in front of me. I could see the rise and fall of it's shoulders with each breath. The blades were gone from it's hands now. When had that happened? It swiped up the lantern that lay before me, a tch sound escaping from under the hood. It fiddled beneath it's cloak for a moment, and then suddenly, the lantern began to glow again. Pale fingers flicked away a spent match while it's other hand gripped the metal handle above the encased flame, although with it's hood pulled low, no light reached beneath to illuminate what I imagined must be a grotesque, disfigured face. My fingernails dug into the dirt either side of me. The hand gripping the lantern began to lift, casting it's waxy glow across my own features.

At the exact same moment, the rain petered out. The clouds parted, revealing the round belly of the moon, and the entire clearing was bathed in an eerily iridescent glow.

I gasped.

Not because of the blood staining the ground around me, or the prone bodies of the wolves that lay strewn amongst the daisies.

I gasped, because beneath that green hood, was the face of a man.

Just a man.

His eyes were the same cool silver as the blades that had flashed in the lamplight, raven strands of hair falling across his brows, and he looked upon me with an expression I was very well acquainted with: disdain.

Without thinking, I reached into the pocket of my sodden dress, and pulled out an equally sodden handkerchief, which I used to wipe my nose. It had begun to run in the chill.

"What are you doing here, brat?" I didn't flinch at the way he addressed me. I'd been called far worse. He looked me up and down with a grimace. "Tch. You'll catch a damn cold."

I blinked at him. Despite the fact that this supernatural being had turned out to be just a man, I still found myself rooted to the spot, unsure of how I should react.

I had met few men at this point in my life; non of whom were particularly kind. There had been my grandfather, and his farmhands, back at the estate where I grew up. They spoke to me rarely. The figures that showed up regularly at the paddock fence to throw stones at me, but they were boys really, not men. My Father, who I'd met once, briefly, and the intimidating figures in their dark overcoats that had halted my mother and I as we tried to leave with him. At the settlement, it was mainly the sisters of the walls from the local monastery that dealt with me.

This man was a complete stranger. And yet for some strange reason, despite my unsureness, I can honestly say it was no longer fear I felt.

"Where're your parents?" He asked bluntly when I did not say anything.

I was about to shrug, but then I remembered that this would be impolite. Where had I learned that? Not from the sisters. They spoke to me as little as possible. "I don't have any."

It wasn't a lie. My mother was dead, and my father had disowned me.

"Huh. Great." He looked away from me, and despite his irritated words, I noticed his face soften ever so slightly. "You can't stay here. Where do you belong?"

Another difficult question. I hugged my knees. My teeth chattered.

Nowhere, I wanted to tell him. I have no home. I'm not supposed to exist.

This didn't seem like the right thing to say, though. "In the village. At the monastery."

I didn't meet his eye, but I could feel him staring at me again, as though he could see straight through my words and into the heart of me. Did he feel it, too? The way I shouldn't be here?

"Why did you save me?" The words were out before I could stop them. It wasn't a very polite thing to ask, after what he'd done. I tried to remind myself inwardly that Christa was supposed to be a good girl as I met his cool gaze again.

His brows lifted a fraction, the rest of his face still stoic. "What's your name?" My question went ignored.

"His-" I stopped myself. I'd been going by my false name for just over a year now; it wasn't like me to slip up. But something about him made me honest without thinking. "Christa."

He inclined his head. "Here."

I watched, transfixed, as he shed his cloak and moved towards me. It was as deeply green as the conifers that towered above us at the edges of the clearing; it must have provided perfect cover for him as he moved through the forest on his horse. Well, except for the pair of wings emblazoned across the back of it. They were striking as they caught the light of the moon. He frowned at the way I flinched when he covered my freezing shoulders with the cloak. He didn't comment, though.

"Will you make me go back?"

He returned to his horse; pale fingers running along it's sweat soaked neck as it tossed it's head. It really was a handsome creature. Now that his hood was gone, I could see how it's master's dark hair was similar to the animal's gleaming coat.

