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Chapter Text

Carla Jaeger, before actually becoming a Jaeger, had lived in a small home with her parents. And in that said home, her and her best friend came up with a plan. 

As most women do, they discussed their future children, where one would have the boy, and the other a girl; plans for their children to marry were being conceived at that very moment in the silence of the night, where only a crackling fire burned and distant breaths of her parents echoed throughout the halls of her small bedroom.

Her eyes pierced into her friend’s–her sister’s, deep blue ones. Marianne shakes her head slowly, her short black hair swinging with her movement as she clasps Carla’s hand, smiling brightly. 

“Your child will be special.” The 16 year old girl says, placing her palm on the female’s womb, though nothing was there.

Carla’s face burns, looking down but her grip tightens on Marianne’s hand. 

“She doesn’t need to be special.” 

The ebony haired female’s gaze softens, eyes looking down onto their mattress. 

It’s almost solemn. 

“He will.” Marianne corrects, bringing her hand from her friend’s torso to her forehead, flicking hard. Carla pulls her hand away from Marianne, using both of her hands to cradle her forehead, lurched forward with a pained expression.

“Ow!” She whines, eyebrows pressed,  “What was that for!?” Her eyes flicker up with a questioning gaze.

Mari pouts, placing her hands on her hips while straightening her back on her bed while still on her knees. “For saying she. I know for a fact that it’ll be a boy.” 

Carla raises a brow now. “Oh really?”

“Yes, really. When have I ever been wrong?”

The brunette scoffs, clicking her tongue while raising her hand to point a finger at her. Her voice raises. “Like yesterday! When we were cooking you said it would be ready in 50!”

“Hey, I said 15.” She cooly lies, crossing her arms and turning away. Carla pulls at her ears in response, earning a yelp from the woman who falls backward on the bed, Carla coming down on top of her. Their bickering turns into laughter, not bothering to straighten themselves. At this angle, the window which was at the wall where her bed was pushed to, was in full view. 

There, they were able to see the moon. It was a full moon, the light shining down on the two of them. Their giggling had turned into pants, struggling to get their breathing together. Marianne gazed at the sky upside down, while Carla, resting on top of her, stared upright. 

The two stare up with different feelings.

“When you have a boy…you should name him Eren.”

“Huh?” Smiles Carla, looking down at her friend who still stares out the window. “What do you mean when? Don’t you mean if?”

“When you have a boy,” Repeats Marianne. “You should definitely name him Eren.”

Carla stays silent. The change in her normally opinionated, obnoxious friend made the room tense. “But, if it’s a girl, then Iris?”

Marianne moves her head to send a glance to Carla. To two stare into each other's eyes, nothing but child-like innocence flooding their bodies.

“Sure.”

The room is silent. 

“But, if– if you have a girl, I want you to name her Iris. And if we both have girls, Iris and Violet. Deal?”

Marianne huffs. “Deal.”

-

There’s so much crying, so much screaming Marianne hears. When she looks up into the starry sky, she can hear the suffering from the corners of this world. It makes her frown, clenching her fists. She looks over her shoulder, glancing at her sleeping friend on the right side of the bed. Carla had her arms sprawled out, but still sleeping like an angel.

She turns back towards the window, allowing her elbows to rest on the frame. Her fingers interlock, rising in her knees to tilt her body forward. Her eyes begin to shut, moving her head to press her knuckles in between her brows.

I don’t know who's out there, or why. But, if you’re able, whoever is out there listening. Help my people. Free them.

Marianne allows herself to straighten up, ignoring the warm streak that falls from her nose down into the wood plane. Her finger tips come to brush above her lips, feeling the wet, stickiness of blood. Grimacing, she can only think of the wood.

That’s going to stain.

Chapter Text

“You’ll be safe, won’t you?” Marianne asks with a sweet voice, tilting her head to the side. That smile on her face, the swell of her breasts over her dress, the way her hands held his bicep. Section Commander Keith Shadis should be happy; a pretty girl praying for his return, but he’s not happy about it. For some peculiar reason, he couldn’t pull his eyes away from the woman serving a table behind her, Carla. 

“Mari…have you–“

“Yes,” Sighs the woman, rolling her eyes as she looks over her shoulder. Her hands pop off the man, placing her right one on her hip. Her decorative bangles on her forearms slide down to her wrists, clinking gently on each other. “I’ve tried, okay? She says she’s too busy for ‘love games,’ whatever that’s supposed to mean.” 

Keith and Marianne have known each other for years, nearly 20, and yet the man refuses each advance the female makes on him. He’s either ignorant or plain stupid. 

She used to pull this trick on every male in Shiganshina, but now, it’s closed onto just one special man: Keith. However, the everdense, lovestruck Keith was too fixated on Carla, who was running to the back to pick up drinks for waiting guests.

Marianne points to herself with a seductive smile, “I’m not, though.”

The man clicks his tongue, placing his entire hand on her face, pushing her back away from him with the roll of his eyes.

“Hey!” She sputters with a pout, crossing her arms and turning her head to the side. That was when Keith finally looked at her and stopped. It was for a fraction of a second, but he finally laid his eyes on her. That was until he spun on his heel, lazily waving a hand to say goodbye.

“See ya, you nagging woman.”

“K-Keith! You damn idiot!” Shouts Marianne, face flushing red as she continues to watch the scout wave her off his hand.

“Good day, Miss Marianne.”

The waitress blinks, staring at the blond boy who salutes, nodding his head and following after his commander. 

Ah, I forgot little Erwin was there.

The girl rubs her chin, deep in thought before jumping at the sound of her boss calling her name. 

“Marianne! Come here, now.”

I’m in so much trouble now! She thinks to herself, bringing the tray she had placed onto the table, holding it to her face. 

“So,” Her boss, Luther, begins, pulling a chair to sit on it. The back legs scrape on the wooden floors of the breakroom or kitchen or…whatever this room was supposed to be called. His gaze was calm, but beneath that calm exterior was a storm brewing. With closed eyes, and a tight lipped smile, wrinkles protruding, he sits backwards on the chair. His arms loop around on the backrest of the seat, legs on either side, gazing at her with disinterest. 

Luther wouldn’t fire her; he would never go to such extreme measures, and on his best waitress. Especially considering the money she pulls in with her sweet talking. To be frank, the woman is a phenomenal talker, and has the body to pull it off. However, time after time again she’s disrupted the environment with that pathetic flirting she partakes in with that Section Commander of the Scouts.

