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callsigndragon · 1 year

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Tasting the Ashes | Ch. 36: The night we lost it all ✍️📲

Word count: 2.5k

warnings: alcohol, mention of babies (duh), gINA (deserves a warning), cute stuff and the angst starts here pals.

A/N: WE'RE BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK. okay okay i have this story P L A N N E D to the minimum, i'm just struggling to find time to actually sit down and finishing it- but we're getting there heheh

Also if anyone wants to be added to the tag list to not miss any chapter (we're on the final part, babes) let me know in the comments!

masterlist

It doesn’t take long for the guys to get to the pub, all eager and excited to spend a night celebrating the arrival of the two younger Bradshaws. The place invites people to feast with its dim light and cozy atmosphere; it’s the place they go when the Hard Deck is closed.

Bradley approaches the bartender, ordering a round of beer for all his family. Beers keep coming, all gathering around a joyful Bradley and a teary-eyed Goose. One is delighted by this new stage of his life, not only as Carole and JJ’s father, but also as Hen’s future partner. The other one can't believe that he’s finally a grandfather. He really thought this day would never come.

Once all of them have beers in their hands, they stand in a circle around Bradley, raising them and toasting for the new dad and the new babies of the family.

“We’re gonna be doing this again in a month once Maeve is born?” Bob jokes, patting Jake’s back.

The soon-to-be dad for the second time only smiles, sighing happily. “Man, I can't wait to hold my little princess.”

Bradley laughs, knowing that feeling. Even though Jake is a father already and loves Liam with his whole soul, that feeling of wanting to have your newborn is so bad that you have to keep waiting for a bit longer... That’s a feeling they're always going to have. Even though they are dads already.

Not that Bradley is thinking about having more babies.

"I'm fearing for whoever gets close to Maeve when she's older," Bradley jokes while placing an arm over Jake's shoulders. "That poor girl won't be able to date until she's in her thirties."

"It hasn't even been born yet, don't talk about dating!" Jake whines at the image of his own future.

"Well, let's forget about that and have fun!" Mickey says. And before the group dissolves into smaller ones, Bradley clears his throat, catching everyone's attention.

"I have… some news to share with you."

Reuben leaves his beer on a nearby table, reading himself for the news that, most likely, will flip the family's world upside-down. After all, there's been a tendency for that since Red showed up in their lives. "What is it, Rooster?"

Bradley’s grin couldn't be bigger when he announces the recent news. "Hen has finally given me a chance! We're going out on a date once her c-section is healed."

Goose fist bumps proudly and laughs in his very own fashion. “I knew she was the one for you, son.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. It’s just a date.”

Jake smirks, licking his lips before teasing Bradley. “The last date brought us here, to celebrate the birth of your two kids.”

“It wasn’t even a date.”

“Then only God knows what can result from that date.” Ice quips, earning a smack in the head from Slider. “Well, old glories. Let’s go play some pool.”

“You still know how to do that, Admiral?” Mav raises a defiant eyebrow while chuckling.

“Prepare yourself, captain. I’m going to beat your ass.”

Bradley and Jake watch as the old men leave for the pool table. Those four hadn’t been able to have a proper conversation in years and now? Now they have so much catching up to do. And all of them are really happy that the problem is finally solved.

Mickey, Bob, and Rooster leave to play some darts. And Jake, Reuben, and Javy, as designated drivers, stay behind and watch them have a fun time.

Gina’s plan starts right now. She had been following Rooster all day, and hoped to approach him once he was left alone. But this stupid family is like a package deal, you want one? You have to get them all.

And that’s not making her job easy.

Lucky for her, once they reach the pub and after their initial toast, they all split into smaller groups. Two of them accompany Rooster to play darts. Mickey and Bob, if she can remember correctly. Gina had been following them long enough to know their names.

The wizzos play darts while Bradley sits on a stool, looking at his phone.

It’s the moment she’s been waiting for.

Smoothing her black dress, she walks to the table, drink in hand, with a seductive smile plastered on her face. “Here alone?”

Rooster doesn’t even raise his eyes from the phone, watching videos of his babies. “No, I’m with my family.”

Gina notices the empty beer, and sees an opportunity to make conversation. “Can I get you anothe–?”

