Attack on Titan Fanfiction – The Stowaway: Chapter 1

Read the Introduction Here

Angel of the North

“I’m positive it’s her, the Angel of the North,” the man whispered to his young companion as they watched a tall, raven-haired woman holding the hand of a small blond boy. 

The woman had a basket on her arm, filled with meat and vegetables. The child hugged a paper bag to his chest. It was halfway filled with fruit. He took his hand from hers to point at a bunch of grapes.

“The green ones or the red ones?” the woman asked the child.

“Red ones, please!” answered the little boy excitedly.

“I’m absolutely sure now, look at the scar on her cheek. That’s her mark,” the whispering between the two vendors at the stall behind them continued. “It’s said her brother, the titan shifter Eren Jaeger, injured her when he tried to kill her. But she survived. She’ll survive anything, I tell you!”

“Is it true what they say, that she killed three hundred and seventy enemy soldiers single-handedly, during the war with Marley?”

“Yes! Yes, it’s true! Believe you me! In the mountains up north. And she didn’t even use guns. Only two swords!”

“She took down over three hundred enemy soldiers with just two swords?” was the incredulous reply.

“I swear to the gods she did! All in one go! There were witnesses! She slayed them with the traditional swords they used to have in the old Scouting Regiment!”

“But how could she do such a feat?”

“Because she’s an Ackermann, stupid! She’s called Mrs Kirschtein since she’s married to the Navy admiral, but she’s an Ackermann.”

“So it’s true then, what they say about the Ackermanns, the way they fight in a trance, move in a whisper like winged otherworldly creatures, their eyes becoming orbs of white light, bodies maneuvering faster than lightning?”

“It’s true! It’s true, all of it!”

The woman paid for her purchase and took the child’s hand, hurrying away from the market.

When they were halfway to their home the boy tugged at her hand. “Mum,” he said, looking up at her with inquisitive eyes, “is it true what the men whispered in the market, that you killed three hundred and seventy enemy soldiers with two swords?”

“No, Philip, it’s only legend. People like to exaggerate the heroics of the military,” the woman answered firmly.

“What’s ‘exaggerate’?”

“It means to stretch the truth, make things bigger than they really are,” she explained. Changing the subject she says, “So, for supper tonight, would you like Grünkohleintopf or Pichelsteinertopf?” She asked the child if he preferred kale stew with smoked meat and sausages, or meat stew with potatoes, carrots and cabbage.

“Pichelsteinertopf, please!” the boy replied happily, stoked that he was being given a choice.

“Have you heard of the story of Pichelsteinertopf?”

“No, please tell me!”

“Well, about two hundred years ago, in the north west of the continent, a band of marauders invaded a poor village called Srettargdorf. They captured a farmer’s wife and demanded she feed them. But she had only a few pieces of vegetables and scraps of meat left over from the day before. Yet the farmer’s wife was a good cook, so she threw everything she had in the kitchen into a large pot. The stew was so good that the marauders spared her and her family’s life. She passed on her recipe to her daughter, who passed it on to her daughter, and so on. A century later, a great-granddaughter of the farmer’s wife was asked to prepare a meal for a large festival on top of a mountain called Büchelstein. She used her ancestor’s stew recipe, and it became famous in the town, and eventually the entire country,” the woman narrated. 

“Wow! Will you use the recipe of the farmer’s wife for tonight’s stew?” Philip asked.

“Each family has their developed their own variation of the stew. I’ll use my father’s recipe,” his mother replied.

When they reached home the child stood on his little wooden stool, handmade by Jean, so that he can reach into the sink and help her wash the vegetables. Mikasa was tickled that Philip seemed to really enjoy helping her cook. She used to enjoy cooking with her parents, too, and also with Carla Jaeger, her adoptive mother. 

Tonight she prepared a bit of lamb shoulder, a chuck of beef, some pork belly. Now some  butter, vegetable broth and bone marrow. Philip washed the carrots, savoy cabbage, leeks, celery, parsnip, kohlrabi, parsley and potatoes. 

While she chopped onions, peeled and cut the vegetables, she told the child to finish his homework on the kitchen table. Soon he was bent over his workbook, scratching away with his pencil.

In a big skillet Mikasa browned the meat on all sides and scraped the pan before sauteing the onions and vegetables. As she put all the ingredients in layers inside one big pot, sprinkling each layer with salt and pepper, she thought of the way she avoided her son’s question about how she got her moniker “Angel of the North.” 

She really hated that name, and winced every time she heard someone saying it. 

Because Mikasa knew she was no angel. Only her husband, Jean, was allowed to call her angel. “My sweet angel” he called her on that day they reunited at the Port of Shiganshina when he returned from Noblain. 

“Why do you call me that?” she’d asked him once. “I’m neither sweet nor angelic.”

“You are, to me,” Jean had simply replied. It was during their honeymoon phase. They had a year of it, when she was indeed at her angelic best, and he was the man of her dreams.

But during the second year, something terrible happened. She learned the horrifying truth about Clan Ackermann, and it turned her life upside down, nearly destroyed her. What she learned that day threatened to break up her marriage, ruin everything she and her husband had worked for. She became a demon personified, and made Jean’s life a living hell. 

It was this shocking truth about Clan Ackermann that made fighting the war with Marley twice as hellish as it already was. She suffered in the most excruciating manner, to the point that she found herself wishing for death to come just so the pain would stop. 

