Hold On | [Bertholdt x Reader]
This was written awhile ago (read: 2017); nevertheless, I hope you enjoy!
It was a clear, cloudless, beautiful day. The sky had found itself in that elusive, impeccable state of hues, just darker than a pale blue but ever so slightly less saturated than a pure cerulean. Not a single puff of whiteness dotted the admirable air. A slight breeze blew now and then, gradually easing the sun’s sweltering heat into a pleasant warmth that remained in excellent equilibrium with the rest of the environment. There was no remainder of the past few days’ previous humidity. All in all, it was a day that you had dreamed for. Not just because of the weather, of course; no, it was far more than that.
Today was the 57th Expedition Outside the Walls.
Otherwise known to you as the first time you’d truly see the world for what it was: one unconstrained, unconfined, and completely free from man’s touch.
For once you hadn’t needed a roommate to wake you up. Your head had been the first one to pop up that morning, beating even the early-bird girl who lay in the bed adjacent to you, Mikasa. Ymir had even greeted you with a pat on the back, glad to have the time she usually used to shake you from your vivid dreams to Krista. At breakfast you’d wolfed down every morsel - something Sasha was not too happy about.
But no matter. That spike of energy still remained within you, even as you sat through about twelve repeated verses of the same instruction plan, over and over, again and again. The team you’d been assigned to - along with Ymir and Bertholdt - was led by Nanaba. And she was nothing if not thorough.
Just as Nanaba was about to dive into her final reiteration, Ymir’s snores snagged her attention, and she sighed. “Ymir,” she snapped, successfully startling the girl awake. You couldn’t help but giggle to yourself. It was as though your roles were reversed - on any other day, that would’ve easily been you. Even Bertholdt seemed to have noticed. His eyes were rested upon your seated form for longer than you’d noticed.
“Sorry,” Ymir muttered, narrowing her eyes and resting her chin in her hands. “But I think we get it. When are we leaving, anyways?”
Nanaba folded her arms, a smile growing on her lips despite herself. “As soon as Commander Erwin gives us the signal.” She paused for a moment, glancing over at another group, one of whose team members’ was not particularly pleased with his position and had entered a fit of shouting. Nanaba cast a final glance back in your direction, then ran a hand through her short hair and departed with a quick, “I’ll be right back.”
It was evident that Ymir had been trying to catch up on some sleep as she muttered, “Jeez...can’t Daz ever calm down? There’s no way he’ll get out of here alive.” Her tone was that of someone discussing the dirt on their shoe, not that of someone dealing with life and death.
“He’s just afraid,” you interjected softly, unable to suppress your pity for your poor teammate. He always seemed to have too many things on his mind...unfortunately, everybody else seemed to disregard that, and viewed him as pathetic. “And - considering everything, he has a right to be.”
Bertholdt appeared as though he had been about to say something, but as your phrases drew to an end his eyes quickly settled on his feet as opposed to you, where they had been just momentarily. A small bead of sweat had formed on his forehead.
“No, don’t tell me you’re scared, too, Bertholdt,” Ymir groaned.
“Hm?” Bertholdt tilted his head to the side, contemplating Ymir with a puzzled look. It took him a few moments for the question to sink in. “Oh - no. Just wondering why we were placed so close to the front.” His last sentence was just barely audible.
Only you heard his muted words, and, despite all your faith in the upper level members of the Survey Corps, you found yourself curious about the exact same thing. The majority of the teams assigned to the front had been comprised of only experienced soldiers - or at least an even mix of new trainees and their superiors. So why had your team, set to ride just behind the first row of the right flank, been chosen with three trainees and only one Squad Leader? It didn’t make much sense to you. “Maybe it’s because Bertholdt ranked so high?”
“If that’s the reason, it’s a dumb one,” retorted Ymir. “I at least hope Krista got a safer position than this.”
Ah, of course. This was why she was acting particularly ornery this morning: she and Krista had been divided onto different teams, relatively far apart from one another. “Don’t worry, Ymir,” you smiled, “Krista can take care of herself.”
Ymir couldn’t help but give a small nod before falling silent.
