Chapter Text
Whenever you were scared to do something, your father always told you that a ship in the harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for. You always scowled at him when he said it, because what sort of reassurance was that for a little girl? You wanted him to hug you and tell you that it was alright, that you could be scared and it was fine and he would fix things and you didn’t have to worry.
But he never did. He always forced you to do whatever it was anyways; do it regardless of your nerves, for this was true bravery — not the absence of fear but rather the courage to keep going even despite it.
You were a cowardly girl, for all intents and purposes. You would rather hide behind your mother’s skirts than face the world. And to her credit, your mother was perfectly alright with this, hence why you preferred her company to your father’s.
You screamed when you saw particularly large insects, and sometimes even when you saw small ones. You did not like being in tall buildings, and you would just as soon skip an entire night of sleep than be left in a dark room alone. Your father was exasperated by it all, but of course, this meant little to you. The terror that gripped you was real, though perhaps ridiculous, and there was no way you could simply forget it and move on, the way he wanted you to.
You were no vessel of war; you were a small sailboat, destined only to meander along the tamest of rivers and the calmest of bays. The harbor was where you were meant to be, not the tumultuous ocean, with its roaring currents and furious storms.
But staring at the ocean with longing in your eyes and sadness in the pits of your stomach was something that you could do. You could wish and wish from the bottom of your heart to the crown of your head that you were stronger, more fearless, so that one day you could vanish over the horizon and disappear into the sunset.
Yet childish fears were not the only thing stopping your escape. You were a girl chained, for no other reason than because of the blood that pumped through your veins, had pumped through your veins since the day of your birth. You were an Eldian, not a Marleyan, and so the sweeping vistas you dreamt of were always marred with ugly chain-link, criss-crossing over your mind’s eye, an eternal reminder that you would be trapped in Liberio for the rest of your days.
They were not walls — walls implied permanence, and besides, walls were too similar to that which the Paradisians, your closest neighbors and biggest enemies, employed. They were simply fences, metal looped together and topped with barbed wire to deter runaways.
It was on such a day, when you were at the fence, staring at the crystal clear water of the dock that was so close and yet so far, that you met him.
He was your age, perhaps a few months older, and his blond hair fell into hazel eyes that glimmered with curiosity. His cheeks were soft, round with the innocence of youth, though the crease in his brow belied the wisdom he surely held.
He did not speak at first, merely standing beside you and staring out at the sea, clutching the fence as if that would help him get closer to the water. You diverted your attention from the tide to him, admiring his sharp nose and the way he seemed enamored with the waves as they sloshed against the sand.
“I’ve heard it’s salty,” he said after a moment had passed, not even turning to look at you, “The sea, I mean. I’ve heard it’s so salty, it’ll make you sick if you drink it.”
“Are you sure?” you said, still watching him, “It looks so clear. As if it’s the cleanest water on the planet.”
“S’pose looks are deceiving. I’ve never drank it, though, maybe the stories are wrong,” he said with a shrug.
“Guess we’ll never find out,” you said with a sigh, turning your head back to face forwards and resting your forehead against the chain-link. The metal was cold, raising goosebumps along your arms and sending shivers down your spine.
“My uncle did,” he said.
“Really?” you said, unable to hide a note of jealousy from entering your voice, “Lucky.”
“Not really. He was sent to Paradis,” he said.
“What? Why?” You had never actually heard of someone being sent to Paradis and turned into a titan; as far as you knew, it was only a myth, said to scare children into compliance.
“He and some of his friends were Eldian Restorationists, but they got caught, you know. That’s an automatic death sentence. They and their families were shipped over to Paradis at once and turned into titans. Nobody returned from that mission; it’s rumored that the officers got too cocky and got attacked by their prisoners once the Restorationists had turned into mindless titans. Well, survival of the fittest, I guess — if you behave like an idiot, you’ll get killed,” he said, finally shifting so that he was looking at you. You did the same, and now the two of you were facing each other, and it felt safe, in some strange way.
“I’m sorry,” you said.
