Jean: I feel like Jean would flip houses. He'd make 2 million one year and then nothing the next year. A very unstable job, but hey, at least he'd be rich. His face would be plastered on a couple busses because that's just part of the real estate business, and some of them would get vandalised with grafitti (Eren's doing, which is ironic since he's an officer. Everyone knows it's Eren because there's just a horse's head spray painted on Jean's face or the word "neigh" over his name).

Sasha: professional food taster OR mukbanger on YouTube. She'd dabble in some ASMR too from time to time. The foods she eats are either Michelin star quality (which we know Niccolo cooked for her) or straight up "look guys, I made an edible box of crayons using rice crispies!" That type of shit, no in between.

Connie: this man would also be a YouTuber. I feel like he would do a range of things on YouTube, from gaming to ghost hunting, but his ghost hunting videos would never be scary because he'd always be laughing and cracking the most stupid, non-sensical jokes that they're actually funny. He and Sasha would definitely collab at least once a month.

Reiner: he'd work in a warehouse and drive a fork lift, I know it. He just looks like he'd wanna work with his hands. I can also see him working as a construction worker. You could be walking with him downtown and he'd just point to all the buildings he helped build and be like, "I built all of that alone" and then he'd flex his muscles.

Annie: I once heard of this professional boxer who became a cake decorator....yeah I think Annie would follow that same pipeline. She'd spend all her life training and she'd become a very popular boxer who'd win many medals only to retire at 30 to pursue a repressed life-long dream of hers, baking sweets and decorating treats. Y'know, since she likes sweets so much? She'd open a quaint little store up in the town square and decorate the place all pretty light pink and blue.

Niccolo: very obviously, he'd own a restaurant and he'd be the head chef, too. His restaurant would be named something like "Niccolo's" or "Marley" idk some corny basic shit but the food would be fantastic. 5 star reviews on Yelp and Google. I think he'd specialise in sea food dishes, too. He'd start a restaurant franchise once he has made enough money, and maybe...he'd name one of his restaurants after Sasha (idk but that's so cute and I feel like he'd totally do that).

Historia: socialite who models and acts occasionally. She gives me pretty nepo-baby vibes. She'd always be trending on the celebrity magazines, too. Every now and then she'd release a makeup product or perfume for crazy high prices.

Ymir: I feel like Ymir would work a very normal office job but then one day, she'd post a thirst trap of her on a motorbike on TikTok and then go viral and become an unintentional influencer. Historia is, of course, her biggest fan, that is no secret when she comments on every one of Ymir's posts with an unnecessary amount of pink hearts. Ymir would eventually become a rags-to-riches kind of socialite. She and Historia would be that hot celebrity couple everyone knows about.

Erwin: the Dean of the History Department at a top research university. Every time there's a scandal at the university, he steps in front of the news channel cameras to deflect the situation. He's just that great of a talker, or maybe he's just too pretty to say "umm but 🤓☝️" to, and the university knows that. I also feel like he'd do Ted Talks about politics and history.

Hange: a controversial but award-winning biochemist. She's got three PhDs. She is also a sessional lecturer at the university Erwin works at. Sessional only because she's too engrossed in her own independent research to teach as a full-time professor. Her students know this very well because it will take her weeks to reply to an email. Her Rate My Professors rating would be a solid 2.5 with an equal amount of 5 stars and 1 stars for her great humour and her terrible unpreparedness.

Levi: I know he's often depicted as a janitor or a barista in the modern au, but to be honest, I can see him being an academic advisor. Now, hear me out. He cares so much for his soldiers and he is always the head of a team...he would absolutely care about students' success, too (maybe I just want him to work with Hange and Erwin). Because of his cold demeanor, he wouldn't seem like he cares, so he'd just be a really rude advisor. He'd be a punctual emailer, though, contrary to Hange.

Pieck: I feel like she'd be those TikTokers who go onto the street with a comically large microphone bought from Amazon and ask random questions like, "How is the dating life in [insert city]" or "What's the craziest experience you have had on a date?" She'd eventually go on to become a real news anchor.

