**I got some spy vibes listening to this song. I thought it describes their relationship perfectly and not in an entirely good way. A harsh reminder that they are still not on the same side in the manga and, even if they care about each other, they are still loyal to their cause and will do anything to get there.
It hurt writing this, so that means it worked. Good luck**
"Your mission is simple: execute Annie Leonhart."
Many things ran through Armin's head as the order left Erwin Smith's lips and rang in his eardrums like a gong. He, for once, was at a loss for words, and Eren had to speak on his behalf.
"That's easier said than done," he muttered. "She's a master of disguise, has killed dozens, and she has to have a few black belts in martial arts."
His words weren't graceful, but they were true. Kill Annie Leonhart? Damn near impossible. But, terrible as those points were, it wasn't her undeniable strength or slick movements that got her in and out of places that sent Armin's heart to the floor. It was the long list of memories he shared with her, way before they quietly went their separate paths.
He peeked at the stack of papers in Erwin's hands. Just how much did they know about her?
"I understand your concern," he continued in his deep, throaty voice. It was one that demanded respect from the mountains and shook the stars in the sky. Eren leaned forward in his chair as Erwin shuffled through his papers; Armin and Mikasa made no movements, though for very different reasons.
"She's managed to sneak into the capital, our own headquarters, and several other highly-secured places on more than one occasion." Erwin read off her list of crimes like he was reading the items off a menu. "She's stolen priceless artifacts and destroyed piles of records and information regarding the Warrior program and their allies and innerworkings. Not to mention the many kills she has under her belt—forty-two to be exact."
42. Armin tried to focus on that number, bury it deep in his heart so his brain could think clearly through the waves of emotion pounding against his chest. She's killed more people than Ted Bundy; she's caused more damage than Bonnie and Clyde, for God's sake. Annie is a murderer, a liar, and a thief. She's the enemy, she doesn't mean anything to him anymore.
"A lot of them were innocent citizens, but she's also killed some of our own hands. You three know that it takes years of hard work and training to become a decent member of the Survey Corps, so for someone outside of our ranks to repeatedly take down members is dangerously serious. Remember she single-handedly took down Mr. Ackerman's previous squad before you joined."
"Why are you giving them more reasons to be afraid of her?" Levi spoke up from his spot in the corner of the room. He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed like a disapproving parent. "I thought we were supposed to kill her, not run away from her."
Hanji, who had been hovering over Erwin's shoulder this entire time, reading from Annie's record's, waved her hand at Levi. "Shush, he's getting there."
Levi rolled his eyes and went back to peeking through the closed blinds at the window.
"I guess this is the part when you tell us what we have against her," Eren added with a small, crooked grin. It was his attempt at adding hope to the conversation—his codename wasn't "Last Hope" for nothing—but it didn't settle down Armin's rapidly beating heart at the slightest.
Erwin looked up from his papers. "Yes. Not only should we be thanking Ms. Hanji for keeping a secret copy of Leonhart's records as well as some of her comrades like Reiner Braun and Berthold Hoover"—Hanji slipped in a little smirk as the subtle praise her boss was giving her—"but you should also be thankful that we have you."
Armin was expecting Erwin's finger to fall on Eren or Mikasa. Eren had by far been the most active of the squad and had accomplished several missions for the gradual progress of the Survey Corps. Mikasa's strength and talent had matched Annie's almost spot-on, and she too achieved several missions, some of which were solo. But Erwin ignored both of them and he ended up pointing straight at Armin, who was seated between the two.
Everyone's eyes fell on him. Erwin's hard stare told Armin everything.
He stiffened. Shit, he knows.
"Leonhart's past is awfully sketchy," Erwin went on, referring back to his notes. "We know she was adopted by a man named Alfred Leonhart, but we don't know what happened to her biological parents, nor do we know much on Mr. Leonhart himself. There's no records of her enrolling in any private or public school, her place of residence kept moving around during her childhood, and we couldn't find any extracurricular activities she was a part of in her youth like being in a soccer team or a book club. Her private life was shielded from the public's view majority of the time."
"That most likely means her life was planned out for her by her father or someone of great authority," Hanji added. "She might've been enrolled in the Warrior program ever since childhood, which leads us to think that they are using child soldiers to create the big baddies we know today." She shook her head. "It's horrible to think about, but at the same time, it's genius. Children can't think for themselves and go off what their parental figures tell them to do, so if they drill it into their brain long enough, they won't disobey if they tell them to pick up a gun and shoot someone."
Eren frowned and his leg began to bounce up and down. "That's sick. They're turning them into slaves for their own benefit. Fucking bastards."
"But Leonhart's private life peeked out a little in her teenage years," Erwin said. He glanced at Armin and looked back down. Armin could feel his ears burn and his hands tremble under the weight Erwin kept adding to.
Please don't make me do this.
"At the age of fifteen, Leonhart met Armin Arlert and began an intimate relationship with him. We see small spurts of activity through the next four years of the relationship. Although it appears that public outings weren't common between the two; given Leonhart's shadowed past, we're left to assume that she was the one who wanted to keep the romance to a minimum."
Armin rested his elbows on his knees and hid his face in his hands as Erwin continued to read all about their dead love. "It wasn't until much later in the relationship when Leonhart was to be seen more often in public—we have everything from movie ticket transactions to dinner receipts to eye witnesses of Leonhart and Arlert together, some of which come from our own Survey Corps members. At age nineteen, at the end of the known relationship, we found out Mr. Leonhart had somehow gotten involved, probably unaware of the relationship until then. There was a noise complaint from the Leonhart residence one night—they reportedly heard loud shouting and glass breaking. When police arrived, Mr. Leonhart had answered the door and apologized for the noise and promised to keep it to a low. No other complaints were filed for the rest of the night and, once morning came, the Leonharts were gone again. We haven't discovered their current place of residence yet."
"What does Armin have to do with the mission?" Mikasa finally spoke up. "What do you want him to do?"
Eren and Mikasa didn't look as uncomfortable as Armin felt, but they weren't surprised either. They were well-aware of his past relationship with Annie (they'd all gone out together once or twice) and none of what Erwin said was new to them. But there were days, especially now, when Armin wished he hadn't mentioned anything at all.
Erwin put down his papers and folded his fingers over them, looking Armin straight in the eye. "When was the last time you directly spoke with Ms. Leonhart?"
It took him a good while to respond, but he eventually replied with a shaky, quiet voice, "Over five years, sir."
He nodded like he already knew the answer (which he probably did). "Because of your past relations with Ms. Leonhart, we believe it'd be best if you were the one to approach her. She could possibly let her guard down with you around and, once she does so, use that as an opportunity to attack and execute her."
Erwin said this with a straight face, Levi still wasn't entirely paying attention to the conversation, and Armin didn't sense any triggered vibes from Mikasa. Hanji and Eren, however, were shifting around uneasily and peered at him with sympathetic eyes. Armin felt his insides pull apart and then push back together; he was falling apart at the seams and he was desperately trying to hold it together.
He straightened back up with another shaky breath and rubbed his sweaty palms on his knees. He couldn't do this. Erwin literally wanted him to look her dead in the eye and shove a knife into her heart. Use her own feelings to his own advantage? Even assuming she still had a sliver of love for him, it'd still be wrong morally. He might as well go on a murdering spree while he was at it.
"What…What if I could turn her in?" Armin squeaked, at the verge of tears at this point.
Erwin simply raised an eyebrow at him.
Armin continued, his eyes darting, his hands flying: "W-What if I could somehow convince her to leave the Warrior program and enter the Survey Corps? Anni—Ms. Leonhart has been living this secret life since practically the day she was born, right? We didn't know much about her until I met her, right? So, I might be able to persuade her into leaving and coming with us. The Survey Corps isn't about killing others—it's about saving them. Why would we want any blood on our hands, even if it was Warrior blood?"