Rooster leaves his phone for a second, frowning and annoyed because who dares to disturb him? “Look, you seem like a nice girl, so I’m going to be direct. I have someone waiting for me at home, and I am not interested.”

And with that, Rooster gets up and walks to the bar to get himself another beer.

Gina starts to panic as she sees her plan crumbling before her eyes. But then, she realizes that not everything is lost yet. If she can't have Hen's man... she can have her friend.

Mickey turns the dart between his fingers, feeling the rugged surface of the barrel on his fingertips. He has come to a realization: Jinx won’t be able to give him what he wants, so he needs to stop trying, and stop forcing her to take a step in a direction she doesn’t want to.

It’s time to move on.

“Mickey, I can hear the wheels in your head turning from here,” mentions Bob while lowering his arm. He was ready to throw the dart, but his friend’s silence was bothering him a bit. “What’s going on?”

“I’m gonna move on, Bob.”

“What do you mean?”

Mickey leaves the dart in Bob’s hand, sighing. “It’s time to get over Jinx.”

Bob sits down next to him, his dart game long forgotten. “Are you sure? Didn’t Red say that she cared about you in the way you wanted?”

Drumming his fingers on the table, Mickey looks at his friend. “She’s been having anxiety attacks again... She told me that it wasn’t because of me, but I definitely triggered them. I can’t allow that.”

“Mickey, you two should sit down and talk about all this. In person, not over text.”

“I don’t know, Bob... I think it’s time to stop.”

And as if the universe was agreeing with him, he sees a gorgeous blonde girl standing behind them, alone with her whiskey. She raises her eyes, making eye contact with Mickey, before offering him an inviting smile. She wants him to approach her.

Bob looks at the exchange happening before him, frowning at how his friend seems to have made up his mind already. Is he going to pursue the first girl he sees as a rebound? Judging by the way he gets up and walks to the blonde woman, that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

Bob shakes his head, and goes to sit with Rooster. Whatever Mickey is going to do, Bob knows that he doesn’t want to be involved with it.

Ten minutes.

That’s how long it takes Gina to slide her tongue into Mickey’s mouth. Bob and Rooster can’t believe what they’re seeing, and even though both of them are deceived by the wizzo’s actions, Mickey and Jesse are not official. He’s not cheating on her.

But it kind of feels like it.

Rooster can’t stand the image anymore and leaves to talk with Jake, Mav, and Goose. Once he’s near, Goose claps his hand slowly, ready to tease his son. “Have you stopped looking at pics of your kids?”

Bradley laughs, placing a hand on his chest. “Have you seen them? They’re so cute! I can’t stop looking at them.”

Jake shakes his head, taking a sip from his soda. “Remember when you told me how whipped I was the day after I saw Liam? Now you get it.”

Rooster remembers that conversation like it was yesterday. He can’t believe Red has been in their lives for a year already. It feels longer. “Yeah, now I get it. Man, if something happens to those kids…”

“Nothing will happen to them. They’re safe with us. But whoever tries to get close to them will unleash the fury of the female family members.” Maverick jokes, patting Jake’s shoulder. “And I’m actually talking about your wife.”

“She’s the most badass woman I’ve ever seen,” Jake’s soft smile makes Mav laugh. He’s happy for his son and for all the things he’s accomplished, and he's proud of how he was almost completely alone a year ago and now is getting ready to prepare for a wedding with the love of his life and his two kids.

“You two have come so far… I’m sure Goose thought that Bradley was a lost cause, too.”

“Hey!”

Goose tilts his head, admitting that Mav is right. “I mean… yeah. I thought you would end up alone.”

Bradley scoffs, sitting down and getting another beer. “Thanks for the trust, dad.”

“Any time, son!”

The four men laugh, relishing the moment. It’s not everyday that they have something as beautiful to celebrate as the arrival of two new babies. They all know, deep down, that this happiness won’t last long. There’s someone out there threatening their dear Hen. The four men are ready to do whatever it takes to protect her.

Maverick is her father. Nobody will touch her as long as he’s alive.

Jake is her brother. He has finally gotten the family he craved so much, and nobody is going to take it away from him.