A sudden ear-splitting call jolted the three of you from your small talk, sending you scrambling to your feet and racing to mount your horses. Nanaba had already found hers at the head of your line of three. “Ready?” She called back to her teammates.
You gave her a determined stare. “Definitely.”
Bertholdt, next to you, gave you a timid smile and then replied, “Yes.”
He’d answered right on time; for, just a mere moment after he’d closed his mouth, Commander Erwin’s orders were delivered.
And, tightening your grip on your steed’s reins, you began your first steps outside the wall.
For some reason you were the only member of your team that was audibly infatuated with the scenery. Miles and miles of fresh, overgrown, verdant grass, clumped together so closely that you couldn’t tell where one stalk ended and another began; a tall, dense forest of gargantuan coniferous trees in the background; an unadulterated view of the stunning sky, unlimitless in its sheer size. You hardly took notice of the soft noises of amazement that were spilling from your mouth.
“[Y/n].” Bertholdt, on the other hand, had apparently heard them. His horse fell in-step with yours as he closed much of the gap between the two of you. “Stay focused.”
This yanked you out of your awe, but proved to be a needed reminder. You had been more than prepared to fully submerse yourself in this new world and forget the mission entirely. “Right.” You leaned farther down, feeling the resistance between your form and the atmosphere greatly decrease, cape flapping about like a flag behind you. This was why you were here: to plot a course from Karanes to Shiganshina. Not to daydream about what could have been. “Thanks.”
Bertholdt was rather relieved that you didn’t notice the ever-growing redness of his face.
You rode on in laser-sharp focus for quite awhile without any further interruptions. It was you, your team, your military branch, and your world. Not the world within the walls - no. The genuine, bona fide Earth, that ever-puzzling enigma constantly clouded with enigma so much so that you had been prevented from seeing it for all your fifteen years of life. All of them until now.
And yet ‘now’ was the time when a purple flare exploded in the sky.
“What?” Nanaba’s tongue slipped and she was exposed to be just as clueless as the rest of you were.
“Emergency,” Ymir muttered, gritting her teeth as she tried to pinpoint the location of the flare’s origin in comparison to its range to Krista’s group.
You weren’t exactly dying to say something. A strange sense of trepidation had seized your previous excitement, replacing it with something colder, something harder.
Nanaba took a sudden sharp turn, yelling back, “Get ready! Three abnormals approaching!” She shot up a flare of her own - although it was black instead of the murky purple.
Your gaze followed her index finger, allowing your eyes to fall on the three aforementioned beasts. They were relatively small - two five-meters and one seven-meter - but posed a threat nonetheless. You waited, hands on the buttons of your 3DMG, ready to burst off at any moment, for Nanaba’s orders.
But those expected orders never came, because at that exact moment another purple flare painted the sky, and Ymir flung herself into action. “Ymir!”
“Damnit…” Nanaba ranted, performing a lightspeed head-twist round her shoulders to check and make sure you were still there. A bit of the anger in her eyes disappeared as she saw the tensed figures of both yourself and Bertholdt. “I need you two to try to reach the flare site. Help with whatever is needed. Ymir and I’ll get these, then rendezvous with you near the outskirts of the forest. Got it?”
Bertholdt beat you to an answer. “Yes.”
“Good.” And with that last, single word, Nanaba flung herself into the chaos.
Lightly nudging his horse’s side, Bertholdt sped past you. Upon noticing you weren’t by his side anymore, he cast an anxious glance back at you. “We have to go.”
For whatever reason, a part of you - a small but nevertheless important part at that - whispered to you that something here wasn’t right. No, not right at all. You’d promised yourself that you’d never leave a teammate behind; wasn’t this exactly that?
“[Y/n]!” Bertholdt’s message grew significantly louder. He was practically yelling when he restated, “We have to go! It’s Nanaba’s orders!”
Dammit. Leaving Ymir and Nanaba behind drove a wedge deep within your heart, but your mind managed to grasp your body’s control for the time being, and it knew that it had to obey rules. You desperately tore your eyes from the ongoing battle. Staring wouldn’t have helped. Ymir can take care of herself; Nanaba can take care of herself; together they’re practically invincible. You had to keep reminding yourself this as you dashed after Bertholdt.