He would say it’s pathetic, but who is he to judge?

His brown eyes stare into Marianne’s blue ones, watching her fiddle with the ends of her hair, not about to make eye-contact. Her bangles that rest on her wrists fall towards the middle of her forearms, clinkling slightly. Scratch what he said before, this was a pathetic sight.

The middle aged man rubs his temples, explaining hoarsely. “You’re not getting fired, alright? But you need to understand something — I will not tolerate another disruption. You’ve gotten off the hook this far because of your service. Play your role, and play it well, do you understand me?” The man warns, wagging his pointer finger at her.

She straightens up almost instantly, her face of worry turning into a knowing smile as she rubs her hands together. 

“Loud and clear, Luther.” She acknowledges with a wink, wiggling her fingers at him, beelining to the door. He simply stares in silence, frowning hard.

What a cunning woman. It's a good thing she’s a beauty, or I’d have fired her years ago.

Once she exits the room, she releases a puff of air, hands to her chest. Carla has been waiting right outside the door, and couldn’t stop herself from grabbing at her friend's ear, tugging it while chastising. 

“You better be grateful Luther’s a forgiving man! You hear me?” She seethes silently, eyebrows furrowed. Marie whines, trying to get her friend to loosen her grip on her ear by cupping it. 

“Yeah! Let go, Carla! It hurts, you witch!” She shrieks, feeling the woman release her grip, although just as quickly does she place a slap on the back of her head. 

“Learn your lesson then!” 

The two bicker back and forth before having to resume their work. Carla, from the corner of her eye, watches Marianne transform into a more…provocative type of woman. Like how she used to be back when they were kids, teenagers…okay maybe not that long ago!

There was a particular way she would gaze at customers, glancing them up and down with a smile, placing her hand on her cheek while pouting in an almost deceptive manner. Or curling her lips to entice them.

Carla zones out while staring, not releasing the customers waiting in front of her stared at her awkwardly, although slightly more confused.

“S-sorry.” She apologizes, brushing her hair behind her ear while adjusting her tray. The men in front of her laugh, telling her their drinks. She nods, but her thoughts circle back to her friend.

That shift was a long one. And on the walk home, Carla needs to say something.

“Seriously, what was that?” Carla reprimands.

Their boots hit the cobblestone ground at different times, laughs of children fill the air, people conversing at the soon-to-close markets under the orange sky. Life was about to begin dwindling down. 

Marianne isn’t paying attention. Her attention is somewhere else, somewhere far far away from here. Her eyes were glued to the path and her scuffed up boots.

The brunette begins to frown, still staring at Marianne. Her voice drops. “Hung up on Keith? Still? And you would think after all these years…”

Marianne mumbled under her breath. “Easy for you to say.”

“What?”

She sharply inhales, looking up to the sky while responding. “Nothing.”

“That suicidal man is going to get himself killed. It’s not any better that he, of all people, is on track to becoming Commander of the Scouts.” Carla shakes her head, holding her temples. “It’s a foolish decision.”

“I think…he’s brave.” Confesses Marianne in a soft tone. It was so unlike her, that Carla had to look up at her friend. Her pale skin held a slight blush, just underneath her eyes.

“And there’s no changing your mind? Not even a little bit?”

Marianne smiles to herself. “Nah, I don’t think so.”

Her head drops slightly, tilting her head to the side. “What about you?”

Carla shrugs, walking a bit faster to overtake the woman. She spins on her heel, prompting Iris to stop in place. “I haven’t met him yet. But when I do, I promise that you,” She points directly at her friend's face with a giddy look. “Will be the first to know.”

Marianne grins, grabbing the girl's finger into her fist.

“You better promise me, then.”

“Promise.”

The following days after the Survey Corps had left were just as uneventful as the last. Uneventful like nothing had changed. Life remained untouched, and people remained ignorant to what was happening beyond the walls.

Mari stares up at the too, where a Garrison Officer seems to be conversing with another. He’s holding a booze bottle, swaying wildly. Her nose crinkles. 

Definitely intoxicated.

He turns his head to look out on the town, face tinted red.

And definitely Hannes.

Carla, from behind her, places her hands flat on her back and begins to push Marianne faster down the road, laughing. 

“Come on, we’re going to be late!”

In the middle of their shift, they’d gotten word that the Scouts had returned. But, something felt off. 

Keith always visited after an expedition. Expeditions that extended this far always followed a particular pattern. Keith was sure to make his way to the tavern, to tell Marianne he was alive, unscathed, but this time, he hadn’t. Worry stains the female’s face, gripping her circular tray extra tight. 

Carla comes behind her, patting her shoulder while whispering. “I’m sure he’s fine. He’s Section Commander for a reason.”

He was fine. Keith simply couldn’t come visit, and Marianne was made aware of that when walking down the road after taking a decent mile long walk around town to clear her head.

It was going a mile a minute, flashes of memories that hadn’t belonged to her placed a gravitating pressure on her skull.

She sees flashes of a girl, the one that follows her around town ever since she could remember, never aging. But, then she sees that face belonging to Carla, and after hair the color of linen; the memories were all screaming at her. 

But when the world goes silent, she finds herself in a place where the sun never rises, standing beneath a twinkling sky. The girl, standing in front of her.

She wonders why is it that this girl decided to haunt her. Why she walks down this path alongside Marianne? Why she never speaks, remaining silent even when asked a question. 

The woman pulls on her red shawl over her shoulders, using her right hand to hold the ends closer, shivering to herself while continuing forward. The sooner she gets home, the sooner she can snuggle up in bed–in warmth. However, she notices that the girl stopped. She was no longer beside her. 

Marianne sighs, stopping in her tracks to look over her shoulder. The girl was staring into an alleyway. The same alleyway her and Keith would use as their little hideaway spot as children. 

“What?”

She says nothing, not even bothering to look at Marianne. She simply raises her hand, pointing her finger. Biting back a complaint, the woman walks towards the girl, eyes closed while grumbling to herself. 

“Okay, fine; let’s see what the ghost wants to show me toda—oh.” 

She immediately pauses in her tracks, eyes widening.

There, alone in the dark, stood Keith. His hands were on his thighs, his head downcast, deep in thought. 

“What a pleasant surprise,” Greets the woman, discreetly patting the girl on the head, ruffling up her hair some before walking into the confined space. The man immediately straightens up at the arrival of the unknown individual, turning his head to look at the presence.