Goose is the grandfather of Carole and JJ. His once small family is growing up, and he won’t let anyone risk that.

And Bradley… Hen is the missing piece in his puzzle. The woman who, knowing the brokenness of his soul, is willing to love him. He will do whatever it takes to make sure she and the babies are safe.

Nobody will touch Hen Mitchell.

“...would you hate me if I left?” Bradley questions shyly. The three men laugh and shake their heads.

“How much did you drink?” Jake asks in return before giving him the car keys.

“Only a beer and a half. I've been trying to get you all drunk so I could sneak away and go see my girl and the babies.” He confesses, opening his hand.

Jake leaves the keys in Rooster’s open palm and laughs. “Goose, you owe me ten.”

“Will you stop making bets on me?” Bradley fakes annoyance while pulling a bunch of bills and hands them to Jake. “Pay their drinks for me, will ya?”

“Aye aye, Lt.”

Bradley turns around to leave, watching as Mickey and that girl are still sucking faces. “Don’t want to know how that ends.”

Jake, who was still unaware of Mickey’s current activities, almost drops the bills in his hand. He can’t see the girl’s face, but Mickey seems to be enjoying his time with her. “Oh my fucking God.”

“What now?” Mav groans, leaving his beer on the bar.

“Jesse is coming here to confess to Mickey.”

“She what?” Goose exclaims, watching the two lovebirds. He has her pressed against one of the pillars at the back of the bar, hands placed on her hips, while she grabs him by the back of his neck, pulling him as close as possible. They can’t see her face due to the angle, but one thing is for sure.

She is nothing compared to Jesse.

“I’m gonna leave. I don’t want to see the drama.” Bradley mutters, raising his hands in defeat, and leaves the bar.

Jake gets his phone from his pocket and quickly dials Jesse’s number. But she doesn’t answer. Jake texts her, telling her to answer the phone, to text him, but she must be driving. There's no way he can reach her.

Maybe he can wait for her out the bar, stop her from coming in. "Pops, I'm gonna wait for Jinx outside. She doesn't deserve to see this."

"Yeah, you do that. I'll try to make Mickey leave through the back door." Mav offers, and when both men are about to walk their separate ways, they see Jinx standing a few feet away from them… her whole face contorted in pure horror once she realizes that she was too late.

She has lost Mickey.

"Jake, go." Maverick pushes him in her direction, and Jake gives them the money Bradley had given him before, knowing well that he won't be coming back.

"Jake…" Jesse whimpers when she sees his friend, as tears run down her face.

"Hey, it's okay. It's okay, honey. Let's get you home," mutters Jake while softly pushing her out of the pub.

"I-I can't go home. What if he takes that girl home to fuck her?"

Jake sighs, knowing that she's right. "We'll go to my home, okay?"

"Tell me I'm dreaming, please. Just tell me this is a nightmare." She says, bursting into tears. Jake hugs her and leads her to his car, no way he's letting her ride her bike all the way home in such a state.

Once she's sat down and the seat belt is secured, Jake closes the door and calls his wife.

"Jake? Did Jinx get there? Are they kissing?" Red blurts, waiting for his responses.

"She did get here, but Mickey was kissing another girl when she entered the bar."

There's a collective gasp. Jake knows he’s on speaker, and all the girls are listening to him. "He did what?!"

"Mom, I'm as surprised as you are." He sighs, walking to his side of the

"Bring her home, Jake. We'll take care of her.” Red offers, and Jake can hear all the girls whispering and talking along with the distinctive sound of people packing up their things to leave.

“Girls, you don’t have to stop your night for this…”

“She needs her friends now, Jake.” Hen states, coming closer to the phone. “Take care of her for us, will ya?”

“I will, don’t worry. By the way, Rooster is on his way to get you. He couldn’t stay away from you and the kids any longer.”

The girls reply with a big aww in unison, as if they had rehearsed it, and it makes Hen chuckle. “I know, he texted me.”

“Take care of him for me, will ya?”

“I will. Now come home. Red and Jazz are preparing a room for Jesse.”

Jake hangs up and gets in the car. He’s about to try and calm Jesse a bit when he sees Mickey’s figure walking out the bar. Jake swears under his breath before starting the engine and driving away from this place.

