May, 1951

A stream of sunlight filtered through the window, illuminating the dust particles wafting in the air. There was a cat lounging on the windowsill, basking in the warmth of the sun; Armin was sitting at the counter, totting up pennies, when he heard the shopkeepers bell chime.

"I thought you might like a spot of tea and some company," Mikasa entered the room with a tray in hand. The young man was quick to his feet to help her but Mikasa told him to sit down, "You work too hard, Armin."

A sheepish smile found its way to his face when he told her that, knowing it to be true. Running his own bookshop was hard work, and he barely found time to write. But, Armin had always had perseverance, and it was more evident now than ever.

Mikasa's belly was round and swollen—twins, the doctor had told her. Eren of course was thrilled by the thought and so was Mikasa at first, but the dark-haired woman had started to grumble over back pain and her inability to stand for too long. Nevertheless, her children were the light of her life, and Armin adored having them around.

"The shop is officially closed for lunch," the woman declared as she placed the platter on the counter.

"Why thank you, Mika." the young man grinned as he welcomed the brew into his hands.

Mikasa slumped into a chair and brought the cup to her lips, blowing over the steaming beverage before taking a sip, "Eren should be home soon with the children."

"He's been working hard too, lately." Armin mentioned, nibbling on a jam sandwich.

Mikasa's lips curved up into a smile as she set the cup aside and caressed her stomach, "He needs to, especially with another two on the way."

Armin felt a sharp tug at his heartstrings but retained the smile on his face, "Having a family…seems…"

"…Wonderful." Mikasa finished, she was gleaming. Armin had never seen her so happy, perhaps safe for the day she married Eren. Being pregnant with twins seemed to agree with her after all.

When Mikasa noticed the gloomy expression that the young man was so desperately trying to conceal behind a smile, she said, "Have you ever considered…meeting someone new?" her words were soft and sincere as always, but amidst the sympathy shining in her almond shaped eyes, he saw pity.

"Did Eren put you up to this?" was Armin's reply.

"No…" Mikasa frowned, suddenly uncomfortable.

All she'd really done was rephrased in an albeit gentler manner what Eren had been telling him for years, "You need to find yourself a woman. Someone to keep you warm at night." in truth, that was tame compared with some of Eren's more lewd remarks.

At the end of the day, Armin knew that his friends only wanted him to be happy and while he appreciated their concerns to no end, there was nothing they could say or do to change his mind on the matter.

Annie Leonhart was the only woman he loved, she was the only one he had ever loved. No amount of time would change that and although he never spoke of the girl, she was always in his heart.

When Armin had come to at the back of that black staff car half way across France all those years ago, he'd sobbed his heart out the rest of the way home. Somehow, he had known right from the start that she'd gone, his fears only confirmed when he raised his hand and eyed her silver ring wrapped around his finger. The sharp pain that shot through his shoulder and down the other arm came shortly after, an injury that would haunt him for years to come.

Nobody dared speak her name for a long time afterwards and Armin got on with his life on the most part. On one occasion Eren had told the young man that he didn't owe Annie anything and that he'd done all he could. Rather than argue with the stubborn brunet, Armin had simply smiled and told him that he needn't worry about him and that he was happy. It was half true, at least.

She broke her promise, a little voice in his mind had whispered and a tight, fiery knot flared up in his stomach,

"…promise me something." Armin pleaded to her,

"Anything."

"Never leave me again."

"I won't. I promise."

The boy cursed himself for feeling betrayed and cried over being angry with her. It wasn't her fault.

Back then…we were so young…

He also worried terribly about the girl. What became of her after the war? Armin could only hope that Annie was alive and well. Perhaps wishing to see her again was asking too much, but however small, there was hope in Armin's heart.

Four years prior, the boy reconnected with Erwin Smith—the dashingly handsome American soldier who was stationed in London at the beginning of the war.

Erwin had saved the boy's life and provided him the opportunity to find his long-lost love. It went without saying that Armin felt eternally grateful to the American and after reuniting with the man, he relayed his story in all its entirety over coffee, brandy and cigarettes. The boy wasn't much of a smoker though, as it would always ignite his asthma.

The two of them talked into the early hours of the morning when in the end Erwin recommended Armin write a book; it hadn't been the first time someone had suggested him to do so, so that's just what he did. To Armin's utter bewilderment, his memoir became a bestseller.

It must have been past three in the morning when Erwin spoke up about himself for the first time, having listened attentively to Armin while he conversed over the trials and tribulations of his search for Annie and the events that unfolded afterwards.