Armin saw Hanji bite on her lower lip and Eren look at Erwin with last hope.
Erwin hesitated before he spoke. "You can certainly try, but don't pursue it for long if it's not working. The Warriors are stubborn and relentless—I wouldn't be surprised if Ms. Leonhart won't budge at the suggestion."
It was small, but it was enough for Armin to utter out, "Y-Yes, sir."
"How are we going about this exactly?" Levi droned out, sauntering over to Erwin's desk.
"Queen Historia is going to throw a ball next week to celebrate Paradise Island's recent alliance with the Lebonian people. Some of the Warriors are Lebonian and we are expecting them to show up, including Leonhart, Braun, and Hoover, some of the most dangerous of the bunch. The goal is to execute all three sometime during the ball, but, of course, out of sight from the dozens of other civilian guests attending. Her Majesty is aware of the situation and has allowed us to take control of it. She had even informed me of other rooms and backways within the palace to get from place to place unnoticed which, of course, we will use to the best of our abilities.
Squad Raven's Call is to go undercover as civilians instead of soldiers. Many high-ranking Survey Corps members will go dressed in their uniforms but are told to not get involved unless instructed otherwise by me. Ms. Hanji and I will be in the ballroom majority of the night, speaking with the Lebonian people about our alliance, but we will have earpieces in, just in case anything goes wrong. Ms. Hanji has actually designed a special type of weapon for this occasion; we don't want anyone, Warriors, civilians, or Lebonian, to know that we have weapons on us."
He then pulled out what looked like to be a small silver pen from his pocket and laid it on the table in front of them. It was short and skinny, and a tiny silver ball sat on the end of it. They peered at it for a moment before Levi stated, "That's a fucking pen."
"You're a fucking pen," Hanji snapped back and plucked the object from the desk.
She fiddled with the ball at the end, making sure Eren, Armin, and Mikasa could see it clearly. She pulled on it and the "pen" extended in great length. She then wiggled it around, showing off the extreme flexibility of the supposed weapon.
"Believe it or not, this is a knife," Hanji explained. "It was made to be unseen and easily accessible. This wiggly part"—here she pushed around the bendy stick attached to the ball—"is the accessible part, being able to extend one meter in length and as flexible as a rubber-band. The ball can easily be disguised as a broch or a hair accessory and, once you push down on it—"
She demonstrated and out popped a razor-sharp knife on the other end with a metal slink. The blade was so thin that it could effortlessly blend in with the dark; it looked to cut through anything with ease, flesh included.
"And if you wanna retract it…" She pulled back on the ball and the blade was swallowed back up in the reflective stick. "See? Easy to control and it can hide in plain sight. Each of you will be given at least one of these and the rest of the Survey Corps will be carrying one as well."
"You know what to do," Erwin said. "Execute Leonhart, Braun, and Hoover as quietly and swiftly as you can. I'm depending on you."
Mikasa nodded and Eren said, "Yes, sir. We won't let you down."
Armin said nothing as he stared at the knife in Hanji's hands. Small, quick, and perilously sharp. It reminded him of Annie and, in order to take her down, he would have to be the same.
He held his breath and wished he never said anything about Annie to anyone at all.
The day of the ball came and the fear that was running through Armin's veins was unlike anything he ever felt before. It suffocated him as he straightened his black tie and stabbed his heart as he pinned the ballpoint knife near his collar. He pulled his hair back into a tight ponytail, looking at himself in the mirror. The whole point of this mission was to not look suspicious, and that's exactly what he looked like.
Bags had formed underneath his eyes from the lack of sleep he got, worrying over this very day. He was hunched over like he was going to be sick and his pale exterior wouldn't fool anyone of the panic boiling in his stomach. His hands shook and he clasped them together in a failed attempt to ease them. Overall, he looked like he was on the verge of passing out.
"Sasha, we are on a mission. Stop eating everything you see!"
Armin focused on the bickering going on in the background between Jean and Sasha, hoping it would distract him, even for a moment.
"Shh!" Sasha hushed through a mouthful of something. "We're on a mission; we have to use our codenames now."
"Ugh, fine, Potato Girl. Stop—"
"It's Mother Wolf, excuse you, Horse Face."
"Um, the Horse Face part is silent. It's actually pronounced Inferno. Now stop—"
"You realize they only named you Inferno because you're a hothead, right?" Connie (dubbed Young Bullet) piped up.
Armin could only imagine the disgruntled face Jean was giving them both and normally, he would smirk at the image. But it hardly tamed the heart-crushing dread weighing him down.
"Are you okay?" Mikasa's quiet voice mumbled in his ear as she lightly touched his shoulder.
Armin's rubbed his eyes and grinned up at her. "I'm fine."
She looked stunning in her long, sparkly deep blue gown, the sleeves limp at her shoulders and the short train dragging after her black heels (she towered over Armin in those things, but then again he always had to look up at her). Her silky black hair was held together by two of Hanji's makeshift knives and she wore a pearl necklace that she secretly admired.
She stared at him, expressionless. "I'm sorry."
"Yeah, me too…" Armin didn't have the energy to fake it to his friends. He would have to save it for Annie; he had to make her think she was safe.
"She was always strange," she said, her hand slipping from his shoulder. "So secretive, ambiguous. I suppose it wasn't too surprising when we found out she was a spy for the Warriors."
Armin still couldn't believe it, but it did make sense, in its own strange way. A couple days after Annie and her father mysteriously fled town, he heard the rumors of the violent noises radiating from the household and their car speeding off into the distance around four in the morning. Naturally he panicked and tried calling and texting her cell, emailing her—he tried every way of contacting her, but she never responded. This was also a week or so before he was to begin his training at the Survey Corps, more specifically their secret intelligence unit. Eren and Mikasa were to start the same time as him and when he informed them of Annie's sudden disappearance, they began wondering for the worse—what if she was kidnapped? Was her father into some shady business and had dragged Annie into it? Had she been murdered? Going into a secret intelligence program, they decided to bring up the subject, hoping they could help.
When he gave Erwin Smith, head of intelligence (codename Commander), and his second-in-command, Hanji Zoë (codename Doctor Jekyll), a physical description of Annie, where she had lived, and her father's name, they looked at him with shell-shocked eyes. He sometimes saw them in the back of his mind at night and it would send a shiver down his spine. They told him that she was a spy for the Warriors, another secret intelligence program who were known for being destructive, chaotic, and killed anyone who got in their way.
They had dubbed her as the Ice Queen for the cold way she regarded human life, simply slitting their throats with a dead stare before melting away. She was active while they'd been dating and she still was wreaking havoc in their own headquarters.
He heard of her activity for the last five years, but tonight would be the first night he'd see her since that night.
"Why can't we just compromise?" he muttered more so to himself than to Mikasa (codename A Hundred Men). "Mustn't we always try to talk things before resorting to violence? Shedding more blood is just adding more fuel to the flames between the Survey Corps and the Warriors."
"She's a serial killer, Armin."
Mikasa and Armin glanced at the approaching Eren. He wore all black from his shiny dress shoes to his wrinkleless shirt. The silver ball of his knife was tucked in the middle of his tie.
"Remember what Commander said?" he reminded them. "She's responsible for forty-two murders, including Raven's Call's previous squad. And that's not to mention the other shit she's pulled—"
"I never said she was innocent," Armin snapped back in the same heated glare Eren gave him. "Of course the things she did is horrible, unforgivable even, but that doesn't mean she doesn't deserve a second chance—"
"You're still in love with her. Your opinion of her are invalid."
"Eren, please." Mikasa glared down at him. "Let's just focus on our half of the mission. Taking down Reiner Braun is going to be a challenge."
Armin rolled his eyes and looked back at his exhausted face in the mirror. There were a million things he could say to Eren about his rage or pride but taking down Eren with words was both too easy and a waste of time.
He'd have to save it all for the Ice Queen.
