Kronos

In the flickering candlelight, the titan's grimacing face looked twice as fierce. Its teeth bared, its eyes flashed, and the shadows made its face look craggy and ferocious. Oruo set his pencil down. "It's probably not the best. But," He turned the sketchbook toward the mad squad leader. "Is this acceptable?"

Hange raised her head, appearing somewhat disoriented before her crimson eyes refocused and zeroed in on the drawing in his hand. "Yeah, that's fine." She said mournfully, taking the book in order to examine it more closely.

Oruo tilted his head to get a better look at her face, but her glasses only reflected the light of the candle. He often found himself wondering what went on in that head of hers. Usually, he speculated she was devising new experiments to try and new ways to procure test subjects, but now….with that sad face, he wasn't sure. It's not exactly a face that belonged on her, though. "Are you all right?" He ventured. "You seemed so upbeat earlier, what with the Commander given the all clear for your experiments."

"Yes. And all it took was abnormal titan behavior and the words of dead girl." She bowed her head and her eyes became visible again. "It's funny. When I visited her parents, all I could think was what a nice home they had, and how she must've had so much fun when she was a little girl, running around chairs and table legs, measuring her height against the counter to see how fast she was growing, playing with her doll and her kittens." She turned her head and her glasses caught the firelight again. "It's funny how easily we forget every soldier here, no matter how outgoing or introverted they are, every last one of them is someone's baby. Everyone here has someone who loves them and prays for them and waits for them to come home. And then, for some, the waiting never stops."

Oruo looked away. "She was born in Trost, to Benjamin and Gertrude Langnar on the second of März in the year 832. At twelve years old, she enlisted in the military training squad. Her comrades found her shy and a little fearful of conflict, which made her a target for bullies, yet she always stood her ground in spite of the odds. Mostly, she kept to herself, but if invited to sit with someone, she would gladly do so. Her favorite food was her mother's potato salad and she hated alcohol. She never talked about her family, but only because doing so seemed to make her homesick. When her Training Squad was disbanded, she was outside the top ten and disqualified from the Interior, yet she was quickly promoted to squad leader after joining the Corps. Her reasons for joining are something she never spoke of, though there was speculation among her friends it was simply what she wanted to do. The 34th Expedition was her third time venturing into titan lands."

Hange said nothing, only looked to him in askance.

Oruo shrugged. "Miro knew her. You know how close cadets become when they spend three years together. The rest I learned from our own records."

"Ah." Hange nodded and leaned forward, interlacing her fingers and staring at her scarred desk and discombobulating paperwork. "Sixteen years old. She was a young one, wasn't she."

"Ano. She was."

She raised her head. "Why did you take so much interest in her anyway?"

"I don't know." He admitted. "I think it's because I might've shared her fate once."

Vittore had sensed it coming and jerked to a halt so suddenly, only his skill as an experienced rider kept him from being thrown into the dry grass. The gelding reared and stomped the earth beneath his hooves, whinnying in distress. No urging could get him to move again, no patting or strokes could calm him down, and when the Scouts in the row behind him caught up, their horses started, too. Panicking for no reason.

Whatever possessed him to fire a black flare he didn't know, only that he was grateful he did before a titan came charging out of the forest.

It was by far the biggest monster he'd ever seen in his life, standing at least eighteen meters and built like a boxing champion. Muscles bulged and strained when he charged, closing the distance between them with two long strides and raked his fingers across the earth, immediately killing two Scouts and a horse. The remaining horses, including his ever stoic Vittore, panicked and scattered, leaving them to the giant's mercy, who leered at them.

Like a cruel god who knew their fate.

He somehow managed to bring his horse under control, as did their squad leader, Rebekka Smith, and the two of them fled to the forest, desperate for a higher vantage point. The titan chased them, the earth shaking as he ran. Rebekka reached the trees first, narrowly escaping a sweeping hand that claimed her horse instead.