As it turned out, he too had a tale of his own. The American had been deployed to France at the end of 1944, where he stayed until the Germans surrendered and, where a close relationship with Levi first began.

Armin could distinctly remember Mikasa's face when she first heard the news; her cheeks had flushed red, tears welled in her eyes and she'd started to blubber like a baby, which was surprising for the woman who rarely wore her heart on her sleeve. Armin shed a tear or two as well, elated for her being able to reunite with the man.

Mikasa believed she had said her final farewell three years ago, never thinking even for a second that fate would bring them together again. Her reaction to coming face to face with Levi extracted another tear from Armin who remembered the reunion as if it were yesterday,

Mikasa patted down her hair and adjusted her scarf, anxious, as she stood in the hallway of their home, her composure hanging by a thread.

"Don't fret, Mika." Eren assured her. When another knock came, he opened the door.

Levi stood in a dark grey suit, his black hair literally shining and looking utterly pristine. His face held little expression but, soon enough, creases in the corners of his eyes formed as he smiled at the young woman before him.

Mikasa couldn't quite believe her eyes when she saw the Frenchman standing in her doorway. It all felt so surreal. Without warning she flew into the shorter man's arms, weeping in joy.

Eren and Armin turned to one another, grinning from ear to ear. Levi lightly patted Mikasa's back and she let up, wiping away her tears with a handkerchief.

"Good to see you're alive." Levi finally spoke, "All of you."

Armin had never been so glad, Mikasa deserved to be happy. She was always so kind and thoughtful.

But, as for my own happiness…

Suddenly, Armin lost his appetite and placed the half-eaten sandwich back on the plate. When Mikasa observed the sadness behind his smile, she reached for his hand and guided it towards her swollen belly, "Can you feel anything?"

Armin had never had this privilege before and his blue eyes lit up, face softening. A moment later, the bell rang for a second time and Eren walked through the door, hand in hand with his daughter Carla and their youngest child Frederick, who was clinging to his sister's sleeve with small chubby fingers.

"Afternoon," the brunet greeted, he was evidently fatigued but held a warm smile on his face nonetheless.

Armin and Mikasa acknowledged the young man as Carla Yeager skipped towards them, "Mummy!" she beamed. Mikasa placed a kiss on top of the girl's head, and ruffled her dark brown hair. The five-year-old then turned to the blond, "Uncle Armin!" she smiled sweetly and joined him in placing a hand over her mother's round stomach.

Frederick bounded off, being the hyperactive three-year old that he was. All Armin managed to catch of the child was a flash of jet-black hair disappearing into the rows of bookshelves. He couldn't contain a giggle as Eren called out to the boy and chased after him, knowing full well that it was completely in vain.

So much like his father…Armin mentally noted, a smirk playing on his lips. However, when the young man felt something move below his fingertips, his thoughts ceased and he froze,

"I felt a kick!" Carla exclaimed excitedly, "Did you feel it too, Uncle Armin!?"

"I did," he confirmed, his eyes meeting Carla's grey-green.

Eren came over a minute or so later with Frederick in his arms and set the boy down beside his mother, "Behave," he emphasised but the child replied with a mischievous smile, blew a raspberry and bolted away again. Eren released an exasperated sigh.

"I wonder where he gets it from." Mikasa chuckled, her playfully accusing eyes locked on her husband's turquoise.

Eren shook his head, "Not me," he countered, "Must be Armin…Freddie spends way too much time with him."

"W-what, you're kidding, right?" Armin flushed.

"Don't worry Papa, I'll go and get him." Carla bounced away after her younger brother. She was smart for her age and mature, too.

"Ah," Eren put a hand to his head, "I almost forgot," a second later he pulled out a letter from the inside pocket of his jacket. "Postman handed me it this morning, it's from the States."

"Ymir and Historia!" Armin beamed as Eren handed him the envelope.

The couple emigrated to LA two years ago. Historia was currently pursuing a career as an actress, Ymir at her side. Though the trio hadn't seen the couple since their departure, they frequently exchanged letters and photographs. It was always nice hearing from them. Armin was interested in taking them up on their offer of visiting the United States one day. After all, he yearned to travel and see the world, like his father had done before him. America was the place where dreams were made, a far cry from post-war London.

One week ago, Dachau, Bavaria

No one knew the truth of what happened, Annie set down a flower for each grave. One for Reiner Braun, another for Bertolt Hoover and lastly, one for her father. Back then, I took the burden on myself.

"I'm sorry."

