we all (have a) hunger

A/N: Alternating perspectives are interesting to read, but difficult to write. This took me longer than I had intended, but I'm hoping to finally kick things into gear. This isn't as long as I wanted, but I might make the next ones even longer.

As always, feedback is very much appreciated.

At heart, Zeke Yeager believes he is a hedonist.

"One would think the Beast would be more animal than man."

Alternatively, primal urges and primal encounters.

At heart, the woman believes she has always been a monster. It is in her blood, her most noble lineage, her mother's, the God-Queen's maternal line. It is her destiny, perhaps, as was the fate of all that had come before her, to inherit this Titan. She looks at her appearance in the mirror, sees the bulk of her face and the shape of her jaw in the light. She looks more like a soldier now, just as she was before, just as she wanted when she was younger, but there is a tiredness in the sink of her mouth. There is a weariness in her eyes that she never expected to return.

(Within her, there are centuries. Within her, the Ancient Colossus mumbles and grumbles and sounds its displeasure.)

At heart, she selfishly believes her mother should have chosen to die peacefully, to let this legacy be buried with her. What Marley wanted was not this Titan; Marley wanted the Founder. Their armies rallied to call forth the slumbering power within Eren Jaeger, but her mother had chosen to crush and burn them to the ground with the power of the Ancient Colossus. Marley's ultimatum was clear; give up the Founder and no blood would be spilled on either side. But her mother, the right-hand adviser of the Royal Family, had decided to march to the battle they had cheekily called the Last Siege of Shiganshina, dressed in what one could consider sacrificial garb, tarnished armor bearing an unfamiliar crest.

"They will crumble before they reach the Walls."

It was then that the Ancient Colossus had revealed itself, erupting from the ground in a fiery pillar, a blazing column of fire and smoke. It was inhumanly large, several leagues bigger than the Colossus Shiganshina had witnessed years ago, and impossibly tall. It was, to those who had witnessed it, tall enough to blot out the sun.

(In her mind, the Ancient Colossus is even larger. It is unimaginable.)

Now, the woman fears the Ancient more than she had before. It still does not recognize her. It refuses to acknowledge her blood or her will. The Ancient mocks her continuously, derides her constantly. It is like a nagging in her head that cannot be silenced, not completely. But the Ancient is not so heartless as to refuse her a moment of peace. When the runs in the heat, when the walks in the cold, it gives her quiet.

The woman looks at herself in the mirror and thinks this is her mother taking pity on her. In what small fractions of her day she can be alone with herself, her mother gives her peace, gives her silence, gives her herself completely. Under the midday sun, she is only herself, so she knows better than to ask for the night. She knows better now, after battling the first nights and weeks, than to refuse what the multitudes command. It is easier that way, appease the god than to bear the brunt of its fury, especially now that she's– Wait. When is she supposed to… summon it?

"At midnight, in the eastern field, you will be shot, and you will summon it."

General Calvi had warned her, taunted her, and all the spirits in her head yelled back at him, but that was days ago. Since then, the general had never spoken a word to her, had been nowhere near her, and she couldn't possibly ask if Commander Magath or any of the other soldiers knew anything about it.

And she was definitely not going to the War Chief, lest she experience the Ancient's flurry of voices. It seems to berate him, she thinks. She doesn't understand the language it speaks, and her mother refuses to tell her anything else. What she knows about him, what she knows about Marley, is more secondhand information than firsthand experience. Her family's records, the Ancient's memories, Queen Frida's letters, Roth's admission, Dr. Bentley's research, Grisha Jaeger's journals, all of which pointed to the fact that Ymir had two of her prized children in the mainland, in Marley; Maria and Rose…

"And which lineage was it that Grisha Jaeger married into?" The Ancient taunted, laughed, seethed in anger, when she had realized it, "How ambitious for such a man, how brazen!"

When she learned of another child, a "Zeke" from Grisha's journals, she made no question to the Ancient at first, because what connection was there? They were all going in blind. The information they had stopped at Dina Fritz and her death, and there was no mention in any correspondence between her and–

"You fool! You naïve, sweet fool! Such is a folly of your mother, young Klaus." The Ancient called out, "Read! Learn!"

So she read. Instead of mourning, she read. Instead of seeing her loved ones buried, she read. Instead of listening to her father's plea of retiring with him in the fields and tending to the horses, she read. She read and she learned, for days and days, trying to make the connection, suffering through both her memories and her mother's. And when she learned of War Chief Zeke Yeager… Well, it's enough to say that the Ancient was slightly impressed, if not amused, by the realization.

"Dr. Grisha wasn't very clever, was he? A 'yee-ger' in Ancient Eldine is just a letter away from the New Eldine 'yay-ger'. Seems the doctor has trouble letting go."

