Wings : Attack on Titan x Reader Scenarios / Imagines ▼

[That Day :: Krista/Historia]

(F I V E  Y E A R S  B E F O R E)

After cleaning up your wounds with surprising skill and giving her utmost gratitude a hundred times over, the girl who had seemingly materialized from a strange solution of air and altruism, the one called Historia, had disappeared just as quickly as she had arrived. Upon finishing a third round of inspection for more possible cuts the voice of an unfamiliar older girl crested the small hill that the two of you were sitting on, and, after relinquishing a final verbalization of gratefulness, Historia bolted off. You remembered the way that she seemed to lose all interest in you. All alone, you were left to wonder who the woman that your newfound friend ran to was, and whether she was alright or not.

You had reluctantly resumed your chores after a few more moments that really pounded in the conclusion that Historia was gone. From there on out, your days continued as normally as they had before meeting her - you woke up, received the day's assignment, and set out to finish it. At least a fortnight had passed before you would even begin to obtain information regarding her whereabouts.

It was quite late at night, far past the time of your curfew, when something out of the ordinary occurred. Typically you wouldn't have dreamed of staying out beyond sunset, but you hadn't finished up all your duties of the day. You were not up for the risk of returning to your sleeping quarters without accomplishing your responsibilities. On the other hand, however, you'd been working straight through the entire day, and your body ached from the laborious tasks. If you could catch a quick nap and return to the assignments, then you'd be able to get back before anyone noticed your absence and escape from punishment.

All seemed to be going as planned when you lay down outside of the stables, curling up beneath the cloudy night sky and resting your head on the slope of a miniature hay mountain. The soft sound of crickets formed a little lullaby, and you were approaching sleep when, out of nowhere, screaming jolted you up. It wasn't what you were used to hearing on the property. It was raw and agonizing, like that of an animal in the hands of an unskilled hunter, primal and pleading and pained. Your heart fell still and you rushed to hide within a corner of the safely walled stables.

If this had been something that you were used to, you would've gone and tried to help. But this sound didn't draw you nearer to the victim - it pushed you away.

Your skin was clammy and your breathing ragged by the time you were able to pinpoint another noise. This time, it was footsteps, many of them, drawing nearer and nearer to the horses. They were followed in rapid succession by voices. Multiple men's voices urging to...to kill someone...saying...everything would be easier that way...and then a broken little voice, like a caged songbird, and you froze.

Historia.

That was who the men wanted to kill. That was who they were talking about.

Your heart sped up and you ground your teeth together, damning your situation and your fear and you. Rain had started falling and the soft pitter-patter seemed to drown not only the men's voices but the shouts of your own morals.

You hadn't even realized you were crying until a single man's voice, set apart from the others by its gentler tone and quieter disposition, uttered the instructions that took the weight off your chest. Historia - no, no, her name was Krista, Krista Lenz now - would join the military, and becoming a soldier, and not be killed by the loud, angry men who tugged at your heartstrings and jeopardized your very being, and live.

Live. Just live.

Your twitching muscles seemed to relax, even if only by a fraction, and your breathing gradually returned to normal as the voices began to disperse. For now, Krista was okay. There were only two things you could do to keep things that way.

As for the first, you rose up on your shaky feet and crept over to the sink where you had previously cleaned the horses' grooming utensils. You reached for the scissors used to trim the manes of the animals and brought them to your face, hovering just beneath your ears. With a sharp inhale, you set to work, cutting your locks off and fixing your bangs to cover your eyes. As you continually readjusted and re-trimmed, your mind drifted off to the second necessity.

In your fearful state, the conclusion your mind had drawn up may not have been the most logical one, but it didn't change the fact that it was something you had wanted to do ever since you were young and first heard of some of the other servants getting to leave. The only way to guarantee that you would never wind up at the hands of the men who had tormented Krista was to leave the homestead. And every child servant knew there was only one way to leave.

You were going to join the military.