As always, many thanks to my dear Selena for checking the English version and for her feedback when doing so! And thank you so much to Azlaraazsh, TheShadeSlayer09, Guest, Wet Anon (lmao), The Seventh Path and Great Guest for leaving reviews in the past chapter :') Want to scream the biggest THANK YOU SO F MUCH to AverageJoeker for reviewing each chapter like, wow, you have no idea how much I appreciate the time and effort you put into leaving your amazing feedback!

LAWLESS


Chapter 20. Role


Mikasa clung to the waxed ropes of the swing tied to an old oak's thick branch. She was in the backyard of one of Eren's patients, an elderly woman with trouble walking. A housemaid had guided her to the dim fire of a cozy living room to wait comfortably for her boyfriend, but as soon as Mikasa saw the garden, the tree and the swing through the window, she told the cordial woman that, if it wasn't much of a hassle, she preferred to spend her waiting minutes out there. She was tired of spending it tucked between four walls every time she accompanied Eren to his medical visits, besides that she was beginning to feel little by little fed up of repeating this routine in which she entered other people's spaces. Another housemaid, younger than the one who had received them when they arrived, was playing with a two or three year-old child several meters away, making the most of the good weather. The child's excited shrieks broke through the harmonious chirping of the birds that inhabited the tree as he ran after a rubber ball slightly smaller than his blond head, which he pushed with clumsy feet or threw as far as he could with his tiny hands.

Plunging the soles of her boots into the well-cut grass as she backed away, Mikasa stretched and lifted her legs a bit, letting an unenthusiastic sway carry her back and forth. This must be the third time she had been on a swing in her life. She didn't try to feed the swinging, nor did she feel like pretending she was enjoying it. Her discouragement could be taken for boredom, so it didn't matter if someone noticed.

Last night she had waited for Eren to fall asleep to find the list Levi had mentioned to her. The fact that Eren had drunk something to stimulate sleep didn't influence Mikasa's decision, although it did make things easier for her since she wouldn't have to worry about tiptoeing or making a lot of noise while poking around, let alone thinking about how the lights on could wake him up. She started by going through the pockets of Eren's coats and jackets hanging by the door, finding coins, crumpled bills, and even a button. Then she opened the drawer of the nightstand on the side where he slept in bed, which was practically empty except for some kind of brochure related to hotel services or something, which she wasn't interested in reviewing. Without allowing herself to be distracted by Eren's peaceful and innocent sleeping face, Mikasa moved to the foot of the bed and examined the drawers of the dresser propped against the wall. The piece of furniture was almost empty because neither of them had kept many clothes there yet, just the occasional accessory. Still, she made sure to run her nimble fingers along the inside edge of each drawer, waiting to feel or hear the characteristic rubbing of paper. Nothing. She walked a few steps to the center of the room and stood with her hands resting on her hips and scanned the place as she thought about where Eren might have hidden the fucking list. Truth be told, she was avoiding at all costs going directly into his luggage and ending up with men's underwear between her hands.

She curled and stretched her bare toes on the soft rug that covered the floor and made her way to the dainty white mirrored vanity dresser a few meters from her own side of the bed, where she found nothing but a few of her makeup items. Sitting on the padded stool, she took the dark pink lipstick she had worn the night they attended the theater. Absently, she removed the lid and drew a creamy line of color on her hand.

What the hell was she doing? Why didn't she ask Eren about the list and leave it at that?

When she studied her own pale reflection in the mirror she understood why: she was afraid of what he might answer her.

Levi had already commented that Eren didn't strike him as inexperienced or clumsy when he saw them kissing the previous afternoon. On the other hand, Hange Zoe had thought that Eren was inexperienced in romantic affairs, but maybe she has been wrong.

Since they had started the charade, she had also found Eren a bit clumsy and uncouth in that sense, and in a way Mikasa kept that perception of him until the moment when they unintentionally broke the bed on which they had been jumping like a pair of restless children, and fell together and tangled to the ground. After that, Eren was quite direct with his gaze and his actions spoke for themselves. A little later, in this same hotel room, the kisses came. She had never got the impression that Eren was some rare kind of womanizer disguised as indifferent, or that he was playing dumb. Although it could be that at first he simply didn't feel any attraction for her... and hence his apparent clumsiness and indifference. Whatever it was, she really didn't know very well what to think about it because she'd never been involved in such a dilemma.

