This was an idea I got from amusing myself with Harry Potter/AOT fanfiction, and from feeling really, really bad for Historia in the latest manga chapters. Jesus Christ, Isayama, give the poor girl a break already! I decided to try this idea out, just for the hell of it. I'm aiming for a short to medium length story here, but we'll see how it turns out.

The young wizard was so very tired.

He drifted among the endless red void without care, his emerald eyes closed and lifeless to the world. Messy jet-black hair covered his head, the strands stained with old blood. His black robes were worn and tattered, the clothes shielding his body from the cold environment. Battered spectacles covered his eyes, the glass pieces miraculously remaining intact. Boots made of strange leather covered his feet, and a bag of possessions was slung around his shoulder, the contents within unknown.

What was his name again? Who was he? Where did he come from? He didn't have any answers for himself. But strangely, he felt no fear from his lack of knowledge. He was content to rest for know, and remain silent as he tried to recall his forgotten past. His soul felt worn and weighted down, like an old man who had lived a long and tiring life. It felt like he could sleep here forever, never to awaken again.

And yet, something told him that there was a reason he was here. That he had something important to do, and just had to be patient for it to be realized. Had he dared to open his eyes look at his right hand, he would surely have noticed the strange mark engraved into his palm. A triangle enclosing a circle and a line, forming a symbol that spoke of great power.

He could only hope that one day, he would awaken from this strange dream. And remember just who he was.

It was another lonely day for Historia, the unwanted farm girl from Wall Sina.

Dirt covered her worn dress, the little girl pushing herself to continue the grueling work on the sunlit fields. Her small fingers struggled to use the tools made for larger people, blisters and splinters rubbing her dainty hands raw. She didn't even think about complaining, knowing that her caretakers wouldn't care to hear about it. Her blond hair was soaked with sweat from the tiring work, the golden strands tied behind her head with a simple band. While most children eyes would be filled with wonder and happiness, her blue ones were filled with confusion and loneliness. This farm was her whole world, and she was never allowed to leave it.

It was early spring, the last traces of frost having vanished from the land. And that meant that Historia had to help the farm workers prepare the soil for the crops that would be planted. She had been out here for hours now, working diligently to break up the topsoil and pull out the unwanted weeds in the field. She was far away from the few other workers out in the fields, knowing that they wanted nothing to do with her.

This was her life as she knew it. A lonely and unwanted girl, whose only purpose was to work on a farm estate where no one cared about her. Her grandparents managed the farm that she loved on, and they merely tolerated her existence. Historia knew that they never wanted her, just as her own mother never wanted her. To them, she was an unwanted burden on their lives, and it would have been better if she never existed.

What did she do wrong? That was the question Historia constantly asked herself. She didn't understand why they treated her like this, why they didn't show her any love or affection. She gave her very best effort at the countless chores they assigned her, keeping her pains and complaints silent. She tried to be perfect and ladylike in every aspect, just like the women in the storybooks she read. She gave her hardest efforts, desperately hoping that one day, her grandparents would recognize her hard work and accept her with open arms.

And yet all her efforts were for naught, she failed to change her grandparents perception of her. Or perhaps it was an impossible task that she could never have hoped to achieve in the first place. How she would have given or done anything just for them to give her a kind word, a warm embrace, or a pure and loving smile. But alas, it was an impossible fantasy for her.

Historia could still remember how her first attempt to embrace her distant mother had gone, and how badly it had ended. Historia had read books where mothers would hold their children, showing them love and affection. She had never experienced any of that, and longed for warmth from the woman who gave birth to her. So one day, out of childish curiosity, Historia gathered her courage and approached her mother for the first time.

Her mother had lived on this very estate a few years ago, but never did any work herself. She would laze about reading books in the daylight under a tree, and leave by horse carriage at night with strangers, wearing fancy clothes. Historia knew nothing else about her, but she wanted to get to know her. Just one day of love from her would have been enough.

