Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tree leaves rustled in the light breeze, soaking up the warm afternoon sun. It was the point in the season when summer melted into early autumn, when the lingering warmth began to be offset by the cooler evenings, and winds of change started to brush the earth as it prepared to change colour from green to golden-orange, russet-brown, and grey. The harvest was almost ready to be gathered in, soon to leave the ground bare before winter’s frost arrived.

An aura of peace lay over the farmland as the post wagon plodded its way along the worn dirt road, kicking up clouds of dust as it went. It seemed so calm, so idyllic.

Just by looking at it, no outsider could guess that Wall Maria had fallen only a matter of days ago.

Petra watched the wagon’s progress from her vantage point, crouched high in the branches of the old apple tree. As it approached, she began to clamber down, the basket of apples hanging in the crook of her elbow.

The first news had come as a shock.

At first, she couldn’t believe it; everything had seemed so normal here. There had been no earthquake or rain of fire or anything that seemed to serve as proof of the upheaval. Besides, what could possibly bring the walls down? They had stood tall for a hundred years!

Then, as the reality began to sink in, she started noticing more. The neighbours would worry over some relative from Wall Maria, now lost, with no knowledge whether they were alive or dead. The farms were ordered to give up more food at harvest, in order for it to be distributed evenly among the starving refugees. On one of her rare trips into town, she had seen people who were desperate enough to fight over a loaf of bread, or else stared blankly at the world with eyes that had seen too much. 

Once, she had returned home in the evening to find her father polishing the old shotgun, the kitchen’s homely scent overpowered by the smell of oil and metal. There had been reports of strangers in the area, of food being stolen, of doors and windows forced open in the dead of night.

No matter how hard anyone tried, it was becoming impossible to ignore the truth—that change was coming, and something had to give way.

Petra shuddered slightly, then pulled herself together. She ran a hand through her dishevelled hair, brushing her ginger braid back over her shoulder.

Dropping lightly to the ground, she set down the basket and dusted off her old, mud-stained clothes. Standing up, she gave her arms a quick stretch before jogging forward to meet the post wagon.

Maybe there would be some news about the wall. Maybe there was some kind of plan to take back the land that had been lost. After all, there was no way that Wall Rose could shelter all the refugees that had come to seek safety from the titans—there just weren’t enough resources.

A flicker of anxiety stirred in her stomach, but she pushed it down. Everything was going to be fine, she told herself. The higher-ups would find a way to fix the situation, and everything would go back to the way it was before. There was nothing she needed to worry about…

Right?

Snap.

The fire hissed as a log crackled in the fireplace, breaking the deafening silence that hung over the dinner table.

A single letter lay unfolded on the wooden surface, the paper crisp and unstained. Its pristine, sharp edges and neat printed letters looked completely out of place among the half-eaten plates of food and scattered cutlery that littered the table.

Petra looked up slowly at her father, sitting on the opposite side of the table. The newspaper lay untouched at his elbow as he rested his head on his hand, massaging his brow with his fingertips.

She couldn’t think of anything to say. Instead, she reached for the letter and let her gaze scan over the lines, as if reading it again could offer up some previously-unseen loophole.

In order to ensure the survival of humanity, each household is required to offer up at least one fit adult male to be conscripted…

…the expedition to take back Wall Maria…

There were no words to be said. This letter, no matter how high-quality the paper or how neat the writing, was nothing more or less than a death sentence.

Going beyond the walls was not simply dangerous, it was borderline lunacy. Even those brave enough to venture out into titan territory suffered terrible losses, many returning with haunted eyes and bloodstained clothes…

And that was if you were lucky enough to return at all.

And yet, with the loss of Wall Maria, the surviving remnants of humanity had been crammed into an even smaller cage than before—one which could not support them. This sacrifice was cruel, but it was better than simply allowing everyone to starve.

Petra looked up again.

She was an only child, and since her mother’s death some years ago, she and her father were the only two living in this farmhouse.

Which meant that there was only one person here who fit the description of a ‘fit adult male’.

Really, what was there to say?

Petra lowered her eyes back to the letter.

…must report to the following address for basic training before the following date…

“It’s in a week.” Petra said quietly. “Dad, the deadline’s in a week.”

Dad let out a slow, heavy sigh. “I know, Petra. I know.”

The pit in Petra’s stomach deepened. She stared at her plate.

It was ironic. Humanity may be on the brink of starvation, but now she didn’t even have the stomach to finish her food. 

“You shouldn’t have to go.” Her mouth had gone dry, and just forcing the words out made her throat feel like sandpaper, but she had to say something, anything rather than accept the cruel reality—

“Petra.”

Petra shook her head. “You can’t go. We’re farmers, right? You need to stay and run the farm so people can have enough to eat… we should write to them, tell them that you need to stay here—”

“Petra.”

She was talking faster now, raising her voice in a fit of frantic energy. “They have to listen—”

“Petra.”

“You can’t go!” Petra shouted, overwhelmed by her own helpless anger. “I’m not going to just sit by and—”

She couldn’t finish her sentence. Her throat closed up, her own words choking her.

She heard the chair grate against the floor as her father stood up, crossing over to her side of the table and pulling her into a hug. 

Petra felt her eyes prickle as Dad’s arms squeezed her gently. Her hands curled into fists, grasping his woollen jumper between her fingers and pressing her forehead against his shoulder.

“There, now.” His tone was low and soothing, his hand rubbing her back comfortingly. “It’s alright, sweetheart. It’ll all turn out fine, you’ll see…”

Petra buried her head further into him. “It’s not fair,” she mumbled, her voice muffled.

She felt him release a heavy sigh.

“I know, Petra,” he said quietly. “It isn’t fair. But there’s nothing we can do about it.”

His pained admission made something deep inside her wrench. She clenched her jaw, trying to hold back a sob, but she couldn’t stop the tears from spilling out onto her cheeks.

Was there really nothing that they could do? Was there no way around this?

Would she be forced to stand by and watch as her only family left—almost certainly to his death?

No. No way. There had to be some other option.

Petra opened her mouth, but her throat was so dry and tight that her voice only came out as a croak. “I could…” she tried.

“Hey.” Dad gently interrupted her, his voice shifting into a lighter tone. “Don’t be so quick to write me off, alright? After all, I’m fairly robust. Those titans won’t know what hit ’em! So have a little faith in your old father, hm?”

“…could go.”

“Mm?”

Petra raised her head slowly. “I could go.”

“Go where?” A bemused frown creased his brow.

Her eyes met his, still surprised by her own idea. “I could go instead of you,” she said softly.

He shook his head, a strange half-smile of confusion crossing his face. “Petra, what are you talking about?”

“I’m serious!” Petra’s thoughts were racing, her conviction growing with every moment. “I can do it. Everyone says I look like a boy anyway, and as long as they don’t find out, it’ll be fine—as long as I cut my hair short, and—”

Dad pulled away, placing his hands on her shoulders. The smile was gone now. “Petra. That’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking!” Petra insisted. “I can do it, I really can—”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” His tone had turned sharp. “You’re not a soldier, Petra. You’re a young woman—”

“Well, as long as they don’t find out—”

“THIS ISN’T A GAME, PETRA!”

Petra jumped, taken aback by the force of his shout.

Dad took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. He let his shoulders sag as he turned back to sit down in his seat, one hand coming up to massage his brow.

Petra waited.