He stutters out the woman’s name, watching her near him with curiosity, and before he’s able the words come stumbling out of his mouth. What he was trying, or rather ordered to stay hidden, was being spewed out like a leaky faucet to the surprised woman. 

Keith had come back with news. Although classified, he just couldn’t keep a secret from her. 

She tilts her, arms crossed while parroting back what Keith had just told her. “You found a man outside of the walls? And he doesn’t remember anything?”

He nods, listening to the woman whistle, leaning back further into the wall. The two were hidden in an alleyway in the dead of night. Carla would nag her to come along, not because of Keith, but because of how it was dangerous for a woman to venture out at night. 

“That’s odd. Maybe…he was drunk or something? Slipped out the gate?”

She mumbles, like she’s trying to come up with a plausible solution. Keith wasn’t asking for one though, he was just telling her. Telling her something wasn’t quite right. That this situation was off. 

He shakes his head. “I’ve tried to ask him, but nothing makes sense. Hannes is watching over him at the mom–“

The woman coughs, covering her arm to cover up her laugh. “God, Hannes?” She snickers, eyes smiling at the man. “Couldn’t you get anyone else to do your evil bidding?”

“Evil bidding? It’s basically a baby-sitting job if anything–“

“With Hannes as the supervisor, knowing that moron, it’s more like a torture session. You better hope and pray that guy isn’t some lunatic ‘cause once he gets out he might go ballistic or something and kill you,“

“Shut up.”

She shrugs, still smirking. Silence falls over the two. Marianne doesn’t know what to say. In this very alleyway, she had almost confessed her undying love for the man. And it was in this very alleyway, her heart was crushed. Keith told her of his feelings for Carla, so she decided it was best to store those feelings away, to let them die. 

The woman leaned back further on the wall, staring at her boots that peeked out from her nightgown.

“Still seeing things?” He asks gruffly, albeit with concern. Marianne doesn’t look up, but he can see the growing smirk as the corners of her lips begin to rise.

“What’s it to you?”

“Nothing.”

Instantly, she deflates, shoulders hunching. He continues. “I can be worried, though.”

The woman tilts her head up, only to see the bottom side of the shingles overhead on the building she was leaning on. 

“Yeah. Sometimes.” She answers quietly.

The Section Commander was never told what exactly she would see, but whatever it was was nothing good. It used to drive the girl crazy at one point, pointing at nothing but air while demanding things. Glory, solitude, riches, whatever it was lasted for an episode before vanishing, and Mari would be left to her coughing fits.

She was a sick child, born with illness. Perhaps that’s why her parents had abandoned her at such a young age.

“Ah, that reminds me. The man we found…” Keith begins, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, “He says he remembers one more thing aside from his name.” His golden eyes fall to the woman in front of him. 

“He was a doctor. A damn good one at that.”

“Yeah?” She starts, raising a brow. Her arms cross. “What’s that got to do with me?”

The man’s face falls into disbelief. “He might be able to…aliveate your symptoms of…delirium.”

She stares in shock before scoffing, pushing herself up on the wall to straighten herself up. “You’re unbelievable, Keith.”

“W-wait! Mar–“

She was already half-way gone before he was able to fully apologize. Yes, delirium was a strong word to use, but it was the right word. 

Marianne thinks it was the exact opposite. Keith doesn’t know what she sees, no one does. Nor does anyone know nor see the markings on the bare skin of her spine. 

No one knows. 

She storms off towards her shared home, where she silently opens the door and snuck inside. Carla was waiting there, arms crossed clad in her nightgown, eyebrows drawn, obviously suspicious. In a low voice, she asks, “Now where were you?”

“Me and Shadis were catching up.” She explains at the doorway, pulling off her boots. She pays the nagging woman no mind, rolling her shoulder with a wince before stepping closer into the house. As Marianne tries to pass by, Carla snatches her wrist.

“Oh really? So late?”

Her eyes immediately snap up to Carla’s hazel eyes, pulling her arm back. “You seriously think I went to play hooky with someone? Trust me, if that was the case I’d be working at the brothel instead of that damn bar. Lay off.”

Immediately, the female regrets her tone. She winces, voice lowering, “I-I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t need to.” 

“I’m just, I’m just worried. That’s all.”

She sighs, turning to face Carla. Marianne places her hands on her shoulders. “I know you are. But involving yourself in my issues won't help you in any way, Carla. In fact, it puts you in even more danger.”

Carla’s eyebrows furrow, “Danger? what do you mean by danger? A-are you in danger?” She quickly grabs her friend's hands, tugging her while her voice drops to a panicked whisper. “We can take this to the military police, can’t we!? You didn’t kill someone did you?” 

Marianne blinks. “Wow, does everyone really think that lowly of me?”

She sighs, “What? No, no it’s nothing like that. It’s, it’s stupid alright? Now leave it, I wanna sleep.”

The bangles on her wrists clang, her hair swaying gently with every step, feet padding gently on the ground. When Carla doesn’t follow, she looks over her shoulder. “Are you coming, or not?”

“Yeah…I am.”

Carla knows she’s hiding things, but she won’t ever get to see that part in Marianne’s heart. If she did, she knows that it’s too much for the average person to bear. 

Chapter Text

“Is that who I think it is?” Marianne whispers to Carla, who stares with disinterest at the table; it seems Keith has brought that mysterious man found being the walls to the bar. It was better that way, she supposes. At this time, most residents were in between getting home and going to work. This was the hour gap of time where the bar was relatively quiet, but not quiet enough for people to eavesdrop.

Carla rolls her eyes, focusing back on what she was doing before. 

“That’s the drunk doctor that was found past the walls. What a fool. He shouldn’t be in a bar off all the places to speak in. He should be at a hospital, or better yet, a rehabilitation facility!” Grumbles Carla, filling the ale jug with water in anger. 

“Why’re you so upset?” Asks Marianne, whose eyes flicker between Carla and the conversing male. She won’t lie, he is cute, but…

“He’s cute, but Keith is cuter.” Scoffs Carla in a mocking tone, placing the jugs on her tray. 

Marianne straightens up slightly, head turned to the focused female. “Was it that obvious?”

“If you wanted to be caught, then I’d say you were being perfect.” Then a sigh, and another roll of her eyes, “Seriously, I don’t even understand what you see in him.”

She balances the tray on her shoulder, walking towards Keith and the unnamed man. 

Marianne follows behind like a feline, listening to Carla share her snarky words towards Keith. 