“I never knew him, so it’s alright. This happened before either you or I were born,” he said with a shrug.
“Oh,” you said, “I see.”
“Is it bad that sometimes I feel jealous of him?” he said. You were taken aback at this brazen declaration of blasphemy. You glanced around furtively, assuring that nobody had heard him.
“You mustn’t say such things aloud!” you hissed.
“It’s the truth, and there’s nobody but us to hear it. Will you report me?” he said.
“No, but still, it’s wrong. How could you wish to be turned into a titan? You would lose everything! Your family would, too!” you said.
“Save it. I’ve seen you here, over and over. I know you want to leave this place, too. If it meant you could touch the sea, just once, wouldn’t you agree to become a titan? Even if it meant the end of your days?” he said.
“I have no use for the sea,” you said quietly, “I am content as I am, with surviving. Adventure is for those braver and stronger than I; people like me stay at home while people like you risk their lives for blood and glory and freedom.”
The boy deflated. “I don’t want any of that. I’m not some hero; I was just being...idealistic, I guess. I think I’m probably meant to stay at home, too, though I don’t really have much of a choice.”
“You don’t? Why not?” you said.
“In order to prove my family’s innocence, I’ve been forced to become a Warrior Candidate. It’s a fate that has belonged to me since the day I was born; no, since I was conceived, probably. I’m not my parents’ son — I’m just their salvation. As soon as I’m old enough to enlist, I will,” he said.
“A Warrior,” you said in awe, “So I’m speaking to a future Honorary Marleyan.”
“The name’s Colt Grice, by the way. For future reference,” he said.
“I’m Y/N L/N,” you offered, giving him your hand and allowing him to shake it firmly.
“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he said.
“Likewise. But, Colt...are you seriously going to become a Warrior?” you said.
“If all goes to plan,” he said.
“That’s amazing! You’ll get to go to so many amazing places and do so many amazing things. You won’t be an Eldian; well, you will, but you’ll be an Honorary Marleyan, so nobody’s going to treat you like an Eldian anymore,” you said.
“That’s right,” he said.
“Wow. You’re so unbothered by all of this. Why do you come here, then? One day, you’ll be able to go on the other side of this fence, so why do you insist upon viewing the world through the chain-link?” you said.
“To remind me, I guess. I’m not any better than you, Y/N,” he said, hesitantly reaching a hand out and then letting it rest on your shoulder, “Aren’t we both Eldians? If anything, I’m worse, born to a family of traitors. I have to fight to reclaim our honor. I haven’t been born with any sort of special privileges; indeed, I’m probably worse off than most of our people.”
“But in the end, won’t you benefit far more than the rest of us? Honorary Marleyan status isn’t something to scoff at, Colt, it really is a game changer,” you reminded him.
“Believe me, I know,” he said.
“So, then, don’t be so morose. You’re going to be a Warrior someday; that’s hardly anything to be sad about. Most Eldians dream of the opportunity to become a Warrior,” you said.
“What about you?” he said earnestly.
“What about me?” you said.
“Do you dream of that? Of becoming a Warrior?” he said.
“Oh! Well, I’m not really certain. I suppose I wouldn’t mind it, but in general, I don’t want much out of life. I’m not that brave,” you said.
“You don’t have to be brave to have dreams. You just have to close your eyes. Come on, do it with me! Close your eyes and tell me what you see,” he said. Dubiously, you shut your eyes and covered them with your hands.
“Chain-link fences surrounding me,” you said, “They’re hideous. Can we be done now? If I wanted to look at this sort of thing, I’d open my eyes.”
“No, that’s exactly why we can’t be finished! Don’t you want to destroy the fences? Move past them?” he urged. You shook your head.
“I’d get in trouble if I did such a thing, and I’m not stupid. Why would I want that? At least I can see through the fence at all. At least it isn’t a wall,” you said.
“Join the Warriors with me,” Colt said suddenly.
“Pardon?” you said, dropping your hands and staring at him, aghast, “Did you just suggest I should join the Warriors?”