He lowered his hand, keeping his gaze composed. “Petra,” he said calmly. “I understand why you’d be upset by this. Believe me, I really do get it. But what you’re suggesting is…” he waved a hand in a wild gesture. “It’s insanity! No woman can become a soldier—and as your father, I refuse to allow you to go off to your death!”

Petra’s throat clenched, and she swallowed.

“But it’s fine for you?” Even exerting the full extent of her self-control, she was fighting to keep her voice steady. “It’s alright if you’re the one dying?”

“That’s enough, Petra.” Dad picked up the newspaper, unfolding the first page. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

Petra blinked, shocked.

“You… you’re just going to drop the subject?” She asked, eyes wide in disbelief. “Just like that?”

“I said, we’ll talk about it tomorrow.” Dad pointed a finger. “And no more of this nonsense about pretending to be a boy, alright?”

It wasn’t a question. His tone had a flat finality to it, indicating that the conversation was over.

Petra sat still in shock for a moment. Then, pushing her chair back, she stood from the table and darted away, pounding her way up the stairs and into her room.

She shut the door as quickly as she could without slamming it, and leaned her back against the smooth wood for a moment as she caught her breath.

Obviously, this wasn’t the first argument she had had with her father. But compared to this, all of their disagreements had been trivial—petty conflicts of no consequence, in which little more than pride was at stake. But this —  

This might become the last argument they would ever have.

As that final thought crossed her mind, the veneer of her self-control broke down and she slumped to the floor, burying her face in her knees as she finally let out the sobs she had been holding back.

This wasn’t fair. It would never be fair. And what was more (the thought prompting another muffled cry into her clothes), she was completely and utterly powerless to change anything.

There was a soft knock.

Petra stirred herself, sitting up on her bed and wiping the tears from her face as the door opened a crack.

“Can I come in?” Dad glanced through, before pushing the door open at her quiet nod.

Petra shuffled to the edge of her bed, untucking her legs from underneath her.

There was an awkward silence.

Dad cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about getting angry at you earlier,” he said quietly. “And I wanted to give you this.”

He held out a small, rectangular wooden box. Petra slowly reached out and took it, looking up with a questioning glance.

Dad scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “It’s a gift. I was going to give you this as a wedding present, but considering the circumstances… I think it’s right for you to have it now.”

Petra frowned slightly, but didn’t say anything. Instead, she carefully opened the box.

Inside, wrapped carefully within a cloth, lay a silver hairpin.

Smooth and lovingly polished, the metal gleamed in the light as Petra moved the cloth aside, eyes widening in wonder. It had been crafted to look like a tree branch, complete with a single bird standing perched on one end, its tail spread and wings outstretched as if it was about to take off into flight. It was a remarkable piece of craftsmanship; she could almost count the feathers painstakingly engraved into the metal, running her thumb over the tiny feet gripping the branch.

It was like nothing else she had ever seen in the house. She was no expert, but something with this level of detail was bound to be incredibly valuable—had they really had this at home for all this time?

“This was your mother’s.” Dad sat next to her on the bed, his face softening into a slight smile.

Petra blinked in surprise. She couldn’t remember ever seeing her mother wearing it—but then again, this wasn’t the kind of thing you’d wear while working on a farm. She picked the hairpin out of the box, turning it over in her fingers. As she did, she noticed something.

“What’s this hole for?” Petra pointed at the wider end of the hairpin, where a small hole had been bored into the silver.

“Ah. I can’t say for certain, but according to your grandmother, there’s a family legend that it was smuggled all the way from Wall Sina.” The corners of his eyes creased in amusement. “It’s quite a good story, actually. Apparently, it’s thanks to some troublemaker ancestor of yours who stole the hairpin and evaded the police for long enough to tie it around the neck of his dog, which arrived at his home a couple of days later… but that’s all just hearsay.”

“It’s beautiful.” Petra carefully placed it back in the box.

Her father watched, his smile fading to be replaced by a frown of concern. “Petra. Your mother loved you, and she only ever wanted the best for you. You understand that, don’t you?”

Petra nodded.

“Good.” Dad placed his hand on her shoulder, making her hold his eye contact. “I know I said we’d talk about it tomorrow, but I want you to promise me—right now—that you won’t say anything more about going in my place. No more talk about pretending to be a boy just so you can put yourself in danger. Can you do that for me?”

Petra sighed quietly, but seeing his expression, she couldn’t bring herself to start arguing again. “Ok.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah. I promise.”

Petra stared out through her window, gazing into the inky darkness of night that lay over the farm.

The box containing the silver hairpin lay closed on her bedside table. It had been a few days since her father had gifted it to her, and she had never tried to wear it, despite looking at it every day.

As promised, she hadn’t said another word about joining the army. Dad, clearly relieved by her compliance, had spent the last few evenings engrossed in preparation, making sure that she would have everything she needed in case their worst fears came true.

“Listen. The farm goes to you, but once you get married, it passes into your husband’s possession. In the meantime, the Kilburnes will help run the farm, and you’ll be staying with them — it isn’t safe for you to stay here by yourself…”

The Kilburne family owned the next farm along from the Rals’, making them each other’s closest neighbours. Petra had met them any number of times, and they were all friendly enough, but she wouldn’t describe herself as being close to any of them.

In fact, one of their sons—Michael, the oldest—was joining the expedition to take back Wall Maria. As far as she could tell, the family was optimistic, certain of his triumphant return, but it was probably little more than an act; putting on a brave face in front of their neighbours.

Petra pushed her curtain further aside, letting a stream of bright moonlight into her bedroom.

As agreed, she hadn’t tried to argue about the upcoming expedition. She hadn’t said anything more about going herself, and she hadn’t made any further objections to her father’s planned departure. To all appearances, she had resigned herself to the situation.

The reality, however, was the opposite.

Petra’s heart thumped nervously in her chest.

She had spent the past few days secretly making preparations of her own; even now, a packed bag lay hidden under her bed, complete with a change of clothes, some essentials, and her small savings that she had gathered over the past few years. Granted, she didn’t have much of a plan, but she didn’t exactly have the luxury of time either.

She was just going to have to wing it.

And now, she had arrived at the crossroads: do nothing and stay safely at home, or carry out her crazy idea and risk everything.

One thing was certain—if she was going to leave, she would have to leave tonight.

Which brought her to the final stage of her preparations.

The large scissors gleamed slightly in the dim light, winking at her as they lay on her bedside table. She had fished them out of her sewing kit earlier, and now she picked them up, feeling the solid weight of the cold metal between her fingers.

This was it. Her final chance to turn back.

Petra reached for her mirror. She didn’t dare light a candle, in case her father saw the glow; she’d have to do this by moonlight.

Placing the mirror on her windowsill, she held her hair away from her neck and raised the scissors.

Her stomach churned with nerves, and she shut her eyes.

Snip.

The first lock of hair fell from her head, and just like that, there was no turning back.

She was doing this.

Petra drew in a slow, deep breath, and fixed her eyes on the mirror with a determined glare. She picked out the next strand of hair, and raised the scissors again.

More locks of hair joined the first as she worked, cutting away one section after another and trimming the ends as neatly as she could. She picked up the mirror to examine herself, squinting through the corners of her eyes to check the sides of her head.

Finally satisfied, she set the scissors down next to her.