"Alright, there's enough of a crowd for you colts to mingle in," came Levi's (the one and only Raven's Call) low voice in everyone's earpiece. "Remember your positions, keep an eye out for the targets, and don't fuck this up."
Eren pressed a finger to his ear. "Yes, sir. We're on our way." He turned toward the door and Armin saw Mikasa look back at him.
"We've got your back, Mind Grenade."
Sasha's puffy orange dress shifted as she hopped up from her spot on a stiff-looking loveseat. "Whew! I'm kinda nervous; you guys nervous?"
You have no idea, Armin responded internally.
"Well, don't let them know that, for fuck's safe," Connie snorted through his own anxiousness as Eren opened the door. "That's like saying you're nervous before trying to assassinate Hitler."
"Who wouldn't be nervous trying to assassinate Hitler?"
"You can't let him know that, though! He fucking ate that shit for breakfast."
They filed out of the small parlor room one by one, Mikasa and Sasha's heels clicking noisily. They travelled down a small hallway, turned left when it dead-ended, and then followed another hallway, this one more brightly lit and wider in both height and width. The sound of chatter and clinking glasses grew in volume as they approached the grand threshold that was to lead into the ballroom.
Armin swallowed, painfully aware of the knife tucked into his suit.
"Raven's Call, make sure to keep your eyes on the Queen," Erwin's voice rang in their ears. "We're not one hundred percent positive what the Warriors may be doing here in the first place. Taking the Queen may be one of those reasons."
"You want me to stand here and drink crap champagne while chatting it up with the snobbiest pieces of shit in the capital instead of taking down the Warriors?" came Levi's clearly annoyed tone.
"Your squad can handle this. I just need you for backup."
"We also need you to step up your communication skills," Hanji added in. "You, me, and Commander represent the Survey Corps, so blink every once in a while and nod your head to show that you're listening even if you're not, you corpse."
"I'll make sure to breathe through my mouth every two minutes as long as I don't hear you lose your shit across the room at talking about atoms or radiation poisoning."
"Please be quiet, both of you," sighed Erwin.
Sasha suppressed a giggle as they rounded the corner and scanned the grand ballroom. A giant chandelier hung from the ceiling, sparking with diamonds and illuminating the room with a soft radiance. Shades of gold and ivory decorated the walls and floors; through the arched windows on the far side of the room showed the night sky, a sharp contrast to this heavenly glow. No pictures or antiques could be seen—Queen Historia wasn't one to impress people with wealth or a certain fashion sense.
People conversed quietly with one another, making the atmosphere a little tense or awkward (Paradise Island and the Lebonian people were allies, but definitely not friends). No one appeared angry or fearful in their conversations, however, but instead interested and quite serious—they were all here on business, after all. Servers in black suits and white gloves flitted across the room while carrying silver trays of alcohol and tiny snacks. Everyone was dressed in their finest from the top of their slicked-back heads to the bottom of their high-heeled feet. A violinist and a celloist sat in the back corner, playing an airy tune with no particular ending in mind.
Queen Historia could be seen in her big white gown and twinkling crown on the left. She was speaking to a man with long blond hair and the two were thoroughly engaged in their conversation. She was nodding her head and smiled every now and then, but when her eyes caught the Raven's Call's pack entering, they strayed on them for a moment before turning back to the blond man, now with a new level of awareness.
Hanji and Erwin were seen in the middle of the room, directly underneath the bright chandelier. They were also involved in their own conversations with important-looking men and women in suits and Armin knew they purposely avoided making eye-contact with Levi's squad. Even the smallest gesture could trigger something; they all had to be extremely careful.
Armin looked around for Levi and eventually found him leaning against the wall near the windows by himself while periodically sipping from his wine glass. He was obviously trying to keep an eye on Historia, Erwin, and Hanji, and prevent any sort of contact with anybody else. He peered into the crowd with his dark eyes, heavy with the extreme lack of sleep and sunlight. Armin was a little envious of how he always appeared calm or indifferent to nearly any position he was put in. He had seen him panic a couple of times when things didn't go according to plan, but, for the most part, he was unmoved and sneered at any fool who might try to sneak up on him.
Armin's eyes scanned the room some more. No sign of the enemy yet.
"Remember your positions," he heard Mikasa whisper to the group.
He didn't look behind him as he steered to the right wall. Eren and Mikasa walked by him, she holding his elbow with one hand while carrying the end of her dress with the other. Sasha and Connie slowly trailed after them before breaking off in the other direction. Jean had slithered his way to the left (where Historia stood with her guest) but not before plucking a half-filled glass from a server's tray and taking a giant swig.
"Any sign of the Warriors?" ringed Eren's voice in Armin's ear.
"No, shut up," Levi answered back. "I'll let you know when I see them."
Armin sniffed and tried wandering his way into discussions with other people, looking as normal as possible. He figured it might be good practice for when he had to speak with Annie—he had to conjure up a lie that made sense as to why he was here and that he knew absolutely nothing about the Warriors or any secret intelligence service. He would smile as charmingly as he could as he shook people's hands and asked them about the diplomatic relations with other countries or other political topics that were being tossed around in the air tonight. He listened, but his mission never left his mind. How could it? He was honestly surprised that no one caught his trembling hands or told him he looked unwell. That meant it was working—he was a good liar.
He was speaking with a Yelena and Onyankopon when he heard Levi in his ear: "Ice Queen and Goliath at one o'clock."
Armin remembered Levi's spot near the window and subtly glanced near what would be one o'clock to him. And then, for a moment, everything in his body froze.
Next to a muscular man with a scruffy jaw was the infamous Ice Queen. She wore a long red dress with a low neckline and a slit at the side that went up just below her knees. She had red heels to match and a thin silky shawl was tucked around her elbows. Her lemon hair was pulled back into a bun on the top of her head, her long bangs falling in front of her eyes. Although he couldn't see her face from this distance, Armin noticed her blood red lips and smoky eyelids. Shiny earrings adorned her ears and a metal bracelet encircled her forearm. The bright walls and glowing candle-lights made her appear paler than usual, but she was just as beautiful as the first day he met her in sweatpants and a hoodie.
"Uh, Mr. Arlert? Are you alright?"
Armin snapped back to Onyankopon and Yelena who were both giving him mildly concerned looks.
He smiled crookedly and tensed up his shoulders to make himself look embarrassed. "Oh, yes! I'm sorry. I just spotted a childhood friend of mine from across the room is all."
"Ah." Onyankopon looked into the crowd, saw Annie, and looked back at Armin, grinning. "Well, let us not hold you back then."
"Oh, no, I'm fine. I'll just—"
"We insist. It was nice talking to you, Mr. Arlert. You're a very bright young man. I hope to meet up with you again someday."
Armin smiled back. "Thank you. I hope so too."
As he parted from the two, he pretended to tug on his earlobe. He whispered to the other ravens, "I'm heading in."
"Go for it, Mind Grenade," Hanji replied. "Work your magic."
His heart sped up with each daunting step he took and he feared she would be able to hear it from across the room. He swallowed his dry throat and wished he would've drunk something before he did this. He squeezed pass the bodies in his way as quietly as he could—she still hadn't seen him and he wanted it to stay that way (although there was a good chance she already knew he was there and was either avoiding him or waiting for him).
He was about three feet away from her when he spoke her name a little desperately.
She didn't respond immediately but kept her gaze on something in the distance. And then, very slowly, her clear blue eyes inched toward him like a broken doll. Her head lifted up to look at him and something flashed across her eyes, but it was gone in an instant. She didn't look too much different from when she was nineteen—her cheeks were a little sharper and her hair a little longer, but he did spot the faint outline of a scar slashed across her right eyebrow, about the size of a quarter.
She didn't have that on the last night he saw her.
"Armin," she breathed. His name was spoken like she was walking on eggshells. It was incredibly fragile and soft, and it barely escaped from her thick lips. She sounded like a child when it found out it was in deep trouble.