The tips of her toes met something cold, smooth and soft. She looked under the vanity dresser and noticed Eren's medical bag. Kneeling on the rug, she pushed the stool aside and carefully grasped the bag by the handles. She remembered that time when a less friendly Eren had told her not to touch his things. It happened the day Mikasa found the same fetoscope that Dr. Grisha used on her mother's belly several years before. She glanced briefly at the bed to confirm Eren was still sleeping soundly. She first inspected the two outer bag's pockets and found little notes about medical supplies. Nibbling on her lower lip, she opened the metal clasp that ran the entire length of the thick leather bag. Her hands had started to sweat and her heartbeat was going faster. She took out some of the larger things and carefully put them on the ground, like the fetoscope, which she held for longer than the rest. Eren had used it on Hannah some days ago. She closed her eyes, counted for about ten breaths, and went on with her task. Mikasa had only left the dim lamp lit on top of her nightstand and, although there wasn't enough light down there, she didn't want to get closer to the bed, so she mostly used her touch to find what she was looking for.

And she found it.

Wrinkled and somewhat bruised from the way it had been stored, almost thrown and forgotten inside that bag, Mikasa got hold of the famous list. She undid the four folds and stretched out the paper strewn with words in black ink, her fingers shaking. She put all the things she had taken out into the medical bag, which she also put back where Eren had left it, under the vanity dresser. Standing up, she switched on a floor lamp by the chaise longue, where she sat with cold limbs and prepared to read the contents of the entire list: a page and a third, as it continued on the backside.

Brief recommendations based on the study and observation of the

sexual courtship and human romantic relationships

Mikasa furrowed her brows as she reread the title. It really looked like something someone related to academia would write. A cold and distant kind of approach... Wasn't Hange Zoe a science teacher, after all?

Important: since you have evaded the basic and socially accepted rules of courtship by 'running away' together, it is expected for your behavior in public to also tend to go outside the code of social etiquette. I suggest taking these guidelines into serious consideration in order to gain more credibility about the type of relationship you are pretending to have.

1. Traditional basic courtship should be a constant throughout your act and dominate the couple dynamics. By custom, in our society the man is expected to be gentlemanly and attentive and open the doors for the lady, allow her to go anywhere first, help her get on and off carriages or horses, offer his arm or hand to the lady when strolling and set chairs aside so that she can take a seat. The interested male is also expected to give the lady gifts, invite her and / or accompany her to balls and other social events, share meals with her in fine restaurants, and take her to special places such as the theater to enjoy high-end performances of artistic-cultural quality.

2. Search and maintenance of eye contact denotes an interest beyond the merely friendly territory. Lovers tend to get lost in their gazes. Subjects describe this experience as a situation in which 'the rest of the world ceases to exist.' They ignore all external stimuli, lose track of time, and only the person who is the object of their desire exists for them. It should not be difficult for you to imitate this situation.

3. Flirting, suggestive smiles, silly giggles, compliments, whispered conversations between the two and teasing give indications of a fresh, active and happy relationship, according to your context and age.

4. Physical contact between you two should be close and casual, hopefully devoid of all awkwardness and discomfort (considering how your relationship supposedly started). The expression of physical affection should include caresses, hugs and even kisses. It is expected for you to invade the personal space of the other. Stroking a cheek or hair, fiddling with the other's hands, resting a hand on the girl's waist or hip, hugging each other tightly, casually kissing a cheek, forehead or nose, are all actions that border on or exceed the limit of what's socially acceptable when performed in public.

5. Based on the previous point, occasionally it would be useful to simulate or carry out actions that represent a lack of decorum. That is, actions considered inappropriate (without falling into exhibitionism). This will support and maintain the idea that you are the same impulsive couple of lovers that ran away from the Royal Ball, and will help for the sudden change in E.'s behavior to point to a single cause: a woman, an infatuation capable of clouding his judgment and of promoting irresponsibility and poor decision making. It will be useful to avoid arousing suspicion in the king about other possible reasons for his change, such as those of a political nature. It will always be easier for them to syndicate a woman as the cause of a man's actions and omissions.