The figure in the mirror turned their head slowly this way and that, scrutinising their appearance. Their ginger hair was cropped short, save for a couple of bangs that framed their face. They rubbed the back of their head with a slim hand, trying to accustom themself to the unusual sensation of the trimmed ends. Their golden eyes gleamed with a mixture of apprehension and excitement as they quickly turned away, putting away the mirror and gathering up the discarded hair before slipping off the bed to change their clothes.

This was it.

Chapter Text

Click.

Petra was pulled from her thoughts, brought back into reality by the quiet sound of teeth on metal. Her horse was playing with the bit in its mouth, bored by the endless standing around as they waited for the gate to rise.

Petra sat a little straighter in the saddle, reaching out to pat her steed on the neck. Her fingers gently scratched the coarse hairs, her teeth biting down on her lip as she tried to distract herself from the pit of anxiety in her stomach.

Two months.

Two months had passed now since she had left home.

Two months since she had signed herself up to take part in this expedition—and yet, somehow it felt like only yesterday.

The man sitting at the desk didn’t even look up as she stepped forward. “Name?”

“Peter Ral.”

Granted, it wasn’t the most imaginative alias, but she was more concerned about having a name she would easily remember. ‘Peter’ had been her grandfather’s name, and, as her father had once told her, it would have been hers, had she been born as a boy.

The man looked up. His eyes raked over her unimpressive five-foot-two as he asked, “Age?”

“Eighteen.”

He raised an eyebrow, his gaze turning sceptical. “You sure about that?”

Petra bristled slightly at his tone. Sure, she might not be tall, but she didn’t look that young, either! “Yes, I’m sure.”

After scrutinising her determined glare, he shrugged — almost as if to say ‘your funeral’ — and wrote something down. “Very well.”

Petra blinked, surprised. Was he really giving in so easily?

As if reading her mind, the man let out a sigh. “Listen, kid. Between you and me, the Survey Corps doesn’t really care who turns up to bolster the ranks. As long as you’ve got a working body, you’re in. We don’t have the luxury of choice here.”

And just like that, she was in — and more importantly, the Ral household had filled its quota.

At least on paper.

And now, two months of hurried training later, here she was—waiting for the Trost gate to rise, with what felt like a block of lead in her abdomen.

She had known from the beginning that this expedition was little more than a culling, an effort to decrease the amount of hungry mouths within the wall—but even knowing that, she never could have expected just how little they were prepared to venture outside.

Their two months had been spent primarily on strength training, drills and learning the long-range scouting formation, with just a couple of extra lessons on titan anatomy and the like. There was neither the time nor resources for all the trainees to learn how to use the specialised titan-slaying ODM gear, which all soldiers would normally be equipped with. Instead, the only weapons they had received were simple swords; swords which could be used to defend themselves in a pinch, but couldn’t do any real damage against a titan. They had been told that these were the same kind of weapon that the Survey Corps had used before the ODM gear had been invented, but that wasn’t wholly reassuring.

The trainees’ role was primarily support. They had all been sorted into squads, each with a few seasoned soldiers who were equipped with ODM gear. While the newcomers would stay on the ground and draw the attention of the titans, the veterans would take them down—or at least, that was the theory.

She heard someone behind her retch. 

Honestly, she couldn’t blame them. Her own stomach was churning with nerves, unable to ignore the grim reality of the situation. In just a few moments, they were going to leave the safety of the wall and embark upon their quest through hostile territory, where—if the statistics of past expeditions were anything to go by—a huge number of them would meet their fate.

Earlier, she had been proud to have kept her cover throughout the entire training period, but she was beginning to realise just how little that mattered.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she glanced at the man on her right; a grey-haired old man, sitting almost motionless on his horse. Unlike some of the other people around her, he wasn’t shaking in terror or showing any sign of fear—instead, all his features gave away was an expression of calm resignation.

He glanced over at Petra, and a small smile touched his lips. “Ready?” he asked.

Petra tried to smile back, but it felt more like a grimace. “I feel like I’m about to puke,” she admitted truthfully.

A soft chuckle answered her. “Young folk like you don’t deserve to be here,” he said. “Leave the dying to us old-timers, hm?”

“I… I have a reason. I have to be here.” Petra fiddled with the reins.

“You sound like my grandson.” The old man turned to gaze into the middle distance. “He’s a dreamer—just like his parents were. Always harping on about the outside world, how he has to see it someday…” his gaze softened. “He’s a good kid. Smart, too. Knows just how dangerous it is, but never lets go… ah, well.”

Is the outside world really worth venturing beyond the walls for? Petra privately wondered, but didn’t voice her thoughts. “Is he joining the Survey Corps?” she asked instead.

“Seems that way.” The old man shook his head. “Truth be told, I hoped that seeing those monsters in the flesh would deter him once and for all, but…” he shrugged.

Petra’s heart beat a little faster.

“Wait—you’re from Wall Maria? You saw the titans?”

“Saw them? We were there when it happened. In Shiganshina.”

Petra’s eyes widened with shock.

Shiganshina. The place where it had all started. The place where the titans had breached the wall, invading the city…

She had no idea how to respond. Finally, she let out a quiet, “that must have been terrible.”

“It was the single most terrifying day of my life.” The old man’s blue eyes settled on her. “The only thing I can tell you is that those monsters—they’re ten times more frightening than you think they are.”

Before Petra could answer, she heard a booming command from the head of the group that made her heart beat a little faster—the gates were opening, and they would soon leave the safety of the wall.

The old man took a breath. “Well, good luck,” he said to Petra. “I hope you make it back alive.”

“Thanks. You, too.”

Petra couldn’t tear her eyes from his back as the horses finally began to move. What kind of horrors had that old man seen? Had he lost people close to him, unable to know their fate for certain? Or had he been forced to watch them die, snatched up by the monstrous enemy?

What kind of hell was he returning to?

The thundering of hooves echoed around them as they passed through the gate, and Petra winced as they burst out into the sunlight. 

The brilliant rays shone in her eyes, almost blinding her. Despite the promise of the fast-approaching winter, the grey skies had relented, leaving gaps between the clouds to allow the sun to fall upon the earth. Its touch was warm, allowing a little respite from the cold wind.

However, Petra couldn’t bring herself to appreciate the weather—not now, with the promise of danger thick in the air.

If anyone’s out there to listen, she prayed, please… 

Protect us.

The goal of the expedition was simple.

On paper, it was to reach the hole in Shiganshina’s wall, plug it by some inconceivable means, and then eradicate all the remaining titans within Wall Maria.

In practice?

Keep going until an adequate amount of people were dead.

Of course they’d never had a real chance of taking back Maria. How could they have allowed themselves to hope it could happen? Even Petra herself, fully aware of the futility of this mission, had somehow managed to preserve some small glimmer of faith that surely, surely, nobody could be so cruel as to order hundreds of thousands of people to ride to their deaths.

And yet, the longer Petra gazed upon the scene in front of her, the more the grim reality forced itself upon her.

She had been placed upon the left flank of the formation, together with a handful of other trainees—not directly upon the front lines, but not anywhere near the relative safety of the formation’s centre. Under normal circumstances, the squad further ahead would have sent up a smoke round to alert them to a titan’s arrival, so that they would have enough time to change course and avoid it.

But no smoke round had gone off, which meant only one thing: the squad ahead of them had been wiped out.

The same way that Petra’s squad was about to be.

“Help me! Someone, help!”

The titan’s fist raised up, the screaming man held tightly in its grasp.