And yet, somehow, with Jean’s patience and steadfast love, she managed to survive. Today marked six months after the end of the war with Marley, and here she was, cooking stew over her stove in the warmth of her home, with her son on the kitchen table doing his sums. Soon Jean would be home, and they’d have a comforting meal together as a family.

Mikasa looked over at the little boy, who lifted his face from the workbook and grinned at her. She smiled back, knowing he was sniffing the air in anticipation. She had already poured the vegetable broth over the top of the pot, brought it to a boil over high heat, and was now letting the stew simmer for an hour and a half without stirring. 

The delicious aroma of slow-cooked meat and vegetables wafted throughout the kitchen, filling her with memories of olden days when she was a little girl surrounded by family, eagerly waiting for her bowl of steaming hot, richly flavoured stew cooked the ancient way: simmering the ingredients slowly in broth so the flavours are gradually extracted, blending into each other. 

Before serving she would stir in half a cup of crème fraiche, her father’s special ingredient that added that extra something to the broth.

Someday she would have to tell Philip the truth about what he overheard in the market. Today she skirted it, distracting him with talk of stew. Yet one day she’d have to tell him the secret she hid in the deep, dark corner of her mind, which she wished she could just lock up for good inside the drawer marked FORGOTTEN and throw away the key. But this afternoon she was triggered again, no thanks to the whispering of the vendors at the market. She could only hope that in bed tonight, she wouldn’t dream of what really happened on that cold, dark night in the mountain up north. 

It was the worst thing she’s ever had to do in her life, made a hundred times more terrible because of the curse of Clan Ackermann. 

Ah, yes, someday she’d have to tell her son the Two Evil Truths: about what exactly happened in the mountain up north that was now classified as military confidential, and the truth about Clan Ackermann that only she and a handful of trusted people knew. 

But at six years of age, Philip was still a little boy. She still had a few years to keep him innocent and unconcerned. Tonight the child was looking at her with adoring eyes: she’s his mum who makes delicious stew, who smiles when she refills his bowl after he asks for seconds. Mikasa wanted to keep him that way forever, because once he learns the truth about her, will he be able to look at her in the same way again? 

Mikasa looked at the clock. Jean will be home soon. Dinner was almost ready. She sat beside the child, checking his workbook.

“One hundred percent correct!” she exclaimed, ruffling his hair as he beamed. He was such a fast learner, but better yet, had a genuine eagerness to learn. “For your perfect score, would you like an extra slice of cake for tonight’s dessert, or an extra eggy bread for breakfast?”

Philip paused. What a difficult choice he was asked to make! He loved Mikasa’s gedeckter apfelkuchen or homemade glazed apple cake, but also loved what she called “eggy bread”: a simple savory breakfast dish made of sliced bread soaked in eggs and milk, then fried and served with butter, sliced fresh fruit and syrup. How he loved them both! 

Unable to make a decision, he said to her, “Can I think about it eat while we eat supper?”

Mikasa gazed back at the big blue eyes racked by indecision, and her heart almost broke. Poor child, agonizing over such a simple question! 

Shortly after he came into their lives, she  noticed how ecstatic it made him to be asked to make decisions over food. “I get to have a choice?” his face would light up. Deprived of food so many times in his short life, the very fact that he actually had a choice put such joy in his heart she’d tried to make it a point to ask him if he wanted one or the other. But this time she realized it wasn’t just asking him to make a simple decision between red or green grapes; these were foods he’d learn to love so much that picking one over the other became a huge deal. 

Putting her arms around the child and resting her chin on his head, she said, “Oh, Philip. Whatever choice you make, know that I will always be here to bake you cake, and we’ll eat lots of it in the years to come. And in the morning you’ll always have bread on the table. Your dad and I will make sure of it. Okay?”

“Okay,” the child nodded, but she noticed a trace of doubt in his voice. 

Well, of course he’d be doubtful, Mikasa thought. That’s what happens when a child’s most basic needs have been unmet: so used to having nothing, they try to keep their expectations as low as possible in order not to be disappointed. Jean and I will just have to prove to him that we mean what we say.

“Your dad will be home soon,” she says brightly. “Let’s set the table, shall we?”

Now dinner was ready. There was freshly washed table cloth over the wooden table, fresh flowers in a vase, the dishes and cutlery laid out neatly by Philip. A table for three. The doorbell rang as someone called out, “I’m home!” 

“Dad’s here!” the child grinned at Mikasa before running out to meet him in the foyer. She could see her husband grinning back and giving the boy a hug.

“Mmm, babe, smells great,” Jean says, smiling at her and putting an arm around her waist and planting a quick kiss on her upturned lips. 

Now, as they sit chatting gaily and passing the bread, Mikasa filling their bowls with stew, the tinkle of cutlery and laughter filling the air, the couple take a moment to gaze lovingly at each other across the table. How lovely this all was, and how far they’ve come. During the war, Mikasa’s world crumbled, and a year before that she wanted to die. But here they were, finally, a happy little family. 

It didn’t come easily, this sweet scene of domestic bliss. Jean and Mikasa fought for this, harder than they’ve ever had before. They fought for their marriage, and together they fought for Mikasa’s life. 

It all began when Queen Historia sent an urgent message to the Kirschteins, about a year and a half after Mikasa and Jean’s wedding.

Thank you so much for reading! Please consider sharing a thought or two in the comment section below. Your comments give me life and are a real source of encouragement. xoxo, hana

Next – Chapter 2: Curse of Clan Ackermann

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