“Yes. I’ll put in a good word for you; they’ll accept you, recruitment’s been low for candidates our age anyways. Don’t give me that look, you were just talking about how most of our people dream of becoming Warriors! Does that exclude you or something?” he said.
“I thought I made that obvious! I’m not a fighter, and I barely know you!” you said.
“That’s true, but still, think of all of the things you could do as an Honorary Marleyan. You could taste sea-water and find out whether or not it’s salty. You could go to other countries and see new sorts of people; you could leave this internment zone as you pleased. Imagine it, Y/N,” he said. Despite yourself, you did, and you could not deny that it was a tempting thought.
“I can’t,” you said, shaking your head anyways, “I’m too scared.”
“You can be scared,” he murmured, “It’s alright to be scared. Do it anyways.”
“I have no motive for such a foolhardy endeavor. I’m not like you; I’m not from a family of traitors. I can live as an Eldian of the internment zone for the rest of my life and be happy. I will know peace in my life, not fear and war,” you said.
“Maybe you’ll avoid fear and war, but you will never sate your thirst, either. Do you know the reason why drinking sea water makes you ill?” he said.
“No,” I said. He winked at you before looking around. When he had ascertained that you both were alone still, he latched onto the fence and began to scale it. You watched him in abject horror, but he expertly climbed the entire thing. Somehow, he managed to dodge the barbed wire, and then he was free, racing towards the ocean without anyone to stop him.
He dipped his hand into the sea before sneaking up to the fence again.
“What the hell?” you said, “You’re going to get killed!”
“It makes you ill because of the salt, right? Because, for some reason, drinking salt water makes you thirstier. It doesn’t hydrate you, but you keep drinking, because once you’ve had a little, you can’t have enough. Nothing will ever be enough,” he said.
“Get back in — !” you said. He stuck his finger through the fence and into your mouth before you could continue to reprimand him. To your surprise, it was salty with the taste of the ocean, and you gagged, spitting his finger out and wiping your tongue with your hand.
“Salty, right?” he said.
“Disgusting!” you snapped.
“But aren’t you thirsty? Don’t you want more now?” he said alluringly. The world fell silent, and all you could hear was the rush of the waves. Transfixed as you were, you did not notice Colt dropping safely down beside you on your side of the fence.
The salt of the sea had dried your mouth and throat, the way he had said it would, and now, the ocean of water in front of you looked tantalizingly delicious. You swallowed nervously, reaching out helplessly before letting your hand drop.
Colt offered you a bottle of water — clean water, not salty — and you accepted it gratefully, gulping it down as if you were dying of thirst. He watched in amusement.
“I told you. It’s the same way with the world; once you’ve left this tiny corner of it, you’ll never have enough. You’ll never be able to settle down again,” he said.
“Maybe I should never leave,” you said logically, “Then I won’t ever want more.”
“It’s too late,” Colt predicted, “You already do.”
You did not like this Colt Grice boy, you decided. He knew too much and yet not enough; he was infuriatingly intelligent yet grievously naive. You gave him a dirty look and tossed his water bottle back at him before storming off; this was enough staring at the sea for you, probably for eternity.
“Bye, Y/N! Hope to see you at enlistment!” he shouted after you.
“You have an awful way of recruiting people!” you shouted back. His fading laughter was the last thing you heard as you marched away, determined to never again listen to stupid boys with their stupid stories of oceans and uncles and traitors.
“You seem upset,” your father observed as you slammed the door shut behind you.
“Do you know Colt Grice?” you said.
“Yes?” he said in confusion.
“I hate him,” you informed him, leaving without another word and darting into your bedroom, locking the door behind you and flopping onto your bed with a sigh.
You hated the fact that Colt’s words were still ringing in your mind, the fact that the taste of salt still lingered on your tongue. He was right — you did want more, but you were not prepared to leave your harbor quite yet, or at least so you thought.