"Would you rather wait for more wild animals to find you?" He didn't turn as he answered me, but I could make out the sharp edge of his jawline where the moonlight struck it. He wasn't very tall, and his features were a little too moody to resemble the knights in the books I'd read as a child. But his act of bravery seemed like something straight out of my favourite fairy story.

I looked down at my hands; fingers tangling in my lap. I didn't ask to be saved from these ones, I wanted to tell him; he'd only caused the world to be further cursed with my existence. But that didn't seem like a very ladylike thing to say. I knew possessing ladylike qualities was of the upmost importance to me, although I couldn't say why I felt that way.

"Right. Better go back to where you belong, then."

I looked up to find him standing above me, his gloomy features and dark hair haloed by the moon as he stretched out his hand.

The ride back passed far quicker than I would have liked. I was dreading seeing the Sisters again; not because I feared any punishment, but more the fact that I didn't want to be subjected to their many questions about my disappearance. Despite the profound effect my mother's words had on me, I was never willing to talk about my existential anguish. How do you tell someone you barely know that your entire life has been a mistake?

The stranger - my saviour - rode his horse hard and fast, but not unkindly, beneath the clearing, inky skies. Seeing how he respected the animal at least further settled me in his presence. I was raised on a farm; I knew the heart of another could be judged by their treatment of both man and beast.

By the time we found ourselves on the dirt road between the thatched roofs of the settlement, I was no longer shivering. His chest formed a wall of warmth behind me as I sat perched at the pommel of the saddle, his green cloak wrapped tightly around my damp dress. It was an odd feeling, to sit so closely to a stranger, especially a man, as the light of the full moon swelled overhead. But I was comfortable on a horse, and for reasons I couldn't fathom, the stranger with his lamp now held high, illuminating the path before us, felt like someone I could trust.

So much so, that I felt a sudden urge not to be parted from him as the monastery crested the hill ahead of us.

"Will you leave straight away?"

"No reason to hang around."

I frowned at his blunt response, my gaze dipping to the horse's well-kept mane. Of course. Why would he stay any longer than he had to? He was just a kind stranger. This odd sense of attachment I felt was ridiculous. He'd saved my life, but that hadn't been what I'd really wanted, had it?

Wasn't that such an ungrateful thought. I really was a terrible person.

This is why they always left, in the end. Every single person I had come to know in my short eleven years seemed destined to be parted from me, in one way or another. Foolish of me to wish it otherwise. I shouldn't be here.

I felt my lip quiver, but despite everything, I was too proud to let myself cry in front of a stranger.

That definitely wouldn't be ladylike.

"This the place?"

His baritone rumbled behind me as the horse came to a halt outside the imposing stone structure with it's turrets and looming bell tower. It didn't look at all like a home; but then the only home I'd known had been the farmhouse, and even that was nothing like the images I saw in books - all warm hearths and crowded dinner tables and pretty views outside cozy bedroom windows.

This place was quiet, draughty and sullen.

"Yes," I replied quietly.

He made no move to dismount. "Why'd you run, kid?"

The question caught me off guard. I couldn't see his face, but his voice sounded the sincerest I'd heard, in that one simple question. Almost as though he already understood the reason before speaking.

How silly.

How could he know?

I gripped his cloak a little tighter at the seams. I couldn't very well admit to him the error that was my existence, not after he'd just gone to such lengths to ensure that it continued. So I opted for a simplified version of the truth.

"I lied. Before, when you asked me where I belong. It's not here. But … it's not anywhere."

"That so? Hm. You sound like someone I used to know."

"I do? What happened to them?"

"They figured out the truth. It's not the place that makes us belong, its the people. But sometimes you gotta stick out the shitty places to find the people worth fighting for."

He was lifting his leg gracefully over the saddle before his words had chance to really sink in. I turned to stare at him, my head covered by his dark hood. He stared back evenly, and it occurred to me then how his face was not weathered or wrinkled, like the farm hands or the priests at the monastery. His skin was smooth and pale, like the boys who'd once thrown rocks at me, back at the farm. And yet, the shadows beneath his eyes, and the hard line of his mouth told me that he was no child.

