It was a cloudy day on Magrath's funeral. The smell of gunpowder from the procession turned Pieck's stomach, though she had been restless all morning. When it came time to drink and socialize in the late afternoon with the other officers, she had to excuse herself and throw up in the elegantly furnished toilet. A small blessing that she was no longer in Paradis, where state-of-the-art plumbing was relegated to Mitras and a few places within Sina.

The muted, bustling conversation from down the hall continued without her.

Leonhardt had been kind enough to accompany her. Pieck flushed the toilet and wiped her mouth. Eying herself in the reflection, she was a little pale but at least hadn't gotten any bile on her suit jacket. "Just the stress of the situation," Pieck said without waiting for a prompt. "I'll be all right."

If Leonhardt suspected anything, she didn't say it.

Six weeks ago, stationed on the plateau with the surviving Paradisians, Pieck lay in the tent listening to the wind howl over the dry rock face. Ever since the armistice was called, home had been on Pieck's mind. She occupied herself with hopes that her parents had made it out of Liberio. Recovering from two weeks of nonstop combat took its own toll, but the doctors estimated she shouldn't have any problems. As her body readjusted, she'd regain her natural energy. Porco and Annie were able to move about freely. Pieck could move around without the crutches. Quadrepedial movement still came naturally to her, but not to the other soldiers. The Warriors tolerated it, at least. A privilege of living in Marley. She never thought she'd yearn to be in such a terrible place.

The vulnerabilities of living without her Titan's abilities left Pieck fatigued. It was only a matter of relearning what she and the others had abandoned in childhood. The survivors of the Warrior Unit were herself, Porco and Annie, not to speak of the hundreds of men and women injected with Pure Titan serum. Without a need to send them into the zeppelins they flooded the hospitals in Marley as relicts. Annie would rather regrow her limbs than admit to any discomfort.

Porco fretted over her condition for wont of anything else to do, and made himself scarce when Pieck grew weary of his fretting. Tending to themselves was not habitual, though he'd lived the longest as an ordinary human.

The remnants of the dissolving Titan Research Society had taken them aside first. As members of the Warrior Unit they received priority. It had never sat right with Pieck, all these other Eldian men and women whose bodies would soon betray them. They had never been trained or expected to offer their lives for a cause. The people of Marley believed martyrdom was too great a privilege for Pure Titans.

It stood to reason, the doctors said, that she, Porco and Annie might never be able to transform again. Before the armistice, Pieck had not considered that outcome, nor their survival, as absolutes. Likewise, there was a possibility that removing the additional strain upon their bodies would impact Ymir's Curse, but there was no way to prove it without further research. Their relation to the war as soldiers transcended any individual desire. A good Warrior fought for prestige and for his country. Now, without their powers or a reason to fight, all they had was the stigma of Eldian blood and one another.

The tent flap opened and closed. Pieck glanced over at the pair of worn boots coming closer.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"I'm not sure. What time is it now?"

A beat. "Another hour until the call to muster." His boots moved towards the tent flap. "I'll tell the others you're getting ready."

"Will you stay?" she asked. "Just for a moment."

He hesitated. Then his boots came closer and he sat down next to her on the scratchy paillasse. The wind outside the tent picked up. Pieck shivered under a blanket that was thin enough to see through. Without a word Porco took off his jacket and put it around her shoulders. He smelled like he'd been fermenting in Titan fluid for weeks, but she wasn't much better. "You need a bath," she mumbled.

"Sorry."

"It's all right."

His cheek pressed against the crown of her head. They hadn't been alone together after the festival. Bertholdt and Colt and the younger Warriors were still alive. Her throat constricted. Too numb to cry, she could only lean on Porco and recollect a time where their objective was simpler despite its cruelties. Turning against his neck, her breath fanned against bare skin.

Porco seemed to tense up. He sat up carefully, so the jacket didn't fall from her shoulders, and Pieck stirred. Reaching out for some part of him to hold, she touched his unshaven face. His skin was feverish or else she was freezing. He shivered at her touch but didn't pull away.

"Sorry," she echoed. "I'm so used to running hot."