“They’ll be okay…” you murmured, perhaps to nobody but yourself.
“They will be,” Bertholdt reassured. “We just have to do our part.”
You fastened your grip on your horse, fingernails digging into the leathery material of the stallion’s halter. Just get to the site. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay.
It took you all of ten seconds to realize it was absolutely not okay.
Within mere moments of entering a ten-meter radius of the flares’ source, the grass was no longer green. It was red. Red with the blood of your dead comrades.
It was hard to find a spot that wasn’t littered with human remains. The entire area was a massive above-ground burial site, its ghostly inhabitants severed from their bodies and tossed like limp toys across the Titan’s sickening sandbox. Pressure built up at the back of your eyes and you bit the inside of your cheek to prevent the tears from spilling over. You’d seen the destruction of the Battle of Trost, but that was almost nothing compared to this crimson carpet of carnage.
You had been so focused on the magnitude of damage around you that you didn’t notice the only living person along with you draw closer. “[Y/n]...” he began softly.
Head jerking round to face him, you nearly screamed at his sudden unwarned presence. “This is - what...how could…?”
“Just hold on,” he urged. “These people didn’t die without striking back - look.”
You followed his gaze to a mound of giant, smoking, decaying bodies. Titans. These soldiers must have died fighting them. It was no wonder...there were so many dead, it was almost unimaginable as to how many live ones there had been.
“Bertholdt!” You shot out the wires of your 3DMG, anchoring yourself to the tallest nearby structure. “Watch out!”
An eight-meter class was approaching with frightening speed. Immediately after landing on your desired branch you launched yourself into the air, using a bit of gas to slow your fall as you flew behind the Titan, landing on its upper shoulder blades and running across the length of them, dragging your swords through the burning flesh of the monster. Its hand nearly caught you but you completed the task just in time: as it reached for your spot, it began to collapse, and you darted back to where your horse had remained, relatively unfazed. Bertholdt must have continued on. “Let’s go, boy.”
Soon enough you were riding just behind Bertholdt, who appeared relieved to see you. “I - haven’t found anyone yet,” he informed quietly.”
You spared him the translation: he hadn’t found any survivors. “Okay. The second launch site was a little farther - we have to keep going.”
With a nod from your counterpart, your plan was set in stone. As much as you hated it you began to successfully tune out the ocean of vermillion within which you rode. Deep breaths. They had died valiantly.
The ground beneath you began to shake rather abruptly, as though the earth itself was to split directly underfoot. You shot a gaze over your shoulder and spotted the sight: a ten-meter abnormal. “I might need your help. Keep an eye out.” And you dove once more into the waters of battle.
Swinging around it, you managed to devise a perfect plan to hit it in its weak spot, but as you propelled yourself towards the Titan it did something you’d never seen before.
One minute your horse was there, waiting for you.
The next it was smashed against a tree.
An inexplicable rage began to flow through your body. You’d had enough now. Losing your comrades was bad enough - losing your trusty sidekick was another. This horse had been yours. Yours and nobody else’s, and you had loved it to pieces. It had loved you, too.
But now it was in pieces.
Your throat emitted a strangled cry as you stabbed into the tender flesh of your attacker, cutting far deeper and far slower than you would’ve under normal circumstances. This absolute demon deserved its death; every painstaking moment of it. You were hardly aware of the fact that you were shouting for Bertholdt the entire time. You only felt your mouth moving, not the words that it was forming, calling for someone who wouldn’t come. Had he been hurt? You couldn’t see through the smoke as your opponent gave way to its pain.
“Bertholdt!” you yelled, trapped in the terrifying state of unsureness. Where had he gone? Was he okay? Please let him be okay, oh, please, please, please….
Your time to think was cut short as a thirteen-meter ran out to the left of the tree you’d perched yourself on. Was this possible? Did you have enough energy - enough supplies - to take on another - much less a large abnormal?
You didn’t have a choice. As such, you braced yourself once more, and fired off into action. Calculate where its blind spots are. Where can it not see me?
The mental preparations had almost been finished when a fifteen-meter appeared, hot on the heels of its thirteen-meter friend. “Bertholdt!” It was pointless, but you couldn’t help it.
