Author's Note: Yay! Chapter 4! I love when I'm in a writing mood. The semester is almost over. I've got a 4.0. Life is good. Let's do this thing! A big, big thank you to Empryexl and Miouhaneun for the reviews!

Empryexl - I haven't actually read that many fanfics that even mention Zeke. Are they really painting him as a psycho? I feel like he's so trying to do the right thing all the time, haha. I've always seen him as an altruist. Kind of like what Armin mentions in one of the chapters of AOT, there are people who act with complete disregards for themselves for the sake of the greater good, even if it means they end up being monsters by the end of it. I feel like Zeke's totally in that camp (just like Erwin-oooo similarities). Yea, I'm gonna tell you right now, I'm 100% not prepared for that shitshow. Ya'll might have to provide some emotional support to me as I'm writing it.

Miouhaneun - Ah! The Hal reference isn't a real one, but it might feel familiar because the same studio that put out AOT in 2013 put out a movie called Hal (also in 2013). Totally recommend that movie, by the way. It was super cute. I just liked the name Hal and it sounded like it would be a good fit for an owl. Or you might be thinking of the hero Helos in Marleyean legend because I just did that to myself while trying to figure out where I came up with Hal, lol! I really like Zeke, too. Literally breaks my heart every time I think about how limited his time is. Bleeeh don't go, Zeke. Be awesome forever.

Chapter 4

Dearest Brother,

I miss you terribly. I have so much to tell you. I outlined all of my discoveries of this place in my official letter, but I have even more to say in this one.

Father is alive. It's really him, and he's really alive. He has the Attack Titan. It was given to him by Eren Kruger, who was the Owl. Mom isn't with him, though. She was turned into a pure titan. Maybe I can find her. Maybe there's a way to save her. Father's different. He's not the man that we knew. He found some woman named Carla, less than two years after losing mom. He has a four-year-old son named Eren. I asked to stay with him, and he said I had to be kept a secret. He's hiding me. I want to forgive him. I want to believe…. I don't know what to believe. He's just different. I'm going to keep meeting with him. I missed him so much. Maybe he thought we were dead, too.

He loves us. I know he does.

The man who took me in is kind. I want to learn more about the Survey Corps from him. I'll write you as soon as I know more. I love you. Stay safe.

With love,

Cassandra Yeager

"Which flowers are traditional?" Cassandra asked, eyeing the colorful field.

"The white ones." Beth reminded her with a giggle. Cassandra nodded, adjusting her floppy straw hat. Her white, strapless dress rippled delicately in the wind as she picked a handful of flowers. "All done?" Beth asked, holding her own makeshift bouquet.

"Yea." The sound of a bell filled the air.

"We better go before we miss them!" Beth hooked her arm with Cassandra's, and the two twelve-year-old girls ran toward Shiganshina's gate. Their sandals clopped against the stone pavement as they maneuvered through the crowd, making their way to the front, and watching the Survey Corps trickle in. The soldiers were sullen, just as they had been the last few times that Cassandra had seen them return from an expedition. They were broken and beaten, more than just physically. "There he is!" Beth said excitedly, running off toward her father. Cassandra observed loved ones greeting each other, handing off small bouquets of handpicked white flowers. It was a sweet tradition, one that she had been made aware of rather rudely.

Cassandra remembered waiting for Keith to return from his first expedition after their encounter. She had caught a girl with short blond hair eyeing her strangely. Cassandra had ignored it, until the girl nudged her. 'Don't you have any flowers?' the blond had asked with a raised eyebrow. Cassandra had just shaken her head, unwilling to exchange words with the unpleasant thing. 'You must not be waiting for anyone! But I could have sworn you were, at least by the way you keep staring at the gate.' the blond had deduced. Cassandra had told her that she was waiting for someone. The blond just stared back at her with mystified blue eyes. Then she had done something kind: she separated her bouquet of flowers and handed half to Cassandra. 'Here, take them. Whoever you're waiting for should know that you were thinking about them while they were gone. I always bring my dad flowers.'