“Come on, Keith.” She knocks her tray on Keith’s head, earning the man’s attention. Carla stands with a hand on her hip, frowning deeply at the man. 

“Recruiting for the Scouts again, are we?”

“N-Not this time, Carla. I’m just…”

The unnamed man defends Keith, speaking up. “Oh, no. I’d never be suited for that kind of work. Being a Scout takes someone special. You have to be a chosen one.”

Carla had lost interest in the conversation by then, clutching her tray with her back turned towards the men, ready to walk off. She looks over her shoulder, “Oh, is that right?” 

When she leaves, Marianne stays behind with a friendly smile. “Hello, there. Sorry about Carla, she’s got quite the temper.” She greets, holding her hand out to shake.

“Marianne, old friend of Keith's. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Hey, Mari…” Begins Keith, sensing she was up to no good. 

The man pauses, his deep green eyes stopping at her outstretched palm before raising his own hand to reciprocate the gesture. 

“I’ve heard about you from Keith here. My name is Grisha Jaeger—“

The moment their hands touch, it’s similar to being struck by thousands of lightning bolts. Memories, whispers, faces she doesn’t recognize come crashing to her, but she doesn’t pull away. 

If Grisha felt it, he didn’t let it show. 

“Ah, I’m sorry…” Marianne apologizes muffledly, placing her hand on her mouth. She feels like she’s going to be sick.

“Please excuse me.” She mumbles, lowering her head to scurry towards the makeshift break room. Carla stares with worry, looking over her shoulder as Mari pushes hard on the door. She looks back towards the table with a squint, almost menacingly.

Keith can only stare to where the dark haired woman had hidden herself, because for the first time in his life, he could have sworn she shed a tear. 

The month seemed to fly by. Marianne had no perception of time any more, the days felt like she wasn’t truly there, like she was watching herself in an outsider's perspective. Carla carefully watches her sister who serves without delay, knowing something was off made her heart ache. 

She hadn’t had the heart to ask right away; the wound, whatever it was, was all too fresh. So, she keeps her distance, and makes no comment whenever Marianne leaves the house at dark to make her usual rounds around the town. 

She doesn’t ask, and Marianne doesn’t tell. 

Then, about a week ago, Marianne turns to look at Carla, who released a cough into her elbow. Immediately the entire breakfast table froze, Carla’s father flickers his hazel eyes up from his newspaper to his daughter. Marianne, riddled with concern, reaches to her right, touching Carla’s arm.

“Are you feeling okay?”

“I’ve been feeling a bit off these past few days.” She confesses. 

“I think you should take off work for a few. I’ll go in for you instead…”

That’s how Marianne found herself here, in the middle of Grisha Jaeger’s home seated at his table, where he sat right across from her.

Marianne had been meeting up with Grisha, getting him comfortable in town into a nice small place with space for a family. But, she wasn’t there for niceties. She was there because of what she saw, and Grisha knows it too. He hadn’t seen the truth, but he knew of the connection.

Grisha knows what he is, and he knows of his goal. But, this was unprecedented. He hadn’t expected to find Marley’s target right here, in the enemy’s base. He was sure it was announced that the Devil of All Earth was dead, long turned into a titan. All that was left was for the Eldians to be destroyed, and for the world to be whole. 

So why was it that he stood before her? She stands like quiet thunder, arms crossed, eyes cold.

“You’re from beyond the walls?” Marianne asks carefully, eyebrows pressed like she's in pain. Those memories, that future, and those eyes. Her fingers come to rub her temples. He answers carefully.

“Yes. A placed called–“

“Marley.” She cuts him off by completing his sentence. “A place beyond the sea…” 

“I assume that you’ve seen my memories then?”

“Your memories?” She weakly laughs, “If these are your memories then I must be seeing more than just your memories. It’s a thousand lives I’m seeing.”

The man remains silent.

“I’m just so confused. All my life, all I’ve ever heard was the screaming. Screaming, explosions, death. But,” she swallows dryly, continuing, “but now I can actually see it. I see destruction, the fires that burn endlessly.” she pauses, “There’s something more to it. This is something I shouldn’t have seen.” Marianne drops both of her hands to the table, intertwining them. Her lips are pressed, thick, dark eyebrows furrowed

The log in the fire crackles, releasing a silent glow in the room. She hears the leg of the chair scrape on the floor, but she never glances up at him.  Grisha places one of his hands on her shoulder, prompting her to turn. Her eyes glisten from the light, eyes locking on him.

“Why have you come to…Paradis?” She questions him. Calling it Paradis was odd. Even weirder was the word island. Were they really surrounded by a body of water? The sea?

He stares for a moment, carefully asking. “You know the answer to that already, don’t you?”

“You don’t understand. I’ve seen the death of a world.”

“I’m not here to understand the Devil.” He adds calmly, shaking her. “But if anything, I’m glad I won’t be here alone.”

He holds his pinky finger out to her. “Friends?”

She blinks at his finger, staring at it curiously. “What?”

“Do the people of Paradis not know what a pinky promise is?”

Marianne frowns out of confusion. “A pinky what now?”

“Lock your finger with mine,” He interlocks his fingers together with his own hand, although one is upside down. 

“Like this.” Grisha demonstrates.

Marianne looks down at her own hands, bringing her right hand to his left, mirroring his awkward hand position. “Like this?”

He blinks before laughing. “Your other hand.”

She quickly switches her hands, properly locking pinkies.

“There.” He sighs. 

“Then,” She begins. Her face holds a form of relief. She looks at their hands, then at his face. “It’s a promise.”

Marianne found herself bringing her prized jewelry piece to Grisha. It was a necklace that she was found with, but due to its peculiarity and uniqueness, Carla’s parents stored it away for safekeeping. Although, it was free for grabs; they never hid it from her. It was out of worry that those damned Military police would believe she had stolen it. 

In her hands, cupped carefully, was a small cream colored ball with a pink undertone, and attached to it a thin gold chain. Grisha took it from her grasp, his pointer and thumb rubbing it around while inspecting it with a hum. He called it a pearl, and said they were rare to come by.

“Where’d you find it?” He asks, returning it back to Marianna. She closes her palm when she receives it back.

“I was found with it.”

He frowns. 

Immediately, the woman looks up with a frown. “I know what you’re going to say, that I don’t have any parents and whatnot, but, I do know that whoever found me, left me with this. I’m not sure why, but I don’t think this was meant for me.”