Tagging the usual people hehe

@purplevortexx

@shrimping-for-all

@pono-pura-vida

@xoxabs88xox

@jynxmirage

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dorminchu · 11 months

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Between Heaven & Earth: Prologue: Part One

a/n: *busts down door* HELLO BOYS, I'M BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!

Annie grew up in Nemus, a small hunting town populated by an Eldian majority. Most kids were content to throw horseshoes or play war games in the street than attend school at the mercy of Marleyan kids and tutors. Their elders held no ambitions of becoming more than an honest farmer, hunter, or fisherman; the generation old enough to recall how life was before Tybur's impact on Marleyan wartime politics were happy to change the subject, if it ever came up.

Whenever Annie and her father had cause to pass through town, she would watch for the mothers and their children. The mothers would notice her yellow armband and pointed stare, and offer a tight-lipped smile or a hello for Mr. Leonhardt. Kids spared a second glance to her indifferent posture, her mottled legs. Some would ask if her father was too strict. Annie just shrugged and said, I'm going to be a Warrior. It's nothing I can't handle.

Mostly, they asked a lot of stupid questions. Can you turn into a Titan whenever you want, or was your mother a Titan too, or do you think those Eldians in Paradis missed their families after they ate them?

No.

I don't know.

Why should it matter? They're just devils.

Her father used to work for Marley's Public Security, which was how he met the Warrior Unit's Commander Magrath in the first place. As soon as Annie could walk, he was pushing a knife into her hands. The best path for an Eldian, her father said, was to join the military or get a government job. Ethnic Marleyans often took priority over the latter, despite the reform in 1879, when an Eldian could first sign a series of documents renouncing his bloodline and become an honorary Marleyan. That was just to appease the humanitarians. It didn't change unfair labor standards, verbal and physical attacks outside interment zones.

At six years old, she could perform trips and submissions and clinches. The Titan Research Society took an interest in her. They sent recruiters to the house who asked a lot of questions about her life in Nemus; all right. Her sympathy for Eldians; nonexistent. Her knowledge of Tybur's impact on wartime politics; a hero who bridged the gap between the warring countries, but as interesting to her as a game of jacks in the street. The bloodwork was half of her ticket into Marley's Warrior Unit. The other half was discipline.

Her first test; a spar against one of their soldiers. Colt Grice, blonde and violet-eyed, his face still soft enough to be an adolescent's. Red armband just below his shoulder; already a Warrior. Annie held his gaze, assuming the proper stance; arms up, on the backfoot. The color of his irises seemed to change the longer she paid attention—blue in direct sunlight, then closer to indigo as the sun dipped behind the clouds—at this distance, just a trick of the light.

He blocked her kicks with the flat of his palms. He was too tall for her to reasonably get her arms around his neck without crippling him first, and she couldn't get in close without expending her energy on the offensive. She shifted her weight, the dry grass beneath her heel, and kicked it into his eyes. Grice moved away, shielding his face. She took out his ankle with a sweep and he went down faster than she anticipated.

Grounded, a ditch of faded scars from his temples to eyelids. She'd never seen a Warrior up close. Brushing the dirt off himself, he said, "You've practised a lot." Annie didn't offer her hand. He was powerful enough to disarm her if he'd really had to. Why should be hold back? Grice got to his feet and smiled. "I'm sure Magrath will consider you."

Annie nodded. It wasn't a miracle, just muscle memory and discipline.

"Not one for conversation?" Grice shrugged. "I used to be like that, too."

The doctor was still talking with her father.

"What happened to your face?"

Grice paused. "Injured, on the front lines. Happens to most Warriors once they get out of basic training." Annie watched his eyes, violet eyes, go a little darker. "I don't think you should have any problems."

…

The Titan Research Society said it would be a month until their decision. To be considered by the Warrior Unit was a great achievement for the child's family. A source of prestige for the derelict hunting town, now the birthplace of a future Warrior. The calluses on her palms, the exhaustion, just proof of her devotion.

Besides herself, her father was the only one who seemed indifferent to her selection as a Warrior candidate. As far as he was concerned, they were just training as usual. He put a lot of emphasis on kicks and clinches, towards the end. A Muay Thai boxer, her father said, would toughen his shins with repetitive strikes. Over time, this created microfractures in the bone, enabling the boxer to deal and receive blows more effectively.