Petra’s heart was pounding against her ribcage. Frozen in shock and terror, all she could do was cling to her horse’s back, unable to tear her eyes away from the horrifying spectacle.

It all seemed to have happened so fast.

The titan had appeared from behind a copse of trees, charging at its fresh prey and catching up faster than anyone could have thought possible—its grinning mouth already stained with blood, its expression almost gleeful as it reached for the nearest man.

One soldier had been thrown from his horse as the first victim’s lower half dropped to the ground, making the animal spook and rear in alarm. There was nothing in the area that could be used for ODM maneuvers—no building or tree in sight, the titan’s body serving as the only thing that could anchor the metal hooks. The veteran soldiers didn’t stand a chance, and were snatched out of the air with ease. The squad leader had tried to organise his remaining men, screaming orders until his voice cracked, but as the panicked men tried to flee, they only left themselves open to be snatched up.

And now Petra was the last one left, watching helplessly as one more man was brought closer and closer to the monster’s face.

There was no one around who could help. This man was going to die, and there was no one who was there to even witness it.

No one except her.

I have to do something!

But her hands couldn’t move, and the reins remained tightly clenched between her fingers.

Do something?  

What the hell could she do?

She didn’t know how to fight a titan. She didn’t have the specialised gear. She wasn’t even a real soldier—hell, she wasn’t even supposed to be here. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, that she could do to stop any of this from happening.

Her only job was to run, keep running and running until she either made it home alive, or died as a necessary sacrifice for the survival of others. There was no other possible course of action; as much as her mind revolted at the thought of leaving the man to his fate, there was nothing she could do.

She was still as powerless as she had always been.

It was just so damn frustrating . 

Even now, the people around her were still being sacrificed. She was surrounded by more and more endless death, and nothing she could do could stop it unless…

Unless?

Her breath caught in her throat as the vague shape of an idea began to form itself in her mind. 

Something. 

There was something that she could do…

But it was madness. It was insane. It was incredibly dangerous and reckless, and what she should be doing was spurring her horse on to run away as fast as possible, trying to return to the formation and making sure she stayed alive.

Petra pulled on the reins, steering her horse around to face the titan.

Her breath came in short pants, her heart beating so fast that it was almost humming behind her ribcage. In some dim corner of her consciousness, she realised that her fear had somehow abated and changed form, now replaced by a dizzying rush of a different kind of emotion: 

Exhilaration.

Well, they do say that you have to be crazy to join the Survey Corps, after all…

Drawing her sword, she kicked her steed’s flanks to send the horse charging forward.

The impact of each hoof hitting the ground travelled through her body, and she tightened her grip around the sword’s hilt to stop herself from dropping her only weapon. She shifted in the saddle, struggling to steer the horse straight towards the titan’s nearest ankle.

She was running out of time. Even now, the titan’s mouth was yawning open, ready to close its jaws around the unfortunate soldier in its grasp. The man was screaming and struggling desperately, fighting to escape as the giant beast tilted its head back…

As she neared its foot, its leg stretching up above her like a tree trunk, Petra began to lean out of the saddle. Almost… just a little closer…

Now!

With one desperate, fierce slash, Petra sliced deep into its Achilles’ tendon.

Droplets of hot blood flew from the wound as she rode past, spattering her cloak and hissing as they evaporated into steam.

The titan’s foot buckled under its weight, and the monster lost its balance, beginning to fall almost in slow-motion, like a massive tree that had just been felled. Its face betrayed no emotion as it went down—only a vague impression of surprise and bewilderment, almost as though it hadn’t realised why its own legs no longer supported it.

With a resounding crash, it came down, its fist uncurling as it hit the ground. The man inside scrambled free, beginning to run the moment his feet met solid earth, jamming his shaking fingers into his mouth to whistle for his horse.

Petra gently tugged the reins to slow down, circling round in time to see the man’s steed trot up to him. He wasted no time in swinging a leg over its back, taking up the reins between his hands.

Petra took the reins in both hands again, blade clutched awkwardly between her fingers. Her blood was still singing with adrenaline, face flushed from her exertion.

I did it! I actually did it!

Not only had she saved a man’s life, she’d successfully managed to bring a titan to the ground— without any gear and on her first-ever expedition! Her confidence swelled within her chest, her conviction growing as the idea crossed her mind:

Maybe—just maybe—I can actually survive this!

Her squadmate caught up to her, slowing his horse’s pace as he approached. “Thanks,” he gasped out. “If it weren’t for you, I would’ve been a goner.”

Petra nodded, still coming down from the high of her excitement. “No problem,” she responded. “I’m just glad we’re both alive.”

He glanced warily at the titan on the ground. “Let’s just get out of here before it gets up,” he urged. “We need to rejoin the rest of the formation—tell them what happened—”

“Ok. Let’s go.” 

He nodded, and clicked his tongue at his horse. The animal tossed its head, tail swishing as it started to move forward into a trot.

As the other man began to ride away, Petra glanced back over her shoulder one last time.

The titan still hadn’t moved.

It didn’t seem to be getting up any time soon - either because it hadn’t healed, or because it somehow lacked the mental capacity to figure out how to stand back up. Now as she watched, she realised that, in this position, lying on its side, the nape of its neck was in clear view…

…and completely undefended.

Petra hesitated.

Should I…?

Then she shook her head sharply, alarmed by her own thoughts.

No, wait! That’s a bad idea!

It was an unnecessary risk. Neither she nor anyone else was in immediate danger, and getting close to it again was far too dangerous. It meant that she could face getting grabbed, crushed or eaten—probably all of those, in that order. She had been lucky so far, but she shouldn’t tempt fate.

But on the other hand…

Petra drew a breath.

It was a perfect opportunity. Killing the titan now meant it couldn’t attack again later. And besides, being able to get a titan kill—a solo kill—on her first expedition…

If she could do this, it would mean—more than anything—that she had been right.

It would mean that she had been right to come here. It would mean that she had been right to take her father’s place. If she could take this opportunity, snatch it while there was still time, it would mean that she would never have reason to be afraid of anything, ever again, because even if she never told anyone about it…

…she would always know that she had once killed a titan.

Sina protect me, she prayed, and turned her horse to the titan’s neck.

A tremble of excitement passed through her fingers, and she gritted her teeth, holding her sword even tighter. 

Just one slice, she told herself. 

Just one slice, and then it would all be finished and she could ride away like all the demons of hell were at her heels.

The horse’s hooves flew over the ground, the regular beats bringing her ever closer to her target as she leaned forward in the saddle. Her hair was blown back from her face, her eyes never moving from the vital spot.

She was almost in reach now. Drawing upon all the energy she had in her body, she charged at her target, raising her arms to take the blow—

The titan let out a deep groan.

Petra’s heart jumped in her ribcage as she saw its arm shift, and she yanked her horse’s reins to turn, just in time to avoid getting crushed as the massive creature rolled onto its back.

The low thud of the impact reverberated through the ground, jarring her bones. She looked back, her body tense with alarm.

A single expressionless eye rolled upward, the pupil fixing upon her.

Petra froze, her stomach dropping right down to her boots. For a fraction of a second, she was transfixed, her body unresponsive out of sheer terror.

There was no malice in the titan’s gaze—no kind of anger or irritation at being brought down to the ground. Nor was there pleasure, or interest, or even recognition of its prey.

In short, there was nothing. 

There was only the blank, lacklustre stare of a soulless creature, unmoved by any kind of emotion, and so horribly, deeply wrong on some subconscious level that she immediately understood: 

This is something that should never have existed in the world.