The Devil of All Earth is reincarnated, time after time again to roam the lands in search of a promise. The tale Grisha shared with her seemed more like a nightmare, and he had told her that it was a tale depicting another, larger, scarier version of herself, 2000 years in the past. 

“This must belong to the royal family.” 

“King Fritz?”

Grisha hums, “Yes, it would appear so.”

She blurts out, “I don’t think he is.”

“Huh?”

Mari’s eyes widened, rubbing her mouth with her forearm like soap to her mouth. An awkward blush blooms on her cheeks. “Ah, that was embarrassing! I didn’t mean tha–“

“No…no that’s right if you say it is.” He leans back in his chair. “It’s a quality you have. A vision of the truth is what people outside this place call it. Truths only you can decipher. In time, maybe you’ll be able to find out the true identity of the Fritz Family.”

An awkward laugh bubbles out. “You’re making it sound like I’ve got a huge responsibility on my shoulders there, Grisha.”

“You do.” He says sharply, leaning in from across the table. “If anything, your responsibility is the greatest. Our prayers have been answered if you’re standing here. Now all we need is the founding titan. Only then will we be able to achieve our goals.”

“Hold your horses there. I don’t even know what you’re talking about and, ‘our goals?’ Don’t lump me in with your Eldian Restorationist cult.” She slaps her hand on to her mouth, gaze apologetic. Grisha simply laughs, placing his hand on his knee. 

“It’s okay to be honest. I get it, even the people back in Marley thought we were crazy too.” His voice lowers on the last part. His wife, Dina. 

His son, Zeke. The one who ratted his beloved parents out. Grisha could never hate Zeke, because deep down the boy was still his own flesh and blood.

“Do you miss your old life?” Marianne asks out of the blue, her head rests on her palm, blankly staring out. 

He hums, “I don’t know. Sometimes, I find myself dreaming I’m back in Marley but..” He trails off.

She remains silent, gaze dropping to her hand that rests on the table, where her necklace was caged in. 

Maybe, the person that left this to her wanted her to remember something. Something…important.

As the sun comes up, goodbyes are due.

“I’ll see you soon, Grisha. With this whole nasty plague going around, you oughta be careful. Well, I guess you shouldn’t worry all that much. You’re a Titan aren’t you?” Her voice comes out teasing, raising her eyebrows up and down twice while adjusting her coat at the front door. She pulls her hair out from underneath, her hand moving to the handle of the door, swinging it open. She raises her other hand, waving it gently without looking back. In this motion, her bangles gently clink, the sun coming overhead makes them shine. 

“See you, Grisha. Maybe I’ll stop by the clinic or something…”

“I’ll see you later, Mari.”

The trek home was quiet. 

Of course it was quiet. Everyone was trying to stay home from the plague that was circling around. According to Grisha, her illness came from her heritage, but from an incurable illness, so she had no reason to worry. The only reason she stayed out was because Carla insisted she did; Carla had caught it herself, but was relatively holding up when she made her leave.

Carla coughs into her elbow, waving the woman off. “We’ll be fine. Just get out, I don’t want you getting sick.”

Marianne’s eyebrows press, looking her up and down. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. Now shoo, quickly.”

The woman unlocks the front door with a smirk, shaking her head and stepping in. 

“Hello..? Anyone home?”

What she receives back are distant coughs and a wheeze. She moves quickly, running into the house towards Carla’s room. She slams the door open, watching her pained expression morph into a plea. Her feet move towards her bed, placing her palm on Carla’s forehead. She was burning up. 

“How long have you been like this?” 

Carla, coming in and out of consciousness, flutters her eyes, landing them weakly on Marianne. Her mouth opens, but no words come out.

“S-stay here! Stay right here, I’ll be back!” She shouts, running out the room and running it out of the house. If she’s lucky, Keith should be nearby; he’d been visiting the house every day after Carla and her parents had come down with the plague.

She begins to shout. “Keith! Keith!” She calls, seeing him down her path with his hands in his pockets, seemingly forlorn. 

“Hm?”

She charges to him, pulling his jacket in a panic. “I-it’s Carla! We need to take her to Grisha right now. I don’t know how long she’s been like this. Oh god, I shouldn't have left her alone like that. Why did I even believe her…” She rambles, biting the nail of her thumb. 

Keith places his hands on her shoulder, expression hard. He hunches over to match his height with the much shorter woman. “Calm down. What happened to Carla?”

“The plague–it’s progressed!”

His eyes widen, and he runs back to the house. Somehow, Marianne was quicker, making her way into Carla’s room. “Hey, I’m back. We’re going to take you to Grisha’s, m’kay?”

She coughs, somehow managing a snarky retort as Keith picks her up. “W-when did you two get on first name basis?”

“Since I was kicked out of the house last week. I was staying at his place.”

They have no time to pause, but internally, Carla and Keith do, sharing a quick look for the same, yet different reason. 

Carla, despite her pounding headache, thinks it’s off she stayed the week at Grisha Jaeger’s place, being strangers and all. She assumed that she would have stayed with Keith, maybe try a thing or two on him.

And Keith was thinking the same exact thing, except that last bit! 

Keith asks harshly, although he’s not too sure why. “When did you two get so close?”

“Eh? It sorta just happened–“

Carla winces, clutching her chest. 

 “Grisha! Grisha please—“ she storms into his clinic, slamming the door open with such urgency that he jolts. He turns, cloth over his mouth, hands covered by long gloves.

“It’s Carla! She’s caught the plague going around! Is there anything you can do to help her?”

Grisha walks over towards the woman, giving her a reassuring look, then moving his gaze to Keith. 

He points, “Put her in the rear bed.”

Before he’s able to walk away from them, Carla catches the sleeve of the man. 

“Dr. Jaeger. My parents… have it, too.” Carla tells him. Marianne whips her head back to look at Carla, but the man seems unworried. In fact, he pulls down the cloth around his mouth to smile.

“Don’t worry. I’ll help everyone.” He tells her, patting her arm. 

Keith, nor Marianne, would realize that the plague would cause the demise of them all.

Chapter Text

“Congratulations, Commander.” Marianne smiles, looking up at Shadis with a tired gaze. In her mouth, a toothpick, which she swivels around with her tongue. Carla hadn’t come to his inauguration, nor had Grisha. It was Keith that needed to go to them instead. He grits his teeth, fists clenching at his sides. Her dainty hands come down to smooth her coat, clearing it of any wrinkles. 

