Author's Notes: In this fic, Pieck is 16, Bert is 11.

This is set sometime before RBA+M get sent on their Paradis mission. They have not inherited their titans yet.

Mentally, I imagine Pieck to call Bert's name as "Ber-to" (like how she does "Pokko") but Berto looks weird typed out so I'll stick with her calling him Bert.

There's been some discourse on how Pieck and Bertholdt are similar in some ways (appearance-wise, with their dark hair and features, and also personality-wise since they're relatively more mild-mannered compared to the other warriors!) So I thought it would be interesting to explore this BeruPiku found family siblings dynamic for Bertholdt Week!

It was another normal day at the internment area at Liberio – well, as normal as things could get there.

The sun's rays shone against the uneven cobblestone path as Pieck made her way to the Hoover household.

Unlike the Galliards who lived fairly near the city's square, the Hoovers stayed closer to the outskirts, near the tall metal fences that stretched menacingly towards the sky.

The very view of the fences – and the guards stationed near the entrance and exit zones – was never a desired sight for Pieck. How could the freedom that lay outside those fences be so easily within sight, yet so direly out of reach?

The built infrastructure around Liberio was concrete evidence of how inhumanely they were treated by the rest of Marley. Like dangerous animals that needed to be caged in for the rest of the populace's safety.

Stop it! Pieck chastised herself, consciously pulling herself out of her negative reflections. Today's meant to be a lighthearted day, to cheer Bertholdt up.

Bertholdt had been absent in the previous warrior candidate training session. To be honest, Pieck hadn't noticed until their debrief when Magath announced that Zeke scored the highest on their marksmanship that day. That caught the younger trainees' attention immediately.

"Huh? Not Bertholdt? Oof—" Porco blurted out without thinking, earning him a subtle elbow from Marcel. "No offense, Zeke."

"None taken," Zeke chuckled while adjusting his glasses. "What happened to Hoover today, anyway?"

"Bertholdt's dad had an accident and was sent to the infirmary last night. Bertholdt's taking care of him at home now." It was Reiner who answered. Annie nodded silently, as though to affirm this.

A somber silence ensued – the rest of the trainees knew Bertholdt's father's health was a major reason he signed up as a warrior candidate. It was absurd that he had to sign up to be an actual child soldier just so his father could get decent access to healthcare – but alas, those were the cards life had dealt him.

What an irony – in order to be treated with basic human dignity at home, we have to become monsters to our foreign enemies, Pieck found herself thinking. Similar to Bertholdt, she signed up as a warrior candidate to get her father sorely needed medical treatment as well.

Even though they didn't speak much, Pieck felt that their similar circumstances made them have something in common than with the other candidates.

With this in mind, Pieck decided to make the trip to the Hoovers' that day. In a rucksack, she brought some oatmeal and fruits she got from the market for Mr Hoover, and some other snacks and trinkets her humble warrior candidate's allowance could afford.

If we aren't there for each other, who will? Certainly not Marley, much less anyone else.

Before she knew it, Pieck reached the Hoover's residence – a narrow, two-story house that had definitely seen better days. The paint on the house's exterior was chipped and faded in some parts; cobwebs could be seen forming at the corners of the front windows.

Pieck gingerly knocked the brass knocker against the wooden main door.

"Hello, anyone home?"

"Oh—just a minute!"

The door opened moments later, revealing a rather frazzled and harried Bertholdt. His normally neat hair was somewhat askew, with what looked like powder smeared on his left cheek.

"Pieck? Did Magath send you?" he asked, olive-green eyes owlishly wide and confused.

Even though he was half a decade younger than her, Bertholdt was already half a head taller than Pieck and there were no signs of him slowing down anytime soon.

He regarded her quietly for a moment before hesitantly continuing, "do we need to prepare something for the next training?"

"Oh no, please don't worry about training today. I came over to leave these for you and your dad," Pieck replied, gesturing to her rucksack.