A soft breeze swept over the grass when Annie stood up, in the distance the sun shone high above the Bavarian mountains. It had been a beautiful spring day. The blonde looked over to the top of the small hill where Hitch Dreyse stood beside a little girl with pale-strawberry-blonde hair and bright blue eyes.

She shared her father's features and was a rather precocious child, yet she was also very shy and quiet—a lone wolf so to speak, and Annie was certain she took after herself in that respect. However, Armin's daughter saw nothing but wonder in the world which fascinated her mother to no end. The child especially loved flowers and as this would be her last time in the Bavarian countryside, at least for what Annie assumed would be a long time, she took her daughter with her.

It would also be the last chance for Annie to pay her respects, though she was at odds with herself over it. She could waste time contemplating her thoughts and actions but the fact remained the same, the only reason her feet had led her there was because she wanted to be.

The events that unfolded on that late November day in 1944 were not without consequences. Throughout the years, the young woman had been through hell and back. At the same time, Annie was very much aware that it could have been a lot worse.

If the Russians had reached Dachau before the Americans had, I may as well have put a bullet in my skull as an act of mercy.

She could have starved, been beaten and abused by American soldiers and looters, bombed, or worse still, faced execution for her crimes before she'd even had the chance to hold her baby in her arms.

Not even Hitch knows the truth, for all she's done. Am I a bad person for being thankful that father ordered Armin's guard to be shot for his treason before he could reveal anything about my role in any of what happened…? Who am I kidding? Of course.

Annie reflected back on that day with a pang of grief; she remembered traipsing through the snow for what felt like forever, until she eventually succumbed to the cold. She woke up in a hospital bed several days later, Hitch by her side. Her visitor looked as though she'd been there for three days straight, her usually well-kept hair dishevelled and bags under her eyes when it was a known fact that Hitch valued her beauty sleep.

At the time, Annie had no idea why the young woman was there. Then again, she didn't really have any idea why she was there, either. Not at first. She was dazed and disorientated, feeling as though she'd awakened from some horrific nightmare. Inevitably it all came flooding back, like a tremendous wave crashing down and drowning her in an instant…

I left Armin.

When she was well enough, Hitch took her in. There was no way the girl was going back to her father's house, not after everything. Though Annie reluctantly complied having had no other choice, she knew staying with Hitch was for the best. But what the girl really wanted to do was run away, far away from that dreadful place steeped in awful memories. She wanted most of all to return to Rothenburg ob der Tauber, to return to those summer days spent with the boy she loved.

I didn't deserve to be happy. I was to blame for many terrible things.

Annie was never interrogated over the part she played in the death of her father and the two young SS soldiers. Whoever investigated the scene had deduced from the evidence that a number of prisoners escaped and that she had been on the right side. After all, not a soul knew about her relationship with Armin, safe for Hitch. Nor was anyone aware of her Jewish blood—her father's reputation had ensured that.

And then the war was over, but even more problems arose from the ashes…

Armin had been right, what was supposed to have been a Thousand-Year Reich crumbled away into nothing overnight. Cities were reduced to shells. Many were dead or homeless. And by the time the Americans arrived, Annie was visibly pregnant.

The soldiers never really harmed her or Hitch, but their presence in the town was overwhelming. Annie didn't enjoy the invasion of soldiers regardless of any luxuries they had to offer. It was suffocating. And, she was very much aware that some of those men hated her guts just for being what she was, a German.

Still, the girl thought, it's thanks to one of them that I can go to London. As she made her way up the hill, Annie watched as the slender young woman with dirty-blonde hair admired a daisy, and Hitch of course with her natural ability to seduce any man she sets her eyes on. It's not like I have that kind of charm.

Hitch Dreyse's current boyfriend was an American soldier not much older than herself named Colt Grice. He was a fair-haired man who couldn't handle his liquor, but decent enough. He often spoke of his kid brother, Falco, who aspired to be a soldier like himself—why on earth anyone would want to be a soldier, was beyond Annie. At any rate, Hitch had Colt successfully wrapped around her little finger. It wasn't the first time a man had been utterly besotted with the woman and Annie was sure it wouldn't be the last. But, even if it ended up being a fleeting romance, the blonde was certain she would never forget the American or what he had done for her.

"Mama, what kind of flowers do they have in England?" the little girl questioned once Annie reached the top of the slope.

"Roses…as red as Hitch's lipstick." Annie answered. Hitch laughed.

"You should try a shade or two darker for once, Annie," Hitch rested a hand on her hip and tossed her now straightened hair back with the other, "The innocent look you have going on is starting to get boring."

The blonde rolled her eyes, ignoring Hitch's dig and directed her attention to her daughter who placed a handful of wildflowers into the palm of her hand.