He let a smile pull at his lips. "H-Hey. How are you?"
She slowly nodded. "Fine. Yourself?"
He nodded back. "Uh, okay, I suppose." He slipped in an awkward moment before chuckling nervously. "God, it's been so long. Has it been five years now?"
She reached up a tucked a few strands of hair behind her bejeweled ear, her eyes downcast. "I think so."
"Wow. This is…so bizarre. What are you doing here, if I may ask?"
She peered back up at him. "I'm a captain for the Lebonian army. I'm here to discuss some militia plans with Paradis Island."
He acted surprised at her lie. "A captain? Really? Well, thank you for your service, even if you don't live in Paradis Island anymore."
"Why are you here?"
"I'm actually training to be an advisor to the Queen. Mr. Erwin Smith is my mentor and is a current counselor to Her Majesty. I've been talking about all sorts of diplomatic relations with other countries for the benefit of both our nations."
She pursed her lips and he had a sudden urge to kiss them. "Do you enjoy it?"
"Oh, yes! I've learned so much and Mr. Smith is a very wise man. Sometimes I have to pinch myself to check and see if this is all a dream." He trailed off and gave her a small smile. "I feel like this is one right now."
Annie's eyes were hard yet light. She hung on his every word and he could see the gears turning in her mind, scrutinizing everything he said. It was strange, how she was looking at him. It's like she didn't know what to think or say or do; her guard was up incredibly high but she didn't know which way the ravens were coming.
He stepped closer and whispered through his own hard gaze, "May I speak with you? Alone?"
"Have you already made a little friend, Annie?"
Armin stepped back as he peered up at Goliath (aka Reiner Braun). He was at least three times his size and brought justice to the name Erwin bestowed on him. The muscles in his shoulders, arms, and chest bulged through his suit and his bowtie looked pathetically tiny on him. He had his hands in his slacks and he was grinning down at Armin. Most might mistake it as friendly or amused, but Armin found it as sly as a cobra.
Annie half turned to him. "It's someone I used to know back in grade school."
Reiner shrugged and stuck out his hand to Armin. "That tells me absolutely nothing, but I'll take it. I'm Reiner Braun, nice to meet you…?"
Armin shook his giant hand. His hold could've crushed all the bones in his fingers, but he tried not to let it show. "Uh, Armin. Armin Arlert."
Reiner's grin widened. "Arlert, alright."
Cold fear settled in his bones. He knew who he was.
He crossed his arms and shifted his weight. "So, what brings you here, Mr. Arlert? Do you work for Queen Historia?"
"Um…" His eyes peeked at Annie once more. She was staring at him with the same intense look. Did she know he was lying? Would she tell Reiner, right here and now? No, that was too reckless and stupid. She would wait to strike.
He looked back up at Reiner's smirk. "Kind of. I'm training to be an advisor to her."
He raised an eyebrow. "An advisor, huh? That must mean you're really sharp. You gotta be at this day and age—don't know what might lurking around the corner."
Armin swallowed at the subtle threat. "Yes. It's a crazy world we live in."
Reiner let out a snort. "You can say that again." He then turned to his left and nudged a dark-haired man beside him. "Hey, Berthold. Come meet this guy."
Just as the man turned around, Jean's voice echoed in Armin's ear: "Is that Loyal Scythe?"
"Haven't heard from him in a long while," Levi mumbled. "They either must be desperate or they are planning to burn down this place."
"Keep your guard up, Mind Grenade," the Commander consoled.
Loyal Scythe looked down at him with an awkward wave. "Good evening."
Armin nodded his head once. "Hello."
"This is Armin Arlert," Reiner explained. "Apparently he and Annie used to be friends and he's on his way to being Queen Historia's advisor."
Berthold glanced at Reiner, got the message, and looked back at Armin. "Oh. That's very interesting."
"Do you all work together in the Lebonian army?" Armin asked as he wagged his finger at all three of them.
Reiner nodded. "Sure do. I'm one of its leading commanders and these two are my faithful captains. Been there for about five years now."
Armin pursed his lips. "I see."
"They're getting awfully close," Sasha's voice chimed. She sounded worried. "Should we do something?"
"Not yet, it's too soon," Levi answered.
Armin did feel like a bug under a microscope. They all stared at him with focused eyes, hungry wolves closing in on a little rabbit. He fidgeted a little and cleared his throat. "It's very refreshing to see close friends of Annie, but I was wondering if I could talk with her privately. You see, it's been so long since I've last seen her and I'd really like to catch up." He looked at her. "If that's alright with you."
The intensity in her eyes dropped almost immediately and returned to that mildly interested look he was most familiar with. He practically just said "Look, I'm a spy too, and two can play at this game". Whatever doubts she had in mind melted away; she now knew what she was getting into.
Annie didn't respond immediately but let her gaze linger, tugging on her red shawl. Her eyes flicked to the silver ball on his suit and then back at him.
"Um, I don't know if that's a good idea," Berthold tried answering for Annie.
Armin looked straight at him and tilted his head to the side. "Why is that?" he asked, his tone dead compared to the airy tone he'd used only moments ago.
Berthold blinked and he saw his throat bobble nervously. "Well, no offense, but times are tough right now, and we can't be too careful about who we associate ourselves with. Surely you can understand? The army has made us a little…cautious."
Armin nodded. "Sure I can, but you're not Annie, whom I was talking to in the first place. Awfully rude of you to think you can speak for her experiences and morals."
Berthold flinched and, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Annie blink slowly in amusement.
Reiner straightened up and he suddenly seemed like the tallest thing in the room. "Like he said, the army has made us cautious and we just can't trust you right now. If you really want to keep this tie between the Lebonian people and Paradis Island, then I suggest you stick to what you do best: staying locked up in your little library and having no experiences whatsoever."
"Goliath looks like he's gonna bust a nut," Connie pointed out. "Mind Grenade's gonna get crushed if we don't save his ass."
"I'm going," Mikasa replied. Armin could hear the loud rapid clicking of her heels on the other side of the room, storming in his direction.
"A Hundred Men, stay back," ordered Erwin. "We can't ambush them."
Another set of footfalls jogged after Mikasa (presumably Eren) and they both came to a halt.
Annie's head twisted towards Reiner and the two shared a glance that Armin couldn't quite decipher. It didn't last long and they both peered back at him, waiting for his next reply. Not wanting to disappoint, he sighed and stated, "Well, I'm well-aware of both your opinions, but I'd still like to hear it from Annie. If she says no, I will walk away. Simple as that."
Again, she didn't say anything right away. He watched her brush her bangs out of her eyes and raise her chin at him. Her clear blue eyes darted around his own and he saw the tiniest of smirks grace her bloody lips and her answer sent chills down his spine.
"I'm interested in hearing what you have to say, Mr. Arlert."
"I suggest a distraction on this one," Levi spoke in his ear.
"I'm on it," Sasha replied automatically.
Although he kept his eyes on Annie, he could vaguely see Sasha, Mother Wolf, speed-walk through the crowd, her orange dress bouncing against her hips. Her big eyes were locked onto him as she raised the champagne glass she had in her hands and threw whatever remaining liquid had been in there onto the side of Berthold's face.
Berthold jerked and Reiner spun his head his way, but Annie's stare never left Armin's.
"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!" Sasha slurred in a voice as though she were drunk. She sloppily patted at Berthold's neck and chest, spreading the alcohol all over him. Berthold caught her wrists and held them away from him, but she pushed her weight against him and wiggled his fingers at his lips.
"I'm sorry, so-sorry!" She made long whiney noises and swayed from side to side. "Jared told me not to drink but I did. I drank all of it. I drank and I tripped and now it's all over you. You and your pretty, pretty face."
"It's fine, really," Berthold said as he tried pushing her away, but to no avail. Sasha was giving it her all.