Because, no matter how Eldians tried to romanticize it in an attempt to come to terms with the harsh reality, you all knew that the life of a Warrior was no walk in the park. Honorary Marleyan status was a deadly, double-edged sword. It meant that you became a weapon for a country that hated people of your kind. You were under constant surveillance; not a toe could ever be out of line lest you face capital punishment. But worst of all, you became a titan, a monster slated to die in thirteen years, eaten by your successor, a fresh-faced child you had once resembled.
Only the best amongst you risked Warriorhood, or the most desperate. Colt fell into the latter category, but you fell into neither, so why would you do it?
“Mother, father,” you said when you were seated around the table, about to eat your dinners, “What do you think I will be when I grow up?”
Your parents exchanged uncomfortable looks.
“Well, you could be, uh, a...housewife? Marry a big, strong man who will protect you no matter what, so that even when you are scared, you needn’t worry. Perhaps one of the Warriors,” your mother suggested. You wondered if Colt would be opposed to marrying you in the future. Certainly, your mother would approve.
“A housewife,” you repeated.
“You’re braver than that,” your father said, disappointment evident in his expression, “But...if it’s what you want, then I’ll support it. It’s the easy path, at least.”
“What if —” you began before swallowing and shaking my head, “Never mind.”
“No, keep talking. What is it, honey? What if what?” your mother said, her interest piqued.
“It’s silly. I don’t know why I keep thinking of it, honestly, only it came in my mind earlier and now I can’t stop thinking about it,” you said.
“What is it?” she prodded, leaning over the table to tap you on the nose, “You can’t tease us like this. What’s on your mind?”
“What if I became a Warrior?” you said, all in a rush, the words tumbling out of your mouth.
Your parents were silent, gaping at you in shock. Sufficiently cowed even by their soundless judgement, you picked at your dinner, avoiding their incredulous eyes.
“You...you want to be a Warrior?” your mother said slowly, “But Warriors are soldiers. They go to war and fight and kill. My soft, lovely daughter, why would you ever subject yourself to such a thing?”
“Maybe she doesn’t want to be soft,” your father said, “She’s not just your soft, lovely daughter. She’s mine, too, and she has the heart of a lion hidden in the body of a lamb.”
“Thank you, father, but there is no lion in me. My heart only wants to see beyond the chain-link fences of Liberio,” you said.
“Being a Warrior will be difficult, do not misunderstand me. It will be more difficult than anything you've ever done before. What inspired this?” your father said.
“A stupid boy with his stupid stories. Through him, I have tasted the salt of the sea, and now, I will not be satisfied until I may quench my thirst by it,” you said.
“Let him bring home the sea to you,” your mother pleaded, “The life of a Warrior is a cruel one. You will shatter like glass under such pressure. If this stupid boy’s stories hold so much weight, then he will find a way to move the sea so that it laps at your feet. You needn’t move anywhere, dearest.”
You laughed bitterly. “Mother, he already has.”
“Is that so?” your father said, amusement quirking the corners of his lips upwards, “Then why do you hate him?”
“What?” you said, startled.
“We are speaking of Colt Grice, aren’t we? I wonder what that boy managed to say that convinced my meek Y/N to leave her harbor,” he said.
“Colt Grice?” your mother shrieked, her fork falling from her hand and clattering on her plate.
“Well, yes, I will admit I did speak to him earlier,” you said.
“I don’t want you associating with that boy, understand? Forget bringing the sea to your feet; he will cause you to drown. He will drag you to Paradis with him! The Grices are a filthy family that should’ve been culled back when the one was discovered to be an Eldian Restoriationist,” she said hysterically. Your jaw dropped as you stared at her. Her expression was wild and frantic, her chest heaving from the force of her fit.
“He seemed nice,” you muttered, electing to omit the fact that he had illegally escaped the internment zone to make you taste seawater.
“Oh, don’t they always seem nice?” she said venomously.
“Enough. Don’t allow your past mistakes to manifest in her and Colt. What happened has happened already; do not take out your anger on an innocent,” your father said sternly.