6. A flight and disappearance of a few days implies, for those who have found out through rumors, that there is a passionate relationship between you. The 'public' assumes you have had and continue to have premarital sex, since a young couple does not run away to simply hug and gaze at each other in secret. The distinction in the degree of complicity achieved between lovers who have explored their sexuality and have engaged in intercourse can be difficult to imitate. In the absence of some degree of sexual intimacy, any competent enough observant who has experienced or witnessed said behavior might notice an incongruity. In order to avoid suspicions about this, I suggest that if there is real sexual attraction between the two of you and mutual agreement, for you to consider the chance to explore and experience these activities during your alone time together.

She had to read the text on more than one occasion, as she got stuck in some of the suggestions thinking about each of the things Eren had done for her and with her. Part of the courtship stuff could be seen as education and minimal decency expected traditionally of men, particularly in high society. For example, anyone who didn't help women get up or down of somewhere, or that didn't open a stupid door for them, was seen as rude. The gifts and invitations could be taken as something that went further and showed a special interest or a closer relationship. Eren had gifted her a hairpin after she had gotten him into trouble herself and now he bought her a dress, but it had all been for a specific purpose. He, too, had invited her to fine restaurants, rented that expensive hotel room, and had taken her to the theater, just as mentioned in the first suggestion.

Mikasa drew in a labored breath, feeling her stomach and chest clenched in a bundle of nerves as she went over the rest of the content on the list. In general, the suggestions seemed valid and suitable, and there were several that were obvious. Some she already knew and had put into practice beforehand. However, while she could see the point of the last suggestion, it was still… too much.

Eren had definitely been inspired by this… But did it mean that what had arisen between them was not real? Was the intensity with which he stared at her and held her gaze nothing more than the implementation of suggestion number two? Were his compliments, flirtations, and silly jokes of his were the doing of number three? Was the physical contact he had sought the product of number four? It seemed he had gotten the idea of jumping on the bed out of number five, and perhaps also the kiss they had given each other in that alley on the way to the bridge, although at first it gave Mikasa the impression there would be no witnesses. As for number six, the most problematic, was that what Eren had intended to do when they kissed on the bed in the dark of night? But if so, why had he told her that he was sorry and that he had to stop? Had he repented himself? Had he felt bad for not telling her the real reason behind that 'exploration and experimentation' or for… using her in that way?

Was he the type of person who would use someone like that, though?

The idea that Eren didn't really reciprocate her feelings and that he had made all the advances he made in order to follow that damn list was causing her physical discomfort, a sharp pain in her heart. She put a hand to her heaving chest, squeezing her camisole and feeling the cold of her fingers piercing the cotton fabric. She hated being in this situation. It was so difficult to discriminate what might be real from what might not. She felt like a naive fool. From the beginning, the relationship between the two had been conditioned by the act of playing their respective roles. To spend time together based on the lie they had been feeding for weeks. It was confusing, unfair, and painful.

But what else could she expect from a relationship that had been built on an artificial foundation?

Yet she loved him. What she felt for Eren was true... Right?

Mikasa wasn't very sure when she grabbed a pillow from the bed nor from where did she take a duvet to settle on the chaise longue. She also didn't know when she turned off the light or when she hid the list under that same pillow, soaked with her overwhelmed and confused tears. In the morning, when she saw Eren sitting at her feet holding a piece of paper, she was afraid he had realized that she had found the list, so the first thing she did was check the hiding place where she had left it. The paper remained down there and what Eren had in his hands was the cancellation of an appointment with one of his patients. Before learning about that, both of them had been quarreling a bit about the new place Mikasa chose to sleep in.

"It's because of the scandal we made in the house of that nobleman, Axel. I already imagined that it could have such a consequence." Eren had explained as she read the elegant and concise missive.

His nonchalant tone about it only increased her discomfort. It was as if he didn't care, for things had turned out according to what he had calculated. She experienced a sensation similar to a weak but sudden punch to the stomach upon hearing what Eren muttered after that:

"Levi told you everything, didn't he?"

They stared at each other, and to her surprise, it was him who ended up shying away from her gaze. It was possible to glimpse an expression of shame and perhaps also guilt on Eren's face. So, Mikasa concluded, he had always known exactly what he was doing. She licked her lips before answering.