Porco: he'd be the guy filming Pieck's videos obviously. He never films himself but he'll laugh or his hand will come into the view of the camera occasionally and the audience watching online will go crazy. Pieck and Porco don't know what's more riveting to the audience: Pieck's interviews or Porco's hands? He'd eventually become a cameraman and, one the side, a landscape photographer.

Zeke: I think he'd be a high school gym teacher, but y'know how most gym teachers also teach another subject? Yeah, he'd teach history. He wouldn't change out of his gym clothes to teach history, nah he'd be at work in athleisure wear all the time. Basketball shorts, plain t-shirt with a bleach stain on it...(I had history teacher like this in high school lmao).

Gabi: Since she's a teenager, I'd say she'd probably work part-time as a waitress at Niccolo's restaurant. Since she didn't kill Sasha in this modern au, Niccolo had no issue hiring her. I feel like if she was any older with more authority in her job, she would run that restaurant like it's the navy.

Falco: He'd apply to Niccolo's restaurant too, just to work with Gabi. Him and Gabi would definitely be collecting gossip around the kitchen like they're taking orders. You wanna know shit about one of the workers at the restaurant? Just give Gabi and Falco each 25% tips, and they'll reveal all the shit like you gave them 100% tip.

Floch: Political commentator and columnist. This dude always has some shit to say about the news. Professional gossiper, in other words.

Yelena: I feel like she'd be a wanted whistleblower who exposed some corporate company or the government. She'd be running. Sprinting, actually. Every now and then, her face will pop up on the news, which Pieck is delivering, with an even higher reward in money each time, but in each photo she has a different disguise that is so corny (fake moustache, wig, sunglasses, y'know?). What's more bizzare is that no one can catch her. If she ever got caught though, Floch would have a field day.

Shadis: local scoundrel, retired army general (not so different from canon sorry). He gives me Ebenezer Scrooge vibes.

Pyxis: local drunk, retired army general (maybe I'm not so creative at coming up with headcannons).

Magath: local old man, retired army general (that's it, I'm done). Okay, but he, Shadis, and Pyxis would have the craziest stories to tell. The three would hang out at the local bar or go to Niccolo's restaurant and just chit chat all day with other customers and the waiters. Niccolo hates them because they loiter longer than they should be doing. The Three (grumpy) Stooges of the town.

○°○°

You knew its history well enough. Thirty years prior, the late Emperor Kenny of Eldia had laid claim to northern Marley, sparking a bloody conflict that defined your father’s reign. Newly crowned and untested, he had held the empire together through sheer determination, a feat you privately admired. But admiration could not blind you to the suffering wrought by war; starving citizens, grieving families, cities reduced to ash.

You had voiced your concerns to your father once, but he had merely laughed, dismissing your words as the naïve musings of a girl who lived in books. That day, however, there would be no avoiding reality. Pieck laced you into a crimson gown, its rich color symbolizing Marley’s banner, and escorted you to the throne room.

“Is it about the war?” You asked hesitantly, unable to quell your curiosity.

“I believe so, my Princess.” Pieck replied, her voice low. 

“The new Emperor of Eldia has shifted the tides. Much has changed since his coronation.”

You recalled the unease that gripped you when news of Emperor Levi’s rise reached Civita, your family’s royal seat. Eldia’s forces had expanded rapidly under his command, capturing vital cities like Liberio and Salmuo. Now they encircled Civita itself, a menacing noose tightening around your empire.

Inside the courtroom, the gathering was intimate, your family alone. Your father, Emperor Grisha, sat upon his throne, his presence commanding yet inscrutable. Beside him stood your half-brother Zeke, ever composed, and your younger brother Eren, his gaze restless.

“The war has ended peacefully!” Your father announced, his deep voice reverberating through the chamber. Relief washed over you, but it was tinged with unease.

Your mother, radiant in her joy, clasped your hand. “What wonderful news, my love!” She exclaimed.

“I felt generous-” Grisha began, his tone indifferent, “-and granted him the right to declare the regions of Niedereldia and Obereldia as his own. The peasants there have long abandoned loyalty to our cause, so it is no great loss.” He dismissed the cession of territory with a mere shrug, his gaze shifting to his youngest son with a glimmer of pride.

“The Ackerman clan has offered their princess in marriage to Eren. A wise proposal, and one I have accepted, as her mother is a princess of Hizuru. This union will solidify our alliances in the East.”