She didn't know if the Ancient was mocking him or her. What did it mean, "trouble letting go"? Who exactly was Dr. Grisha? What was his connection to all this?

"Yeager, first-born of the doctor, Grisha, and his wife… Dina, the humbled queen."

It happened two nights ago, when the Ancient stole control of her body and she was again witness to seeing the world unfold before her eyes as she is rendered powerless. She had wanted to take a walk, to have whatever peace she is allowed, from both Marley and the Ancient, from her mother's misguided will and her ancestor's ambitions. Macquarie at night gives her this, however meager, however she dislikes being watched and followed by the War Chief himself. She doesn't understand why he does this, what he hopes to gain from befriending her. She can only assume it is the Ancient he is hoping to acquire, for if not the founder, then the next best should suffice, wouldn't it?

"Dina Fritz, descended from Ymir's eldest, the mighty commander of her Titan armies, Maria, the wise and just."

That night, she tried to fight the Ancient's will as she had all those nights before, and as always she lost. As always, she watches as an observer in her own head. She watched the Ancient taunt him, goad him. She understood then, finally, what the Ancient meant. Zeke Yeager was Dina Fritz's son, another Eldian heir to the throne. But what then?

"Traitor."

She watched her body fight, twist, bare its fury in a swift rampage. She felt alien then, felt a ghost in her own skin. She didn't want to fight, she didn't want to risk–

"Mother, please."

She had begged.

"Please let this end."

And her mother, the largest force of power in her mind, had swatted her away like some insect, threw her into the darkness of her mind, forced her to watch like she always has when–

But then he touched her.

His hand touched hers, bare skin to bare skin, and she heard the Ancient scream. Hundreds of voices, thousands of years, all reverberated in her head and her body. It overwhelmed her, it threw her around. It was dizzying. It was heavy. It felt like something was going to burst forth from her. Pain. Searing-hot. Burning. She felt like she was going to die. Then, in a split-second burst, she was thrown upwards, spun around. Her eyes were forced opened and saw it… all of it.

A suffering father. Grisha. An ambitious mother. Dina. A blond boy between them. Zeke. Crying. Absent. Were those… his memories? What was he doing– What was he… And then it all made sense. Grisha. The Owl. The Queen in Rags. The Drop Operation. The Boat to Paradise. The Eldian Ambition. Jonathan Roth and his daughter.

"You–"

The Ancient ripped her hand away from his before she could see everything, before he allowed her even closer–but what could that mean?

"You consider us enemies, but aren't you just the same as me?"

He grew bold then, accusing her of such a thing. And in her mind, her mother was silent and the Ancient had nothing to say to him. She wondered what that could mean, but she didn't answer either. What could she have said? Could she have denied it, knowing that it's the truth? He and her are Titan shifters alike, both monsters alike, both inhuman alike. It doesn't matter where they were both, they both have some twisted legacy bound into their blood–

"To Marley, we are one and the same."

No, they are not the same. They are nothing alike. He has the same ambition as his mother, as his ancestors, and she is nothing like him, she seeks no greater power or ambition. She is nothing like him. She is nothing like her mother. What she seeks is a life of peace, a life without war, without violence, a life where she can live happily as… But she can't have that now, can she? Not when he's dead, having sacrificed his life for hers because she was far more important–

"Live!"

She won't have his sacrifice be in vain. She won't have any sacrifice be in vain, especially his.

(Every now and then, the Ancient makes fun of him, of his "supposedly" true and pure nature when he–as it believes–is just the same as everyone else. The Ancient believes this fully, that he didn't truly love her, that she was just something to forward his own ambitions…

"Just like my own mother?"

Every now and then, she has the gall to answer back.)

So when War Chief Zeke Yeager left her that night, she did not watch his retreating back. Instead, she watched the way the moon was reflected on the knife's edge. She won't be another thing to use, she decided. She won't be just the vessel for this destructive god and she will fight it the best she can. For her peace. For his. She can play the distressed soldier as much as she likes, she decided. She can fool them; she can weep and cry and beg to die if that is what it will take to end this war and all others. She will gladly force aside the Titan's pride and her mother's fury for the sake of everyone here.

(In her mind, the Ancient mocks her, tells her she will never win. In her mind, she decides to challenge it.)

"You will allow neither Marley nor Dina's son to have you," she said aloud, imagining she is speaking to her mother, "so you won't let me die."

(In her mind, the Ancient told her it will destroy everything.)

"Then we both lose, Mother," she called out, looking directly at the desert horizon and imagining her mother scowling in front of her, "I understand now why Ymir chose to flee with Shina, she cannot subjugate the entire world."

(In her mind, the Ancient told her the confidence she feels is arrogance, that the God-Queen did not flee out of fear–

"Then what was it?"

The Ancient did not answer her.)