Historia ran up to her mother that day, jumping across her lap with an affection cry of, "Mother!" But the woman's reaction was nothing like she expected. Her mother recoiled in surprise, grabbing Historia across the face and throwing her backwards. A dazed Historia sat upright, her nose bleeding from the harsh force. But for a brief moment, she was happy that her mother had done something to her for once. But that changed upon what happened next.

"If only I had the courage... to kill this girl," the mother lamented, staring down at Historia with regret and shame. The mother wiped her eyes and turned around, abandoning her own daughter for good. Historia could only stare numbly as her mother walked away that day, confused and heartbroken. What did she do wrong? Why was she so worthless that not even her own mother would want her? Not even a few days later her mother had packed her belongings and left the estate, never to be seen again.

Could anyone blame Historia for the bitterness and sorrow she felt in her heart? She was a stain on her family, a burden that had no use other then manual labor. She had no friends to confide it, this lonely farm was her whole world. Her only companions were the farm animals that she attended too, at least acknowledged her and didn't curse her existence.

If only her family loved her. If only things were different. If only she had a true friend to talk to.

Her depressing thoughts were interrupted when her garden hoe hit something solid within the dirt. Historia expected it to be yet another rock trapped in the soil, her aching fingers reaching down to move it aside. But she quickly noticed that it wasn't a mere rock. She carefully grabbed the object and brushed off the dirt that clung to it, letting out a small gasp at what she found. It was an golden pendant that glistened in the sunlight, bound to a leather cord to form a necklace. The pendant was shaped like a large and imposing flaming bird, it's talons grasping a small ruby. Turning it over, Historia noticed a that a strange mark had been etched in the smooth back, a triangle enclosing a circle and vertical line. She didn't know whose it was. But without a doubt, it was the most valuable thing she had ever held.

How long had it been here, laying forgotten in the soil? Why had no one found it before? Historia cautiously glanced at the other farm workers, relieved that none of them had noticed what she had discovered. Despite being in the mud, it was in pristine condition, the dirt failing to contain it's splendor.

"I've never had jewelry before," Historia thought with excitement, staring down at the pendant with wonder. It couldn't have belonged to her grandparents, as she knew they didn't own anything like this. Nor any of the farm workers, who were far too poor to own something this expensive. She had no idea what it was worth in terms of money, but surely it was very valuable.

They'll take it away from me if I tell anyone. That's not fair. Historia thought with dejection. Even now, she still remembered the time she found a small bag of coins buried in this very field, a year or so ago. She could remember the excitement she felt then, absolutely thrilled that she had something shiny in her hands for the first time. She picked them out of the dirt and ran to find her grandfather, who she revealed her discovery to.

She made the mistake of asking her grandfather if she could keep the coins, since she found them. Historia would have been happy with just one silver coin to her name. But she would never forgot the cold look he gave her in reply.

"This is my farm, not yours. They belong to me." He roughly yanked the money bag out of her hands, barking at her to return to work. He turned around and walked away, missing the tears that welled up in her hurt eyes. But Historia had learned to expect such responses from him, and not to risk his anger.

Historia couldn't bear to have a repeat of that memory. So she wouldn't tell her grandfather, this necklace was hers now! She couldn't explain it, but her very being was drawn to this pendant, as if it was calling out to her. It wasn't just the beauty or rarity or it that captivated her, but a very strong desire for it. One that she couldn't explain with words.

In the end, Historia decided to keep the gemstone necklace, quickly hiding it within her dress pockets. She took a quick look at her surroundings, for once glad that they other farmers weren't paying any attention to her. As long as she didn't show or tell anyone else, it would be safe. She would carefully hide it with the few other possessions she held dear, never to be seen by anyone else. It would be her secret treasure, and no one else would take it from her. Feeling a just a tad bit happier, she returned to her work, consoled by the fact that she would be able to eat lunch soon.

Had Historia been paying more attention to the necklace, she might have noticed how it took on a faint green glow within her pocket, as a powerful conscience within awoken.