Chapter 1 – Still Waters
829, Marley –
The sound of tinkling laughter was an easy thing to follow. Especially alluring given the stuffy and austere atmosphere of her family's annual military dinner.
Evelyn suspected she was the only one to notice such things, as the other guests gave little care to the actions of children. Or that is to say, the actions of children other than the Warrior candidates. Those children were carefully monitored and were the topic of most conversations at dinner. She had to listen with a patient grace as Generals speculated on who was doing best. All were nervous for the next inheritor of the Beast Titan to be named, for the current host's time was coming to an end.
More than one set of hands exchanged money – flippantly taking bets on the eventual winner of such a prize. Evelyn heard the name Zeke thrown around more than once, apparently the military's star Warrior candidate, at the moment. But the military's favor was a fleeting thing and this boy's ascension to Beast Titan was not guaranteed (not until the deed was done). Even at fifteen, such things were clear to Evelyn – though, it was not supposed to be given her elevated position in society.
Only rainbows and butterflies for her.
At least, that is, until she was called upon to serve as the sacrifice to her family's legacy.
Smoke wafted out of pipes held in rigid fingers by amused men wearing their pale dress uniform with arrogant pride. She wondered at their supposed superiority, for were these not the very same men waiting upon a flattering word from her patriarch, with bated breath? A favour here and a kind word there, and suddenly someone becomes a Captain or a General. Evelyn's father held such influence, so men flocked here to court his approval. Why wait for recognition of merit when one could talk their way into any position with enough words.
The fact that any Eldians' approval could hold such weight always surprised her. Tybur or not, the hypocrisy of their situation was astounding. Though Evelyn's aunt Sybille would berate her for such uncharitable thoughts.
Speaking of Sybille, she must be around here somewhere, thought Evelyn.
The Warhammer Titan (who's identity was a closely guarded family secret) was always at these events, a discrete twinkle in their eye as Generals and lowly soldiers alike tried and failed to pick out the inheritor for the most illusive of the nine. Truly, she speculated, one of the only joys in ever having been the host of the domestically bound Titan.
No one ever expected it to be the women of her family to bare such a burden. Evelyn often wondered why that was, for if anyone with half a brain paid an attention to the Tybur family tree, they would notice that sisters of the patriarch often had tragic and untimely deaths. Though, thinking upon it now, Evelyn figures that since these women were never permitted to marry nor bare any children, their inevitable loss was strictly felt by only the Patriarch himself.
Yet again, another thing she was instructed not to dwell upon. And most certainly to never EVER speak about. Her position as the next inheritor of the Warhammer granted Evelyn the honour of knowing who the Warhammer Titan was, but the yoke of secrecy still held her tight - it would forever do so until she died (and Evelyn wondered how her family would frame her death – would she fall down some stairs? Drown while taking a bath?).
She turned a corner and used the shadows from the ornate curtains to slip out of the dining hall. Dinner was over, her obligation at being seen fulfilled, so now all that was left was to wait to be addressed and smile placidly beside her Aunt. Evelyn's father had important dealings today and it was best to be seen and not heard.
Hence the very problematic situation of actually hearing children's laughter – someone was having far too much fun.
Evelyn's lips ticked up at the thought, she would bet her latest dress that her older brother's children were to blame. At almost twice her age, her brother certainly wasted no time in filling the family tree by having three children in under ten years. Her brother and his quiet wife's union had made the manor a place of screaming joy and rambunctious children.
But now was not the time.
With the intent of wrangling her nieces and nephew, Evelyn quickly walked down the lonely corridor where most of the noise was coming from. Heels clacked rhythmically against dark wood floors as she quickly nodded at the personal guards standing at attention, guarding the next generation of Tyburs. One of the guards cracked his stoic facade to wink at her as he opened the door. That alone was indication enough that the children were up to no good, so Evelyn took a bracing breath as the door creaked.
Barely into the room proper, a delighted squeal pierced the air. A small body with a head of sleek hair crashed into Evelyn's legs, "Aunty Evelyn!"
Evelyn pushed back her niece's black hair, and smiled indulgently down at her, "What is all this noise I am hearing -"
But she is interrupted by another body, this one larger, as her nephew all but throws himself in her arms, "Aunt Evelyn, are you here to play with us?"
William was always so eager for friends and often sought Evelyn out, so it was not surprising that he wanted her to entertain him. Even at the tender age of nine, William was a charismatic bundle of a boy - bright golden hair and slate blue eye so full of happiness that one could not help but laugh.
Evelyn quickly glanced at William, noted Lara clinging to her leg and looked around the room to find her last wayward niece, "No playing right now, Willy…" she continued to glance around the room, but could not locate the youngest of her brother's children, "where is Romilly?"
Lara let go of her vice-like grip on Evelyn's silk dress, little arms crossed as she huffed out with all the ire of a six-year old, "'Illy is being a baby," she points to the dark shape half hidden behind thick brocade drapes and curled up against the window seat, "she doesn't want to play with Willy and I no more."