"I'm so sorry!" she wailed, her voice echoing in the large ballroom. Most conversations died and glasses stopped clinking as peoples' gaze turn on her (only the string players in the corner went on as though they heard nothing). Ultimately Connie showed up awkwardly by Sasha's side and pulled her away from Berthold.
"Come now, Margaret," he muttered. "Get off the man; you're clearly stressing him out."
"Oh, Jared!" Sasha dramatically fell back onto him with drunk arms. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean it!"
"I know, you dumb thing." He patted her back and lightly pushed her to the side. He then reached out and grabbed Berthold's elbow. "On behalf of my wife, I'm sorry for all the mess. Are you alright?"
"I can't believe this is actually working," Jean's dumbfounded tone muttered in their ears.
Berthold rubbed at his tie, spraying droplets of champagne onto the floor. "Yes, I'm fine. No need to—"
"Oh, no, you gotta dab, not rub," Connie insisted. "You'll ruin your suit if you do. Come, let's get you cleaned up."
"Yes, yes! Let's clean you up!" Sasha agreed, pulling him along.
Berthold easily wiggled out of Connie and Sasha's grasp on him. "Ah, no. I'm fine, really. Thank you, but I think I can manage."
"Come on, man." Connie grabbed his wrist again. "You don't want to stand here and look like a fool, all drenched in alcohol. You'll look worse than my wife, and that's saying something."
As Sasha wacked Connie upside the head with drunk arms, Berthold tugged back on his limb. "No, I'm fine. I—"
"No, he's right, Bert," Reiner stepped in, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You don't wanna look bad; that suit was expensive." He peered at him with a knowing look. "I'll help you out."
Everyone knew what that meant and a new kind of nervousness seeped in Armin's bones. He looked at the momentary flash of fear brighten Sasha's eyes, but she stuck to her distraction and pulled on Reiner's enormous bicep.
"Yes, thank you! You have a very kind friend, Bert!"
Before the two Warriors stumbled off with Connie and Sasha, Reiner gave Annie a once-over and guided Berthold toward the back. They knew now that the ravens were watching.
"Inferno, come with me," Levi ordered. Armin noticed the small man sneak through the crowd and follow after Young Bullet and Mother Wolf at a safe distance.
"Yes, sir," Jean responded just as Eren said, "What about me and A Hundred Men?"
"You two stay here in case Mind Grenade needs help. I'll call you if things get nasty."
Armin peeked at Eren and Mikasa on the other side of the room, who were staring at him as if they were getting into the intense climax of an action movie. Jean crept behind them, placing his empty glass on a server's tray as he went.
"Are you alright, Mr. Arlert?"
Armin's eyes snapped back to Annie. She had a tiny smirk on her lips and she stared at him unblinkingly. "You seem a little on edge."
He swallowed the dread as best he could and smiled back. "No need to act like strangers. You know my name and I yours. We both know how this works."
Annie nodded slowly. "Indeed."
He offered his hand. "So, are you willing to play this game?"
She looked at his hand and then back at his eyes. She stared for a long while and he wondered what she saw there. The plan entirely? The gamble she'd have to take? Maybe the lost love that slipped through their fingers like grains of sand? Whatever she saw, she deemed worthy of risk as her hand curled around his own.
"We've been playing it for a long time already."
He tried ignoring the familiar sense of security as her fingers gingerly wrapped around his knuckles. When he didn't know who she was, he felt safe in her arms, but now that he knew these very arms strangled dozens of innocent people, he didn't know what to think. Nevertheless, it was strange, desperate of him to squeeze back like they only saw each other yesterday.
They snaked through politicians, soldiers, diplomates, and monarchs until they came upon the arched threshold that Squad Raven's Call came through. Instead of taking the way he came in, he turned the other way and followed the hall until it swerved to the left.
Queen Historia's words pounded in his skull as he tried to remember the room where Annie was supposed to die in: "Turn left then right and then go straight down to the second door on the left. It's a small parlor room where I entertain good friends of mine. If you need assistance in any way, there's a fake book sitting on the mantlepiece above the fireplace. Open it and press the button—my guards should come to your aid immediately."
She had paused and then added in a second thought, "I kind of hate the room actually. I don't care if you spill her blood everywhere."
Hopefully he wouldn't have to do that, nor use that book.
He peeked at Annie over his shoulder. She was taking in their surroundings, gazing at portraits and other noticeable features in the surprisingly bland hallway. He suddenly remembered a time when he managed to drag Annie out of her house and take her out on a real date. As they roamed the dark city, her eyes wildly wandered around them and he thought it was cute at the time, looking at the world as though she'd never seen it before. But now he figured she was probably on the lookout for enemies and trying to remember the path back home.
When she looked at him, he turned away. The impending guilt weighed heavily in his chest like a stone. Surely she would see that in his eyes, wouldn't she?
"Your hand is cold," she muttered out of the blue as they approached the chosen killing room.
He looked at her monotone face and dropped her hand. "Sorry."
"Your hands were always cold." A pause. "You really haven't changed, have you?"
He too hesitated before he replied, "Probably as much as you have."
As soon as he opened the door, their waiting game began its slow climb to its brutal end.
For a parlor room in a palace, Historia was right—it was really small. Two red velvet chairs sat in front of the fireplace on the left, currently inactive. A tiny table was placed between them with a bottle of wine and two glasses rested upon it. A bookcase and desk were on the right side of the room; the shelves were completely packed and a single lamp was placed on the corner of the long wooden desk. An oval portrait was the only thing on the opposite side of the room—because of the dim lightning, Armin couldn't tell who it was, only that they had dark hair and had the shape of a woman. A red rug circled majority of the room and Armin's eyes fell on the white mantelpiece. There sat a box of matches, another lamp, and the book Historia told him about.
Armin stepped in first and Annie hesitantly went in after him. She inched toward the bookshelf as he shut the door with his back to it, quietly switching the lock on the doorknob. For a moment, he watched her move, giving her the benefit of the doubt so she can examine the room first before he unfairly took advantage of its traps that he already knew about. Her hips slowly swayed from side to side and her snow white legs poked out of that slit in her dress as she sauntered around. Her exposed shoulder blades moved against her flesh as she tightened her shawl around her biceps.
"I'll start a fire, if you're cold," he blurted out rather stupidly. "It is kinda chilly."
He waddled over to the fireplace with his back to her, hoping she wouldn't see the heat now flushed across his cheeks once he realized he'd been staring at her ass. He fished a match out of the box on the mantelpiece and tried to remain totally focused on lighting a fire, painfully aware of the hardcover a mere foot away from him. A spark eventually ignited the end of the match and he kneeled down to place it under the perfectly positioned logs. As he fed the fire, he heard Levi's voice in his ear.
"Last Hope and A Hundred Men, get your asses to the back of the palace right now."
Armin felt his heart drop to the floor as Eren stumbled out a frantic "Y-Yes, sir!" What happened? Were Connie, Sasha, and Jean okay? Did Reiner and Berthold somehow escape and were on their way to finding Annie right now? He waited for people to start screaming in the ballroom a few halls down, but he heard nothing and reluctantly went on with his part of the plan.
The fire snapped and popped, sending a wave of heat against Armin's knees. He rubbed his hands together and stood back up. He looked back at Annie. She was trailing her fingers along the desk, eyeing the many drawers it held and the glass lamp that sat atop it. The orange glow of the fire pulsed against her figure, highlighting the sharp features of her body. He wanted to trace the intense arc of her jaw, the smooth curves of the muscles in her arms and legs, the narrow strips of her collarbones. It'd been so long, too long, and the urge to know overwhelmed his senses.
He waited until he couldn't anymore: "Where did you go?"
She dragged her eyes over to him, and he saw that dull look in them as if he just asked a stupid question. It was a dumb question—she knew he'd report it to Erwin and she planned on getting out of here alive. Of course she wouldn't tell him, but he cut her a deal.
