Where Feathers Fall (AoT Isekai)

It takes a while for her racing heart to calm down.

Annie is dangerous, she knows. It's never smart to corner something dangerous, lest one aims to see their claws.

She wouldn't harm Armin, though. If Annie spares Armin during the expedition in the future, then y/n theorized they would be safe from her claws, now — as long as they didn't push her too far, that is.

It's one of the reasons she chose to bring Armin with her to speak with Annie.

Still, that was too close.

With the savings they'd compiled together, there was enough for a night at an Inn, to feed the horses and dinner. Unable to head back to the headquarters in the afternoon, as they can't travel during the night — another one of Freya's warnings, y/n and Armin decide to set out for their journey in the morning.

They choose a less lively Inn, yet the scent of ale is consistent throughout all of them. They've barely given an order for a meal when Armin brings up trying again.

"It's pointless, Armin."

The silver of her blade flashes through y/n's mind for the hundredth time.

Too close.

"What's keeping her from telling us?" Armin mutters with his head in his hands, "Is it that they've. . threatened her?"

Would he still be this considerate after finding out there was a chance they wouldn't have made it out of that street?

"Who knows?" She sighs, letting him theorize. "Whether she tells us or not. . it doesn't matter. She's aware that we know."

Even if it's not on point — Armin's theory might have saved them.

"She won't carry out any more of her plans, at least."

The expedition would be safe.

As safe as it can get outside the walls.

Armin's hair fall over his eyes, "The government won't just stop with Annie if they're behind this."

Y/n observes him, the way his brows pull together, and the absent stare he sends the group of men drinking ale behind their table. She doubts he's actually looking at them.

"Armin, how long have you been thinking about this. . theory with the government?"

His attention darts back to her, "It's been a while. . actually." He leans away from the table as their meal arrives. The woman, dressed in a fiery red, places the tray on their table, grabbing their meals. She shoots a not-so-subtle wink at the boy before she leaves.

His face turns red.

"Armin."

His head whips away from their receding server. He coughs, "Uhm. . sorry, I— the theory, sorry."

"Was it because of what I said?"

"Yes!"

Y/n winces at his overly loud voice.

"I mean, yes, since that day." He lowers his voice, refusing to meet her eyes. His fork stabs into the plate, despite aiming for the meat.

"Are you alright—"

"After that day in Trost, I couldn't stop thinking about it." He clears his throat, the blush in his cheeks slowly fading, "I read through all the history books I could — whatever was available to cadets at the time from the library." Armin purses his lips, "Which wasn't a lot."

Y/n recalls his fascination with books during their cadet years. During breakfast, breaks, and free time, y/n always saw the boy with his head in a textbook. She never quite paid attention to what he was reading — Armin is known to be a bookworm, after all. But, now that she thinks about it, they must all be history books.