The news visibly struck your mother. The warmth of her smile faded like a passing shadow, replaced effortlessly by the composed seriousness she had learned to wear over the years.

“Princess Mikasa?” Carla’s voice held a trace of disbelief. 

“She is highly sought after; I am surprised the Emperor would part with her so willingly.” Suspicion laced her tone, justified after decades of war between their nations.

Grisha’s eyes gleamed with something darker and calculated, almost sinister, as he turned to you, his gaze piercing through your passive expression.

“That is not all,” he continued, his voice low but deliberate. 

“Levi Ackerman has requested our daughter’s hand in marriage.”

The days that followed were a blur of harsh lessons and uncomfortable adjustments. You were thrust into a whirlwind of Eldian culture and history, forced to absorb the traditions of a people you had been taught to despise. Your maid Pieck tried to soothe you with kind words, but even she could not erase the whispers.

“Cannibals, wife beaters, monsters.” Piecks husband, Porco Galliard, had muttered. He had faced Levi on the battlefield and survived, earning his place as your personal guard. His accounts of the Emperor painted a chilling picture.

The first light of dawn kisses the mountains, their peaks bath in hues of gold and rose. Yet the beauty of the morning does little to soothe your turmoil, for today marks the beginning of a fate you could not escape. This is the day you would leave everything you know behind and be taken to Eldia, Paradise Island to be exact, a place that feels anything but its namesake.

“Porco-” you murmur, your voice trembling as Pieck’s delicate hands wove flowers into your hair. “What does he look like?”

Porco’s reply is sharp, his tone laced with disdain. “A small man. Coal-black hair, eyes like molten silver. Handsome, perhaps, but do not let that deceive you. Beneath that face lies a devil.”

“Porco!” Pieck chastises, her gentle features hardening as she shoots him a disapproving glare. “You will frighten her. The Emperor seeks peace, does he not? Surely he cannot be as monstrous as the stories claim.”

Her words, though spoken with care, do little to quell the unease stirring within you. Your gaze drops to the gown you wear, a garment of Eldian design, starkly different from the soft pastel gowns of your homeland. It clung to you like a shadow, foreign and unyielding, much like the life awaiting you across the sea.

The gown drapes over your weary frame, its deep forest green fabric heavy against your tired body. The neckline dips lower than your modesty allows, leaving you feeling exposed beneath its opulence. Pearls adorn the hems like drops of moonlight, while delicate elderflowers are intricately woven into the fabric; a quiet elegance that belies the unease settling in your chest.

You are to marry the devil of Eldia.

And no amount of soothing words or delicate flower crowns could silence the storm raging in your heart.

“Pieck. What if he does not like me?” 

The maid pauses, her fingers hovering over the final flower she had been weaving into your hair. Her gaze softens as she meets your eyes in the reflection of the mirror before you. “My sweet princess.” She begins gently, her voice a melody of warmth and quiet reassurance.

“How could he not? You are kind, intelligent, and far braver than you realize. Any man would be fortunate to have you.”

But her words feel hollow, distant, as if spoken into an abyss. Your fingers grip the edges of your gown, the rich fabric grounding you in a moment that feels increasingly surreal. The weight of the pearls around your neck seems to grow heavier with every passing second, much like the burden of your fate.

Porco, who had remained by the door like a sentinel, scoffs under his breath. “It is not about liking you.” He mutters, his tone blunt, though not unkind, it is clear the topic does not speak well with him. 

“Levi Ackerman is not the type to care about such things. He is a man of strategy, of war. This marriage is a transaction, plain and simple. Don’t expect affection.”

“You are an idiot!” Pieck snaps, turning to glare at him once more. “That is enough. She does not need your cynicism today.”

He shrugs but says nothing further, though the truth of his words lingers in the air like an unspoken shadow.

Your reflection stares back at you; a pale, trembling figure adorned in splendor that feels ill-suited to the fear gnawing at your core. You press a hand to your chest, trying to calm the storm within. 

“If he does not like me-” You whisper, almost to yourself.

“-Then what will I become in his world? A stranger? A prisoner?”

Pieck places her hands on your shoulders, her touch firm yet comforting. “You will become exactly who you need to be.” She says, her voice steady and resolute. “You are stronger than you think, and you will find your place, no matter where you go.”