It was at that moment that Petra was faced with the blazing reality of just how deeply she’d misjudged the situation.

And there was only one thing to do.

Run!

She whirled around and urged her horse straight into a panicked gallop, cursing her own sense of foolhardy self-importance. How could she have been so conceited to believe that she was capable of doing this? She’d known the risks of coming out here, she knew how many trained soldiers fell prey to these things—

Thwump.

There was a rush of air as the titan’s arm moved—far more quickly than anything of that size should ever be capable of—and suddenly her body hit the ground, pain shooting through the side of her head as she landed heavily.

For a moment, she couldn’t move. Her mind was confused, disoriented from the sudden impact.

What just happened?

She heard the alarmed whinny of her horse and raised her head, squinting to see its four hooves kicking at the air as it rolled on the ground.

Oh. I see.

It seemed that the titan had reached out to grab her. Its hand had knocked her horse to the ground, sending her flying…

This wasn’t good.

I have to get up!

Petra forced her mind to focus as she raised herself on hands and knees, and her eyes settled on her sword, knocked from her grip by the fall.

Pick it up… I have to pick it up!

She gritted her teeth as her body sluggishly reached for her weapon. Her brain was screaming at her, wailing that she had to move, that she was going to get killed if she didn’t—

Something large and warm brushed her side.

Petra flipped her body away from its touch, an involuntary scream tearing from her throat. As the titan’s hand reached for her again, her fingers finally— finally! —closed around the hilt of her sword.

Sitting up, she raised it with a fierce yell and drove the blade deep into the titan’s hand.

The metal easily pierced the thick flesh, and the titan seemed to freeze for a moment.

Panting, Petra struggled to her feet, but before she could make another single move—

The titan’s hand shot forward and closed around her body.

The monster’s fingers wrapped themselves around her middle, squeezing until she could have sworn she heard her ribs creaking. Each digit was as thick as a tree trunk, the strength behind them unreal.

Petra let out a choked cry, her mind going blank from sheer terror as the pressure on her chest tightened. She felt her feet leave the ground, her body slowly getting raised up as the titan lifted its fist.

Do something, damn it!

She tried to twist her body, wriggling inside the titan’s strong grip, desperately fighting to get her arms free as she was carried closer and closer to its face—

She couldn’t move.

She had no weapon. She wasn’t strong enough to escape. She was caught like a rat in a trap—or rather, like a rabbit in one of the snares that her father set up around the farm back home. Whenever he caught one, they’d use it to cook stew, and keep the pelt to make gloves or something similar…

Is this how those rabbits felt? When they got caught in those snares?

She twisted her head round, scanning the horizon with some last, frantic sliver of hope that someone was there, that someone could come to help. Maybe her squadmate was still here, or another squad was approaching, or someone had noticed that something had gone wrong and was coming to assist—

Nothing. There was nothing.

Nobody was there.

There was a rush of hot air as the titan opened its cavernous jaws, revealing its drool-covered, glistening teeth.

Petra’s insides clenched as she felt its breath on her neck, and before she was even aware of it, she was screaming, screaming in a way she never had before, the sound grating harshly against her throat as if it was being dragged out of her—

As the watery sunlight became blocked out, the grey sky replaced by the cavern of a giant mouth, her father’s words unexpectedly came back to her.

There’s nothing we can do.

She felt something wet on her face, and for some reason, she thought, oh.

It must be raining.

But rain didn’t taste of salt.

Swish.

The titan’s head snapped backwards with a sickening crack.

Petra blinked as a blinding ray of sunlight lanced directly into her eyes, frozen in shock as she watched the titan’s head tilt back, as if in slow-motion. Its mouth hung open, eyes rolling up as it began to lean.

For a single moment, suspended in the air, all she could think was:

Huh?

But she didn’t have any time to think about it.

As the creature began to fall, the fingers wrapped around her middle unclenched, the grip on her body loosening, releasing the pressure on  her chest…

Petra felt herself slip, and suddenly, there was nothing holding her in the air anymore.

Her stomach lurched as the empty air rushed up to greet her, and now she was screaming again, her body flailing as she tried to escape the fast-approaching impact—

There was a squeal of gas, and Petra’s scream was cut off sharply as something caught her around the middle, knocking whatever breath she had left clean out of her body. As the wind rushed in her face, her hands found something reassuringly solid, and she instantly locked her fingers onto it in a vice-grip, clinging on for dear life and squeezing her eyes shut.

The wind was blowing in her face, her stomach hollow and her mind too crazed with panic to think straight. She was vaguely aware of being in motion, like she was on some kind of giant swing, and she could sense a descent—this one more controlled than earlier, but still way too fast to induce her to open her eyes.

Finally, there was a soft thump.

The impact upon meeting the ground brought her to her knees, but as she stayed there, frozen in position, she slowly woke up to the fact that, somehow— miraculously —she wasn’t hurt.

The ground had never felt so reassuring before.

Petra didn’t dare to move, even as her breathing began to slow down. Her fingers stayed clenched in their grip, anchoring her to whatever it was that was supporting her.

As she took a long, slow breath, trying to ground herself, a scent reached her nose—a scent that was completely out of place in this hellhole, but somehow all the more comforting for it.

Soap.

It was strange, in this atmosphere of death and violence, to smell something that seemed so homely. It made her think of home, of the days that her mother was still around, showing her how to wash clothes, or helping her scrub the dust and dirt from under her fingernails…

Maybe this is death, she thought. Maybe I’m dead and this is my life flashing before my eyes…

But that couldn’t be right, could it?

Screwing up her courage, Petra tentatively opened her eyes.

The first thing she saw was the steaming corpse of the titan.

Right. I’m definitely not dead.

Her gaze moved to whatever—or rather, whoever —she was holding on to.

Her fingers were clenched in the thick, green fabric of a Survey Corps cloak, and as she finally let her grip relax, she was able to take a proper look at the other person for the first time.

His black hair was slightly ruffled from the descent, but aside from that, he barely seemed to have broken a sweat from his exertions. What was more, as she looked up at his face, his expression was almost shockingly composed—after what had just happened, anyone else would have been terrified, yet this man somehow wasn’t.

It was strangely reassuring, Petra realised. She could feel some of her tension dissipating, her heart rate returning to its normal speed; seeing someone so clearly unafraid of everything out here had a heartening effect.

Her eyes moved down to his waist, where she could see the bulky shapes of the ODM gear, securely strapped to his body. So he was a veteran soldier? That would certainly help explain why he wasn’t panicking; he must have been part of multiple expeditions before this one.

As she slowly regained control over her cognitive functions, her confused mind putting the pieces together, she suddenly realised—

He just saved my life.

She had been about to die, but he had killed the titan and saved her life.

She had been so certain of her incoming death, and yet it seemed as though fate had smiled upon her enough to extend her a second chance.

As the realization unfolded in her mind, she felt the tears start flowing once again, and she dropped her head to wipe her face with her hand.

This isn’t the time to be crying, she admonished herself. She may have just escaped from the jaws of death—literally—but they weren’t home and dry yet. She needed to get her horse, rejoin the formation, and stay away from any titans this time around.

But first, she needed to thank the man who had saved her.

Raising her head once more, she looked up, ready to speak—but she suddenly realised that he was already saying something.

“Oh—sorry,” she apologised hastily. “Could you say that again?”