She did it so often, she kept jarring herself awake at night. Eyes on the empty space where she'd struck an imagined foe—the side of the cabin wall. Throbbing in her muscles compounded by the frustration of seemingly little progress. Curling into herself, massaging her shin. It did no good to cry. She was not going to be like the other children, cowed and useless when conscripted.

Each time he had to correct her, they'd start from the beginning. Now he would say, "You won't end up as food for a Titan if an enemy solider is able to run his bayonet through you. Start again." Annie's shins were sore. She screwed her eyes shut and concentrated on centering her weight. The sandbag slouched, inanimate. Blow upon blow, her father looked on and smoked. She stood, waiting for him to say, that's enough, Leonhardt. Her father discarded his cigarette, crushed it beneath his boot. "Wait here."

Annie wiped her face, sheened in sweat. Where the sun met the horizon, the sky was turning pink and orange. When her father came back, he brought a gas-lamp with him. "I didn't tell you to stop," said her father. It was all she could do just to stay upright. She ground her teeth and kicked, hitting the edge of the sandbag. "Properly," her father said, drawing a fresh cigarette. "At this rate you're going to end up like your mother."

When he went to light his next cigarette, she pivoted on her heel. A well-timed kick sent him to the ground. He caught himself on his arm, belly-up. Getting in close wasn't advisable. He could knock out her feet or catch her ankle and twist. If she were larger, she could brace herself against the sandbag and put all of her weight into stomping his throat. Or just bring the sandbag down on his head.

He didn't try to stop her while she drove her foot into his knee, his nose, just laid there, coughing. Annie, staggering back, out of breath as he kept wheezing and pushed himself upright to wheeze some more, spitting up blood. Annie corrected her stance, as if it would make any difference now.

Locking eyes with her, for the first time in her life, his mouth curled through the spit and blood and made her hackles rise. "Very good," he said. "Now, you can kill a man."

…

Next morning, the sun was high overhead. Her whole body felt like one big bruise. There was a bowl of stew for her, and bread. She sat up carefully, ate in silence. If she was able to hobble past the threshold, she ought to treat her injuries. Setting the bowl aside, she tested her feet.

"You're awake." His limp was pronounced. He smelled like smoke. "They'll be sending out for the candidates all across Marley," he said curtly. "They should arrive in Nemus in a week. You've been selected. So you'll be living in Liberio while you go through basic training. Most likely they'll deploy you within the same year."

Annie, working her jaw, stared at her hands. "When do we resume training?"

Her father looked at her. "Are you in any shape to continue?"

"No, sir."

"You've done enough," her father said. "Let yourself rest."

His tone not quite impassive, just indomitable. Her father's eyes were hazel; hers were blue. He smoked a lot of De Reszke cigarettes when he was agitated, but never inside the house. Annie shared his penchant for sweets and dry, acerbic humor, but otherwise he could have been a stranger. Annie had never seen a picture of her mother, just ascertained the information on the records. Blue eyes, blonde hair. Annie had little imagination outside of what was tangible.

At the end of the week, her father roused her an hour before sunrise. "They'll be here soon," he said, his expression obfuscated in shadow. "Get dressed."

The lines in his face were clearer in the early morning light. The hunch in his gait, from putting his weight on his good leg, hadn't improved since their last spar.

Annie could see the carriage through the window. Her father stopped her, closing his hand over hers, an object passed between them. Annie's eyes lowered to the small, iron ring. "There should be a switch," her father said. "Put it on." It fit on her index finger. She pressed her thumb along the depression, and a small blade clicked open. "With this," her father said, "you can cut out a man's throat." A catch to his voice, like something was stuck in his throat. "Useful in certain situations. Not something you should rely on."

Thumbing the groove twice clicked it shut. Annie stared at the ring. Her father's leg gave out, and he caught her by the back of her jacket. Instead of pulling her down, he wrapped his arms around her. "This world has been your enemy," he said, "from the day you were born. But I'll always be on your side." Annie kept her arms down. This stranger with her father's voice and clothes and smell of tobacco, he whispered through the tremble in his throat, "Promise me you'll come home."