"Ah, thank you, Pieck! Gosh. Where are my manners? Please come in."

Pieck navigated through the narrow hallway that led to the kitchen. There were some sparse pictures that hung on the wall—Bertholdt and a medal for an archery competition, a candid shot of him and his father with a lopsided birthday cake, some sketches of turtles and dinosaurs he probably did when he was much younger.

What caught Pieck's eye was a family picture that looked like it was taken in a studio. It featured a visibly younger Mr Hoover standing behind a woman who was presumably Mrs Hoover carrying a toddler-sized Bertholdt.

It was a mystery where Mrs Hoover was now. Once over lunch, in a conversation about family, Bertholdt shared with the other warrior candidates that he lived alone with his dad. When he was around 4, his mother disappeared without a trace, without leaving a note or an explanation. Nobody knew if she was even dead or alive—if she was taken away by the Marleyan army or simply abandoned them for a better life.

Bertholdt had been so young, he barely had any memories of her and could not even remember her voice. Since then, Bertholdt and his father only had each other—much like Pieck and her dad, Annie and hers, as well as Reiner and his mom. Among the warrior parents, the candidates were seemingly the most sympathetic to Mr Hoover, with his gentle smile and quiet demeanor that softened his sometimes haunted expression (the former of which everyone agreed that Bertholdt very much inherited).

Reiner's and Annie's parents on the other hand … Pieck sighed. Those two blondes had a different kind of familial struggle on their plate.

Pieck settled her items neatly onto the narrow kitchen counter. "Have you or your father had anything to eat yet, Bertholdt?"

Bertholdt grimaced sheepishly. "N-no, not yet. I was in the middle of trying to make some bread, but I think I messed something up." He gestured towards the mound of dough he was presumably working on before Pieck arrived.

It looked far too … solid to be uncooked dough, and would probably be hard as a rock after he put it in the oven.

"Ah … how does oatmeal sound, Bertholdt?"

"That sounds great, thank you."

A few short moments later, Pieck and Bertholdt were having cinnamon oatmeal at the dining table. Bertholdt brought a bowl to his father who was resting in bed, who had croaked his gratitude to Pieck.

"Thanks for the food Pieck, you're a lifesaver."

"Don't worry about it, Bert. My dad gets sick sometimes too, so I know how tough it can get if you're doing everything all alone."

"Oh—yes, how's your dad these days?"

"His condition has gotten better lately; he still needs a walking stick to get around, but he doesn't complain of joint pain as much thanks to his treatments."

"That's good to hear."

Pieck hummed to herself in quiet agreement. "You know, I hope I'm not speaking out of line, but you're a good son, Bert—not a lot of people would do what you're doing and put their lives on the line for their parents."

Bert looked up from scooping his oatmeal and his usually genial eyes shone with unshed tears. "I mean, my dad doesn't have anyone else now—and this was all I could do for him. You know how it feels too, right Pieck?"

"Other than my dad, I don't really have anyone else either," Bertholdt continued. "Well, now there's Reiner, Marcel, Porco—and of course, you. I'm grateful to have met all of you, to be honest."

"I think you missed someone, Bert," Pieck giggled.

Bertholdt furrowed his brows. "... Zeke?" He shivered. "I know you get along with him, but not going to lie, he gives me the creeps."

"No, you goof," Pieck's eyes glittered as she laughed. "Surely you didn't forget about Annie?"

Bertholdt flushed visibly. "Oh, oh no, not at all—I love that Annie's in my life too."

" Love ?" Pieck's cackles escalated. Bertholdt flushed a deeper shade of pink and suddenly found the pattern of the wood grains on the dining table fascinating.

Pieck knew it was borderline mean of her to push Bertholdt's buttons given the occasion of her visit, but she couldn't help but dote on him in this way. She wasn't the only one who noticed his (failed attempts at) subtle lingering glances at Annie during their training sessions, and if nudging them together could bring them even just a tinge of hope and joy that was almost impossible for someone in their situation to have … then why not?