"I know. But you'll freeze if you sleep under that. Let me get you a better blanket."

He started to pull away. Pieck wrapped her arms around him. His breath, stale and warm, washed over her face. Their eyes met.

Back in Marley, when they were just cadets, Porco would bring her food if she was too weak to get it herself. He fetch her crutches even when she insisted she could move about by herself, but he never forced her to use them. She'd taken shellfire for him so many times but lacked the scars to recount those moments on the front lines.

They were outliers, falling in love behind closed doors, lucky enough to fight alongside each other. Even as children, when they still had their yellow arm-bands and the idea of civilian life was just an abstraction. The loss of Marcel strengthened their bond, giving each something to fight for beyond mere dogma. A possible future outside of hospice or reunion at a gravesite.

"Later," she whispered. In spite of her best judgement. "You can do it later."

Porco's expression shifted. He touched her face, his eyes searching her expression. The little lines still like rivulets along her cheek. He said, in a low voice, "Are you sure?"

"Yes." Her voice trembled with unspent emotion. She cupped his neck. "I'm sure," she reiterated. He touched her, forearms to shoulders and back, at last pushing the jacket down behind her.

For the remainder of the wake, Pieck managed not to make herself sick. She accepted the champagne when offered to her because the waitstaff were eager to service someone from the Warrior Unit, but did not partake in any food. She left the untouched glass on a marbletop counter and talked little while the officiants did the talking for her, and excused herself to step outside for some fresh air.

It hadn't yet been a month since the ceasefire. Under the glow of the streetlamps there was. Ships cast their own illumination on the water far away. Leonhardt was standing by the patio, talking to no one. Pieck made a space for herself next to her.

Leonhardt said, "You're not going in?"

Pieck shook her head. "I'm not feeling up to it right now."

"You're supposed to be an ambassador."

Pieck's smile was tense. "Porco can cover for me." She lifted her shoulders. "Besides, I have two years to give and Porco has ten. That should be enough." The air was crisper now than it had been at the festival. Pieck kept her hands in her pockets and tried not to shiver too much. Her fingers caught on another split along the pocket's seam. She'd have to set aside time to mend it. "You're not going to become an ambassador. That's all anyone is talking about in there, aside from the conditions of the treaty."

"Braun would've been a better choice," Leonhardt said. "I suppose they all regret their choice now."

Pieck frowned. "That's not a reason to step down as Vice Captain."

"I was never half the zealot he was." Leonhardt scowled at the dark water. "Besides, I've got my father to think about."

Perhaps now wasn't a good time to bring up the news. She and Leonhardt had never been close, but she was the only person here besides Porco that Pieck could trust to keep a secret. After tonight, they wouldn't get many chances to speak without interception. Pieck steeled herself for a bad reaction.

"I'm pregnant."

Leonhardt pivoted on the spot towards her, as if to take a step forward. Her eyes came to rest on Pieck's face. She was always so careful. "Do you know whose it is?"

"Yes."

Leonhardt blinked and said, "It's Galliard's?"

Pieck exhaled, only a little exasperated. Leonhardt continued to stare as though Pieck would suddenly declare it was all a ruse.

"Is that what you're concerned about?"

Leonhardt averted her eyes. "It's a good thing, isn't it?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

Leonhardt's expression shifted in a way that was difficult to pin down. Not sepulchral, exactly. "If it's what you both want then it shouldn't matter."

Pieck turned away, lost in the possibilities of a better future. Her voice was softer as she said, "We'll have to get married, of course. The only trouble is that I need two witnesses. Reiner's mother agreed to be one of them."

Leonhardt said, "When will it be?"

Pieck's emotions finally got the best of her. She put her arms around Leonhardt and hugged her tightly. Leonhardt tensed up for a moment but then passed a careful hand along her shoulder blades. She was the first to extract herself. Pieck struggled to regain composure and Leonhardt was considerate enough to not say anything. She'd never struck Pieck as someone good at comforting people, so it was difficult to hold the awkwardness against her.

"I'm sorry," Pieck muttered in spite of herself. "I didn't mean to unload everything on you."

"It's all right." Leonhardt fished in her pockets and offered her a handkerchief. "How long—have you known?"