“Well, hurry up now. We can’t miss their special day now, can we?” 

Carla had gotten married to Grisha after the entire plague incident. He’d been hailed a hero, even more so than the Survey Corps brigade in its entirety, and poor Shadis was filled with inexplicable jealousy, sadness, but above all, anger. In time, this anger will be displaced. But for now, he will stand at a distance, staring blankly at the newly wedded couple, wishing it were him beside Carla. And Marianne, who stood near Carla, could only glance at Keith, who would never spare her the time of day.

Carla watches her friend’s detached expression. It was a similar one she wore after meeting Grisha for the first time. 

“I am willing to love him, because although I know he has no love for me…he has love.” Marianna whispers, seated on the steps outside their home. Carla’s last night living together in her parents home. Carla’s parents got better, they did, but ultimately, their bodies were just too weak to recover and ended up passing. Carla, in her blossoming relationship with Grisha, allowed Marianne to keep the house. 

Of course, Marianne protested but the ever-stubborn Carla could not be shaken. Thus, leaving the house to Marianne. It had been paid for for the next 5 years, after that it would be all up to her to cover expenses.  

“Mari…Why do you love him?”

“I’ve never seen a man love like he does. I was so jealous. Even when we were children, with his crushes. He was always so enamoured, and I thought,” She solemnly smiles, whispering out a confession for the first time. It’s a confession never meant for another’s ears. “How I’d love to be on the receiving end of such passionate devotion.”

Passionate devotion indeed, because that night, he bed Marianne. He needed something to release his love on, his pure emotion, and Marianne was there, she always was. And that night had never been sadder. 

That was how the two women stood smiling, staring down at the crib Grisha had built that was large enough to fit three babies, which was surprising but Carla made no comment. 

“How is it that you always seem to know?” Quietly asks Carla, still staring at their children, the two laying flat on their backs, side by side. 

Eren, now a month only, and Iris, three months. 

“I told you.” Whispered back the woman, who smirked to her friend. She tapped her temple with her finger, “I’ve got a knack for stuff like this.”

Carla smiles, leaning down so that her chin rests on her fingers which are clasped onto the crib railing. 

“Now they seriously have to get married. Make the Shadis a Jaeger Eren, you hear me?” Carla softly instructs her son, causing the woman beside her to giggle. 

“I’m counting on you to take good care of her, Eren.” Tells the woman, who leans her fingers into the crib. She stops just before she's able to touch her daughter, because Iris's right hand shoots out, grabbing ahold of Eren’s left one. She grips it before cooing to herself. 

The Jaeger boy does not fight the hand’s grip, rather, he welcomes with a smile.

The women’s eyes widen at the sight, staring at them before looking at each other.

“Looks like we’ll have to count on Iris, instead.” Jokes Carla.

“Eren Shadis.”

The room bubbles in laughter. 

Chapter Text

“You look like a boy.” Blurts a five year old Eren. He himself can’t even believe he’s just said that, but it slips out anyway. Grisha had been out for the week in the inner walls on Doctor business, leaving Carla alone to care for the two rowdy children who oftentimes shared a single brain cell, although they disagree. Marianne was alongside Grisha, having trained as a nurse over the years.

She and Keith were…complicated to say the least. 

They never made anything official, and perhaps it was better that way. After the five years had let up, Keith promised to handle everything from home expenses to simple allowances, upholding his responsibilities. He covered for the decent home for the two of them, and occasionally he would come by to visit, leaving desserts on the counter from the inner walls. However, it wasn’t all that often; aside from the handful of sightings the females had, it was like she was without a father. 

When she does manage to catch a glimpse of him, it was never Dad, nor Father. He was only referred to as Keith. If that offended him in any way, he never let it show. 

Her mother was getting harder to come across as well now that she’s been joining Mr. Jaeger on his Doctoring voyages throughout the walls.

“Mommy is healing people.” She would tell her, petting her short hair. 

So, now Eren and Iris were alone. The two were crouched in front of each other, Iris hugging her knees but not at all seated on the floor. In her hand, a small stick she’d gotten from who knows where, probably from the time Carla made them fetch firewood. Eren was positioned so that his forearms resting on his knees, using them to balance his body, directly in front of her.

The girl’s deep blue eyes flicker up, eyebrows furrowed as those words come tumbling from his mouth. Her look of disdain wasn’t new. The beauty mark on her nose bridge which he never hesitated to call a tick disappears underneath the crevice of her nose.

“Well you look just like your mom! Sissy!” Spits out a glaring Iris, whose nose wrinkles in distaste. 

“W-well, no one’ll want you anyway if you look like a boy!”

“I don’t want anyone to want me!”

Eren is unsure of how to respond. He could apologize, but he doesn’t feel like it. In fact, he feels like continuing his verbal assault, because instigation is what Eren knows best. So, he squints, lip jutted slightly as he eyes her up and down while figuring out what to say next.

Unfortunately, only one word exits his mouth.

“Good!”

They pause; Eren looks like he can’t believe he just said that. Iris, on the hand, frowns, staring at him like she’s on the verge of taking his soul.

She leans closer to him, but not switching positions. Her necklace slips from her tunic in this movement, the smell quite pearl flitting from her chest to the air. His eyes flicker downward, then back up.

“Hah? Whaddya mean by ‘good’!?” 

“Nothing.”

“Tell me.”

He shakes his head. “No way.”

“Tell me!”

“No.”

“Tell me?”

“No!”

“…tell me–?”

“I said no, ugly! Leave me alone!” He shouts, slamming his hands to the ground.

Iris couldn’t leave him alone. Not when his mother had decided to make this moment a playdate for the two of them. Carla so graciously gave them a handful of coins to spend to buy treats for this special occasion, although she’s not so sure what was special about hanging around Eren of all people. 

She even instructed Eren while fitting on his coat to, “Buy Iris something nice.” 

They never really bought anything with the money. Actually, it all sits underneath Iris’s mattress or returns the extra coins to his mother. It had to look like he used it.

She sighs, wide eyes staring down at Eren’s feet, then behind him, where a hooded male stands. Beside him, a strange blond. The blond’s eyes widen at contact, but the girl simply tilts her head out of confusion. 

“What’re you looking at?” Asks Eren, which causes her gaze to return back to the boy. She opens her mouth to inform him, but his words from only seconds ago come rushing back to her.

“I said no, ugly! Leave me alone!”

“None of your beeswax, Sissy.”

Eren glares harshly, nose wrinkling. 