The contradictions in him fascinated me.

"Are you going to get down? I don't have all evening."

I fumbled against the saddle as I turned to dismount, embarrassed that he'd caught me staring impolitely for a moment.

"Sorry."

The word was lost to him. He marched towards the large oak doors with a sureness that made me wonder if he had ever been scared of a thing in his life. He wrapped against the wood twice, hard.

I padded along the gravel path to stand beside him, my head hung in mock-shame as the door was opened by one of the sisters.

"Yes?" She took a moment to look him up and down, before her gaze fell on me; swamped beneath his cloak. "Christa!"

She was tugging me inside by my arm before I had chance to react.

"I'm very sorry for disappearing. I … wanted to see the moon."

A poor excuse. The best I could think of, as I turned my head back to catch my saviour already turning to leave.

"The moon!?" Sister Andrea exclaimed. "Foolish girl. You'll catch your death!"

"Wait!" I blurted, slipping from the Sister's grasp.

I needed to return his cloak. Not only that, though … I hadn't had chance to thank him. Historia may have wished to indeed catch her death out in that forest tonight, but I was not supposed to be Historia anymore. I was supposed to be Christa - the girl I remembered from some half-forgotten story I'd read somewhere. Christa was a good girl, that I knew for certain. Christa would say thank you, when someone saved her life. Christa was ladylike, kind … someone that others would like and could depend on.

Like this man. This kind stranger.

Wherever he belonged; whoever he was fighting for … perhaps Christa could belong the same place, someday.

If I was going to die … If I was going to succeed in erasing my existence, then … better that I do it as Christa the good girl; Christa the kind stranger; Christa the hero …

Just before I slipped back through the doors in pursuit of him, a flash of red caught my eye. A punnet of ripe, gleaming apples. Of course. A gift from the lord who owned this particular settlement - the first of the fall harvest.

I swiped one from the pile, clutching it to my chest as I dashed outside, the gravel crunching beneath my shoes. I ignored the protests of Sister Andrea that I should go back inside.

He was already adjusting his horse's tack when I reached him. He paused, but didn't turn to look at me.

"Please! Your cloak -" I shed it, thrusting it towards him with my free hand. "You shouldn't catch a cold, either!"

He met my eye over his shoulder.

I held out the fruit in my other hand. "This, too. Thank you. For saving me."

The cloak was accepted. I watched as he swung it over his shoulders one handed; the lantern still clutched in his other. He cast it's light onto my proffered apple, inspecting it with unreadable eyes beneath his hood.

I felt suddenly silly, standing there as I was yelled at by the Sister, offering something so insignificant in thanks for what he'd done.

Finally, just as my arm began to ache, he shook his head. I still couldn't work out his expression.

"Keep it. I don't need it. Save it for someone who's hungry."

I brought the apple back to my chest, inexplicably hurt at his refusal of my meagre gesture. He must have read my reaction plainly, because then he added, "No need to thank me anyway, brat."

It was enough to lift my spirits a fraction. "Where is it you belong?" I asked quickly, as he swung back up into his saddle.

He shone the lantern back down at me. "I'm from the Survey Corps."

I watched as he rode away, back down the hill. Those bold wings fluttered at his back, and in that moment I swore to imprint that image in my mind, coupled with that name.

The Survey Corps.

Was that a place where Christa might be able to belong, even for a short while? Perhaps a place that she could end her existence heroically. A place to do something good. A place to be remembered for something more than the sum of Historia's wretched existence.

A little less than a year later, I ran away from my life at the settlement again. But this time, I did not run to the forest.

I ran in search of the Wings of Freedom. I ran in search of a moment to belong before death. I ran in search of The Survey Corps.

I always wondered why she joined. I had too much fun writing this. Lemme know your thoughts guys. SR x