"You can give these to my Papa when you see him."

Annie hesitated before a small smile formed on her lips. Crouching down so that she was eye-level with her daughter, Annie brought the girl's hands into her own and said, "You can give them to him yourself, would you like that?"

The little girl bit her lip, smiled nervously and nodded. Annie returned the flowers to her daughter and stood, tucking a loose strand of hair behind the child's ear.

She has a right to know who her father is, but I shouldn't have led her on like this. There's every chance Armin has moved on with his life.

Fear and doubt crept into Annie's mind then, gnawing away at her. Yet, she acknowledged that regardless of whether or not Armin had moved on and found happiness elsewhere, he still had the right to meet his daughter and that the little girl should be given the opportunity to see her father.

She felt somewhat better when she reminded herself that everything had worked in her favour so far. Hitch had met Colt, who'd had the opportunity to visit England. At the time, she thought it practically pointless, asking the soldier, a person who knew Armin Arlert only by name, to locate him. She wasn't even certain that Armin was in England, but she had nothing to lose and it was the only chance she'd get. The young woman quite simply did not have the agency to run off to England in search of Armin herself; she had responsibilities, a job, a daughter to take care of.

Annie ended up thanking Colt while admitting that finding Armin would be like searching for a needle in a haystack.

Yet, against all odds, the American man returned from his trip with the news that Armin Arlert was alive and well, that he hadn't been hard to find and that he was the author of a bestselling memoir—one that could be found in almost every bookstore. Colt even bought a copy of the memoir for the young woman, who read the book in one sitting and cried shameless tears into her pillow the same night. The soldier also discovered that Armin ran his own bookshop in West London, and had taken note of the address so that when Annie was ready, she would be able to find him.

Vater always taught me to treat this world as my enemy and yet, I found love. Can it be true, that this world is not so terrible after all?

A warm evening glow shone upon the surface of the counter where Armin was working out the last of the day's earnings; the afternoon bustle had since died down and the past hour had been slow, what with only several people coming in and out of the store. Eren, Mikasa and the children had gone home earlier for dinner, leaving him to himself.

Since the shop was quiet and Armin was not expecting any more customers this close to half past five, he turned the dial of the wireless in search of a station playing tunes he could listen and wind down to.

Maybe later I'll make a start on the novel, he thought.

The young man then turned his attention back to the coins before allowing himself to get too distracted. He rolled up the cuffs of his shirt to his elbows and ran a hand through his hair; Mikasa had recently given him an undercut, remarking that it had become rather unruly. Although it was a lot shorter than what he was used to, it suited him.

It was a week since Annie had left Germany. Having crossed over the sea, she was now in London Town, and found herself admiring her daughter's hair as it caught the sunlight. It was gleaming, as though a halo crowned her head.

The little girl was staring out of the bus window, transfixed by their new surroundings. It had been a long trek, mostly by train, and the little girl had spent much of her time gazing from windows as they crossed over new landscapes. But now, their journey was finally coming to an end.

When Annie became aware that the final stop was approaching, her stomach did a somersault. She freed her hands of her leather gloves and placed them inside her purse to find that the palms of her hands were clammy, and her fingers trembling ever so slightly.

The woman was apprehensive, fearful even. But when she looked at her daughter, the kind, bright and innocent child who gave her strength, Annie felt fiercer.

Armin's cat pounced up onto the counter and rubbed against the boy's shoulders, softly meowing.

"I'm almost finished, Moritz." Armin sighed. The cat lay down, stretched out across the counter top and almost knocked a couple of coins onto the floor with its paws, "Careful," the blond reprimanded but a smile played on his lips. He scratched the cat behind the ears and rubbed and tickled his exposed belly; when he was satisfied, Moritz jumped down and strutted away towards the stack of bookshelves. Armin let out another sigh and finished counting the last of the coins.

A second later, to his surprise, the shopkeeper's bell chimed. Armin reached quickly to turn down the volume of the wireless and in doing so, triggered the wound in his shoulder. A sharp pain shot down the length of his arm, making him wince before lifting his head,

"Apologies madam, the shop is just about to—" he began, but his heart leapt into his throat when his eyes landed on the woman standing by the door. And in that moment, all else was forgotten.

Her eyes were downcast, and the hat she was wearing shielded much of her face from his. Armin thought that perhaps his eyes were deceiving him, a part of him believing the familiarity he felt was a trick of the mind. But as the realisation dawned on him, he stood from his seat, his hands already clammy, his breathing heavy.