"I don't understand, Eren, why…?" Her voice failed her and she completed the question in her confused mind: why didn't you tell me from the beginning? Why have you been hiding it from me? She took a deep breath and pressed her legs against her chest as she exhaled, closing her eyes. It hurt her so much to find out that almost everything, if not everything that had happened between them in recent days, even when there were no witnesses, was adulterated by the use of those suggestions. That the exciting changes and advances in their relationship hadn't happened in a genuine and spontaneous way. "We can no longer continue with this... I can't. Not like this."

Crestfallen, Eren stood still. Silence took hold of the room and the distance seemed to grow between them, even though Mikasa would have to just reach out an arm to brush him with the tips of her fingers.

"You mean… all of this?" He asked in a quiet voice.

"We'll just pretend to be… in love with each other in public. We have to keep doing that, but everything else… What we have done when…" Mikasa cleared her throat to undo the knot that was forming. She did her best to avoid tearing up. "We should just dedicate ourselves to do our part out there and nothing more than that. You continue with your work and I with mine, without... mixing things up. No distractions."

Eren gave a tired, resigned laugh. Mikasa looked at him puzzled.

"I'm not laughing at what you said," he hastened to say, running his fingers through his hair. His downcast posture concerned her. "What happened is that just yesterday I got told something similar. This thing about continuing to do what we are supposed to do, what I have to do... without what I feel about it matters. The difference is that in this case I agree with you. You are fully entitled."

What he feels?

"Eren…"

"It's fine. You heard what I've done. No… I don't deserve to be with you anyway. Don't think I'm saying it to make myself the victim or something, I mean it, and I swear to you that I understand, respect and accept your decision. It is fair. You must feel disappointed, maybe even betrayed…" He looked at her with bright eyes and Mikasa's heart jumped inside her chest. It seemed as if Eren was on the verge of tears. "I'm so sorry Mikasa," there was a subtle break in his voice.

Eren got up and left the room. Mikasa wasn't able to react in time or ask where he was going. Her hands unconsciously grasped the air. She was stunned, turning over his words and expressions. He came back several minutes later, who knew how many, and she was still where she had stayed, even more confused than she was before.

And now she was in a well-kept backyard, with a perfect lawn, blue and pastel pink hydrangeas, shrubs, and a beautiful orange-leaved oak tree under which she was rocking engrossed in a swing, staring at the window of the room where Eren was working, on the second floor. Sometimes she would see glimpses of his brown hair going from here to there. He approached the window suddenly and began to close the curtains, but stopped. His gaze crept down to meet Mikasa's. Their calm faces were difficult to fathom. He raised a slow hand in greeting and she blinked and waved hers mechanically. A sad smile stretched Eren's lips, who then tilted his head to say something to his patient and, after one last look that made Mikasa's belly tickle, he disappeared from her field of vision.

Shrugging slightly, she tightened the ropes of the swing.

Why did she get the terrible impression that she was making a mistake? Was it because she hadn't directly mentioned him the list nor asked why he had hidden it from her? But he knew exactly what Mikasa had been talking about, didn't he? Why else would he have apologized for? He even mentioned how she must feel: disappointed, betrayed by his actions. She had the right to distance herself and she should be even angry with him and...

Mikasa felt something collide with her feet. Crisp, she instinctively pushed it away and seconds later she heard a slight groan. She saw the kid sitting on the grass a couple of meters in front of her, whimpering with his hands on his head. The whimpers soon turned to cries. She hurried to get to the child, but the young maid who had been playing with him caught up with him earlier and scooped him up, trying to comfort him. The toddler shot Mikasa an accusing and pained look behind his thick tears. The ball was still to one side. Shit.

"Oh no! I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention," Mikasa began to apologize nervously, trying to calculate how hard she had hit the poor child with the ball. "Is he alright? Did I hurt him too much?"

The caregiver whispered soothing words to the child, hugging and caressing him, but he screamed even louder and louder. Mikasa winced at the trouble she had caused by being so lost in her rambling about her situation with Eren. She hoped she hadn't hurt the little boy too much.

"He's a very sensitive child. It was just a rebound. I was the one who was careless," the young woman apologized, despite the fact she wasn't the cause of the child's sobs. "All good, ma'am."

"How can I help?"