“She mustn’t make the same errors I did! Y/N, please, stay away from Colt. If you wish to become an Honorary Marleyan so badly, then marry a Warrior,” she said.
“Colt will become a Warrior someday,” you suggested, batting your eyelashes innocently.
“No! Anybody but that boy!” she said. Your father shot her a warning glare.
“Don’t worry, mother. I don’t want to marry Colt. I want to be a Warrior, not an Honorary Marleyan. Besides, if I become a Warrior, then you’ll become an Honorary Marleyan, too. Don’t you want that?” you said.
“Not at the expense of your life!” she snapped, abruptly standing and leaving you and your father alone at the dining table. The tense silence was interrupted by your father taking a long slurp of his soup. You winced at the noise.
“Do you think I should become a Warrior?” you said to your father.
“I think you should only do something if you want to, not because Colt or your mother or I tell you to. What is it that you want, Y/N? Truly?” he said.
You thought about this. You thought about staring at the sea and chain-link fences; you thought about spiders in the dark and ships in harbors. What was it that you wanted?
“I want to become strong and brave,” you said.
“Darling,” your father said, placing his hand atop your own in a comfortingly paternal gesture, “Nobody can do that. Nobody can become strong and brave. They either already possess strength and courage, or they do not.”
“So is there no hope for me, then? Must I remain like this forever?” you said, crestfallen. Your father kissed your hair affectionately.
“No, of course not. I’m afraid I did not phrase my earlier statement properly. See, everyone has strength and bravery; some in spades, and some not. The trick is not becoming something, something other than what is at your core. It is merely discovering who you are, so that you may see in yourself what others see in you,” he said.
“You think I’m strong and brave, right?” you checked.
“I do. I think you’re the strongest and bravest and most wonderful girl in the world, though I’ll admit I’m a little biased,” he said.
“More than a little, I think,” you said with a snort.
“Or maybe not,” he said.
“I want to be a Warrior,” you said again, with more conviction this time.
“Do you?” he said.
“Yes. A Warrior must be strong and brave; therefore, if I become a Warrior, there can be no doubt that I am both,” you said determinedly.
“If that’s what it takes to prove yourself. I only hope you know that you never have to prove anything to me,” he said.
“I know,” you said.
“Good. Now, tell me again what it is you want?” he said.
“I want to be a Warrior,” you said resolutely.
“Again!” he urged.
“I want to be a Warrior!” you said.
“Louder!” he said.
“I want to be a Warrior!” you shouted. He whooped and picked you up in his arms, swinging you around proudly.
“She’s going to be a Warrior! You hear that, world? Miss Y/N L/N is going to be a Warrior!” he cheered, ignoring your halfhearted protests, interrupted by giggles as he pranced about your kitchen as if he were presenting you to a crowd of gathered admirers.
From then on, it was hard to keep a thing of such magnitude a secret, but somehow, you managed. Sometimes at school, you would catch little glimpses of Colt; you had not noticed before, but the two of you shared a math class. Every time you locked eyes with him, he would beam and wave. You often ignored him, embarrassed at the impact the simple afternoon you had shared had had on you. It had changed the entire trajectory of your life; you were still a cowardly little girl, but now, you were a cowardly little girl on a mission.
It seemed as though the enlistment date could not come soon enough, and yet the time between your decision and the moment you would commit to it forever nearly flashed by. Suddenly, you were standing at General Magath’s desk, your father behind you and a pen in your shaking hand.
“Are you sure?” your father whispered, one final time, as if you could still chicken out now. But it was entirely too late for you; your decision had been made that day. Whether it had been when you and your father danced in the kitchen, or when Colt forced saltwater into your mouth, or perhaps even before that, at the very first moment you laid eyes upon the boy, you could not be sure. It remained, though, that there was no way you could turn back now.
“I’m sure,” you said, reaching up for the clipboard stacked with forms and beginning to page through them, handing some to your father to fill out and completing the rest yourself.