The blond was there when Keith was preparing for his second expedition. She made her way to Cassandra upon noticing her bare hands once again. She placed a pink flower in them without asking. 'It's tradition to give them a flower when they leave, too. That way, they know there's someone at home waiting for them. Someone they need to survive for.' The soldiers talked amongst each other restlessly, and Cassandra expressed her concerns about the fleeting time to the blond. 'You can still catch him! Hurry!' Cassandra had taken off at full speed, reaching the front of the convoy where the commander stood. He was surprised to see her, and she felt nervous at her extremely public display of affection. The soldiers had fallen silent, and now they were all staring at her. Cassandra had adjusted her hat to cover her face and quickly approached Keith's horse, holding up the pink flower for him. He smiled down at her, taking it and securing it in the button holes of his jacket. They didn't exchange any words. They didn't need to. Cassandra ran back into the crowd, hearing a few coos about how adorable she was from the soldiers. 'Wow! You're really fast!' The blond had found her again, and Cassandra thanked her for her kindness. 'O, no problem! My name's Beth. What's your name?' It had been Beth's kind gesture that allowed the two girls to speak, but it was their shared anxiety that built their friendship. They were both helplessly waiting for someone they cared for, picking flowers in hopes that upon the return of the Survey Corps, they would have someone to hand them to.

Cassandra nervously made her way to Keith when the convoy stopped for a moment. He watched her carefully, and she placed a hand on her head to keep her hat from falling when she stared straight up at him. The two exchanged a similar glance. It was a poker face of sorts, unreadable by anyone else. She held out the white flowers for him, and he took them from her small hand, one corner of his mouth twitching up into a lopsided smile.

"Welcome home." She said it with such a straight face that if Keith had not known her, he would have doubted the sincerity of her words. But he had quickly learned that Cassandra was much like a cat: somehow both curious and aloof, both confident and skittish. And much like a cat, her perplexing emotions made her no less loyal or caring. He was happy to have her. It gave him something to look forward to when he returned home. The jeers of the crowd often haunted him. He was beginning to think Grisha may have been wrong in his analysis: Keith was no one special. He was not chosen. At least, that's what he thought until this tiny girl wandered into his care. Keith carefully tucked the flowers into his breast pocket, holding out his free hand to Cassandra. She took it and began walking with him to the stables.

He thought about the few months that he had shared with her. The first time she had seen him meditating, she had circled him curiously, finally taking a seat across from him. She had crossed her legs and mimicked his position and breathing, stopping every once in a while to cautiously open one eye, making sure they were still in sync. When she would find her green orbs staring into his golden ones, she would quickly close them, squeezing them shut tight. But her curiosity could not be contained. It would get the best of her, and she would carefully lift her left eyelid, peeking at him with one half closed eye. They never exchanged a word. He never gave her directions. Eventually, she learned to meditate just like him. It brought a smile to Keith's face.

She had a similar reaction when she first accompanied him to the military barracks. He left her in the library while he completed his training. She had wandered out one day and found him out in the field. She took a seat by the edge of the dusty clearing, carefully observing his technique. Eventually, she gathered the confidence to occupy the post next to him. She watched his kicks and copied them exactly, with a strength that Keith had not expected from such a small girl. He expected to give her directions this time, but they were wildly unnecessary. Even in the white dress he had bought for her, she was able to keep up with his runs and follow his movements. It was like she had been training for years—but that couldn't be possible. She was so young. Keith asked her where she learned her technique. She simply replied that she had picked up on it while watching him. It was hard to believe, but if she truly had learned so quickly, then she was something special. She may even have been chosen. They often trained together; as usual, without a word between them.

Their relationship was not devoid of conversation. Perhaps all of the silences were made up for when Keith would teach her about their world and the scouts. It reminded him so much of his conversations with Grisha. Cassandra's questions and analyses were shockingly similar to Grisha's. He often thought they even looked a bit similar, but he knew he was just working himself up. Cassandra would hang onto every word that Keith uttered: repeating it, memorizing it. Eventually, she even began to show his mannerisms. She would watch the way he sat, the way he ate, the way he walked, and copied them precisely. Perhaps it was her way of showing admiration. She clearly thought there was something special about him, something worth mimicking. And perhaps that's all it meant to be special: to have someone else see you as such. Keith squeezed Cassandra's hand. She sped up her already quick pace, closing the distance between them. She needed to walk much faster to keep up with the strides of his long legs.