"Don't worry, ma'am. He'll get over it…" She didn't seem very sure about it, but rather as much or more nervous and worried than Mikasa. "I should have taken better care of him."

Mikasa walked over to them and gave the toddler a couple of awkward pats on the back.

"Forgive me... It wasn't my intention to hurt you," she whispered, sincere and anxious, wishing he felt better and calmed down.

To her misfortune, the child made a trembling pout and buried his head on the caregiver's shoulder with another sob, so that Mikasa ended up declaring herself totally useless in children's matters. Or at least with this particular child. She didn't have to be so categorical.

"What happened?"

Both Mikasa and the maid cringed at the sudden arrival of Eren, who must have run down. The maid, who was holding the toddler, paled and she immediately let the young doctor examine him, while she recounted what had happened at his request. Mikasa blushed when he glanced at her after hearing it was her who had accidentally hit the child. The caregiver emphasized that it was an accident more than once, and then she blamed herself for having not been 'doing her job the way she should.' The kid was now in Eren's arms, already hiccupping and sobbing less.

"I think he gets along better with men, or rather with his father. He is very attached to him," said the maid in a low voice, and she added with a grimace. "His mother is not part of the family."

"Is he one of Mrs. Schulz's grandsons?" Eren asked, gently removing the toddler's hands from his face as he was crushing his cheeks and making him talk strange.

Mikasa was reassured by seeing the child in a better mood and bothering Eren with his obvious desire to play again.

"Yes sir. The youngest grandson."

The child stretched out his arms toward him when Eren put him back in the caretaker's. He scrunched up his face, as if he were going to start whimpering again, but relaxed back when Eren stroked his wheat-colored hair while assuring the maid that the little one would be fine.

"It was because of the fright, more than anything," he explained, good-natured.

The maid nodded, relieved, and color returned to her face. Obviously, she too had a good scare. She thanked him and bowed to both of them, leading the child into the house.

"She was scared too," Mikasa commented, looking at the place where the caregiver had gone. She thought about how little and nothing she knew about kids in general, for during the time she was one she never had the opportunity to interact with other children. She was always surrounded by adults. "She told me that he was a very sensitive child... Could he also feel her fear, perhaps...? Besides my nervousness. You were the only one who seemed to be really calm, and he calmed down faster with you."

"I think so. Some children feel when an adult is restless or scared more easily and, if they were already scared by themselves, perhaps they get overwhelmed by also perceiving the fear belonging to others," Eren replied, and she could feel him sliding his fingers between hers to take her by the hand. She made a mental note that this was only part of the act, as they had agreed. "If it reassures you, although he cried a lot, nothing serious happened to him. These rubber balls for kids are lightweight. You had good aim and it hit him right on the forehead but it won't even cause a bump, his skin just got a little red from the blow and rubbing. Come, let's go inside. I'll go pick up my things and say goodbye to Mrs. Schulz."

"Good aim…" Mikasa repeated, frowning a little, letting him guide her inside the house. "You say it as if I've done it on purpose."

Eren shrugged.

"Purposely no, but you had to be too distracted with your thoughts and worries not to notice that you were kicking a ball and hitting someone." He stopped and leaned toward her, his warm breath close to her ear. Mikasa froze while she listened to him whisper. "If accompanying me on these visits is affecting you then there's no need for you to do it, not even because it's to do your part. I'll be fine. Besides, I think Rod doesn't need or care to put spies after us, he just needs busybodies to spread rumors. We have already confirmed that what we pretended to do a couple of nights ago even reached the ears of my patients and one of them has already taken action on it. The guy just used rumors to fire me, it wasn't enough for him more than that, and he's probably already informed Rod because he's one of his ass-kissers. Whenever they recognize us and see us together in public there will be people watching us, saying things, and even more so now that we have been officially branded as scandalous," footsteps were heard. Eren fell silent and, as if to justify his closeness to her, he kissed her cheek. "Wait for me outside if you want."

Mikasa feigned a smile, as a housemaid who had come out of a room with a pile of ironed and folded sheets gave them very poorly disguised curious glances on the way to the stairs.

"Don't take too long," she asked, touching his arm and placing a kiss that she intended to be fleeting on his lips, but that took a second too long.