“Look at you go. My daughter, you have grown so much. I am so proud of you; have I said that recently? I am so proud of you. Whether you become a Warrior or a mere soldier or even a housewife, I will be proud of you,” your father said, and you were surprised to see that his eyes were misty. You scoffed, clipping the finished forms together and handing them to General Magath.
“Don’t get sentimental. It isn’t as if I’m leaving you behind forever. I still live with you,” you said.
“But aren’t you leaving me? You’re mistaken if you think that your entire life won’t be taken up with Warrior business, from now until the moment you either drop out or die. In essence, this is goodbye,” he said.
“Oh, father,” you said, hugging him somewhat awkwardly, for you both were still walking, “You needn’t worry. I love you and mother too much; I will come back to visit as much as I can. Besides, it might be that I don’t even pass the screening, and what then? I’ll have to become a housewife.” You reached the waiting room, and you sat on the bench. Your father collapsed beside you, holding his head in his hands.
“How did the time pass so quickly? Aren’t you still a baby? And yet now you’re enlisted to become a Warrior, one of Marley’s prized weapons,” he said.
“Y/N!” a cheerfully familiar voice called out. Before you could react, Colt had plopped down beside you, throwing a companionable arm around your shoulder.
“Hello, Colt,” you said, giving him a polite smile. There was no reason for you to hate the boy anymore; not when he was partially the reason you were even here in the first place.
“I can’t believe you actually enlisted!” he said.
“I guess you were pretty convincing,” you said.
“Really?” he said, eyes wide with innocent delight.
“Well, no. The conclusion I came to was all my own, you just gave me a little help in getting there,” you said.
“I’ll take it. It doesn’t really matter why you’re here, in the end...I’m just glad you are,” he said.
“Why is that?” you said.
“It’ll be nice to have a friend to train with,” he said.
“I’d hardly call us friends, no offense,” you said.
“You wouldn’t?” he said, a wicked grin playing at his lips as he leaned in to whisper in your ear, “But my finger’s been in your mouth.”
“That’s just more cause for me to not like you!” you said, shoving him away as he burst into raucous, boyish laughter.
“Aww, don’t be like that. We’re going to have to eat, sleep, and train together pretty extensively for the foreseeable future. Won’t it be better if we get along?” he said, batting his eyelashes at you.
“Yeah, right. So keep your hands, and fingers, to yourself!” you said.
“Would you like to introduce me to your friend, Y/N?” your father said, finally speaking up for the first time since Colt had come to sit with you.
“He’s not my friend!” you groused.
“I’m Colt Grice. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. Your daughter and I are friends from school,” he said, shaking your father’s hand with the firm grip of a man thrice his age. Your father looked impressed — he was a sucker for good handshakes, and you could tell by his facial expression that Colt had gotten into his good books.
“And you as well, son. No need to call me sir or anything fancy,” he said.
“Oh, I couldn’t do that. At least let me call you Mr. L/N,” Colt said sheepishly, a soft blush tinting his cheeks.
“If you insist,” your father said with a shrug, “Say, I’ve been meaning to ask...what did you say that managed to get Y/N to want to sign up for the Warriors? I’ve always hoped she would, not because of the Honorary Marleyan thing but because I knew she had the potential, but to tell you the truth, I had kind of given up on that dream. And then she talked to you and all of a sudden, she wanted to become a Warrior — genuinely wanted to.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Colt said modestly.
“You must’ve done something,” your father said.
“Yes. He was so annoying I vowed to become a Warrior to get the training to beat him up,” you said dryly.
“I just showed her that there’s more to life than the internment zone,” Colt said.
“Regardless...thank you. Thank you for helping my daughter realize that she’s more than what she believes herself to be,” your father said.
“Oh, good lord, father, stop crying,” you said as he pulled out his handkerchief and blew his nose to hide his tears.
“I think it’s sweet. My parents didn’t even show up, as I’m sure you can see,” Colt said.
“Why not?” you said. He was right — there was nobody there to sit with Colt, no doting mother or weeping father.