When the woman finally raised a hand to her hat, Armin's breath hitched.

"Guten Abend, Herr Arlert."

Her crystal blue eyes stared at him intensely, all the while her heart beat furiously beneath her chest.

He's different, she thought.

He was a little taller, and not nearly as thin as she recalled him being back at the cottage. The time spent together there, far away from the war, had been ephemeral. Everything had changed now, though, and the memory felt like a lifetime ago.

At one time, there had been an air of innocence about the boy; it was a bittersweet feeling for her to see that it was gone. There was also a sadness in the young man's eye, a sadness she deemed had been there for some time.

"…Annie," Armin managed at last.

She was as beautiful as he remembered and even more elegant. Her hair was resting on her jawline, the tips rolled in the brushed-under bob style. There was a rose tint on her cheeks and when his eyes fell on her lips, he noticed a pale shade of pink lipstick. It was unsurprising that it took Armin a moment to register the two suitcases she'd set down.

"Good evening." he stuttered out a second later, a blush swiftly spreading across his face.

The corners of Annie's mouth turned up then, and she took a step forward, when what she really wanted was to run to him. Armin seemed to have read her thoughts, though, and he hurried into her embrace. In an instant, their lips had collided in a long-awaited, impassioned kiss.

Annie pulled back moments later, and Armin clasped the girl's face in his hands, softly grazing a thumb over her flushed cheek.

"Armin," she breathed as they gazed into each other's eyes, "there is someone I would like you to meet." Armin blinked in response, and she could see that he was desperately trying to read her, but in vain. A moment later, a little girl tentatively stepped out from behind her, and came into Armin's view for the first time. "This is your daughter, Emma. Emma, this is your Papa."

Armin looked down at the little girl with big, bright blue eyes and knew at once that she was as much his as she was Annie's. Too shocked for words, he glanced at Annie, raised his brows and grinned, then lowered himself to be eye-level with his daughter. Naturally, he was besotted with her, and although it was a lot to take in, he managed to collect himself.

"Hallo, Emma." he greeted with a soft smile, tears shining in his eyes.

A faint blush spread across Emma's cheeks and she stood still, until Annie bent down and whispered something into the little girl's ear. The girl nodded in response and smiled shyly. She then dipped her hand into her jacket pocket and pulled out several dried-up flowers,

"Das ist für Sie (This is for you)." she spoke timidly, "Blumen aus Bayern (Flowers from Bavaria)."

Armin took the flowers into his hand and wiped away the tears on his cheeks with the back of the other, "Wie hübsch, danke schön (How lovely, thank you.)"

He reached out his arms then, and Emma's entire face lit up. Any wall that initially stood between them had shattered and the girl ran into the arms of the man her mother had only ever talked about, embracing her father for the first time.

Armin rose to his feet with the little girl in his arms, "I had no idea…" he finally spoke as Emma rested her head against his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Annie lowered her voice to a whisper, "I wanted to tell you, but…" Tears shone in her eyes, threatening to spill, "If you had stayed in Germany, I don't think I could have protected you." She took a step closer to him, "I betrayed you once, Armin. Never again."

A beautiful smile filled Armin's features in that moment, and tears found their way to Annie's cheeks. They stood staring into each other's eyes, seemingly too overwhelmed for words. When suddenly Annie looked down, having felt something soft brush up against her leg.

"Eine flauschige Katze (A fluffy cat)." Emma giggled.

Though at first startled by the sensation, a smile soon filled Annie's face and she knelt to give the cat a scratch behind the ears. Armin lowered Emma, who joined her mother.

"Moritz," he introduced, "He likes you already." Armin watched as Moritz revelled in the attention and chuckled softly to himself. His eyes turned to Annie then, and he found himself unable to look away.

Her head was tilted slightly downwards, and a loose strand of her flaxen hair had fallen forward across her cheek. She was smiling at Emma, her face filled with love. In that moment, Armin felt such love and admiration for her, unable to imagine how hard it must have been to raise a daughter alone. She was fierce, and stronger than anyone he knew.

She looked up then, causing his heart rate to spike as their eyes locked once more.

"I love you, Arlert." Annie spoke, "I've always loved you."

He smiled, "Mein Herz gehört dir, das hat es immer (My heart is yours, always has been)."

And perhaps for the first time since their childhood, there was hope in their eyes, for it was finally time for a new beginning.

Fin

Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story over the past five (almost six) years! I'm grateful for your patience and support. This fic has played a big part in my life and I will miss it dearly. But, like all good things, there must be an end.

So thank you once again; I hope to see you all in the future.

- lionharts