Of everything he knew of the woman, it was the cry of grief that followed her mare's death, and the rage she exhibited in exacting revenge that he remembered most. As soon as he climbed the nearest tree, Rebekka launched herself at the beast and blinded him. But not before he caught her in his massive hand. She cried out and screamed and pounding her fists and blades against him before he snarled angrily in her face and hurled her to the ground. There was no time to wonder if, by some intervening act of God or stroke of luck, she'd survived or not. The titan turned to him next, swatting a large hand in his direction, but Oruo managed to dodge and fire a grapple into the beast's nape. It should've been easy after that, a quick recoil, a slash, blood, and done. It was easy. He'd done it so many times before.

Yet as he raced toward the titan's Achilles Heel, the monster suddenly covered it and twisted his head around to smile at him.

There was always an eerie blank and a fierce headache when he tried to remember what came next. Oruo put a hand to his head and grimaced. He had no idea how he had survived that day, waking up alone and relatively intact at the edge of the forest. Vittore was gone and his comrades were dead. Rebekka lay in a twisted heap ten meters away, her golden eyes stretched wide with shock and terror and her auburn hair splayed about her, tangled and soaked in the blood from her shattered skull. None of them were eaten, only murdered in the most brutal way imaginable. He tried whistling for Vittore, but the horse was long gone.

So there was nothing left but to close Rebekka's eyes and start running.

"I remember that fear." He admitted. "It's a sickening feeling when you realize you've been separated, assumed dead, and left behind. Your horse is gone, you have no idea whether your friends are alive or eaten, you're afraid of every sound and every sign of movement you don't make. A bird takes off, you flinch. A fox bolts out of a bush and you damn near piss yourself. You can't sleep at night no matter how secure you try to make your shelter. You know you're probably never going to see the faces of your loved ones again, and yet, somehow, you keep running for all you're worth."

The earth was dry and, not for the first time, he cursed the barbaric heat the south was capable of producing. He covered his head with his cloak to protect himself from the sun and drank what little water he had left in small doses although his throat was as arid as the land around him. Whenever he came across deep enough water, he ran through it, hoping it would disguise his human stench and fool the titans.

And all the while, he kept thinking: One more step and he would collapse from fatigue. One more and he'd be done for. And yet whenever he thought he'd lost the will to continue, he put his other foot down and pushed onward. Relief came only as a dull pang when he finally saw Wall Rose and the Gate of Trost before him. He fired a flare to get the attention of the patrolling Garrison men and they opened the gate for him. He stumbled through, leaning heavily against the walls of the tunnel-dehydrated and exhausted-before he fell into a dead faint at the mouth of the gate.

He woke up three or four days later in the Trost hospital to a pair of faces he thought he'd never see again. Miro was the first, on leave from training with the 102nd Squad. He'd grown up quite a bit since he'd last seen him, so he almost didn't recognize him. Levi was his other visitor, waiting solemnly in the corner, though stepping forward when he noticed he was awake. The cadet left to find a medic, leaving the two of them with nothing to say. It was funny how uncomfortable Levi looked in that moment, standing awkwardly in the center of a hospital room with no convincing excuses or denial. To his face, he called him a fool for worrying so much, which Levi accepted with a calm nod. But in his heart, he felt honored he meant that much to the brat.

Petra, Eld, and Gunther came to see him after they heard he was awake, as did Commander Erwin, who asked him to make a full report of how he'd managed to make it back alive, and more or less unscathed. Of course, the others took offense to that, but he assured them he did not mind, and that it was better they all were there so he wouldn't have to repeat it. He recounted how suddenly the titan appeared, what had become of Rebekka and the rest of his squad, and a vague description of how he'd run back to the Wall.