Annie stared at him. "I promise."

When he pulled away, her collar was damp. He avoided her gaze, adjusting his cap. She walked past him, out the door and toward the carriage, already open for her. She took a seat. On the ride over, she removed the ring, turning it over in her palm.

…

Ten weeks' basic training in Liberio, followed by a year of mandatory service. She could go home after that, if she chose to, but it was seen as a negative for your patriotism to Marley.

During unarmed combat, Annie became the yardstick with which their Commander judged the rest, many of whom did not know a clinch from a grapple. Commander Magrath, a short, powerfully-built Marleyan with sunken eyes and cropped hair, told them how it was common for Warrior cadets to fail basic training. They ended up in workhouses or mining iron ore off the coast of Paradis for Hizuru. Some of them grew up only to be conscripted into Marley's ground forces.

The Galliard brothers—Marcel and Porco—Reiner Braun were willing to scrap with each other as well as Annie. Back home, the kids wouldn't try picking a fight with her more than once. Twice her size, Braun's idea of strategy was charging into a headlock. Disarming him was easier than Colt Grice, because he always lowered his head to charge. If he'd had better instruction, no doubt she would be outclassed. Instead, she won by fighting dirty while the other cadets looked on in faux-sympathy. A clean fight wouldn't save you when the enemy had you at gunpoint. You won, or didn't.

Later, in the mess hall, Braun clapped her on the back with a hand that spanned her shoulders and said that she was all set to inherit a Titan. "Which one?" she said coolly.

Braun didn't notice the change in tone. "Something small." Annie elbowed him in the rib where she'd kicked him. "Agile," he muttered, rubbing the wound. "You didn't let me finish. Probably the Attacker, you'd be better-off for combat than the Jaw."

Annie pushed past him to have a seat at the bench next to Bertholdt Hoover, who rarely said much. He glanced over at her with a start.

"Annie and I were discussing the possibilities of Titan inheritance. Which one do you see yourself as?" Braun asked.

Hoover was hesitating. "I don't really know yet. What about you, Reiner?"

Braun's smile flickered. "Probably I'll just end up working like everyone else who doesn't cut it."

He plopped down next to Annie. Hoover looked across her to say, "If you could be any Titan, what would you be?"

Braun was staring at his stew, a malleable desperation in his eyes bordering on despair. "Armoured."

Hoover nodded. "A Colossus wouldn't be so bad." Annie glanced at him. "Everyone here wants to go to the front-lines," Hoover muttered, shoulders slouching. "I'd rather just keep the Walls intact." He caught Annie's eye, then averted with a dry chuckle. "Like those conscientious objectors, right?"

Braun scowled. "Paradis already has walls, it doesn't need any more."

Of the graduates, only the top of their class went on to assume a Titan's power. They were part of a special unit called the Subjects of Ymir—an ironic holdover from the days of Eldian Restorationists. A Subject of Ymir would never tire or become ill, and could heal from any wound, even regenerate limbs. Unlike their Paradisian cousins, it was possible to retain one's humanity before and after transforming into a sentient Titan. For an Eldian, there was no greater act of atonement.

The Jaw; the fastest of all the Titans, but also the smallest, most frail. One shot from a cannon or anti-aircraft artillery and it was finished.

The Armoured; an offensive tank, slow-moving, but nearly impossible to damage with anti-aircraft fire when it crystallized its skin.

The Colossus; Slow moving and difficult to destroy through conventional weaponry, the best way to stop a Colossus was to allow it to burn itself out. Thousands of crystallized Colossi, standing shoulder to shoulder, made up the three Walls surrounding Paradis.

The Attacker; A prototype, made by combining the Armoured and original Attacker formula. Couldn't take as much physical damage, but could crystallize and command Titans over a very short distance. Usually given to female Warriors, granting it an informal epithet.

The Cart; required high stamina from its holder. Second fastest, next to the Jaw. Used primarily for support and reconnaissance missions.

The original Attacker; a prototype, used in the early years of the Titan Research Society. Tested on Eldian POWs and volunteers. Deemed to be unstable after repeated use and discontinued.

The Beast variant; classified, only afforded to elite Warriors.