"I will show you, Mother, how I win this war." She declared to the ghost in her head.

(In her mind, the Ancient is quiet, for once.)

Now, she looks at this face in the mirror and sees herself, her mother, all their ancestors, and even a glimpse of what she thinks is the original vessel of this monster. She had scrubbed herself clean, bathed in lukewarm water and knew it was the most comfort she could afford in the desert. She smells clean now. Her body doesn't feel like it has a layer of grime and dust. Her hair doesn't stick to her face and neck like it did before. She is clean now, better-looking. She feels like she can breathe.

(In her mind, the Ancient tells her she is like a sacrificial lamb now that they've given her clean water.)

Today, she knows what is going to happen. She looks at the uniform hanging by the door, freshly-laundered and the color of the desert sand. It's the same uniform they've provided her at the start, and she feels a twang of pity when she thinks about turning into a Titan with it.

(In her mind, the Ancient tells her it won't.)

She thinks about how it will happen, if it does, which part of her will turn first. When she first attempted the transformation, it began from her feet. It started at the root. When she recalls her mother's, it started at the back, the spine. The foundation. When she recalls one ancestor, she doesn't know how long ago, it began in the womb. The start of all life. When she first attempted it, it was barely a complete transformation. Half a body and half a mass of unknown life, Hange had told her it was both grotesque and uncanny at the same time.

(What Hange didn't tell her was that the sight of it made them sick.)

Now, she thinks if she can complete it. If not out of her own will, then by the Ancient's. It wants to destroy everything, doesn't it? It wants to show its might as a god. The.

(In her mind, the Ancient is silent.)

Commander Magath had told her midday.

"High noon in the desert," he had told her earlier, "it's going to be a show."

She didn't ask why, his grim expression already told her it wouldn't be anything to look forward to, but she did ask one thing.

"What will happen after?"

Magath said nothing, and dismissed her.

(In her mind, the Ancient told her that nothing comes after destruction–"Obviously," it sneered.)

High noon in the desert, the words echo in her head, apparently now devoid of her mother's disapproving stare and the Ancient's numerous faces. She wonders where they could have gone, or if they had finally left her in peace, or if they had chosen to leave her to die as punishment for his continued disobedience…

No.

No!

She refuses to even consider the idea. She splashes her face with water one final time before hastily wearing the uniform. She fumbles a bit with the final buttons, feeling sweat begin to form on her back, her neck. At this point, she thinks the Ancient is waiting for her to call it.

(At this point, she is torn between what's left of her pride and her control.)

But the Titan is quiet and so is her mother.

"Are you alright in there?"

Her stomach drops at the sound of the War Chief's voice, but instead of answering she opens the door and says nothing.

"Oh," he chuckles, "I was worried for a moment there."

She waits for the Ancient to berate him, but it doesn't.

"Are you…" he asks, as if he's noticed it too, "sure you're alright?"

She waits for the Ancient to deny him, but it doesn't.

"I apologize for keeping you, War Chief Yeager."

("It's quiet," is what she doesn't tell him, "I cannot hear it.")

She thinks he'd been waiting for her, and chooses not to show her discomfort.

"You weren't. I was hoping to speak with you, actually."

He smiles at her and she is revolted by it. She waits for the Ancient to yell at him, but it doesn't. Now, she's starting to wonder what it's trying to tell her. Is it actually going to grant her death? Allow her to die? And what about him, what does he hope to gain by speaking with her?

She walks ahead of him, but he catches up to her easily. Now, she is thinking about summoning the Ancient and letting it do away with him. But it won't respond to her, it won't even make its presence felt. It's as if it had truly disappeared.

"I want to apologize."

Does he? She doesn't believe him. She just walks faster. She wants to stand in the desert sun if that means being away from him. But he catches up to her.

"I wasn't fair to you," he continued, falling into step with her as if he understands why she's acting this way, "you should understand this carefully, all of this, let me–"

"No," she spins on her heel to face him, "you listen."

The Ancient is still absent from her mind, but she feels more in control than ever before.

"None of this," she grits her teeth, feeling anger pouring out of her, "is for you to decide."

His face is blank, expressionless, like he's lost. No longer is he smug and confident, but he's looking at her like he's made a mistake, like he's miscalculated, like he's misjudged her. She feels is almost winning. She feels the Ancient is going reappear. Any moment now…

But it doesn't. Instead, in the silence between them, there is her anger and there is his frustration. She feels like she is winning. She feels the same way she felt when she had first denied her mother's wishes.

Look, Mother, your daughter's become a soldier.

"So leave me be," she ends the conversation before it can even begin, walking straight ahead into the desert to decide her fate.