“Are you hurt?” He repeated.

“No—at least, I don’t think so.” Petra tentatively stretched her limbs. Her legs still felt a bit weak, and her chest ached slightly, but there didn’t seem to be any serious injuries. Still, she couldn’t repress a shiver as her mind returned to her brush with death.

How, she found herself wondering, had he been able to take out that titan so easily? The strength in that monster’s hand could have crushed her like an ant, had it so chosen. Was it thanks to the gear? Was that the difference made by his training and experience? Or was he simply inherently skilled?

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Oi. What’re you looking at?”

Petra realised that she’d been staring. “Oh—nothing,” she replied quickly. “I just—thank you for saving me.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just make sure you stay away from the giant bastards.” He glanced at the titan’s corpse, thick clouds of steam still rising from its body, though by now there was little left except bones.

Petra couldn't help but twitch in surprise at the way he referred to the titans. It is pretty justified, though...

The soldier gave a disgruntled click of the tongue, and turned back to Petra. “Is your horse nearby?”

“Yes… should be.” Petra raised her fingers to her mouth and gave a shrill whistle.

Sure enough, the pounding of hooves soon answered her and her horse reappeared, stopping a little distance away with a snort.

“Good.” The soldier pointed in an eastern direction. “Just keep heading straight that way, and you’ll join up with the squad over there. They took a few losses, so they can do with another member.”

Petra approached her horse and mounted, gathering up the reins. “What about you?”

“I’ll be fine. Just get your ass moving.”

“Oh… ok. Thank you, again!”

As she urged her horse forward into a trot, then a canter, Petra realised dimly that she hadn’t asked his name. It would have been nice to know the identity of the man who saved her life…

Well, to be fair, it wasn’t like she was likely to see him again after today.

With that sobering thought in mind, she continued onward in the direction he had pointed out, silently sending one more prayer to the sky.

Help us make it out of here alive.

Chapter Text

She stank.

That was the only thing Petra could think of as she slid down from her horse’s saddle. She absolutely reeked—of nervous sweat, of blood, of urine…

Not that she wanted to dwell on how that had happened.

(She had noticed it soon after the soldier had saved her from the titan. Wondering if he had noticed was bound to keep her awake at night for a while.)

Steadying herself as her feet met the cobbles, she stroked her horse’s flank, trying to distract herself. She had to hold it together. She had to try to stay positive—or, at least, as close to positive as she could get.

The expedition was over, and somehow, somehow, she had survived. That in itself was an accomplishment to be proud of, but, well…

Nobody really seemed to be in the mood for celebration.

250,000 people had left the walls. 

Only 200 returned.

And to be honest, it was a near miracle that anyone returned home at all.

There was no warm welcome, either. As soon as they had re-entered the gates, a dull, flat sense of relief had washed over her—only to dissipate as she saw the waiting crowds.

Faces, some still bright with lingering hope, others blank with resignation and despair. She could almost feel the very air change as the watching people drew in the sight: the broken collection of survivors, all silent as the dead.

And the actual dead left outside the wall to rot.

Petra hadn’t raised her head. She couldn’t face the horrified gazes of the waiting families. Instead, she had kept her eyes fixed on her horse’s mane, blocking out all the grief and shock around her.

Even now that the expedition itself was over, she still wasn’t allowed to relax. They still had to go through an interminable amount of admin, making records of all the survivors, logging all of the losses, taking stock of horses and equipment…

Petra’s legs gave way, and she sat down on the ground.

She was exhausted. Her last reserves of energy had run dry, and her emotions seemed to have been completely drained away—now, she barely had the capacity to feel anything anymore.

As the last men assembled in the military barracks’ courtyard, she raised her eyes to take in the faces around her.

Most of them were silent, waiting for their next orders or privately processing their own emotions. Some had seated themselves on the ground, like her, while others busied themselves with their horses or equipment. A few people—probably veteran soldiers—had recovered enough to hold quiet conversations with each other, while others could only stare blankly at the ground.

They may have survived the expedition, but all of them looked more dead than alive.

Her eyes were drawn to a movement, and she watched a man passing through the crowd.

Green cloak. Bulky gear. Black hair… 

She sat still for a moment, her mind sluggishly putting the pieces together until—

Oh, I remember. The soldier who saved me.

I should go and thank him again.

Her mind caught onto the simple task, as if it were a lifeline for her own sanity.

With an effort, Petra heaved herself up off the ground, forcing her legs to support her weight as she stood. She stumbled forward, weaving her way through the crowd, pushing past the tired and shell-shocked men, muttering automatic apologies whenever she bumped against someone or trod on somebody’s foot.

As she began to catch up to her target, she suddenly realised that, compared to everyone else standing around him…

…he was actually pretty short.

She hadn’t noticed in the panic of their first meeting, but he could only be about an inch or so taller than her. Everyone else seemed to stand at least a head higher than him, and if more people had been on their feet, it might have been impossible for her to notice him at all.

Petra squeezed between two other soldiers, and reached for his sleeve, her fingertips just managing to catch the fabric.

He stopped at the light tug, turning to her with a slight flicker of annoyance crossing his face. “What is it?”

He looks tired, she thought, taking in the shadows under his eyes. He must be exhausted, just like everyone else…

Petra opened her mouth, only to realise that she hadn’t prepared anything to actually say.

"I… you saved me out there,” she finally managed. “Remember?”

He stared at her, and for a moment, she was worried that she had made a mistake. Then his eyes scanned her face, and his expression shifted in recognition.

“So, you made it,” was his only response.

Was that a congratulation? It was hard to tell from his tone, and Petra wasn’t sure what kind of answer she was supposed to make.

His eyes shifted down to her fingers, still holding his sleeve. “Did you want something?”

Oh. Right.

Petra released him. “No, not really—I mean—” she began, then made an effort to pull herself together. Bowing her head, she said, “I wanted to thank you again. If it weren’t for you…”

If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here now.

“There’s no need for thanks.” He turned away.

Petra raised her head, taken aback by his curt answer. “Huh? Why not?”

The soldier turned back at her unexpected question. “I didn’t do anything extraordinary,” he explained simply. “All I did was kill an enemy.”

“Well, whatever you did, it saved my life,” Petra pointed out. “It’s only fair to thank you.”

He looked like he was about to dispute it further, but then let out a sigh. “Fine. You’re welcome.”

He turned to leave again.

“How…?” Petra began, trailing off.

“How what?”

She gestured at the people around them. “How are you still standing? I mean, you were out there with the rest of us. You’re clearly tired. So how are you not…?”

She waved a hand, searching for the right word.

“You mean, how come I don’t look like I ate shit?”

The unexpected obscenity made Petra lose her train of thought. After staring for a moment, she mumbled, “That’s not exactly the word I was looking for…”

“There’s no secret to it.” The soldier folded his arms. “Once you’ve been on enough expeditions, you get used to feeling like you’ve been chewed up and spat out. You’ll see.”

Petra suppressed a shudder at his words, trying not to think about how close she had come to that reality. 

“I don’t really think I want to go on many more expeditions after this one,” she admitted.

“That’s probably the smart decision.” The man gave her an appraising look. “Still, you’ve at least got the makings of a half-decent soldier.”

Petra looked up, surprised. “Really? But I didn’t do anything useful.”

He clicked his tongue. “Anyone who can make quick decisions—and carry them out in the heat of battle—has a better chance than anyone who can’t. A moment of hesitation can kill you. I’d say that gives you a better chance of getting back alive.”