Pieck was older than most of the candidates and while she didn't feel the impulse to mother (or smother) them— how could she, if she barely knew her own mother? —she often found herself protective of them and hoped the best outcome would emerge for each of their circumstances.

"You know Bert, being a girl in the army is pretty hard," Pieck said in a singsong manner. "We have to be as fast and tough as all of you, and still keep our feminine charm."

Bertholdt looked at Pieck with an expression that was the unique combination of discomfort and confusion. "I-I think you and Annie are pretty feminine, Pieck. You don't need to worry about that." Oh Bertholdt, always quick to reassure, even if he didn't have the full gist of what was going on.

Pieck sighed dramatically for effect. "Oh really? I think our need to tie our hair up and wear these ugly khaki shorts … it's just not it, you know? What if we look so much like gorilla men that no one will want to marry us someday?"

"Gorilla? Pieck … after you inherit your titan … there's no sense to get married if you only have thirteen years, right? Magath won't let you, anyway."

Pieck reached out and smacked Bertholdt's head lightly with the back of her wooden spoon. "Why are you so unromantic, you egg-head! Thirteen-year timeline or not, Magath can't stop us from getting married if we wanted to!"

Nursing the side of his head Pieck had hit, Bertholdt muttered, "I … think he actually can … we're literally military property …"

Pieck gave him a pointed look and scrunched her nose, before digging into her rucksack. "We'll see if you still sing the same tune in a couple of years when you're on a faraway deserted island with your one true love~"

"Pieck …"

"Anyway! While I was at the market, one of the merchants brought this in from outside Liberio."

Pieck held up a case of nail polish with different shades. "These vials are called nail polish! They're supposed to go on your nails and make them look stylish and pretty for a few weeks. Here, look at one."

Pieck handed Bertholdt a bottle of purple nail polish. He undid the lid and winced at the sharp smell that emerged.

"... and girls put these on their fingernails?"

"Yup, although anyone with fingernails could, really. I was hoping to do Annie's nails—remember, the whole feeling feminine thing—but as you know, she has a bit of a short temper so I didn't want to mess things up with her the first time around."

"Okay …" Bertholdt said tentatively as he waited for the other shoe to drop.

"So, since I need some practice with how to brush these on, I was wondering if I could try it out with you? It's different trying it out on myself versus on someone else's hands."

Narrowing his eyes at Pieck, Bertholdt reasoned, "I don't want to attract attention from the others though. Porco or Zeke are bound to tease me about it."

"Don't worry about them," Pieck responded with a wink. "I'll make sure they won't. And, think of it as a favour to Annie. You'd be helping her feel nice and pretty!"

"... by offering myself as a test subject … to you …"

"Honestly? Better than Marley's experiments, right?"

Bertholdt sighed yet another of his longsuffering sighs. "Well, that's fair … whatever this is, can't be worse than poking needles in my feet."

Pieck was surprised Bertholdt relented so suddenly. In another life, she imagined that he wouldn't have trouble making friends or warming up to people.

Pieck quickly got to work, pulling out the vials of nail polish on the dining table for Bertholdt to choose from. "How about this shade of ocean green? Matches your eyes."

"Sure Pieck, that's fine."

"You know, Pieck, you and Reiner are more alike than you think."

Pieck raised an eyebrow. "I've never heard of that comparison before … how so?"

"He likes to twist my arm when we get into sparring. You, on the other hand, are good at twisting people's arms … but using your words."

Pieck giggled, eyes glittering as she finished painting his pinky finger, fanning it lightly with a spare pamphlet she found lying around. "Well, I don't know about that, Bert. I thought you only wanted to help me out, for Annie's sake?"

An eyeroll. " … there you go again, Pieck."

"Okay, all done!" Pieck inspected her handiwork. "Not too bad, if I say so myself!"