"I want to join the Survey Corps, just like you." she said to him. The brim of her hat obscured her face from his view. Not that it mattered; her face rarely changed. He wondered if this was what it was like to have a child: to watch them grow into the best version of oneself. It filled him with a pride that he had never felt before.

"You'll have to join the Training Corps first." he explained.

"I remember." she replied. "I picked up a form while you were gone."

"Did you?" She stopped, pulling against Keith's hand and forcing him to stop as well. She pulled back her hat, holding it in place again as she lifted her chin up to him.

"I need a full name to register…." He waited for her to finish the thought. "I don't remember my last name." It was a problem. Keith didn't expect what came next. "Can I use Shadis?" The surprise must have been clear to see on his face. Cassandra quickly reacted with nervousness. The minute changes in her face gave her away. Her lips parted slightly, and for a fraction of a second, her brows drew together in a concerned manner.

"You want to use my last name?"

"If…if you don't mind. I don't have to. I can think of another one." she quickly offered.

"No." he cut her off, a smile drew across his lips. "I would be honored." The wind blew, throwing Cassandra's long black hair into her face, obscuring it from Keith's view, but not before he caught her small, cute smile. It was a rare sight, but one worth waiting for.

Cassandra fiddled nervously with the pink flowers in her hand. Pink flowers so that they'll remember they have someone who loves them. She recited the meaning in her head over and over again, committing it to memory. She sat uncomfortably on the wooden chair. It wobbled from side to side when she shifted her weight even a little. She cursed the uneven legs. She pulled the chair into the sun again. It was too cold in the shade, but too warm in the sun. So, she was stuck alternating between the two while she waited.

"Sorry I'm late." her father's voice called out. She looked up and followed his quick movement to the opposite end of her table. He was always late. She had stopped standing to greet him after their first few meetings. It had been hurtful, to say the least, when she would reach for a hug and he would quickly brush past her, explaining that they couldn't do anything to draw suspicion to themselves. She had nodded like she understood, but she didn't. Wasn't their meeting at this tea shop suspicious enough? She watched him order green tea for himself and black tea for her. "It's your favorite, right?" he asked with a smile. She forced a smile and nodded. It wasn't. Green tea with jasmine pearls and a spoonful of honey was her favorite. Her mom would always make it for her when she was sick. Her mom knew that. Zeke knew that. Why didn't her father?

"I brought you flowers." she said, filling the lull in their conversation. Not that there was often conversation. He had asked her everything he wanted to know during their first two meetings. Every meeting after that dragged on with tense moments of silence and awkward banter. It made her realize how little they truly knew about each other.

"That's very sweet of you." Grisha smiled and took them from her. "These are beautiful."

"My friend Beth told me that she gives these pink flowers to her father before every expedition. She wants him to remember that he has someone who loves him." Cassandra watched him, hoping for some reaction that she could read. Anything that she could twist as confirmation of his undying love for her. He obliged her, stroking her cheek for a brief moment. And she fully indulged herself for that brief moment, closing her eyes and sinking into his touch. She had missed his affection. She smiled, genuinely this time, exposing the dimples in her cheeks that only appeared when her smile was wide enough. They drank their tea in silence. Grisha, as usual, finished well in advance of her. He paid and stood to take his leave. "When can I see you again?" she asked quickly.

"In two weeks." he replied hurriedly.

"O, I might—" She never had the opportunity to tell him that she might be in training by then. He was gone too quickly. Something possessed Cassandra to follow him this time. She just wanted to see where he lived, in case she couldn't meet him then. What if she needed to reach him? She didn't want to trouble him with it. She would just quietly follow him and retain the information, just in case.

It was a mistake. She shouldn't have done it. It was devastating to stand outside of his open kitchen window and watch him pull another woman into his embrace. The woman asked Grisha about the flowers, and he explained that they were beautiful, just like her, so he had to have them. Cassandra turned away, making her way back to Keith's apartment, fighting back the tears. When she was far enough away, she began to rationalize his actions away. He was a busy man. He couldn't stay with her forever. He was a doctor. He needed to get back home to his wife and say those things to her so she wouldn't be suspicious. That's all. Those flowers were still a token of his daughter's love. He loves us. I know he does.