You had reached a point of pure hopelessness. You were going to die, just as all the soldiers you’d found today. Soon enough nobody would remember your name because you were just another dead body rotting in just another grave, alone, so, so alone.
If this was to be your end, you would go down fighting.
The tears in your eyes began to bubble over as you shot out frantically for the smaller, close titan, readying your blades with shaky hands. You had to remind yourself to breathe; to blink. You had to force your heart to keep going. Almost there, just a few feet left.
There was hardly a foot between you and the thirteen-meter when you felt what may have been to most excruciating shock of agony that you had ever - and would ever - experience. Your maneuvering gear was suddenly slammed back into your hips, the belts that connected it to your body constricting until they cut the circulation off, the buckle of the strap running just beneath your chest digging deep into your skin. A harrowing crack was heard as pain bloomed like a deadly flower across your ribs. Your screams were high and loud and labored and torturous, your lungs inflating and pressing against the shattered portion of your left chest with every mammoth inhale. You were crying now, crying so hard that the tears completely blurred your vision - or at least almost completely, because you then realized the cause of this horrendous pain.
The fifteen-meter titan had snapped one of your wires. And then, perhaps worst of all, it had grabbed you in one of its gigantic hands.
You still found yourself screaming for him. There wasn’t any reason; you knew that. You knew you were only causing yourself more pain along the path of your death. You just had to. Had to go out knowing that there had been someone you’d really, truly, cared about; regardless of whether he cared for you the same way.
Just as it was about to completely encase you in its grasp, a ragged voice that was almost at first unrecognizable blared off. “Hold on, [y/n]!”
In a flash the two main fingers that had grabbed you were suddenly gone, sliced cleanly off by someone with immense skill. You fell inelegantly to the ground, softening your blow with the small amount of gas that remained in your gear, and felt your hands grow wet with the salty liquid spilling from your eyes. You couldn’t hear much of anything above your own sobs, but you felt the ground trembling beneath you as gargantuan steps were taken by the giant beasts that had nearly snuffed out your light. There was nothing more that you did besides put your face in the grass and weep. Weep for your friends, out there somewhere, perhaps meeting worse fates. Weep for those that had died at Battle of Trost. Weep for your pain. Weep for your fractured rib. Weep for yourself. Weep for the dead. Weep for the fact that you could have joined them.
Weep for the fact that the last living person anywhere near you could be killed within an instant.
Weep for the fact that you could hardly move your body to help him.
Two deafening crashes suddenly occurred, one directly after the other, and the ground convulsed for the last time.
“[Y/n]! Hold on.”
You felt someone gently helping you to a sitting position, fingers timid and wary, as if their very touch could destroy you. “B-Bertl…”
“What happened?” He demanded, putting a hand around your back to help steady you and ease the pressure placed upon your injury. His eyes were brimming with fear and sadness and...something else that you couldn’t quite pinpoint.
Words came to you, but they failed to make it out of your mouth. “I - I…” you started, choking up, “I….”
You flung the arm of your uninjured side around him suddenly, pulling him to you, burying your head in his chest. You couldn’t speak. But you could hug. And Bertholdt, your greatest friend, your closest companion, your lifesaver, needed so much more.
His heart rate increased drastically as your face rested against it, the pumping of his blood audible due to your sheer closeness. And he hugged you back - so gently, so carefully, as though handling a wounded butterfly for the first time. “We’ll be alright,” he whispered, running a hand through your hair. He’d wanted to do that ever since he’d first met you - both embrace you and play with your locks. He was in need of just as much comfort as you were.
And you two formed that perfect equilibrium.
“Thank you.” The two words managed to float effortlessly from your mouth. “Thank you - s...so much…”
He pulled you closer. “I shouldn’t have left you like that.” His voice had relapsed into its typical reserved, soft sound. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” And, as you two held one another, it was.
No matter how much suffering you had seen or endured or lived or experienced or suffered, this moment, this one simple, tender, marvelous moment...it was enough to take the pain away.
“You’ll be fine, [y/n],” he continued, perhaps not directed at you so much as for you, “we’ll be found, and we will be alright.”
And, as you two held one another closer, you were.