Bertholdt looked at the manicure Pieck did. The sage-green colour was subtle and not too eye-catching (as he wanted); it somewhat blended together with his tanned skin. He admired the little sheen his nails now had against the light.

"These look nice, Pieck. I can see how girls can like doing this. Thank you."

"No problem, Bert. In fact, you were the one who helped me," Pieck replied, patting him lightly on the shoulder as she got up to make a move. From his kitchen window, Pieck could see that the sun was due to set in an hour or two—warrior candidate or not, it was a risk to travel alone after nightfall. Bertholdt walked her to his front door.

"You and your dad take care, alright, Bert? I'll see you at training next week?"

"Yeah, I'll be there next week. Thanks again!"

As he got ready for bed that evening, Bertholdt brushed his teeth and washed his face, careful not to get any scratches on his newly manicured nails.

He genuinely liked how they looked despite his initial hesitance; they made his nails look neat and he liked looking at the colour. Pieck described the colour as ocean green, but for Bertholdt, the colour reminded him of a lake inside the nearby forest that Eldian Liberians were allowed to visit — he had cherished memories of hiking up the trail with his father there, catching fish and going for a swim.

Those days of his father being in better health have passed now, but at least he had those fragments to recollect. The Marleyans could take away their food, their rights, their physical freedom … but his precious childhood memories are something the Marleyan elite could never take away from Bertholdt. How could they possibly?

Going back to his room and laying on his bed, Bertholdt looked at the waxing crescent moon from his bedroom window. Even if we can't go back to the past, he thought, there'll be something new to look forward to tomorrow.

Pieck's visit reminded him of that—of the spontaneity of life and friends.

Before he signed up as a warrior candidate, he thought his life was pretty fixed—that he would dedicate the next 13 years of his life as a warrior of Marley, and by the time he was 24 or 25, pass the baton to another underprivileged child desperate enough to exchange their life for status or a pretty penny.

Now, despite how dire the actual situation got, Bertholdt found himself looking forward to his training sessions with the others, laughing at Reiner's jokes and watching him argue with Porco, being in awe of Marcel's charisma (and sometimes Zeke's too, though he couldn't shake off the feeling that Zeke would be the first to scapegoat him in the field if things got to it.)

And Annie … even though everyone thought of her as cold and unfeeling, he couldn't help but admire her willpower. Despite being the smallest in stature among them, he saw how hard she trained and sparred. There was a fire of determination in her cool blue eyes that Bertholdt never before had for himself—and he slowly came to realise, he wanted that sense of purpose and resolve too.

He had to admit, his voice was sometimes stuck in his throat whenever he tried to make conversation with her (to Reiner's amusement, especially since he was around most of the time). And Bertholdt guessed that this had taken Pieck's notice too.

As Bertholdt closed his eyes for the night, he wondered what sort of expression Reiner and Annie would have when they saw him with his new nails the following week.

Aside from the initial surprise he expected in their reaction, Bertholdt imagined (and hoped) that they would want to get matching ones done too.

~end~

Author's Notes: I went to do some reading up, and apparently nail polish as we know it existed as early as the 1920s (and other forms of dyeing fingernails also existed earlier in different cultures worldwide). Since I'm assuming the Liberio/Marley timeline is analogous to around 1930s/40s Germany, it wouldn't have been anachronous to have nail polish in Marley.

I tried to make Bertholdt's dialogue seem like he's younger … though I imagine he was pretty precocious as a kid and was careful and thoughtful even at that young age.

This was originally uploaded on ao3 for Bertholdt's birthday! Happiest of birthdays to Bertholdt, I think he would've been happy (and also somewhat embarrassed lol) to know so many people in the world celebrating the day his fictional self was born.

Bertholdt's always been so precious to me even from the start of AOT, and all I really ever wished for was for his character to get more dignity and justice in how he is represented. So hopefully little snippets like this contribute to the collective hive-mind of Bertholdt lore that humanizes him and imagines happier moments for him.

Anyway, thank you for reading and celebrating Bertholdt!