Pieck considered for a moment. "I've already missed a cycle. This month will make it twice."

She and Porco were married a few months after the ceasefire. In the photo on the mantle, you could still see the scars around his eyes and her jaw. A military wedding despite the lack of an immediate threat. Pieck seated, with Porco on her arm. Both of them ramrod straight, not used to being scrutinized for any reason other than good marks. A slight flinch from the flash of the bulb.

Pieck's mother and father had lost their home in the war. They sent letters whenever they could.

Karina was overjoyed to let Pieck stay with her. She had something new to fixate on, despite the empty room upstairs. Pieck passed by it each morning. A boy's room, sparse and seldom lived-in. His affairs remained in the chest by his bed, untouched. The last time Reiner had been at home, he was not yet the Armoured Titan.

Porco was just as relieved to have someone watching out for her during this time. Falco and Gabi would stop by, running errands for the mother while Leonhardt would check in once a week or send a letter instead.

Leonhardt was supposed to be happy about it. Pieck was going to be looked after. Ever since they came back, Karina had taken a shine to Leonhardt as she never once did in childhood. "You're like the daughter I wish I'd had," she'd confessed, in the aftermath of Braun's funeral. Leonhardt had held her tongue out of respect. Karina was only grieving.

Before the war decree, she should have come home in a box. A relic to be buried in the dirt behind the old cabin. She'd never mourned a single comrade, not even the Paradisians that were better off dead than festering within their cage, and certainly not Eren Jaeger. She'd come to grips with the truth long ago. There might be nothing left to mourn. Paradis, bombed-out and trodden over by its own forces. A mass grave on which to rebuild.

Her mother died when she was too little to remember. Her father kept no pictures. The last time he'd embraced her, at nine years old, she didn't have an offense, dropped her arms. No measure of love passed down from a family unconditionally.

Waking up in Paradis, safe in Braun's arms in the almshouse. Crawling into her bunk in Stohess, drenched in rain and Titan spit. She was always at the mercy of another. Always too numb to grieve. Her final resting place, in an unmarked grave like her mother before her, and perhaps a woman like Karina would bring flowers even though Leonhardt never asked anyone to make a fuss over her. To assuage her grief with an act of gratitude.

Each meeting, then, was a preemptive goodbye, carrying the burden of her betrayal close to her chest. Outliving her comrades and enemies never got easier. She'd been able to hold together with Bertholdt and Reiner. Not for their sakes, but because the two of them already had each other. All the poor souls who made the mistake of listening to her woes were long-gone or would sooner put her to death.

Leonhardt wouldn't make a proper ambassador. She'd stepped down as Vice Captain and wound up a senior advisor for the sake of keeping a pension. She wouldn't have stood out in Paradis, where it was common to see male and female soldiers directing traffic on the streets. She could not mask the scars on her face with clothing or makeup. If only she'd seriously taken Dreyse up on her offer all those years ago. If anyone enquired, she'd sustained injuries within active service. Aside from Pieck Finger and Porco Galliard, she had no close friends to speak of.

She would visit her father every other week, aside from Porco Galliard on Pieck's behalf. Lately, her father would rather smoke out on the porch than hold a conversation.

One day the Warrior Unit would be war heroes in the history books. To the rest of humanity, as long as they lived, they were devil-blooded reminders of the truth that history couldn't scrub out fast enough. Of the original Warrior Unit, only Annie, Pieck and Porco had survived to see the end of the Paradis Operation. Rumors circulated that Eren Jaeger had been cut loose before severing his ties to the Founder. Free to wander the Earth that had no need for him. He'd sooner get himself killed without Ackermann or Arlert to keep him in-check. A drunken brawl or an overdose. Something equally asinine. Once deprived from his idealism, he had a penchant for self-destruction.

A quieter existence as a distinguished, retired veteran suited her fine. Each day ticked down to her scheduled expiration. Failing that, there was always the bottle of lithium Yvette kept. She had only a superficial understanding of the Curse of Ymir and no clue about the depth of Leonhardt's ties within Paradis, only that she'd survived devil country as a Warrior and lived as an ex-Titan Shifter. These days, Leonhardt spent the majority of her time doing paperwork behind a desk whilst Galliard and Finger served as ambassadors for Marley.

