"What do you want?" she hissed, her voice low, each word dripping with wary venom. She took a shaky step back, her gaze flickering to the Titans again, then back to him. "Who are you? How did you save me? Why aren't titans attacking us?"
Meeyn didn't move right away. He stretched lazily, joints popping faintly, as if her barrage of questions was just a mild inconvenience.
Slowly, he unfolded his arms and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his red eyes glinting faintly in the dim light.
"Lot of questions for someone who just woke up," he said, his tone light but carrying a quiet edge. "Let's start with the easy one: you're safe.
That's why the Titans aren't charging in here to make you dinner." He jerked his thumb toward the looming figures at the clearing's edge. "They're… let's say, under new management."
Annie's eyes narrowed, her posture still rigid. "You're controlling them," she said, not a question but a statement, her voice flat with realization.
Her gaze darted to his hands, searching for some sign of his power, but found nothing.
Meeyn shrugged, the motion casual but deliberate. "Something like that. As for who I am…" He paused, his smirk fading slightly,
replaced by a flicker of something unreadable. "I am Meeyn. And i saved you because letting you get torn apart or locked up didn't sit right with me. Simple as that."
Annie's jaw tightened, her fingers curling into fists. "Nothing's that simple," she snapped, her voice low but fierce. "You expect me to believe you risked yourself for someone you don't even know? For no reason?"
Meeyn met her gaze, his red eyes steady, unflinching. For a moment, the playful edge in his demeanor softened, replaced by a quiet sincerity. "Not saying I'm a saint. But I've seen enough people get crushed by this world—Titans, soldiers, doesn't matter. You…" He tilted his head, studying her. "You looked like someone who deserved a chance to keep fighting. That's all."
Annie flinched, just barely, her expression faltering for a split second. His words hit something raw, something she'd buried deep—her own guilt, her own desperate fight to survive in a world that seemed to want her dead. She quickly masked it, her glare hardening again.
"You don't know me," she said, her voice colder now, but there was a faint tremor beneath it.
"Maybe not," Meeyn admitted, leaning back against the tree again, his tone lightening. "But I'm not your enemy, Annie. You want to walk away, I won't stop you. Those Titans might have other ideas, though." He flashed a faint, teasing grin, gesturing toward the silent giants.
Annie's eyes flicked to the Titans again, then back to him, her mind racing. She was trapped—not by chains, but by circumstance. Her body was too weak to fight or flee or even again to transform into titan, and the forest was crawling with threats she couldn't face alone.
Yet this stranger, this Meeyn, radiated a power she couldn't ignore, a power that made Titans cower and kept her alive.
"Why me?" she asked, her voice quieter now, almost reluctant, as if she hated herself for asking. "You could've saved anyone. Why drag me out of Stohess?"
Meeyn didn't answer right away. He stood slowly, brushing dirt from his tattered cloak, his movements deliberate but non-threatening. When he spoke, his voice was low, almost introspective.
"Guess I saw something in you. Someone who's been fighting alone for too long. Reminded me of… well, me." He shrugged, as if embarrassed by the admission, and turned slightly, gazing out at the darkened forest.
"This world's a grinder. Chews up everyone. Figured I'd give you a breather before it tries again."
Annie stared at him.
She didn't respond, her lips pressing into a thin line. Instead, she lowered herself back to the grass, her movements stiff and pained, her gaze fixed on the ground. "I don't trust you," she muttered, almost to herself.
Meeyn chuckled softly, the sound warm but not mocking. "Fair enough. Trust's earned, not given. Stick around, and maybe I'll convince you I'm not the worst guy to have in your corner."
Annie shot him a sidelong glance, her expression unreadable, but she didn't argue. She pulled her cloak tighter around herself, her body still tense but no longer poised to bolt.
The silence stretched between them, heavy but not uncomfortable, broken only by the faint creak of the Titans shifting at the clearing's edge.
Meeyn settled back against the tree, his eyes half-lidded, watching the stars peek through the canopy. "Get some rest," he said, his voice soft but firm. "You're no good to anyone if you collapse. I'll keep the big guys in line."
Annie didn't respond, but her shoulders relaxed slightly, her breathing evening out. She didn't lie down, not yet, but she sat there, staring into the darkness, her mind a tangle of suspicion.
The next few days passed in a strange, tentative rhythm. Meeyn kept his distance, giving Annie space to recover while maintaining the Titan barrier around their hideout. He used the Living Abyss sparingly, reinforcing the crude wall of timber and stone or conjuring small constructs to fetch water from a nearby stream.
Annie, for her part, remained guarded but observant. She watched Meeyn's actions closely, searching for ulterior motives, but found none. He didn't push her to talk, didn't demand answers about her past or her Titan powers.
Instead, he filled the silence with occasional quips or idle observations about the forest, the sky, the absurdity of their situation.
"Ever wonder what Titans dream about?" he asked one evening, tossing a stick into the fire. "Bet it's just… more eating." Annie didn't laugh, but the corner of her mouth twitched, and Meeyn counted it as a win.
Slowly, Annie began to lower her walls, if only by fractions. She started eating the food Meeyn scavenged—berries, roots, the occasional fish from the stream—without questioning if it was poisoned.
She let him sit closer during their sparse conversations, though she still kept a blade's length between them. And once, when a Titan stirred too close to the clearing, she didn't flinch when Meeyn's hand shot out, the Living Abyss snapping the creature back into place with a flick of his wrist. Instead, she nodded faintly, a silent acknowledgment of his protection.