In a whisper, he said, "I won't tell anyone. I just want to know." When she still didn't answer, he played the guilt card, "As the only person who ever loved you, I have a right to know, Annie."
Something in her eyes softened for a minute but she adverted them to the floor before he could get a good look at it. She waited some more before mumbling so quietly he had to strain his neck forward in order to hear her: "We drove three states over in about two hours. Dad didn't tell me where we were going; I had to pay attention to road signs the entire way."
He stiffened when she mentioned her father. He never actually saw him; he imagined him to have the same small chin and short structure as Annie, but his hands would be big enough to throw little girls down stairs.
He pointed to his eyebrow even though he knew Annie wasn't looking at him. "Did he do that to you?"
"We're not together anymore, so why are you so concerned about it?" Her tone was harsh, a little frustrated. It was the same tone she used whenever he began asking too many questions. Back then, he would drop the matter, not wanting her to be upset with him or make her uncomfortable with memories she was trying to forget, but this waiting game would have to end eventually. They couldn't avoid it any longer.
"Just because we're not together doesn't mean my feelings have been erased," he countered. "You can't just will it all away, it doesn't work like that. And you're the one who left…" He sighed, backtracking it a little. "And it's not your fault. None of this is."
She looked back at him. Her jaw was clenched, and her eyes were drained. She looked so tired. He couldn't imagine living her life—everything was planned since day one and she had no say in the matter. She had to hibernate like a secret, a lie. He couldn't blame her for pushing him away or not telling him the whole truth, for it was all she knew how to do. But then again, honesty and trust was key in a relationship of any kind and here they stood, spying on each other for others who wanted to tear apart their enemies.
As if to remind him, he heard something crackle in his ear and then a brief shout of anger. It sounded like Eren or Jean. They were physically trying to defeat their enemy with hand-to-hand combat while Armin and Annie were trying to mentally rip one another down to their core, their weapons their words and minds. It was a cruel way to die and Armin didn't like it all.
"We don't have to do this, you know," he mumbled into the quiet. The whole point of the waiting game was to think, look for the reaction of your opponent to better your attack. When you wait, there is silence and silence often spoke louder than words ever could. With Annie doing the majority of the waiting, she thought the most and had a good sense of her surroundings. He had to act on the spot, despite if it was a good idea or not.
"You don't have to live like this." He walked around the chairs and slowly approached Annie like she was a sleeping bear. She didn't move or flinch at his sudden actions, so he continued inching forward. He held out his hands as sign of surrender and spoke as softly as he could, attempting everything in his power to sound convincing.
"Like what?" Annie challenged, frowning. He noticed her take a hesitant step back.
"Like you are nothing more than a shadow. Just going where people tell you to go, never knowing who you truly are. It's a lonely life you're leading."
"And the life you're leading isn't? Casting yourself as a burden to those around you when they have never seen you in such a way? If anything, you're just as lonely and foolish as I am."
He glared. "At least I can make my own decisions."
She glared back. "And you've chosen to make yourself suffer unnecessary wounds. Stop making other people's problems your concern."
"Hurt is always companied by love; you cannot have one without the other. But you wouldn't know about that, wouldn't you?"
She looked at him as if he just slapped her across the face. "Are you suggesting I never cared?"
"You just left, Annie!" His voice nearly raised to a shout and he gestured to the air as if it was filled with the soul-draining dread and heart-crushing lonesomeness he felt over the last five years. "I didn't know what happened to you; I thought you were dead! You never answered me, left no sort of clue as to where you were. You left like it was easy, like none of it mattered at all…"
He watched her cold, hard orbs melt. Despite the scar on her eyebrow, it was the first ray of hurt he ever saw on her, and it came from him. She waited for him to pick up his trailed off sentence or take it all back, but when he didn't, she sucked in a breath and leaned toward him, the space between them less than a foot long.
"If I stayed or said anything, he would've killed you. They all would've come after you and your body would be chopped into tiny pieces and spread across some field in the middle of nowhere. No one would've known what had become of you—not Eren or Mikasa, not your Queen's henchmen, absolutely no one. So, don't you dare say I never cared because everything I did was for you, all the secrets and sneaking around and locked doors." She hesitated and then whispered out, "That's the one thing you will never know, how much I did care, you fucking oblivious weakling."
The silence was louder than ever. It made the crackling fire seem like nothing more than the drop of a pin. Armin could feel his heart pulse along to the beat of it, slow and dragging. It was as if time itself had stopped for a moment.
He almost didn't hear the sound of a gun go off somewhere in the dead of night outside.
The sound didn't fully register until he saw Annie slowly press a finger to her ear. "Not now, Reiner," she answered. "I'm busy."
His heart picked up speed again as the dull glare returned to her eyes. "Should I tell Reiner I'm coming or do you have something else to say?"
She was giving him another chance. She took a crushing blow and was offering him another shot at either ending this game or letting it drag on some more. She was right—they had been playing this cruel game for a long time now and it would be fair to end it. But how?
He pursed his lips and took another half step to her (she didn't move back this time). "We can leave, right now."
She let out a laugh. It came out in a burst like a small firework and she rolled her eyes along with her head. He saw her pearly white teeth gleam in the fire's faint glow as she pulled back her lips with fishhooks, forming a wobbly smile at the verge of breaking down.
"You really are stupid, aren't you?" she uttered in a strained voice. "You've played spy for too long and now you're just like the rest of us, puppets on our little strings, pawns on an empty chessboard."
"I'm not talking about them anymore, Annie."
"Then you're a greater moron than I thought you were. You think you can just escape like that?" She snapped her fingers together and, at the same time, her right eyebrow twitched.
He copied her action. "Just like that."
As she stared at him with wide eyes, shaking her head slowly, he explained: "You don't think it can happen? You made yourself and others disappear without a trace, more than once. If you can do it, why can't we? I imagine it would be pretty easy to just walk out the palace doors right now, with everyone being preoccupied and whatnot." He waited for a moment. "Everyone here trusts me; they would believe me if I told them anything."
Her wide crazy eyes lowered to his chest, deep in thought. They then snapped back up to his eyes faster than the switch of a light. She was tempted, but she didn't trust him. She obviously had good reason to be suspicious. He softened his gaze and tried again.
His lazily raised his hand and carefully intertwined their fingers together. She watched his bony fingers slowly fall between the gaps of her own trembling ones and clutch at her sharp knuckles, their palms pressed together. He gently stroked his thumb over the back of her hand. The familiar feeling of holding her hand when she was scared washed over him like a hurricane of forgotten memories. He wasn't expecting the sensation and he sighed through the grip on his heart.
"I don't want to do this anymore," he admitted in a subdued tone. "We're not good people anymore; we've done awful things. I know none of it can be taken back and asking for forgiveness is unspeakable at this point. And I know you don't want to do this either." He looked at her again. "So, what's stopping us from leaving it all behind?"
"Raven's Call, what's happening?" Erwin's deep voice rang. "Mind Grenade, are you there?"
The Ice Queen continued to melt before him, the ice chipping off her bones to reveal the warm soul beneath. Her eyes relaxed at the idea—running away, it was something she was well-familiar with, but this time she wouldn't be running alone. He could see the fantasy playing behind those lovely orbs of hers like shadows on a wall.
She blinked up at him and the dream faded. "Where would we go?" she whispered.
He smiled sadly and squeezed her hand. "Anywhere you want. No matter if it's the darkest part of the woods or the deepest slope of the ocean, I'll follow you. If it makes you happy, then so be it. You too deserve happiness."
She stood as rigid as a flagpole as he slowly leaned down, being pulled forward by the overwhelming amounts of memories and sentiments that involved Annie. Once their lips met, his insides nearly burst at the familiarly he tried to forget for so long.