In turn, they told him how the titan-now dubbed Kronos-had torn through the ranks, killing every Scout in his path and devouring none of them. He'd appeared out of nowhere, Eld murmured. One moment they saw nothing, and the next there he was, sweeping his hands across the earth, kicking Scout, horse, and supply wagon sky high, swatting them like insects when they retaliated, and roaring in laughter. Laughter. Up until discovery of Fraulein Ilse's notebook, that beast's laughter was the closest thing anyone had ever come to hearing a titan speak. (When he encountered Kronos again in future expeditions-these ones intended solely for the purpose of killing him-he heard that laugh, and it still haunted him.)

Less than half of the regiment had survived and returned in tatters, and more than half of that were injured in some form or other. Petra and Eld and had spearheading the right flank, and therefore had not seen the monster titan that came upon them. Gunther's leg was broken, though, and he was walking on crutches. Levi's injuries were less obvious, consisting of several rib fractures he clearly was not happy about.

In the days that followed, he remembered lying in that hospital bed, staring up at the cracked ceiling, half relieved and half amazed he was still alive. That he'd achieved the impossible and run all the way to Wall Rose in lands heavily populated by titans. There were moments now when he looked back on it with pride, and then there times where the fear came back to him. Fear of dying, fear of dying by being eaten, fear of Kronos even though the titan had been dead for well over a year now.

Oruo smiled.

Kronos screamed when he finally died. A horrible, terrible scream that did not raise the dead, yet it was enough to satisfy the vengeance of the survivors.

A knock on Hange's door startled him and he looked up.

"Enter." Hange called.

The door opened and one of the Corps' Squad Leaders slipped in, knocking a battered akubra hat off his head so it hung behind him from its drawstring. He stepped into the light, running his tan fingers through his brown hair, and addressing them both with a formal salute. He was young, seventeen years old now if he remembered right yet he already bore signs of hardship in the form of a nasty scar that tore through his cheek and part of his jaw, remnants of an injury that nearly killed him. Oruo felt his throat clench everytime he saw it, but the young Scout never seemed at all bothered and wore it like a badge of honor.

"It took me awhile." The boy said, holding out a slip of rolled-up parchment. "But I finally tracked down someone who could accurately draw her face. Here. This is her."

As Hange unrolled the paper, Oruo leaned over. The solemn, charcoal eyes of Ilse Langar stared back at him, startling in their lifelike quality. The artist had colored her face with pastels, using pale tones for her skin, a dark brown that was not quite black for her hair, and soft amber for her eyes. There was an apprehensive look about her freckled face and a nervous quality in her smile, but she was always like that. At least, that's what Miro claimed.

"Will that do?" The young Scout asked.

"Yes, thank you." Hange nodded in approval. "This is good."

Indeed. Now they had a face, a human face, they could remember for Ilse's sacrifice and not just a half-mummified, headless corpse from the woods. "Did you know her personally, Miro?" Oruo asked, taking the sketch to study it better.

The young Scout appeared surprised by the question, and he tipped his head back in throught. "Yanni….not barticularly well. As I said before, she was a bit of a recluse, so she did not stray into my circle very often. Or se circle of anyone for zat matter. Why do you ask?"

"No reason." He sighed and gave the drawing back to Hange, who tucked it into the sketchbook.

"No reason at all."

-0-0-0-

Author's Notes: I almost started crying when I wrote about Hange's speculations of Ilse's childhood.

I thought it be interesting if they faced a titan shifter before they even realized what that was. Like so many others, Kronos' motives are unclear, though I'd also like to point out, it is he, not the Female Titan, who has the Coordinate at this time.

You may have noticed there were some spelling errors and odd words when Miro spoke. That's actually his accent. Just as Mikasa is the last of the Asian race, Miro of Middle Eastern descent, specifically Arabic. Not fully Arabic, though.

Rebekka is one of those nameless characters-at least I don't think she had a name-in anime. And, why yes, I am aware I gave her the same last name as Erwin. Make of that what you will. You could just chalk it up to it's a common name and a coincidence, they could be related, or in the least likely scenario they were married and I just created a whole new thread of depressing.

Shingeki no Kyojin/Attack on Titan is owned by Hajime Isayama.