The action seemed to catch Eren off guard. Luckily he had his back to the housemaid, otherwise she would have seen the stunned expression with which he was looking at Mikasa. She thought she saw a hint of avidity in his green eyes. She brushed the back of Eren's hand lightly and motioned for him to move.

"I'll be back," he murmured once he had recovered, and followed the same path as the snooping woman.

Mikasa took a deep breath and exhaled long and hard as she lost both of them from sight. Those were the gazes from Eren that made her doubt about the decision she had made and wish to resume what they had started but, for the moment, she still preferred to avoid bringing up the subject of the list directly with him. She stroked her lips. She needed a little more time to process what was happening and make some sense of it. The other problem was that, even though she should, she found it so difficult to stay mad at Eren… She was overcome by her longing to have him near instead of far.

Then she remembered the invitation to a party that that woman, Carly Stratmann, had given them the other day. That was the kind of distractions Mikasa needed, not thinking about the same thing over and over again, or spending several hours a day waiting for Eren in the houses of wealthy strangers. Deep down, she had always wanted to live and have fun like any other girl, to have and buy beautiful evening dresses to attend events and even dance. In the last ball of the Reiss, Mikasa could only wear a beautiful evening dress and that was it, because once she found Eren and took him outside, it was all over. She couldn't enjoy the party, much less, of course, dance with him.

One or two weeks. Nothing sure yet.

Very little time. What would happen with the two of them when they no longer had to do this couple thing? Shaking her head and ignoring the anxious cramp in her stomach, she accepted the fact that this might be one of her last, if not her last chance to experience all of that with Eren... In who knew how much longer.

"I want to go buy an evening dress for the party this Saturday," she said suddenly, clutching one of Eren's arms as they left behind the huge house of his last patient of the day. It was around five in the afternoon. "I'll let you pay for it, but I'll give you the money back later. Eh! Don't even think about saying you don't want your money back," she added when she noticed he began to open his mouth.

"Fine but, are you seriously thinking of going to get into that shady party? That woman invited us because she liked that we made the old people get angry and offended, and especially because she bought into that we are a couple of…" he snapped his fingers as he tried to find the word he wanted to use. "Bah! How would these people call it, other than indecent…? Filthy shameless libertines? So who the hell knows what kinds of things we will run into if we go there."

"Why would I avoid going to a party given by some rich woman because it could possibly be shady? Have you forgotten which shady family I belong to?"

Eren stared at her for a few moments, as if he were reassessing her.

"I haven't forgotten," he assured her. "Anyway, it's something to take into account, just in case. These people have so much left over money that they do the weirdest things to spend it."

"Just tell me you don't want to go. I'm not going to make you go," Mikasa mumbled, a bit let down.

"I do want to go," Eren said, with more energy than she expected. Would he be lying to her? She knew he didn't really like these things. "We'll go to your shady party together."

"If it's a giant wild orgy or something, we're off."

Her response seemed to amuse him. They continued walking at a leisurely pace in the direction of the avenue through a street dominated by autumn colors. Mikasa stepped on a few dry leaves to hear the satisfying crunch under her boots.

"I see you're in better spirits, wanting to party and all," Eren murmured with a hint of reserve. "To be honest, after what we talked about in the morning, I thought things would be... more tense between us."

It came to her mind that point on the list that referred to how physical contact between them 'should be close and casual, hopefully devoid of all awkwardness and discomfort.' She frowned a bit.

"Everything we've done has to do with what we talked about, Eren. We've been in public most of the day. Even now we continue to pretend… Playing our roles. We can't go around acting weird and distant, you know," Mikasa said in a neutral tone.

She could feel the muscles in Eren's arm tense slightly. After a while, he looked to the side and raised the hand in which he held his medical bag to stop one of the available carriages that took the avenue from a perpendicular street. The noise of the horses' hooves on the cobblestones grew louder as they approached.

"Of course. I had forgotten what a good actress you are," Eren blurted out, somber, as he helped her up and into the carriage cabin. "A professional."

He sat down after giving directions to the coachman and Mikasa stared at him, befuddled and upset. She had the urge to ask him what's gotten into him. Wasn't it that he respected and accepted her decision not to mix things up? Also all this they were doing was mostly for his sake, to avoid the king's suspicions after Eren learned the truth. She pursed her lips, holding herself back. She didn't want to end up arguing with him there. They would go get her a gown, they would behave like a cute little couple and maybe later, depending on how it all turned out, she'll throw the thing about the damn list in his face.