The words offer a flicker of solace, but it is fleeting, like the delicate petals of the flowers in your hair. 

An hour later, the moment you had dreaded more than any other arrives; the time to bid farewell to your family. You had clung to the faint hope that they might accompany you, even partway, to this foreign land that would soon become your prison, your new home. But no such mercy would be granted.

The grand hall feels colder than usual, its towering stone pillars casting long shadows as the sun struggles to pierce the gray clouds outside. Your father stands before you, as composed as ever, the weight of his crown seeming lighter on his head than the emotions etched into your heart.

“This is a necessary step, my daughter.” Emperor Grisha says, his tone measured, almost distant. 

“You carry the honor of Marley on your shoulders now. Do not forget it.”

You lower your gaze, unwilling to meet his eyes. The words feel more like an order than a farewell, and they echo in your mind with a hollow finality.

Your mother steps forward, her usual grace tinged with a faint tremor in her hands. She clasps your face between her palms, her touch warm yet fragile. 

“Be strong, my love.” she murmurs, her voice soft enough for only you to hear. 

“Remember everything I have taught you. An empress must learn to endure.”

Her words are meant to be comforting, but they only deepen the ache in your chest. You long to embrace her, to plead for her to come with you, but the unspoken rules of royalty bind you as tightly as the pearls around your neck.

Zeke is next, his expression unreadable as he places a hand on your shoulder. 

“Do what is expected of you.” He says simply, his words devoid of warmth or cruelty. 

“And remember, this alliance benefits us all.”

Eren lingers behind him, his jaw tight and his fists clenched. He looks at you with something that resembles guilt, though he says nothing. Instead, he presses a small, folded piece of parchment into your hand as he steps past you, a fleeting gesture that goes unnoticed by the others. He has always been a wrack of emotions, especially now that he has been forced into a marriage quite like yourself, yet your fades part like worlds. You do not unfold the parchment, not yet.

The final blow comes when Pieck steps forward, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. 

“I cannot go with you, my Princess.” She whispers, her voice cracking.

Her absence hits you harder than you expect. She had been your constant companion, your solace in the storm. And now, even she would be left behind. You hug and kiss her goodbye, wave at your family one last time before Porco leads you to the gates. 

The carriage ride to the port of Liberio feels endless, each jolt of the wheels carving another piece of your resolve. The air is heavy with the scent of salt, mingling with the faint metallic tang of rain-soaked earth. The skies remain gray, a somber reflection of the dread pooling in your chest.

Liberio bustles with activity despite the overcast morning, its docks alive with the hum of sailors and the groaning of ships tethered to the harbor. Yet amidst the chaos, your arrival draws silence, a collective pause as curious eyes settle on your procession.

The exchange is to take place here, at the edge of Marley’s dominion. Princess Mikasa, your counterpart from Eldia, awaits you on the dock. She is a vision of quiet strength, her posture unyielding despite the biting wind that tugs at her cloak.

As your carriage slows to a halt, you catch your first glimpse of her fully. She is stunning in a way that seems effortless, her raven hair cascades like silk over her shoulders, framing a face marked by sharp, graceful features. Her eyes, however, are what capture you most. They are dark, fathomless pools, and within them, you see the shadow of a woman who has endured more than her fair share of pain.

You step down from the carriage, your trembling fingers clutching the skirts of your gown. The weight of a dozen eyes is upon you, but none feel heavier than hers. She regards you with a stoicism that borders on indifference, though you sense something flicker beneath the surface.

“Princess Mikasa.” Your voice wavers as you curtsy, the words almost lost to the wind.

“Your grace.” she replies, her tone cool but not unkind. There is an unspoken understanding in her gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the burdens you both carry.

The Eldian vessel looms behind her, its sails a dark green, much like your gown. It is a ship built for war, its design as menacing as the land it sails for. Mikasa gestures to the vessel with a gloved hand, her expression betraying nothing.

“You will take this ship to Paradise.” She says simply. Her voice is low, steady, a stark contrast to the storm churning within you.

As the sailors begin transferring your belongings to the ship, Mikasa steps closer, her gaze never wavering from yours. For a moment, you think she might offer words of encouragement or advice, but instead, she leans in, her voice barely audible.