As his words sunk in, Petra lowered her eyes back to the cobbles. “Still… I don’t know if I’d be able to go back out there again.”

“Well, I already said. You’d be smart not to.”

“You’re a veteran, right?” She looked up, meeting his eyes. “How do you manage to go back out there, again and again, and not just… give up?”

The soldier paused, and for the first time, he seemed to seriously consider her question.

“Because giving up means that all that sacrifice will have been for shit,” he finally responded.

Her confusion must have been evident in her face, because he went on, “it would be easy to sit on our asses behind the walls, but people still believe there’s something out there worth fighting for. If we just give up on that, then everyone who’s died out there will have died for nothing.”

“But aren’t you scared of dying?” Petra pressed.

The soldier responded with a shrug. “You can die inside the walls just the same as outside. I just made the choice I’d regret the least.”

Long after their conversation had ended, the soldier’s words continued to run through her brain.

The choice I’d regret the least…

As she stood among the other survivors of the expedition, only half-listening to the commander’s speech, she couldn’t help wondering what that would be for her.

What would she regret? And how could she make choices to avoid it?

One thing, at least, was for sure: she didn’t regret taking her father’s place. Sure, he was bound to be angry at her for deceiving him, but at least he was alive.

But what about the future?

The soldier had told her she had potential—or at least, she could be ‘half-decent’. If she properly joined the Survey Corps, maybe she would be able to save more lives. Maybe she would help prevent another tragedy like the loss of Wall Maria. Maybe she could even help take back the territory they had already lost…

She shook her head. If she continued in this train of thought, she was in danger of deluding herself.

For starters, she already knew that joining the Survey Corps was tantamount to a death sentence. Today had made that more than clear. Besides, her goal was already achieved, wasn’t it? Her dad was alive and well, and no doubt waiting for her to return home. Neither she nor any of the men who had been called up by the draft were needed after today, so she could simply leave and not have to worry about it anymore.

Plus, she was, ultimately, not really supposed to be here.

The longer she stuck around, the more chance there was that her secret would be discovered—so really, she shouldn’t even be considering staying a single moment longer than necessary. It was a pointless risk, and she shuddered to think what the consequences might be for her or her father…

“And so, after today, I will no longer be the Commander of the Survey Corps.”

She zoned back in just as Commander Shadis made the announcement, sending the listening men into a faint buzz of murmuring.

Honestly, she didn’t feel like she could blame him. Admittedly, she didn’t know much about Shadis’ military career, but no matter how skilled a soldier you were, or how great a leader…

…there was simply no coming back after what had happened today.

As he finished his speech and left the platform, there was a small stir of activity as another man took his place. The remaining veteran soldiers seemed to recognise him, and Petra quickly searched her memory to see if she had heard anything about him.

He was tall, with a strong presence that seemed to draw every eye towards him. His appearance, like everyone else’s, was slightly dishevelled and dirtied from the expedition, but that did little to detract from his handsome features and charismatic air. No doubt he was of some high rank, although she couldn’t quite recall his name…

But before she could place him, Petra found her attention caught by the man who stood behind him.

It was the soldier from earlier.

She hadn’t assumed him to be anyone important, but if he was up on stage, didn’t that mean he held some sort of status?

Petra turned to the man next to her. “Who is that?“ she whispered. “The guy at the back?”

Her neighbour turned, with a faint shade of disbelief in his gaze. “Don’t you know? That’s Captain Levi.”

Petra blinked.

What.

Of course she knew about Captain Levi. In fact, it was hard to not know about him. Even in her own quiet farm life, where news tended to arrive a few days old, stories about him had trickled down into her awareness. His rumoured superhuman strength and exploits in the field had elevated him to legend status, earning him the nickname of ‘Humanity’s Strongest Soldier’. 

Petra’s lips parted in shock. To think that the soldier who had saved her life was none other than Captain Levi himself…

…he really wasn’t the way the stories had made him out to be, was he?

The ‘Captain Levi’ she had heard of was powerful, heroic. The image she had received from the newspapers and scattered gossip was that of someone dashing, who was a defender of everyone behind the walls, who was a hero in every sense of the word…

…so she wasn’t expecting the curt, dirty-mouthed soldier he turned out to be.

“Good afternoon.”

The man standing at the centre of the stage began to speak, and almost instantly, the faint murmurs died away into silence.

“My name is Erwin Smith,” he began. “After today, I will be serving as the Commander of the Survey Corps.”

Erwin Smith… now she remembered. He was the one who had invented their long-range scouting formation, wasn’t he?”

“I understand how you all must be feeling,” Erwin went on. “After what you have experienced today, no doubt there are many of you who are exhausted and drained. You all want to go home and put this whole experience behind you—and as understandable as that desire is, it falls to me to remind you why that cannot happen.”

There were a few confused mutters at this. Petra felt her ribs tighten—were they going to get more bad news?

“There may be some of you, in fact, who have no home left to return to.” Erwin’s voice effortlessly recaptured their attention. “Perhaps there are those of you who had no family to welcome you when you re-entered Wall Rose’s gate. Today’s carnage was truly indescribable, but we cannot forget that the losses we faced today are a mere fraction of the devastation that followed the fall of Wall Maria.”

Petra felt a chill run down her spine. Everything he was saying was true; she may not have been there to see the upheaval as the wall was breached, but to think of all those people, ripped from their homes and forced to flee for their lives…

“And that is why we cannot allow ourselves to forget what happened today!” Erwin’s voice had already been loud enough for all to hear, but now it swelled, filling the space around them and drawing them further in. “No matter what, we cannot become complacent because we believe the immediate threat has left us! We must take the suffering we have experienced today, and use it to forge ahead, so that these events will never be repeated!”

A few people lifted their heads, and some of the veteran soldiers stood up straighter.

“As Commander, I vow that I will devote myself to this purpose. As such, my first action in this role goes out especially to those who have joined us for their first expedition today.”

Petra twitched.

“It has not gone unnoticed that, out of those of you who joined us recently, very few have experienced the training that would normally be considered necessary,” Erwin continued. “Therefore, if there are any of you with the courage to remain with the Survey Corps, I will be setting up a specialised training course, in which you will learn the skills that will enable you to stand on the same level as those whose service began earlier than yours.”

At this announcement, there was a greater stir than before. Petra saw a couple of people look down, or shake their heads, but there were a handful of others who raised their eyes.

If she understood correctly, it meant that she—and any other newcomer who had survived today’s expedition—would essentially be put onto a fast-track to turn them into real soldiers. That presumably meant learning to use the ODM gear, and whatever other skills the veterans had learned in their full training…

Then she brought herself back to reality.

It was pointless even considering it. After today, ‘Peter Ral’ would no longer exist. Instead, the daughter of the Ral household would return home—with shorter hair and worse memories, it was true, but no other changes to remark upon. As far as she was concerned, the past few months hadn’t happened. She hadn’t seen titans, and she hadn’t met Captain Levi.

As her eyes flicked toward the soldier standing behind Erwin, a new realization crashed over her.

He told me that I had potential.

It wasn’t any random person who had said so, but Captain Levi himself.

Had he known about Erwin’s training course? Was that why he had said that? Was that his own way of telling her that she should go for it?