“You’re really annoying.”

She stays silent, staring down at the ants in between the cobble stone path. Ants create paths, follow their queen, and inevitably die through floods and whatever disaster might come their way. The girl stares blankly, wisps of her hair tickling the edges of her ears. 

It must be strange, thinking the world is so big, only to find out it’s much larger than they originally thought. 

“Quit looking at me.” Grumbles the girl, who presses her chin into her bent knees. She was using the stick in her hand to draw circles around the small ant hill they’d found, not quite disrupting it, but at the same time, not leaving it alone.  

“I-I wasn’t looking at you!” 

The girl doesn’t bother to look up, and Eren doesn’t bother to leave; he never does. The two stay on this path, unmoving, unchanging, watching the ants wriggle out. She taps her stick beside the ant hill, watching them move faster with purpose. 

That was, until an announcement about the Scout’s departure blared throughout the town. A loud bell clinks once, twice, echoing loudly. The two share a look, listening to the words of a loud Garrison officer. 

“The Survey Corps is preparing for their departure!” 

 The girl jumps up, following after Eren who ran headfirst towards the gate where men atop their prized stallions sit straight and tall. Distantly, muffled words of a speech fill her ears. 

“Hurry up! We’re going to miss them!” He shouts, pushing through the legs of the adults bidding their loved ones farewell. 

She grunts through the flurry of people, squeezing through to stand at the front of the line. Eren, noticing, reaches out to grab her wrist, pulling her along as they make their way towards the front now.

“There goes the Commander’s little girl!” Someone calls out before she’s whisked away in the grasp of an unknown person, away from Eren’s hand. 

In that very moment, she feels nearly waitless, like she’s floating up. She’s placed on the shoulders of an unknown person, who holds her steady by her legs. Without asking questions, she places her hands on his head, balancing herself. 

They hold her up high to watch the parading soldier march out, green capes billowing in the wind. Her eyes blink before widening at the sight of her father, stern and cold directing his men towards the gate, motivating them with a powerful speech.Her eyes wander to the man beside him. A blond whom she swears she’ll marry some day, Erwin Smith. He was his right hand man, the successor after her father gives up his position. Marianne was always fond of the boy and was never opposed to inviting him into their house. 

There’s even been a handful of times where Marianne would bring her daughter into the inner walls to Trost when Grisha and herself had business there so that Keith would be able to spend time with his daughter. 

Most times, though, it ended in Erwin being given babysitting duty. He was never opposed to it, and was rather flattered by the adorable girl giving him weeds as a bouquet of flowers. 

Shadis looks towards the right of the crowd, where familiar blues stare at him. 

Iris is unsure of what to do. 

The girl smiles shyly, raising her small hand to give him a small wave. Shadis stares back, nodding his head in acknowledgment with the girl before looking back forward. Even though Iris wasn’t very close with her father, the feeling of being close yet so far made her chest ache for some reason. 

He wasn’t a major part of her life; for the most part, it was only her mother and her. No boys, except for Eren, Armin, Erwin, and Grisha. But, even Grisha was hard to come by, as was Erwin. 

The person holding her allows their grip to tighten, lips pressing together tightly as if they regretted having to let her go. She didn’t see that though. The girl, just as she’s about to look at her hero in the face, is taken off their shoulders and carefully placed back down. When she tries to find them again, a small hand finds her wrist, tugging at her. 

“What happened? Where’d you go?” Eren asks with concern, but the girl was still looking over her shoulder. 

“I…I don’t know. There was someone, but,”

She has no idea what their face was, but she thinks it was a woman. The smile was too kind to belong to a man.

After managing to lose sight of Iris, Ereb refuses to let her go. He pulls her along by her wrist, taking her back to his house. That’s where Carla told them to head back once their little outing was over. He’s holding her by the wrist because it’s fall. During the fall, it was only chilly enough to hold wrists, but if it was winter, Eren wouldn’t hesitate to grip Iris’s eternally warm hands. Carla would tease him endlessly. Even as babies, holding hands was nothing uncommon. He always ran cold, while she was blazing.

The two returned their hands back to their respective bodies once they neared Eren’s house.

“Weren’t they cool!? I’m definitely joining the Scouts when I’m older!” Eren boasts, placing his hands on his hips in a triumphant manner. 

She blinks.

“Well, you’ve got to be a real stupid-head for thinking that.”

“Huh? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means unless you wanna die, you really have no chance at anything,” She pauses, rubbing her tired eyes with the back of her wrists before adding. 

“Stupid-head.”

“Well, then what about your dad?”

“Keith is different– because he’s the commander.” Explains the girl, waving a finger while walking past him. Now he stands behind her. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know…”

Watching the boy’s face blaze, he nods. “O-of course I knew that!”

It was quite obvious he was lying.

An exaggerated sigh passes through the girl’s mouth, “A soldier not knowing who the Commander is? Oh, I got it!” 

She turns to look at him with gleaming eyes. She slams her fist into her palm like a hammer. “They might give you an important job as Titan bait!”

That’s when Eren snaps, running towards Iris at full speed while giggles wildly, her short strands of hair bouncing up and down. 

“What did you just say!?”

They pass corners, nearly bumping into townsfolk alike who chuckle at the sight of the two children at play. 

“Excuse me, miss!” Iris excuses herself rushedly, weaving past the huddle of women who split apart to allow the raging Eren after her. They shout something back, nothing rude, but neither manage to hear it.

Looking over her shoulder, she watches Eren nearly grab the back of her shirt. She swiftly turns another corner, but abruptly stops at the corner of where Eren’s home was. He slams into her back, causing her to nearly fall forward but she manages to balance herself with outstretched arms. He takes her wrist to pull her back into the corner.

Eren frowns, leaning forward, “What happened–“

“Shh.”

Her mother and his father were engaged in heavy conversation about whatever it is they were talking about. Marianne was frowning, arms crossed with furrowed brows. Her hands gripping her biceps tightly while Grisha stood awkwardly in front of her, adjusting his glasses while trying to explain something in a low tone. So low that the children nor Carla would be able to hear.

“Are they arguing?” Eren whispers, peering over Iris’s shoulder. 

She shakes her head in disagreement.

Iris’s eyebrows furrow at the scene. Her mother was usually so tranquil, understanding, but it seemed to Iris that she was moments away from bursting.

“I don’t think so…”

“Old man!” Shouts Eren, releasing his grip on Iris. He charges towards his father, while Marianne looks behind the boy. She blinks, watching her daughter tiredly trudge to her mom with open arms, wanting to be held. 