“This isn’t news to them. They’ve always been more hands-off with me; I’m their sacrificial lamb, remember? Falco’s the one they really care about; though, to be fair, it’s almost impossible to not care about Falco. Anyways, as I was saying, they’ve had years to prepare for this day. I promise you, they’re not upset about any of this,” he said.
“I’ll cry for you, Colt. I have enough tears to spare, it seems,” your father offered, blowing his nose yet again with a great honking noise.
“Thanks, Mr. L/N,” Colt said, swallowing hard and looking away.
“My mother didn’t come either, though it’s more because she’s too upset to bear seeing me ‘sign my life away’ or whatever than anything,” you offered. He gave you a half-smile.
“Seems like we have the opposite problem. Your parents care too much, mine don’t care enough,” he said.
“What a pair we are,” you said with a sigh.
“Let’s not dwell on it!” he said with forced brightness, “Soon, they’re going to announce the chosen Candidates. Who do you think it’ll be?”
“You, of course,” you said.
“That’s a given. Who else?” he said.
“Dunno. I hope I’m one of them,” you said.
“You will be. I’m sure of it,” he said.
“Did you run interference or something?” you said. You found yourself almost wishing he hadn’t; that would spoil it, you felt. You wanted to be chosen for candidacy by your own merit, not because Colt had helped you behind the scenes.
“No, I just have a feeling,” he said earnestly, “I mean, sure, I may have mentioned that I have a few friends in the pool, but I didn’t say who. You have to earn it, at least a little bit.”
“That’s alright. I’d be happier with that, anyways,” you said.
“Sounds like they’re coming out with it now,” your father observed.
“Excuse me! Might I have everyone’s attention?” General Magath said, his voice imperious and commanding. The room, which had just been buzzing with excited chatter, immediately quieted, necks craning to see the General in all his glory.
“The next crop of Warrior Candidates has been chosen! These brave five will train and fight until they are prepared to take upon themselves the role of being a Titan of Marley!” he said.
You exchanged looks with Colt. He gave you a reassuring nod, and you turned to your father, who did the same. The three of you leaned forwards slightly, holding your breath in anticipation.
“Friedrich Visser!” General Magath said. A lovely boy, with an angular face and shaggy hair a shade between brown and blond, walked up to stand behind the General. There were faint lavender shadows under his gleaming quicksilver eyes, and his lips were curved downwards in a seemingly perpetual frown.
“Alaric Haas!” General Magath said once the applause for Friedrich had died down. Alaric seemed far friendlier than Friedriech, with warm, golden brown eyes, and ginger hair that was mostly slicked back, though a few strands escaped in the front and fell into his eyes. He was seemingly bouncing from excitement, and a fondness for him filled you.
“Alice Haas!” You presumed that Alice was Alaric’s twin, or perhaps his younger sister — they looked rather similar, though there were some notable differences. Half of Alice’s hair was gathered into a messy knot, and the rest was left to hang, framing her face and curling at the ends. Everything about her seemed more intense than Alaric; while her brother’s hair was light, closer to strawberry blond than anything, Alice’s was a fiery red. Her ferocious eyes were a brilliant evergreen that twinkled with mischief when they connected with yours, and she gave you a smile when she noticed your stare.
“Colt Grice!” Colt did not seem surprised when his name was called, and for good reason. He stood up in resignation and crossed the room to stand behind Friedrich, raising his left hand and crossing his fingers at you. You did the same, for luck. There was only one candidate yet to be announced, which meant you only had one more chance to become a Warrior.
“It’s alright,” your father whispered, “Even if you don’t become a Warrior, it’s alright.”
“I won’t give up before I’ve begun. I can’t,” you said vehemently.
“Y/N L/N!” General Magath declared. You froze. That was you. You had been chosen; you were going to become a Warrior, or at least a Candidate. You stood as if in a daze, crossing the room, unaware of anything or anyone except for the voice ringing in your ears.
Y/N L/N, Y/N L/N, Y/N L/N.
“Congratulations,” Colt muttered as you joined him and General Magath began to give a speech of condolences to the others, urging them to try again next time, “You’re in.”
You were in.