Me when my editor asks for romance and I can choose the twisted love archetype to be petty: š”
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Today was a new day for Historia Reiss.
Like always, she rose with the sun, brushed her hair, cleaned her face, and folded her sheets into neat corners. A noble habit inherited from no one in particular. Her mother certainly didn't care. Her grandparents didn't bother.
The routine was her ownāa way to stay sane. Because otherwise, it'd feel like she didn't exist in anyone's life.
She pulled on her shoes, wrapped a scarf around her shoulders, and stepped out into the light. It was a nice, warm day, though it wasn't as nice as yesterday.
Chores, technically, were part of her daily responsibilities. But the truth was, she only did just enough to avoid being scoldedājust enough to disappear and retreat into the quiet comfort ofĀ books, where stories made more sense than real life ever did.Ā
She passed by a few workers on her way to the storeroom, offering light waves and the sweet smile she'd perfected over the years.
"Good morning!"
They smiled back, just being polite since she was the 'young lady' of House Reiss.
That was the point.
Then she sawĀ him.
...
It wasn't rare to see new workers. The farm hired often and rotated even more.
But this one stood out.
Not just because he was youngāno older than herself, maybe a little older.
But because of hisĀ hair[1].
Silver. Not gray. Not faded. Silverālike polished steel in moonlight.
And then there were hisĀ eyes.
They didn't justĀ look at things, theyĀ studied them. Like he was cataloging weaknesses. It was odd for her to suddenly start caring about anyone this much.
She wasn't even sure he noticed her, considering he wasn't looking at her but a book...it looked really interesting, considering her love of reading,g but Historia didn't pay attention to that.
As his gaze snapped to her like a spotlight.
Historia stiffened.
His eyes didn't move. Why was she suddenly being the timid one, considering their status?
He didn't blink either, being as creepy as he could be.
Just stared, with a perpetual cold look as if he was disdaining having to be here, though considering that most help who work at her family's farm enjoy working here, it was odd.
She offered a nervous smile. "Umā¦ good morning?"
He said nothing.
After a few seconds, he turned away and continued what he was doingātending to somethingā¦ no,Ā someone.
Lying beside him was a woman.
Older. Beautiful. Unmoving.
Her hair was silver too. Historia then wondered if people outside the farm are also naturally born with such unique colors, because his hair must be naturally silver.
Historia took a step closer, curiosity piqued.
The woman was lying on a makeshift cot beneath the shade of the barn. Wrapped in clean sheets. Her face was calm, almost ethereal in the way she didn't move. Her eyes were closed. Her legsā¦
Gone.
Historia's hand flew to her mouth, she didn't see legs just an empty dress where her legs should be.
"Is thatā¦ your mother?"
The boy turned instantly, stepping in front of the woman, blocking her view.
His voice was flat. Cold.
"Back off,Ā woman."
Historia blinked. "Whatā?" She didn't talk to people much, so this sudden coldness was very new to her.
"She's not something to look at. Not something to judge. She's off-limits."
She raised her hands slowly. "I wasn't judging. I was just curiousā¦"
"You're kind, always are."[2]
"I'm Historia Reiss," she offered, calming herself. "I live here. Just trying to be friendly."
"I didn't ask for your name."
Silence.
He turned back to the woman, brushing her hair gently out of her face with a tenderness that contrasted completely with the venom in his voice.
Historia hesitated, then tried again.
"She'sā¦ very beautiful."
He didn't respond.
"She must be important to you."
"Obviously."
...
An idea struck her.
A terrible one.
But her mouth worked faster than her brain.
"Well," she said, feigning brightness, "IĀ amĀ looking for a new personal helper."
She puffed her chest slightly. "You seemā¦ hardworking. Clean. Reliable."
He didn't even turn.
"You're throwing scraps to a dog."
"What?"
"That's what you're doing. You see someone like me, in the dirt, and you think offering a job will make you feel better."
She swallowed. "That's not true."
"Sure it is."
He turned to her fully now.
Eyes unreadable.
"If I took that role, I'd be admitting I'm beneath you. And I don't doĀ beneath."
Historia stood in place, stunned.
She hadn't expected that.
She thought she was being kind.[3]
Responsible.Ā Like her big sister once told her to be.
Though she couldn't remember her face anymore, she remembered the words:
"Kindness isn't about giving things. It's about givingĀ respect."
And she hadn't done that.
Not really.
"ā¦I'm sorry," Historia said quietly. "That was rude of me."
The boy didn't soften, as if he could be this cruel without compassion.
"Screw off, woman."[4]
Blunt. Brutal. Butā¦ slightly less venomous than before.
She nodded, cheeks warm with embarrassment.
Then asked carefully:
"ā¦What's your name?"
He looked at her for a long moment, she could swear that he was smiling despite the clear annoyance on his face, or maybe that was simply because she hoped that was the case.
"Kaelen."
He turned away again.
"Remember it, woman."
Historia sighed; she couldn't exactly blame him for his attitude at this rate.
"ā¦I'm Historia Reiss."
He didn't respond.
But he didn't tell her to screw off again either.
She lingered a moment longer, then left him in peace.
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[Auther: Yo, been a while, huh? This came out later because my writing device... disappeared...somehow, I didn't forget or anything.]
[1] "Yes, I'm fully aware that silver hair isn't normal in AOT, dumbass. I just never had anyone who'd care enough for me to write it down in the plot. I'll explain that his hair is completely natural and the silver color is for the future plot to explain!"
[2] "Racist?"
[3] "This is what you call 'wordplay'
[4] "Ah, the anti-feminist comments are going to swarm me..."