The last two were special cases; Warhammer, inherited by the Tybur family inherited after agreeing to be Fritz's enforcers. The strongest of all variants, aside from the Progenitor. Progenitor; capable of erasing memories and commanding all Titans to the holder's will, at the cost of immense psychological and physical strain. The Marleyans claimed this was how Fritz erected the three walls. Only a descendant of Fritz's bloodline could use the Progenitor effectively.

For all Subjects of Ymir, regeneration put a massive strain on their body. This one time, during breakfast, Finger was quick to mention all the men in their twenties and late teens who kept cropping up Marley's psychiatric hospitals with irreparable nerve damage and second-degree burns. An uptick in front-line casualties, the official reports claimed. Chemical attacks at Fort Slava became a publicly acceptable euphemism. "Any doctor," she said, "would tell you the quickest way to euthanize a Warrior is to sever the brain's connection to the spinal column."

"What about lethal injections?" Braun asked.

"Death by firing squad?" said P. Galliard.

"Decapitation," Annie suggested.

Finger shook her head. "Injections won't work reliably, once the serum is in the body for long enough. In a lot of cases, rifles, hangings and beheadings only prolong their suffering."

Hoover looked pointedly down at his half-eaten bowl of oatmeal. His hands were trembling.

"Like breaking a bone until it's set in-place," Annie said.

Finger looked up. "Yes, precisely." She paused. "I can't think of a more terrible thing to do to someone, can you?"

The other cadets stared at Finger. Annie. "It makes no difference to me," she added. "We'll die sooner or later."

Finger said, "That's true."

…

By the end of the eighth week, the pool of potential candidates was down to ten. Braun was physically the strongest, but a mediocre shot with a rifle. In a classroom setting, he was excellent at regurgitating Marley's propaganda—the instructors suggested he consider a career in politics, and Braun always said thank you with his eyes on the floor, glassy.

When Braun was up to his knees in the mud, the only cadet who stopped to lend a hand up was Bertholdt Hoover. Commander Magrath commended Hoover for noticing Braun's distress, then lowered every cadet's score except Braun's for putting Hoover in jeopardy. On the front lines, they'd have been shot to pieces by then.

"Eighty six percent drop out rate," jeered P. Galliard when Magrath was out of earshot, prodding Braun in the chest, "so you'd better start trying harder unless you want to be Titan food in six years."

The Galliard brothers came from a military background, like Annie. M. Galliard was on pace to be the best in the class. Finger, despite being the weakest physically, managed to stay out of trouble with everyone, even P. Galliard.

Colt Grice mainly operated as a classroom instructor. He was more open to fielding questions than the Marleyan officers, as well as the Mid-Eastern Conflict.

Fifty years ago, the countries of Marley and Hizuru were caught in a territorial dispute with the Mid-Eastern Alliance over how to divide Paradis Island. When an Eldian named Karl Fritz gained control of the Progenitor, he used this power to turn all the Eldians on Paradis into mindless Titans. They eradicated Marley's naval forces in Lago and Liberio while Fritz seized control of Paradis, ready to claim dominion over those who would oppose him, until the Mid-Eastern Alliance suggested a treaty.

In return for political immunity, the Tybur family became Karl Fritz's enforcers, and behind closed doors, Marley inherited the power of the Titans. Marley's Public Security started rounding up Eldians and their sympathizers across the continent, and sending them back to Paradis to live with their brethren. Resources that should have gone to aiding civilians and their ravaged naval bases were funneled into the Titan Research Society. Under the guidance of Fritz, these Eldians would rebuild and repopulate what was lost in the initial conflict. By 1889, the walls around Paradis were erected. The Warrior program officially opened in Liberio to all healthy Eldian boys or girls, aged five to seven. The Public Security Authorities changed their statement. Eldian citizens willing to renounce their heritage were christened honorary Marleyans. The rest were sentenced to Heaven, set loose upon Paradis's beaches.

Today, it was estimated that one million men and women were still living in Paradis. The remnants of traditional Eldian civilization. "During the Mid-Eastern Conflict," Grice explained, "there were many reports of Titan sightings off the coast of Paradis. While we were on neutral terms, the Mid-Eastern Allies would send airplanes over, but those stopped after a few years after the ceasefire."