It stared as light as butterfly wings; it made his heart flutter so. The warmth of her skin, the faint smell of her hair, the soft touch of her fingers. The nostalgia vibrated his veins and sparked like wildfire in his brain and he hungered for more, wanting to feel as if nothing changed at all, as if she was still his. With his other hand, he reached up and gently stroked her strong jawline (he wanted to do that since he first laid eyes on her that night). It enticed her to deepen the kiss, loosening her stiff posture and drawing her closer to him.
She untwined their fingers and reached up, grabbing his jacket collar and pulling him downward. At the same time, he smiled into her lips and hugged her waist. He felt her sheer shawl slip to the floor, completely forgotten now. For a while, the only sounds reverberating through Armin's ears were the soft popping of the fire and the tiny gasps of breath between kisses. All was sweet and all was tranquil until he heard the quick slash of something metal near his ear.
Everything stopped—the reminiscences, her hands, his heart—and his eyes peeled open in dreadful anticipation. Annie's ice-cold eyes were locked onto his and, out of the corner of his vision, he spotted Hanji's ballpoint knife resting against the side of his throat, its tiny blade gleaming in the fire's light.
"Would you follow me to the blackest pit of death, you little liar?" Annie's voice sliced the air as she pressed the knife further into his neck.
She didn't push hard, but he could still feel it leave its mark on him. Hanji was right—it was as sharp as glass, as a razor blade and his throat stung as a small drop of blood ran down his neck and soak into his collar. He grunted, terrified of Annie's eyes more than anything. And because he was terrified, he couldn't think rationally. And so, he did what most people would do when struck by fear: wreak havoc.
His hand indistinctively reached out and grabbed the glass lamp sitting on the desk beside them. He tried bashing it against Annie's head, but she saw what he was doing and caught his wrist just in time. She rammed his hand onto the desk, forcing him to let go of the lamp but, as soon as he did, it broke into several large pieces, one of which pierced his pointer finger.
He squeaked at the pain. The blood was gushing out of his hand and he shakingly plucked the glass piece out of his finger. Another burst of pain exploded, and the blood came rushing. He glanced up at Annie who was staring down at him with his knife firmly positioned in the air, ready to strike if he dared to move. He saw the hesitation in those eyes, though, a slice of worry swirling around like a hurricane and he decided to play on that.
His own gaze narrowed, sharp as the knife in her hand. "Well? What are you waiting for? Kill me. You have the upper-hand, so use it."
She only stared. He noticed her lip quivering at the slightest. There was another lie—he was the one in power, even if she was the one holding the knife.
"You seriously want to drag out this game even further? Haven't I given you all the time in the world to do something? Here's your chance to prove yourself a Warrior and you can't even do it! How's this different from all the other times you've stolen lives from other innocent souls? Do something, Annie! Who are you—?"
He was cut off by Annie's quick and unbelievably powerful kick to the face. Her heel sliced at his upper lip and he thought he heard something snap in his nose. He felt warmth spurt from his mouth and nostrils, and he dropped to the floor with a hard thump.
His hand swiped at his mouth and his palm came back red. He spit out a bubble of blood that simmered at the edge of his torn lip and tried crawling away, but she was already on top of him. She sat on his upper chest and had her hands wrapped firmly around his throat. He looked at her dead eyes as her thumbs pressed into his Adam's apple, slowly crushing him.
His hands clutched at her wrists and tried pulling them away, he banged his fists on her thighs which felt like moldings of steel, he reached at her face but could only brush his stained fingers against her flowy bangs. It was all in vain; there was no escape. He panted and grunted and choked on the little clasps of iron around his neck.
"Your neck is so small," Annie stated with no emotion, her eyes as cold as glaciers. "It would be so easy to just snap it in half. But you've always been so small, haven't you? What a dumb choice you've made, going into such a dangerous business as the Survey Corps. It's a lot of hand-to-hand combat which you have no strength in you to even last five minutes. Everyone has to save your weak little ass all the time, don't they?" She looked at him expectantly. "Are you gonna do something or just sit there and die?"
His vision went in and out of blurriness and Annie's voice sounded so far away. He tried saying her name but it came out as a struggled groan with no direction. His eyes began to water and his hands became loose, but he still dragged them across the carpet around him, searching for something that might help him. They came upon the leg of the desk, the wooden bookcase, and then they found the ballpoint knife that Annie had so carelessly dropped.
But it wasn't like her to toss aside such a valuable weapon. Was it purposeful?
He didn't dwell on the thought any longer and plunged it into her midthigh. He felt her blood swell around his fist and her body jolt at the sudden pain. Her grip on him slackened a little and he took a large gulp of air before grabbing on the earring on her right earlobe and yanking down hard. At the same time, a low ticking sound went off.
More blood splattered onto his face as Annie gasped at the sharp pain. She grabbed at his hand and his fingers dug into the side of face, ramming her temple into the edge of the desk right next to her. She slumped to the side, finally giving him enough wiggle-room to pry himself out of her clutches.
He stumbled to his feet and dashed to the other side of the room, to the mantelpiece. He heard Jean's voice yell into his ear "Commander, we've got a—" before being cut off once again. Armin saw his red hand reach out for the book and something tiny fling across the room and onto the mantelpiece. The same ticking noise from earlier sounded again and the next thing he saw was a bright white light.
The world became fuzzy again. Everything moved in slow swirls like that of a watercolor painting. All he heard was a low ringing sound in his ears—he couldn't even hear his own ragged breathing or the crackling of the fire. He felt really hot all of a sudden and his hand seemed to have touched the sun.
He was back on the floor; how did he end up there? He tried blinking back into existence from this watercolor world, but everything was so light, so dizzy. He pushed himself back into a sitting position and used the nearby wall to bring him back onto his feet, but he lost his balance and he felt himself heading face-first to the floor below. And then he felt a familiar pair of arms catch him.
There was a low mumbling sound like someone was talking to him and he thought it was Jean or Eren or Erwin speaking in his ear. He went to respond but instead of feeling his fingers press against his ear, he felt his knuckles. He looked down and realized that his first three fingers were gone; only his pinkie finger and thumb remained, the rest was a bloody stump of bone and burn marks.
"—min," came the same low mumble, a scream in the midst of a waterfall. "Arm—Sorr—Don't—"
He directed his hazy gaze to the noise. Annie had a panic-stricken look on her face as she half-dragged, half-carried him across the parlor. He tried to focus on what she was saying but something behind her captured his attention. The mantelpiece and the wall behind it had a decent size hole in it, about the size of a stovetop. Little flames licked at the remnants of the mantelpiece and bits of wood and glass and stone sprinkled the floor. The book was nowhere in sight.
Was there a bomb? Armin thought to himself as Annie gently lowered him onto one of the chairs in front of the fireplace. He studied the damage with an acute interest; he saw Annie's now terrified eyes locked onto him and felt her hands poke at his face, chest, and hands like a trapped mouse, unsure of where to go. She glanced over her shoulder, saw the other fire, and grabbed the sealed wine bottle beside him on the tiny, circular table. She cracked it open by slamming the neck onto the broken mantelpiece and then dumped its contents onto the tiny flames.
Armin's head rolled to the side and his intact hand dropped from the arm of the very stiff chair. He felt something sharp lightly graze against his fingertip—more glass. How much damage was done exactly? Was it from the broken lamp, the wine bottle, or from something else? He tried focusing his gaze on the locked door of the parlor room (which didn't appear ravaged in any way) but his attention was drawn back to Annie, who had carefully tilted his face back to her.
He never saw such fear before in those eyes. It was strange to see her this way, mouth sputtering with all sorts of excuses, tears sliding down her cheeks like honey. He never saw her cry before. He didn't know what to think of it. Why was she crying anyway?
Her voice was clearer this time: "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry. You pulled on my earring and-and I didn't know what to do. I-I didn't—Armin, I didn't mean it."