Because I could tell you that I had forgotten that you keep things from me, she thought, annoyed.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The man who was sitting in front of Historia couldn't be called father. He was just the guy who had fucked a simple servant whom he picked up as his mistress, whom he soon made pregnant and cajoled with false promises so that she would keep the child against her will. Historia knew it very well, because that woman who gave birth to her never loved her. She barely would say a word or look at her. If her eyes were unlucky enough to meet Historia's, a pissed off and disgusted grimace was always the only answer she'd find.

Rod Reiss was a bland man whose only special feature was holding the title of highest nobility, and there were times, like now, when Historia felt she deeply loathed him. She hated him when she thought he had forced her to be born and live with a mother who hated and blamed her for her own misery. She hated him for later keeping her hidden in some orphanage, where she spent several years not knowing she was the bastard of the most powerful son of a bitch on that damn island. When Historia finally learned of her true origin everything changed, for the better... and for the worse.

The personal visits made to Historia by the mysterious girl named Frieda, who turned out to be no one else and none other than the princess, made more sense. Not only she visited different orphanages because she cared for the children and their well-being, nor because she sponsored them with funds which greatly improved the places, but because her little half-sister was in one of them. Historia's last name was Reiss. A surname with weight and power. Bastard or not, she deserved better than abandonment, and Frieda knew it. It was because of her that the unworthy of her father ended up recognizing her as his daughter, and it was Frieda who gave her a brief but valuable taste of what it was like to be family. She was the first person to teach her what it was like to love someone unconditionally.

Historia didn't get to meet the rest of her siblings, most of those who had died during the last epidemic that struck Paradis, but only Frieda was enough for her with her kindness, soft smiles and patience. She was the best sibling she could have had. A motherly sister who was aware of her needs. But apparently Rod never knew how to value that daughter of his, that sister of hers. Frieda fell ill, began to speak more and more incoherencies and lost herself in her undermined mind, as if she were living in a different reality, and one day, which Historia still remembered as one of the strangest and most painful of her life, she committed suicide. The king was unmoved. He shed the occasional miserable and fake tear in public to win the sympathy of the commoners: the poor and tragic ruler who had ended up losing his entire family, all his children - his legitimate ones, at least.

And a few weeks ago a group of criminals, who definitely had no respect for anything, broke into the Royal Mausoleum and stole the corpse of Historia's beloved sister as if it were a stupendous joke. Rod had been impressed, yes, and seemed even concerned at a certain point, but instead of doing something about it, ordering an immediate search for his daughter's body and decreeing punishment for those who might be responsible, the best of all the asshole had thought to do was start looking for a husband for the only daughter he had left. The bastard one. Historia only learned of those plans six days ago, when different men who accompanied them during dinners began to arrive. It was a new suitor a day trying to start boring conversations with her, and the issue was that the king had suddenly had an appalling urge to set up a royal wedding and have grandchildren and all that crap.

"The recovery of your sister's body has become the least of our concerns," the scoundrel admitted. "Frieda is dead. Now there are more important things at stake for us, the living. That provocation from that rebel group has only been the sign of the beginning of the problems that we will have to face as a family."

Historia snorted wryly at his use of the word family.

"And that which is so important, includes this thing about finding me a husband according to your own convenience and all the paraphernalia of organizing and celebrating a royal wedding, right?" She said without the slightest care to refer to her father in a respectful manner. Fuck him. She had had enough and had gotten tired of playing the little princess. "What's wrong, father? Do you need to distract your commoners with something bright and loud? A romantic engagement, a perfect wedding and a cute royal baby are sure to distract them from whatever it is you need them to get distracted from," she said, harsh.

The king didn't know Historia. He knew no more about her than what she decided to show him. She had lately decided to pester him with her stubbornness, for example. Perhaps the same thing had happened with Frieda. Rod never found out how wonderful was that daughter he once had because he wasn't and had never been able to see past that stupid nose of his, which luckily Historia hadn't inherited.

"I will not tolerate your language and insolent attitude, Historia. Any parent would have slapped his children in the face for a lot less. You have been behaving like a teenager. You are an adult, act like one and assume your duties."