"Anymore," Evelyn automatically corrects, wincing at the common speech. You really needed to let your brother know his children's tutors were letting things slide.
Pushing Willy and Lara aside, Evelyn slowly made her way over to the youngest Tybur, curled up tight into herself – tiny hands clutching her knees, face hidden.
"What is wrong Romilly, why are you crying?"
Romilly just shook her head and refused to look up from her knees. Evelyn knew from experience that she'll get no more words from this child, so she gently scooped up the three-year-old and ushered the other children towards the door, "Time for beds now." Despite their fervent claims otherwise, Willy and Lara were widely yawning by the time she had them near their rooms and into to the ever-waiting arms of nannies.
Evelyn waved off Ulla as the nanny came towards her with open arms and a calm smile, "I want to take Romilly to the patio, she could probably use some time from the other two." As if agreeing, a little head of unruly black hair tucks tighter under her chin, trying and failing to mold into her body. Everyone knew Romilly was your favorite niece, so the nannies realized that catering to your whims was just the easiest way to go.
It is far into the night and the crips air is shocking as Evelyn steps out onto the deserted balcony. Lights from various lanterns twinkle in the distance as she sits on a padded bench, holding Romilly close to ward off any chill. It is peaceful here, one of Evelyn's favorite spots in the evenings. Noise from dinner is mercifully muted in this part of the house. So very dark, and very cozy, Evelyn is hidden quite well from any eyes of the guards.
Happy with this realization of privacy, Evelyn gently moves her niece's head until shy grey eyes stare at her, "Now Romilly…do you want to tell me what made you so sad?" Romilly shakes her head and tries to turn away, but Evelyn has had three years with this little ball of stubbornness, and knows how to get her to talk, "Aunty will tickle you until you tell her."
Quick as a bolt, the little girl swivels back around with a look of pure betrayal.
Evelyn laughs at the look, a bemused smile now on her face, "I will do it Romilly…don't think I won't!" she laughs.
An extreme hater of all things tickle related, Romilly quickly gives in and turns around fully in Evelyn's arms. She pouts and crosses her arms in an exact replica of Lara's earlier actions. Sometimes the similarities between the two girls shocked Evelyn, as Romilly was so much younger, but liked to act like she was her sister's twin, "Lara said I was stupid 'cause I didn't believe I was bad."
What an odd thing to say, Evelyn thought. Now fully confused, she asked, "What do you mean Illy?"
And now the flood gates were open. Romilly may be the last one in the room to speak, but once she got going it was like a storm of words, "We were playing Soldiers and Devils and I wanted to be a 'evil." Romilly took a huffing breath, shifting to absentmindedly play with Evelyn's fingers, "they get to live of a big island you know?" Romilly was so excited to share this information with Evelyn, as if the state of those on Paradis was anything new to her.
"And then what happed?" Evelyn cajoled.
Romilly took a breath that was just shy of a sob, "Willy poked me and said I must really be a bad girl because I always wanted to be a Devil and only bad people want to be like them…..but I DON'T!" she suddenly yelled, "I just want to live somewhere else and go on adventures, but Lara laughed at me and said I couldn't play with them because naughty girls need to work hard to be good and would have no time for playing."
Evelyn hums and hugs Romilly closer. What could she possibly say to her niece to make the girl feel better? There was nothing to be said in this instance. Willy was just doing what was expected of him, what any good son of a Tybur would do – faithfully repeating everything his father told him, and what Evelyn's father sometimes had to beat into her.
So caught up in her thoughts, Evelyn almost didn't hear the plaintive whine of, "But why are we bad? Why do we have to work hard to be good?"
Because life is bullshit.
That was obviously not the correct thing to say to a three-year old, so instead Evelyn blandly replies, "Because of what our ancestors did – we have to pay for their sins."
Indignant now at the subpar response, Romilly shot up in her lap, "Who said! That's not fair – I am not a bad girl," she shrieked, "I listen to mama and papa all the time."
The mind of a three-year-old could hardly hope to grasp the situation at hand, Evelyn knew this. But having a sympathetic ear to her own previously unvoiced thoughts was of far too much temptation, "No. It is not fair. Not fair at all, Romilly." Evelyn sighed at propped her head against the patio wall, "a lot of things are not fair in this world," her fervent tone was enough to capture Romilly's mind (even if the words themselves were beyond her). "Why do we, as Tyburs, get to live free when the rest of our people are locked in internment zones? Why do we have these stupid dinners for stupid men who only laugh at our people's pain and would shackle our future if given half the chance?"
Evelyn hated her position in this world – watching her own people (but we are not the same, her mother would remind), were beaten down and locked away. She had never been able to enter an internment zone, but enough horror stories trickled down the halls upon the mouths of servants. All Evelyn's life she had heard how her family was better, and yet in the same breath was told of how they had to atone for sins of their forefathers.
So much sin – so much atonement.
Romilly's innocent question of, 'what is an internment zone' snapped Evelyn out of her internal angered rant. What she has just said was bad.