“I urge you, all of you, to consider it carefully.” Erwin’s voice silenced her thoughts as he continued. “Remember, if one wall has fallen, it stands to reason that the same may happen again. That is why it is our duty, as the Survey Corps, to fight back with all our power. It is of utmost importance that we retake the land we have lost, and drive the monsters that we call ‘titans’ right out of existence! No matter what, we cannot stand by and allow any of this to happen, ever again!”

Petra’s head was starting to ache from all her thinking.

In her hands, she clutched a sheet of paper—a form which, once she had filled it out, would indicate her decision to either stay in the Survey Corps, or leave for home.

Her fate, literally in her hands.

Unable to look at it any longer, she folded it in half, then folded it again. Sliding it into her pocket, she ran a hand through her hair and took a deep breath.

The speeches were over. The admin had been completed. All that remained was to fill in the form, return to the barracks and gather her few belongings, ready to either head home or move to new accommodation.

But for now, they had a little free time to reunite with their families.

As Petra walked, the people around her were clustered in small groups—some in couples, others with whole families, embracing each other, talking in hushed tones…

As she raised her eyes, she met the gaze of her father, standing just a few feet away.

Her feet froze.

Truth be told, she hadn’t really expected him to come all the way out here. Someone needed to look after the farm, for one, and she had been convinced that he was too angry with her to come and see her on her return…

Dad did a slight double take as he recognised her, before he began to march towards her, expression grim.

Petra swallowed as he approached. “Dad, I know what you’re going to say—”

Without saying a word, Dad gripped her by the shoulders and pulled her into a hug.

Petra reflexively tensed up in shock, but slowly, her body relaxed.

She reached to wrap her arms around his back.

“You’re alive,” she heard him whisper, his voice unsteady. “Thank the goddesses, you’re alive…”

It was hearing his voice crack that was the final straw.

Petra’s last thread of self-control broke, and before she could stop herself, a low cry broke from her throat, eyes welling up with tears.

Dad stroked her hair as she cried into his chest, rubbing her shoulders as they shook with sobs. Even in the midst of her breakdown, she could feel his body trembling, his breath strained.

They stayed like that for a long time.

As Petra’s tears finally began to abate, her father drew away, looking down into her face.

“Petra. Let’s go home.”

She caught her breath. “Dad, I—I can’t, I need to fill in the form and—”

“Screw the form.” His hands tightened on her shoulders. “Right now, you’re alive, and that’s all that matters. They can deal with the official stuff themselves, just… please. Come home.”

And in that moment, she almost said yes.

It seemed so easy. All she had to do was agree, and then she could put this all behind her forever. She could give up the identity of ‘Peter Ral’, and return home, to safety and familiarity, the daily routine of her old life—the life she had fought to protect.

Comfortable, predictable, quiet.

When she didn’t reply, he continued. “Forget about all this, Petra. I’ll admit it, this whole situation was unexpected. You must have been scared. But it’s all over now, see? You can come home.”

Yes… home. 

The home that would no longer be threatened by lack of food, or military letters, or titans…

…right?

For some reason, Erwin’s speech swam through her head.

…if one wall has fallen, it stands to reason that the same may happen again…

She looked up. “Dad?”

“Yes? What is it?”

“If the titans break through Wall Rose… what’ll happen to us?”

There were several seconds of silence.

Dad’s face changed from concern, to shock, to a kind of blank confusion, before he forced a smile.

“Petra… that’s not going to happen. It’s impossible.”

“That’s what we all thought about Wall Maria, too,” Petra pointed out. “It’s happened once before. What if it happens again?”

“Petra, I told you—”

She shook her head. “Dad, you’re not listening. You weren’t there, you didn’t see them—”

“Petra, enough. You’re only making yourself more upset.”

Petra bit her lip, fighting to keep her voice steady. “Dad. Those things—they’re like nothing you’ve ever seen. If they break the wall, we’re dead. I mean that. I can’t just pretend the last few months didn’t happen!”

Dad heaved a weary sigh, and suddenly, he looked very, very tired.

“I know, Petra,” he admitted. “But there’s nothing we can do.”

There it was again.

There’s nothing we can do.

It was like being back home again, right at the start of this whole mess. Once again, there was that crushing weight of despair, the helpless frustration of knowing that she couldn’t protect anything she held dear.

Why is it always like this?!

She couldn’t live with it. Not then, and not now.

Her heart began to beat faster.

“Petra?” Her dad pulled back to look at her face, concerned by her silence.

Petra didn’t answer. Instead, her eyes slowly turned to glance back at the barracks.

He followed her gaze, and his face went taut. “Petra. No. That can’t be what you’re thinking. We’re going home, right now.”

She felt her palms sweating. Was she doing this? Was she really, completely determined to do this?

He tugged her arm. “Come on. Let’s go.”

She clenched her fist, and pulled out of his grasp.

“Dad. I’m not going.”

She didn’t think she had ever seen him so shocked in his life.

“What do you mean?” He finally asked.

Petra stayed silent.

“Petra, you can’t do this. You’re not even—” he paused, glancing around quickly, before lowering his voice—“you’re not even a boy! You can’t honestly expect me to let you do this!”

“I don’t.” Petra stepped aside. “I need to go organise my stuff.”

As she began to walk away, her father called after her, not bothering to lower his voice anymore. “Am I supposed to just stand aside and let you go to your death?!”

Petra didn’t react, even as a few curious gazes turned their way. She continued to march forward, the paper form burning a hole in her pocket.

Funny. I think I said pretty much the same to him.

A few weeks later, and the first snowflakes of winter were starting to fall.

Petra watched the tiny white specks as they drifted towards the ground, mesmerised by their graceful descent. Feeling a slight shiver run through her limbs, she pulled her cloak closer around herself.

It was December 6th.

Her 19th birthday.

So much had happened in such a short time, and none of it felt real.

As the chill breeze blew in her face, she hurried inside, back to her room in the barracks. Granted, she did have to share the space with several other men, but today they were on leave, and most had left to spend time with their families or were roaming the town in search of entertainment.

She was alone, and as she sat on her bunk, she reached for her trunk, packed with her personal belongings. She pulled out a parcel, which had arrived earlier that morning, and stared at it.

She could guess where it had come from—after all, there was only one person who would be sending anything to her.

Deciding to stop putting it off, she unpicked the string and pulled the layers of brown paper away.

Out tumbled a small piece of folded paper, and a familiar wooden box.

Petra blinked at it in surprise. 

Surely not.

She opened it, and picked out her mother’s hairpin.

The silver bird stood there, poised for flight, feathers outstretched as Petra turned it over in her fingers. It gleamed in the grey light that streamed through the window, lovingly polished and without a scratch.

Why was her father sending her this?

Her eye fell upon the paper. Reaching out to pick it up, she unfolded it to see a single line:

Remember your mother - Dad

… what did he even mean by that?

Petra read and reread the few words. Did this mean he was accepting her decision? Or was he sending a final plea to come home? 

Was it a blessing? Or a guilt-trip?

Think of her mother? What would her mother have wanted? 

Petra’s eyes turned back to the hairpin, as if it could furnish her with an answer.

The bird only stared, the metal heavy in her hand. Its wings were spread wide to fly, but its feet remained firmly rooted to the silver branch.

Caught in a moment between rest and flight.

Petra drew in a breath, and put it back in the box. She wasn’t going to get any answers just from staring at it.

She placed it in her trunk, burying it deep under her other belongings, hidden from view.

Out of sight, and out of mind.