Chapter Text
The girl was very very warm.
Perhaps that's what Annie liked so much about her.
And she could smell her from miles away, cranberries and the sharp scent of fresh-turned earth, intermingling with the sweet, sweet, metallic tang of her blood. Her blood was all that Annie was supposed to want from her, but forever reason, she wanted more.
The girl drew her out of her home, into the blinding, stinging daylight, day after day after day, until Bertholdt and Reiner had to lock her in, in fear that she would kill herself in the sunlight. They attempted to sooth her burns as she paced the walls of the house, furious and impatient to be let out again.
Annie needed to know her name.
She had to know it.
Annie stalked her for months, sitting on benches only feet away as the girl waited for the bus to arrive, her silky black hair whipping about in the wind, sitting in booths at restaurants across from her's, spending money she had taken from the wallets of those she had bled like pigs, and that one, electrifying second where Annie had walked past her, and their hands brushed, shooting heat and sparks through Annie's dormant veins. She felt more alive in that single second than she had felt in centuries.
Reiner and Bertholdt had asked, of course, why Annie didn't just kill her. Why she didn't just bite through an artery in her neck and drink her dry. When she didn't answer, Reiner had responded, "I could always bring her back here for you". She had leapt across the table in less than an instant, fangs bared, hands at his neck. "She's mine!" Annie had roared. No one brought up the girl again.
Then, one day, as the leaves slowly painted themselves gold and red, air cooling and nights growing blessedly longer, one of the boys the girl was always with threw his head back laughing and shouted, "Jesus, Mikasa! That's fucking fantastic!" And the name shot through her like lightning.
Mikasa.
Mikasa.
Mi-kas-sahh.
She rolled the name around her tongue for hours after, feeling it drip like honey off of her lips, soothe the pain in her throat like a cough drop. She could not of chosen a better name for the red-scarved woman who had become the object of her affections.
Annie began leaving red roses on Mikasa's desk at her work, (careful to only touch them through her sweatshirt so they wouldn't wilt) after the woman had pointed out that they were her favorite to a date she was with. Annie never hurt him, however much she was tempted to, but he never came back. Every day Mikasa would pick it up and smell it, ignoring the hoots and "someone's got an admirer"'s coming from her friends. And she would put it in a vase in the staff room, where it would remain until it wilted and was thrown out. And this pattern continued until one night Mikasa walked home alone.
"Mind if i walk with you? It's cold tonight."
Mikasa jumped slightly, whirling to look at her, her hand twitching around a can of pepper spray, before she relaxes. "Ah, no , of course not."
her voice is rich and caries a slight musical tone to it, despite its quiet flatness.
They walk in silence for a few moments, a healthy two feet of space between them, before Annie realizes that she should introduce herself. "Sorry if i scared you. I've seen you around before, and you looked lonely. I'm Annie."
"I'm Mikasa."
Annie's self control snaps just seconds later, and she shoves Mikasa into an alley, slamming her into the wall and tugging her don to her level using the scarf, exposing her smooth, porcelain neck. Mikasa doesn't even have time to struggle before Annie has sunk her teeth into her neck.
Annie remembers being turned. The pain of it burned into the back of her skull, a sharp ache that slowly spread from her neck to her toes as her father gently lapped at the blood oozing out of the holes in her neck.
She doesn't feel too bad, however, as Mikasa's blood has to be the sweetest thing she'd ever ever tasted. When she pulls her fangs out, Mikasa collapses into a quivering heap. Annie carries her home, bridal style.
Four months later, Eren and Armin go missing as well.
Their bodies are never found, but the count of the bloodless bodies of other people discover triples in rate.