Did her duties include having to forcibly marry a goddamn man? Becoming a mother against her will, just like Alma? She couldn't bear it.

"Then don't treat or threaten me the way a parent would treat a teenage girl, to begin with," she snapped, burying her fork in a piece of chicken. "And don't dictate what I have to do with my life. I'm not going to marry any of those idiots that you have forced me to receive every afternoon to talk to me about crap that goes in one ear and out the other."

Rod's round face had started to color. His forehead was sweating. Good.

"You should be grateful that I'm giving you the opportunity to choose, rude and ungrateful brat. If you aren't able to decide on one soon, I will choose one for you, and believe me that I will not continue to bother to be guided by their youth or minimal attractiveness, but by the one that... is more convenient to me."

Hypocrite. Like he wasn't doing that already. Historia gritted her teeth. And if she told him that she didn't care if these men were young and handsome, and that the only person she would marry if she could was a woman and her name was Ymir, then what?

"I wonder why I'm so rude, father... I don't know, maybe I spent too many years living with another bunch of foul-mouthed brats in a damn orphanage even though I wasn't entirely an orphan, and attending a miserable school every other year. Did His Majesty know about the brutal difference that exists between the schools in the poorer districts and those in districts like this one, Mitras? Did His Majesty know that orphans aren't taught useless lessons in etiquette, they aren't taught how to use this pile of stupid cutlery…" She said, dragging a hand across the tablecloth and throwing her cutlery loose with a silver tint, and added viciously, "or how to accept a marriage and forced motherhood more easily and adequately? Was it not enough for you to force your dear and beautiful Alma to give birth to me and-?"

"Enough, Historia!" Rod roared, dropping droplets of spit and pounding on the table. He had turned red with anger. Wiping his pig's face with a delicate silk handkerchief and a shaking hand, he took a few moments to regain his composure. "You are the only heir I have left... and the only way our house continues to stay in power is through the perpetuation of our offspring. Keeping allies by our side is also important. We need them more than ever. You're going to get married, period, you're already twenty years old. The time has come for you to accept your role in this kingdom and abide by the obligations that are placed upon the members of the Reiss family. Do you think you can continue living as you do, with all these comforts, without giving absolutely anything in return? I will not tolerate your disobedience."

Damn asshole. She hated him. She definitely hated him. Historia's eyes stung and her heart hammered against her ribs, causing the anger to flow faster through her entire body. The outrage and disgust that this man provoked in her, and the absolute lack of respect that she felt towards him, gave her the strength she needed in those moments to face him.

She owed him nothing. Ymir had helped her remember that more than once.

Ymir...

Historia clenched her fists until she buried her nails in the palms of her hands.

"Does His Majesty need more heirs? Well, let him have more bastards! You, being a man, have it much easier than me. It's a matter of you sleeping with one or more of your maids. Or, instead of forcing those poor women to go through the horror of having to get laid with their disgusting master, why not just marry again and have your own wonderful royal marriage? Can't you forget your late wife? Or my lovely mother with whom you cheated on your unfortunate wife, you damn swine?"

Rod's face was disfigured into a grimace as he listened to her.

"Get out of my sight. Now!"

"With pleasure!" Historia yelled, getting up from the table and throwing the cloth napkins that she had on her lap to the floor. She resisted the urge to toss her plate and the rest of the stuff just because someone other than Rod would have to clean it up after her. Her whole body was shaking, but she tried to hold her ground. "Since I have no intention of following your games or becoming a queen one day, you can disinherit me whenever you want. I won't marry any man. I won't give you grandchildren. You can go to fucking hell, I don't give a shit. At last I have convinced myself that I am and have always been a damn orphan."

She stormed out of the dining room and cried with rage and helplessness all the way to her room. She refused to allow this trash of a man to ruin her life even more.

"He can die," she mumbled.

She had to get out of that damn place, and she had to find a way to do it before the day came when he followed through on his threats.


A/N: sorry for the :(((((( contents for two chapters in a row, tho I can kinda spoil that next chapter is gonna have some lighter and kinda mm (?) stuff, at least, I also need it myself lmao.

Hugs to all of you and see you around here for the next one, take care!

PS: always wanted to give Historia's character the chance to confront her father in this AU too, especially after I've been upset for so long with what's going on with her in canon.