The sun is high in Macquarie and the sand stretches far and wide. If she doesn't look up, she won't see the children they've gathered to witness this. She won't see the Royal Guard across her, one of them bearing the elusive Warhammer Titan. She won't see General Calvi frowning under his sun shade with a sweating Commander Magath at his side. She won't see the silently suffering Maria Roth and the ill-postured Reiner Braun beside her. She won't see all the other Warriors they've gathered to witness this.

She doesn't look up so her grim expression cannot be seen, her reluctance cannot be seen. She is not ready to die, is she? This is such a grand occasion, she thinks, that the Ancient would surely want to bare itself to them all. It won't let her die, not like this, not like some animal… So she tries reaching for it in her mind. She digs into the very crevices of her soul to find it, but she latches onto nothing.

It's gone.

It's gone and she is going to die– She doesn't want to think anymore, and before she can complete the thought, she acts swiftly, carelessly. She hears the sound of a gun and takes one glance up at the sky– She's going to do it now. Now!

She takes a knife and wills her blood to summon it.

"Mother."

The woman finds herself in the archives beneath their family home, among rows and rows of collected writings. She is aware she is still in her mind, in the mind of the Titan, in the mind of her mother; and she thinks it's so appropriate that her mother's mind looks the way it is. Everything is categorized and stored away, stashed in pages and bindings. She wonders how much of this is just her mother's, simple memories of her childhood and her family, and if she is even allowed to see such things.

"Mother?"

She calls out again. This is one of the very few times that her mind is not so foreign and ancient to her.

"Mother?"

She feels very like her older self, before the Fall of Wall Maria, dressed in finery and looking for her mother in the crowd of affluent nobles and patrons because it was not her place. Before the Fall of Wall Maria, she thought it could be. She thought she could be like her mother. After the Fall, and after everything else, she once wondered if she could be like her mother. Pretending that she is the same as everyone else, however privileged she might be, but only human. Lying that she is without the blood of a god coursing through her veins. Making it seem like nothing has changed.

"Mother?"

Perhaps nothing had, if she thinks about it. She is still the same as before, and nothing has ever, ever gone her way because she never, ever makes it known what she wants.

And what does she want now? What does this all mean now? Why is she here? Why is she… alone?

"What do you want me to do, Mother?"

No–

"What do you want me to do, Audhumbla?"

She nicks her finger–just like her mother did–and wills her blood to summon it.

With the name, she summons it. With the name, she calls it. The rows of books and columns of ice-mineral dissolve into the darkness, and from the abyss comes forth the Ancient's primordial face. Large and almost inhuman. Pale and bony. It gapes at her with unclosing eyes, empty sockets she thinks could swallow her and the entire world.

So this is the Ancient's true face.

"Audhumbla."

She doesn't reach out to touch it, but it moves toward her. She doesn't feel it breathe, doesn't think it's even alive. But how could it be a living being? It's all in her head, in her blood. The Titan is not alive, but she is. She is not in the Titan's head, the Titan is in hers. For once, she thinks she is finally in control of something. No, maybe she really is.

"None of this is for you to decide."

She thinks that was the breaking point, away from her mother's control, away from the Titan's will, away from even Maria Roth's wishes and Historia's desires. This is what she wants now, and what she wants is greater than all of these. No matter that Zeke Yeager is Dina's son, the heir to Maria's will, he will have no influence over her. Absolutely none.

And so, perhaps, that was the key all along.

"Be selfish for once."

What her mother berated her for when she was younger was exactly what she needed to tame this monster.

"What do you think of me now, Audhumbla?"

The Ancient makes no expression, no sound, not even the faintest hint of a reply.

She reaches out with both hands to touch it, and thinks this will be a very funny story to tell someday.

She raises the hand to the sky, the sun, to what heaven there is, and wills her blood to summon it.

And then…

The entire world is brought to a halt.

And then… it appears.

At heart, Maria Roth believes war should never be an answer. From when she was younger and even when she became a soldier, that is what she believed. Violence is never necessary and war is never justified.

But now, now she begins to question it.

Above them, behind the clouds and the dust and the smoke, that… thing stands. The Ancient Colossal. A faint silhouette towering over them all. The shape is familiar. The shape is uncanny. But the shape is neither man nor monster.

It is a god.

She looks around her. The Marleyan soldiers, her father's men. Commander Theo Magath. General Nicolai Calvi and his two sons. The Warrior Unit. Reiner beside her. In the great distance across them, the Royal Guard. Which one of them is the Warhammer? No, she shouldn't think about that now, not under the shade, the dark, the dimness of the Ancient's shadow. All them in awe, in fear, in sudden realization. Under the shadow of this thing. This… god.

This is not Victoria, she thinks, this is neither monster nor god, neither Titan nor Devil, this is just…

She doesn't know what to call it, but she looks around–again–at everyone's faces, and thinks it can only be this.

Fear.

If you spy a naked man among the pines, you must run as if the Devil were after you.