"Cassandra, come here for a moment." Keith called as soon as she returned. She followed his voice to the dining room, sitting down next to him and glancing at the paperwork scattered in front of him. "I turned in your forms today. Your training will start in a month." One month. She could see him once again.

"You turned them in for me? I could have done it." she responded, curiously tilting her head at him.

"It was no trouble." he said with a fleeting smile, patting her head. "I made sure they knew the name Shadis was no coincidence. You shouldn't have any trouble once you enlist." It was a sweet gesture. She wondered what he had told them—how he had explained their relation. Cassandra slipped away to her room, waiting until she heard Keith finally retreat into his for the night. She opened her dresser, fishing out the blank piece of paper that had safely been tucked between her clothes. She snuck out of her room to the fading fireplace. It was still hot, but the flames had died down considerably. It was perfect. Cassandra held the paper over the heat, exposing the hidden lettering. She hadn't had a chance to read it with how often Keith had been home lately. She had barely managed to slip the carrier off of Hal before Keith had walked in the other day. She had lied, explaining that she found the owl outside, and it had followed her home. She had asked to keep Hal, and Keith had surprisingly agreed, stating that she needed a companion at home with her. She could hear Keith snoring in the other room. She didn't bother to hide the letter, but instead, sat in front of the fireplace and read it.

Dearest Cassandra,

I'm glad you've been taken in by a kind man. Was it the same one who found you? I am interested to learn more about the Survey Corps as well. We had never considered that they would wander outside the walls and engage with the titans.

The news of our father is surprising as well. Don't be fooled, Cassandra. He is as detestable a man as he has always been. I warn you, separate yourself from him. He will bring you nothing but pain. He must have named his new son after the Owl. Let him train his new warrior. He has no further need for us, and we have no further use for him.

I know you love him deeply, Cassandra. I know you don't see him as the monster I do, but I swear I would never lie to you. I love you. I wish I could protect you from him. If you do one thing for me, do this: leave him before he hurts you again. I don't want you to experience it: how he treats those he has little use for.

If you plan on trying to find mother, put it out of your head. There is no saving her. She's gone. What remains is an unthinking, unfeeling beast who hungers for flesh.

Take care of yourself, Cassandra. Do not be led astray from your mission. I sent you to Paradis to keep you safe. Do not fall into these old traps and risk your life. It is the only thing I hold dear.

With love,

Zeke Yeager

She hugged the letter to her chest. Tear drops had already begun to stain it as she read. She glanced at the dining room table, still stacked with her confirmed military forms. It occurred to her then that in the few short months that she had known Keith, he had been more of a father to her than Grisha ever had. Maybe Zeke was right, maybe all of their father's words had been just that: words. He had never showed them how much he loved them. Maybe they had just been a means to an end.

Cassandra watched the man sitting in his usual spot. He looked around, returning to his menu when he found nothing. He looked so sad. She wanted to comfort him. She had come just to see if he would—at least, that's what she had told herself. She had written to Zeke again, promising to heed his warning. She was loyal to her brother, and though she had never been forced to take a side, she realized now that she was loyal to him even above their father. She placed her hand over the scar on her chest. It hurt to leave him there, sitting alone, but she had made a promise to her brother, and her promise to Zeke was absolute. She turned away from the scene and left, returning to her new home.

"What should I call you?" Cassandra broke the unusual silence of their dinner.

"Hm?" Keith set down his spoon and looked up at her.

"If someone asks me what I am to you…what should I say?" she clarified. She could see the wheels in his head turning. She thought about all of the times he had held her hand in public. How often he had lifted her up onto his horse upon his return from a mission and let her ride it to the stables as he served as a guide. How often he had patted her head or gently put his hand on her small shoulder. He had even let her cling to his leg from time to time when she was especially nervous. "I suppose it wouldn't be too far of a stretch to call you my father." she offered. She didn't look up at him, too anxious to meet his gaze. She hesitated before her next sentence, sucking on her bottom lip as she did when she was feeling particularly self-conscious. "…if I had a father…I would want one like you." It broke her heart to speak those words, but only momentarily. The pain was soon lifted by the gentle touch of Keith's massive hand. It landed on top of hers softly, and their eyes met. He was smiling, not the strained lopsided smile that he often did, but really smiling.

"I would be proud to have a daughter like you."