She continued babbling to herself in half broken sobs as she scanned his body once more. She cried out a strangled howl when she lifted his left hand, the bloody stump of a thing. He still felt dizzy, like he was full of hot air as he watched her hurriedly rip apart the end of her dress and tie the long piece in some sort of knot around his hand. Her fingers trembled and tears splashed onto the fabric. God, he never seen her so distressed.
"Annie." He sounded like a fish out of water, like his lungs were full of smoke. Either saliva or blood drippled from his cracked lips and his voice was barely above a whisper, but she still heard it. Her head snapped up—black eye makeup was now clouded beneath her eyes and around her cheeks, and dark blood ran down the side of her neck from her torn earlobe. Her eyes searched his face once more and he could see her heart shredding itself apart.
"I'm so sorry," she moaned again. Her shaking fingers reached out and lightly stroked at what he thought was his cheek, but he didn't feel anything. In fact, he couldn't feel his face at all; all was numb and warm. He wished he could feel her, one last time, but wasn't sure if that was possible.
Forgetting that he hardly had a left hand, his pinkie finger dragged itself across her palm. He luckily could feel that, her warm, rough, small hand. It felt nice, just like old times. He watched her eyes dart toward their hands. He could tell that she wanted to grab it, but, of course, there was nothing to hold. She looked back at him and held his tired gaze for a long moment.
I know you didn't mean it, he tried saying with his eyes. It wasn't personal, none of this is.
Tears welled in her eyes again. Her lips twitched and the muscles in her throat jerked. But something came over her, a sort of understanding. Although fear and self-loathing was as vibrant as ever, she looked at him as if he were her entire world. She reached up once again and brushed his bangs out of his eyes. Her finger outlined the other side of his face, the hair in his eyebrow, the creases around his eyes, the roundness of his cheeks. It felt so refreshing and he knew he couldn't let her drag on any longer because then this would be too hard to do.
So, before she could do something dangerous like hold or kiss him, he picked up the piece of glass at the floor and swiftly shoved it into her stomach.
Her body lurched forward and her eyes widened. A little grunt escaped her lips as the glass piece slid like butter into her abdomen. He didn't want to look into her eyes and see the betrayal play across them, but he had no choice. He took responsibility for his actions and watched her peer at him. It wasn't hurt or shock or anger that stared back at him, nothing that would cut him as much as the glass in her stomach. Instead there was easement and expectedness and familiarity. It was as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
The piece was much longer than he expected (about a foot long), so he pushed it in deeper. Another gasp flew from Annie and she nearly fell into his lap. He stood up from the chair and continued pushing, reeling her backwards until she flopped into the chair across from him. Her hands encircled his wrist tightly, but she wasn't trying to pull it out or move anywhere for that matter. She just held him in place and gazed at him with that relaxed look.
He stopped when he was sure that the glass had gone through her completely and stabbed at the chair's velvet cushion. He then hauled it out of her in two yanks and they both watched the blood ooze out of her like faucet. It stained her red dress to a deep black color and it spread around her tummy and pelvis quickly, making its way to her thighs. Armin felt as if he just stabbed himself—Annie stared at her wound and then peeked up at him hovering over her like he was a lovely garden among a wasteland of horrors.
His own tears blinded his vision again. I can't let you die like this.
He raised the tainted glass in the air and went to drive it into her heart but Annie's trembling hand halted him.
"W-Wait," she croaked. She coughed and a spittle of blood decorated her very red lips. "Let me suffer for what I've done."
Armin shook his head. Let her suffer? Why on earth would he let her do that? The whole point of him being appointed her killer was for it to be quick; it was the whole idea of a lovers' death. If it was anyone else, they would surely let her bleed out for hours and hours—Levi would watch her struggle for the loss of his previous squad and Jean would let the blood run dry before leaving the room for the death of his long lost love, Marco Bodt—but it was Armin. He wouldn't, he couldn't just leave her like roadkill. She meant so much more than that, despite what she's done.
"Please," she begged. "Just…sit here with me. Please."
He looked at her bloodied palm reaching out to him. How heavily stained it was. Was the blood ever cleaned from her hands? And those eyes, pleading for him and only for him. For a moment, he wished he never met her and then they wouldn't be here right now. But would he ever know the true meaning of love if they never met?
He swallowed a cry. This wasn't about him anyway; this was her dying wish and he would do as she wanted. He let the glass slip from his fingers, fall to his knees, and then folded her little hand into his, stroking his thumb over her knuckles.
She sighed at the feeling and he thought he saw a little smirk tug at her lips. "Thank you."
They sat, waiting. The fire continued popping and the silence was as unbearable as ever. Armin was surprised that no one came running when the tiny bomb went off. He peered at his injured hand, Annie's makeshift tourniquet still wrapped firmly around him. He wondered how bad his face was—if it was anything like his hand, people would probably have a hard time believing he was in fact Armin Arlert, codename Mind Grenade.
"I'm sorry for hurting you."
He glanced up. Annie was staring at him with another hopeless look in her eyes. "I didn't know you cared so much."
It hurt when he moved his lips and hurt even more when he tried to speak, but he figured they both had to hear it said aloud: "I still do."
She lowered her eyes. "I know that now. Which is why it's kind of hard to look at you." She sighed again. "I'm sorry I did this to you. You shouldn't be here."
It felt like fire seared across his face, yet he still tugged at his lips in a sad smile. I probably would've done something stupid sooner or later. Don't blame yourself for the choices I made.
"I know. I'm really sorry, Armin."
He squeezed her hand. I know. Just try to relax now. He looked at her earnestly. And I'll see you again.
He watched her eyes until they finally glazed over.
With a heavy heart, he got back on his feet, feeling like Atlas with the weight of the world on his back. He gently laid her hand over her stomach, now black with blood, and put her other hand on top of it. He rested his lips on the scar over her eyebrow and tucked a stand of hair behind her ear. He looked at her icy orbs one more time before brushing his fingertips over her eyelids, bringing an end to the infamous Ice Queen.
His eyes dragged to his wristwatch. 11:02 PM. It took Annie and the Warriors about an hour to arrive, thirty minutes to bring her into the parlor, another twenty to plunge the glass into her body, and it took her about forty-five minutes to die.
"It's done, Commander," Levi suddenly announced in his earpiece. Armin was a little surprised it was still working. "Loyal Scythe and Goliath are exterminated."
Armin felt no joy or sense of accomplishment at those words when he thought he should.
"Excellent job, Raven's Call," Erwin answered.
He could hear Hanji sigh into her microphone like the rush of a river.
"Mind Grenade, are you there?" Eren piped up, worry lacing his voice.
Armin looked at Annie's body. In spite of the gore that coated her, she looked fast asleep, lost in some pretty dream.
"Yes, I'm fine," he croaked back. "The Ice Queen…is also dead."
His earpiece vibrated with the different voices talking over one another. He heard Sasha say "Whoa, is she really?", Eren smile back "That's great. Good job, buddy", and Connie question "Ugh, you don't sound fine." The static eventually died down and Erwin asked, "Do you need medical assistance, Mind Grenade?"
Armin nodded as he stumbled toward the door. "Yes, sir."
"Alright, stay where you are," Jean replied. He sounded out of breath like he either took a beating or he was currently running. "We're coming for you."
"Yeah, hang in there, man," Eren added. "Stay with us."
Armin's strides got slower and he started feeling dizzy again. He saw four doorknobs instead of one and he swayed from side to side like any helpless drunk. Physical pain began settling into his bones, but nothing could compare to the mind grenade he, not Annie, threw in this little parlor room.
He managed to unlock the door, but he tripped over the threshold and landed smack against the shiny tile flooring of the palace halls. He swam in and out of consciousness for God knows how long before he heard rapid footfalls coming his way and several hands tug on his body. Voices echoed in his ears like some distant knockings in a never-ending cave and he eventually gave up on trying to hold on.
After five incredibly long years, the waiting game came to its promised brutal end. But, even now, there was no declared winner.