Worse than bad, it was dangerous.
Something her father never failed to point out, was that Evelyn had other sisters who could take the mantle of Warhammer. That being a Tybur meant duty and penance and above all else – toeing the family line. People went missing everyday, and her father would be only so permissive for so long - would never risk the family name for an easily replaceable daughter.
The fate of those sent to Paradis could be hers as well – that was a fact.
With that thought in mind, Evelyn quickly muttered, "No more talking about this, okay Romilly? Next time you play with Lara and Willy, ask to be the soldier."
She patted Romilly's back and shifted the girl towards the door, "Go find Ulla now and go to bed."
Letting out a sigh, Evelyn closed her eyes and leaned against the patio wall – what an evening.
A slight woosh and then the crinkle of burning filled the air. The sudden noise against the backdrop of hushed night caused Evelyn to bolt upright, gangly like a new foal with eyes wide in the darkness.
Fear was instantly upon her, her heart hammered away against her ribcage as she spied the tell-tale red circle of a newly lit cigarette.
Someone was here, someone had been watching her conversation with Romilly.
A tall man slowly came out of the shadows, walking from the opposite end of the patio towards her. In no hurry, the man lazily flicked his hand and extinguished his match, flinging the no longer burning wood over the balcony rail with no care in the world.
"Hello."
Evelyn says nothing, coming to the horrifying realization that this stranger (a soldier of some rank given his dress uniform) has just heard her rail against the Marleyan system. A one-way ticket to imprisonment and death.
While Evelyn's thoughts spiral down into worst case scenarios involving dank prison cells, the man continued as if unaffected by her horrified face, "I didn't mean to intrude, but I was already sitting here when you came out and thought it best not to scare the young one when she seemed so worked up…" the pleasant courteous words are undercut by his undeniably dry tone.
Evelyn could do little more than stumble out, "You – you heard what I said?"
He regards her with emotionless eyes, "I did," he bluntly replies scratching his cheek.
There is something arresting about this man. What would otherwise be unremarkable (a slender face and shaggy dark brown hair), has been shaped into something attention grabbing. Perhaps it was his pronounced cheek bones or his steady eyes, but there is something there that makes one pay attention.
He continues as if unbothered by your horrified staring, "You've an interesting point of view for your position," he sucks in another drag of his cigarette and you watch as smoke spills from his mouth, "and a dangerous one as well."
Is this a threat or a warning – you have no idea.
Evelyn asks what she dare not know, "Will you tell anyone?"
The soldier walks over to the end of the balcony and contemplates the view, "To be completely honest with you," he looks briefly over his shoulder and Evelyn can barely move, "I have other things to be doing than reporting the words of a teenage girl". Undercutting his reassuring words, he is quick to say, "though I should be clear, I find myself in the unique position to be lenient this one time – a luxury I assure you, is rare."
A luxury? Evelyn has never ever met a Marleyan soldier who would willingly look the other way if an Eldian took so much as one step out of line. And despite you being a Tybur, you too have certain restrictions that any self-respecting soldier would only love to report on. So, it begs the question, who is this man to call keeping the treasonous words of a Tybur a 'luxury'.
He starts to walk away back into the main house. Entirely dismissively he states, "Keep your opinions to yourself in the future Evelyn, you never know who will be listening."
Evelyn doesn't know what is more shocking, the advice (such treacherous advice), or the fact that this stranger knows her name. Timidly she asks, "You know who I am?".
He sighs and it sounds so drawn and sad that Evelyn takes a step back, "I know you."
Evelyn has a feeling he knows far more than he should. It is written in the way his hooded eyes regard her - as if they can see Evelyn's past, present and future.
It is his sudden exhaustion that gives Evelyn courage to push for information, "What is your name?"
He is silent for a long, long uncomfortable minute. Just looking at her with tired eyes. When she thinks he will simply ignore her he says, "Eren – Eren Kruger".
Eren Kruger…. Evelyn cannot recall this man's name, but then so many men in uniform come to these events. Despite this lack of recognition, something in her bones vibrates at his name, like this meeting somehow shifted the universe and her path has been suddenly redirected.
With startling clarity, Evelyn realizes she doesn't want him to leave, even if he scares her. She wants to ask him more questions. Taking a quick step forward she asks, "Will I see you again, Mr. Kruger?"
Evelyn doesn't know if it is her sudden politeness or if her eager question which makes amusement quirk his mouth. Doesn't have the time to appreciate the gesture as it is quickly swept below a countenance of regret. He looks at her again, eyes piercing as he states, "You will see me again, have no doubt about that."
Such a simple statement and yet Evelyn feels like she missed something. As she watches him disappear into the house, she wonders….
Wonders why it feels like the blade of fate is inching closer to her neck.
Hello all, thank you for taking the time to read this new fic of mine. This is part one of a two-part story – acting as a sort of prolonged prologue for Part 2 which details what it may be like for the Warhammer to have left Marley. As usual, I do not own Attack on Titan -