Paradis continued to rebuild itself. for the Queen refused to be cowed by the operation of a mere insurgent. Its people, like ants that had no greater understanding of what they had avoided and what would inevitably become of them down the line. There was a different feeling in the air, in the eyes of the survivors and the refugees alike, not of hopelessness but uncertainty, anger overshadowed by a newborn desperation to cling towards peace for fear of the alternative.

The military had combined its forces under the Queen's prerogative to ensure the different sections of Paradis did not tear each other apart, and that the wounded would be cared for without interference. Tensions worsened the further inland one traversed; Sina's occupants were bracing for a supposed coup, but no sign of that reached the coast or Maria. Meanwhile, the underground had collapsed, presenting additional casualties and more trouble for the Garrison to souse out exact figures.

She'd agreed to room with Yvette Fitzer, a secretary in-training, who just so happened to be looking for a boarder in her brother's absence. Yvette was a year her junior. Her brother had enlisted shortly before the Battle of Heaven and Earth and was now training to become a pilot. Yvette joked that living with Leonhardt was a lot like dealing with her brother.

Leonhardt had little in the way of possessions. Enough to fit into a travelling case. A spare change of clothes, her military dress, and civilian wear. She eyed the oak armoire.

"Oh, I'll make room for you if you like."

Yvette came over in a bustle. Leonhardt indicated an old trunk by the foot of the bed.

"Really," Yvette said with a sigh, "you don't have to use that if you don't need to. There's a closet to hang your items as well."

Leonhardt did so.

"How do you like the beds? I think they're a bit stiff."

Leonhardt felt at the mattress. It had little give to it, but she'd been used to living in barracks for so long that it was no longer a discomfort. "Fine."

The silence held. "You were in the Battle of Heaven and Earth."

"Yes."

Yvette paused. "Why aren't you rooming with the other Eldians who served?"

"Why did you choose to room with an Eldian?" Yvette's jacket arm was bare. She gave a little start when their eyes met, like any other Marleyan cowed by decades of propaganda and trapped with an undesirable, volatile Eldian. Leonhardt was already tired of this conversation. "If there's a problem," Leonhardt continued, "you can say it now or request to board with someone else."

"There's no problem, ma'am."

Yvette was probably closer to her own age. Damn, she was getting old. As Leonhardt moved around.

"Is it easier getting on by yourself?"

Yvette faltered. "What do you mean?"

"Now that I'm here. It won't be as quiet."

Yvette fixed her hair and checked in the mirror. She glanced over. "Are you doing anything later this afternoon?"

"The usual paperwork."

"You've got a pass out of Liberio, haven't you?" Leonhardt hesitated. Yvette brightened. "Oh, you know, there's this technical instructor who's just started working in the military institute. I believe he's about your age."

"I'm not interested."

Yvette smelt blood in the water. "Andhe's Eldian," she continued. "I think it might be good for you to socialise within your own peer group."

"You're setting me up on a date," said Leonhardt.

Yvette seemed to have been bracing for a more acerbic reaction. She steeled herself and said, in a genteel tone, "You're not very tactful at all, are you?"

Leonhardt wasn't going to get out of this as easily as she'd hoped. At least Dreyse could take a hint without being smug about it. But she relented, willing to let bygones be bygones. "Give me a name. I can look into it."

Yvette's eyes lit up in a way that immediately gave Leonhardt second thoughts about giving her an inch. She crossed the space and excitedly took her hand. "As a matter of fact, my brother attends his lectures. I've been meaning to visit him. So I could introduce you two this afternoon."

Leonhardt averted her eyes. Paperwork obviously wasn't going to get her out of this conversation. She couldn't just vent her frustrations by locking up criminals anymore, satisfying as it had been to play detective in the Military Police. Marley wouldn't take as kindly to her vigilantism as the Paradisians. "You won't let this go unless I agree?"

Yvette simpered, as though Leonhardt was being very unreasonable. "You could at least see for yourself."