"They were making the Titans nervous, probably," Finger offered.

Galliard scoffed. No one else said anything.

"In order for the Eldians to accept their new life," Grice continued, "Fritz used the Progenitor's power to alter their memories. As far as anyone in Paradis knows, they have always lived within the three walls, safe from the Titans who devoured the rest of humanity. If they saw an airplane without any prior understanding," Grice said, "they might begin to formulate theories of their own. Best to negate that chance altogether."

"What does it matter?" snapped P. Galliard. "We should have sent more planes over and finished the job. Maybe then we'd have stopped the war."

"But Fritz could just wake all the Titans up and kill everyone," said Annie. "So there wouldn't be a home to return to."

Grice nodded. "Well said."

"Isn't that worse?" Hoover said. "Than killing them, I mean."

"They're lower than dogs," Braun said hotly. "Don't sympathize with them. As soon as they were able to, they were happy to slaughter their non-Eldian compatriots."

Hoover flinched slightly. "That's not what I meant," he mumbled, but Braun wasn't paying attention.

"It's a specialized unit of soldiers," Annie suggested. "For unique operations that a normal soldier can't accomplish."

Braun looked over sharply. "Warriors. Not soldiers."

Annie scowled. "It's a branch of Marley's ground forces. Subject of Ymir is what the Marleyans call you when they're dragging your family out into the street to be beaten. You might as well say you're no better than the Eldians in Paradis."

Braun stared at her as though she had just declared all of this about his mother. "It has nothing to do with Paradisians," he said tightly. "It's a sign of prestige. We use that power in ways they'll never be able to. I can't believe you'd make such a thoughtless comparison."

"She's from Nemus," Hoover piped up. Annie twisted around to get a look at his face. The way he blenched, he wasn't going to be any help.

"Of coure," said P. Galliard, turning around in his seat to face them, "I don't know how things are over in that part of the country. Maybe she's just ignorant. I'm sure she didn't mean anything by it."

Braun's jaw twitched. The other cadets were watching. Annie said, "You're never going to get promoted if you keep sucking up to Marley. Even Braun knows that."

P. Galliard blinked. Forced a laugh. "Go to hell."

"You think I'm stupid, Leonhardt?"

"That's enough," said M. Galliard curtly. He looked at Annie. "Don't you two start."

"You all think I'm stupid," Braun snapped. "That I don't take this as seriously, well, maybe I'm the only one who sees these devils for what they are—"

"No one gives a damn," said P. Galliard.

Braun snapped to his feet, catching his knees on the edge of the desk. "You're always a goddam thorn in my side," he hissed, but his tone was uneven. "Marcel thinks it too. You ain't even got the aptitude for—"

P. Galliard's whole body poised as if a second from launching himself across the desk. Braun, twice his size, stared at Annie.

"The instructor's coming over," said Finger plaintively. No one was looking at her.

Grice was asking what the problem was.

Braun clenched, unclenched his fists. "Discussing the proper terminology of a Warrior, sir."

Was it true, Leonhardt, the instructor asked.

"Yes, sir."

They all had to do laps and write an additional essay on the historical difference between semantics for soldier and Warrior.

"Why'd he get so angry?" Annie muttered, leafing through the textbook.

"It's not a matter of justifying a title," Hoover said. "As Warrior candidates, we differentiate ourselves from the rest of Marley's military." He lowered his eyes to the page, as though deep in thought. "The Marleyans and Eldians have been fighting for a long time. It's not our concern who started the war, only continuing the ceasefire."

"You needn't worry about Braun," said Finger. "He and Pock are just competing for placement. We're all fighting against Eldia in the end."

Annie scowled at her notes. "Once you're on the front lines, it doesn't matter who proves himself the best loyalist."

Finger nudged her arm. "Don't take Pock too seriously. He's noisy, but he means well." Annie side-eyed Finger, who was gesturing to her notes. "There, you wrote down Marleyan Warrior when you meant soldier."

Annie checked. "Right." She crossed it out, hesitating. "Thanks."

#snk #aot #fanfic #fanfiction #canon divergent au #slow burn #eventual ereannie

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