The mother grins, crouching down to the ground with open arms. 

“My lovely flower. Come, Iris.” Calls the woman to her daughter.  

Iris loops her arms around her neck, nuzzling into it while closing her eyes. She was tired. Mari chuckles, placing her right hand to the back of her daughter’s head, stroking her hair down to the base of her neck, then back up while whispering. 

“Did you have fun with Eren?”

The girl grumbles in response, not giving a direct yes or no. She was exhausted from all that running. Marianne stands up, holding the back of her hand to Iris’s dirty blond hair, her other arm looped around her legs.

 “We’re having dinner here today, so let’s get you to Eren’s room.”

Eren groans, rubbing his face with his small palms rapidly. He’s not really mad, though. Just annoyed.

Intrigued by his actions, she blinks down at him with a smile. 

“You don’t mind, do you Eren?”

He grumbles under his breath, “It’s not like I have a choice.”

The woman laughs, allowing Eren to walk into the house first. She throws one quick glance over her shoulder, a hard look to Grisha who swallows thickly in understanding. Once she’s intimidated him enough, she walks forward into the house, watching Carla berate Eren over the unused coins he had left in the pouch she’d given him.

“Eren, didn’t I tell you to buy her something nice? You stubborn boy.”

“She didn’t want anything!”

“Did you ask?”

“She’s got a mouth for herself!”

“Oh, you–”

Marianne whistles in amusement, eyes glimmering. Carla gasps, placing the wooden spoon that was in her hand back into the pot. 

She was definitely going to whack Eren with that. 

“We’re home!” Greets Marianne, who receives a sideways hug as to not bump into the ‘sleeping beauty’ as Carla calls her.

Eren scoffs, rolling his eyes at the name. His mother turns to look at him with a glare, and instantly he straightens up. Carla looks back to Marianne, sighing while rubbing her temples. 

“That boy, I tell you.”

“He’s stubborn, just like you.” Marianne laughs lightly, shuffling into the house towards Eren’s room. Carla follows in tow, replying to her.

“I know! That’s the worst part!”

And so, Iris is tucked into Eren’s bed, snuggling into his scuffed up bear toy he calls Mr. Bone. Her mother had bought it for his third birthday. He’s not one to share, but this time, he’ll let it slide. Marianne had a Mrs. Bone at home, hers had a bow on it.  

He takes a seat on the ground with his back to the frame, playing with the other toys his Aunt Mari had bought for him. These ones were realistic; another bear accompanied by a small, realistic horse, both carved of wood. His fingers press on the harsh engravings, rubbing into the smooth wood in focus. 

He’d stopped playing a while ago, now thinking about the texture rather than bear versus horse. 

(Somehow, the horse would win every time? It was the one thing Marianne wouldn’t verbally question; he was very adamant about the horse defeating the bear.)

From outside his room, he could hear laughter of the women, and the occasional input his father would add, making the women laugh even more.

Adults are so simple, he thinks, lifting his horse to his face, eying it.

“Eren?” Calls a feminine voice. He focuses away from his figures to find his mother, Carla, standing at his bedroom doorway with an unaging smile. She wipes her hands on her apron, asking carefully with a tilt of her head. 

“Why don’t you go ahead and take a nap with Iris? It’ll be a while before dinner is ready.”

Eren yawns, rubbing his eyes. “Only ‘cus you and Aunt Mari won’t stop talking…”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” He answers slowly, standing up wobbly. His legs are tingling from being seated on the ground for so long. His hands rub his back up and down, moving to crawl into his bed beside the girl, who was holding Mr. Bone like it was her lifeline. 

He stares at her for a moment.

She really is ugly for a girl. Is Aunt Mari sure she isn’t a boy? She looks more like a boy than me. 

That’s the last thought he has before his eyes unwillingly shut on him, succumbing to his exhaustion from a long day of playing.

When the two women returned to the room, Eren was sleeping comfortably with Iris’s foot pressed to his cheek. Her mouth was quite open, snoring like a bear. Carla presses her hand quickly to her mouth to muffle her laughter, causing Mari to shake her head playfully. 

“She sleeps just like Keith,” Whispers Mari, keeping her blue eyes on the girl. Carla, snorting, elbows her gently with a smirk. Mari looks down to see what Carla was going to say. 

“With your sleeping habits. I won’t be surprised if she starts sleepwalking soon.”

A sigh from Mari passes at the thought. If she started sleepwalking, it would be the end of them all. In her childhood, Mari’s sleepwalking consisted of fighting everything and anything in silence. 

No greeting, no signs of life. 

Just fists and a prayer. 

Her other leg lays heavy on his chest, but Eren does not stir.

“I hope not.”

-

Dinner had gone by smoothly, as it always did. Eren and Iris would sit across from each other for a good reason, glaring at each other with furrowed brows. Last time they sat next to each other, let’s just say no one ate dinner. 

Because it was all over them.

Across each other, they could only wiggle their legs, feet not even grazing the floor. Their only way of physical interaction was if both at the same time lifted their legs. And Eren was really trying his best to kick Iris after she managed a blow on his knee. 

Iris was now at home, half-awake, head nodding as her mother rubbed a towel on her soaked head. Once her hair is adequately dried, she leans towards her dresser, taking her brush to brush the short strands of her hair.

“Did you see your father today?” Marianne asks quietly, diligently brushing through.

The girl nods gently as to not disrupt her mother’s work. “Yeah.”

There’s a pause, one of heavy weight. 

“He,” She thinks about her next words. “He loves you. You know that, right?”

Iris can only hum, her eyes closed as Marianne stops her actions. She places the brush back to the edge of her vanity, moving the girl away from her legs to be able to stand up. Now standing in front of her, she moves to kneel in front of Iris. Her hands hold her daughter’s face, like a delicate flower. 

“Prayers,” She begins. “They come at a cost. What your heart desires, what you yearn for most deeply, those will come to you. So you must never pray for someone’s love, nor their heart. You mustn’t waste your blessings. They are yours, and yours alone.”

Her words are ominous, but Iris understands. Behind her mother, in the corner of the room, a small, faceless girl stands and watches. Iris doesn’t look; she never looks. 

Her voice lowers, but not too a whisper. “I understand, Momma.”

Although it wasn’t complete understanding, it was acknowledgement. Marianne knows Iris can see the girl, and it is both their burdens to bear.