“Do not let him irritate you. My cousin can be a cold man and can get burdensome at times.” She whispers. Her words are a warning, sharp and deliberate, cutting through the cold wind like a blade.

Before you can respond, she steps back, her stoic mask firmly in place. The exchange is complete, and without another word, Mikasa boards the carriage that once carried you here, her figure retreating into the distance like a fading dream.

You stand frozen at the edge of the dock, the ship towering behind you, its gangplank like a bridge to another life. Porco appears at your side, his expression as unreadable as ever.

“It’s time.” He mutters, his tone gruff yet tinged with something you dare to interpret as concern.

With a deep breath, you gather the fragments of your courage and ascend the gangplank. Each step feels heavier than the last, the weight of your father’s expectations, your mother’s whispered hopes, and Mikasa’s parting words pressing down upon you.

The deck is stark, its wooden boards slick with rain. Sailors move around you with practiced efficiency, their murmurs barely audible over the creak of the ship and the crash of waves against the hull.

“I thank you for your service to me. Goodbye, Porco.” You lift a trembling hand, from cold or fear you don't know and to wave at the guard, your final goodbye for the day. His gaze, sharp with barely concealed anger, lingers on you for a moment longer before he nods stiffly. The pain in your chest tightens, but you force yourself to turn away, following after the Eldian captain who leads you across the deck. His anger is not directed towards you, but rather to the man you will have to wed.

“This is Sasha.” The Captain announces, gesturing to a young woman with warm, wide eyes and a gentle smile. 

“She’ll serve as your handmaid during your stay.” Sasha curtsies quickly, her demeanor friendly yet professional.

“And this-” the Captain continues, nodding toward a towering figure at your side.

“-Is Reiner Braun, your personal guard. He will ensure your safety.”

Reiner steps forward, his posture rigid and his expression unreadable. You meet his gaze briefly, noting the weight behind his eyes, but you cannot dwell on it now. The ache in your chest is growing, and the need for solitude becomes overwhelming.

“Thank you. I would  like a moment alone, if that is possible?” You manage, your voice steady despite the storm raging within.

Sasha exchanges a look with Reiner before the latter nods. “Very well, your grace. I’ll be outside if you need anything,” he says, his voice low and measured.

You are led to a small cabin tucked into the side of the ship, its interior modest but comfortable. A pair of wooden chairs flank a narrow table, and a window lets in the salty breeze of the open sea. Reiner closes the door softly behind him, leaving you to your thoughts.

The moment you are alone, your hands dive into the folds of your skirt, searching for the hidden pocket. Your fingers brush against the parchment, and you pull it free with a shaky breath. Eren’s scrawled handwriting greets you, the hurried strokes mirroring the urgency of his words.

“Be careful who to trust. We organized one of our last remaining spies in Paradise to be your personal guard. His name is Reiner Braun. If you feel your life is threatened, do not hesitate to ask for his help. Destroy this letter after reading it.”

The words feel heavier than the fabric of your gown, settling like a stone in your chest. You glance toward the closed door, your pulse quickening. Reiner Braun, your guard, your protector, yet also a spy in service to Marley. You had not been prepared for such a revelation, nor for the dangerous game you were now forced to play.

You rise from the chair and approach the small window behind it. The salty wind bites at your skin as you pull the glass pane open. Without hesitation, you crumple the parchment tightly in your hands and toss it into the churning waves below. The paper flutters briefly before disappearing into the water, dissolving into nothingness.

For a moment, you simply stand there, your fingers clutching the window’s frame. The open sea stretches endlessly before you, vast and unyielding, much like the uncertain future awaiting you in Paradise. You feel the weight of your responsibilities bearing down on you, heavier than any crown or title could ever be.

A soft knock at the door startles you, and you spin around to find Sasha standing there, your bag slung over her shoulder. Her warm smile remains, though it falters slightly as she studies your face. 

“Are you all right, your grace?” She asks gently.

You force a smile, your composure slipping seamlessly into place. 

“Of course.” you reply, smoothing the folds of your gown as you step away from the window. “I just needed some fresh air.”

Sasha sets the bag down and tilts her head, her curiosity evident. “The sea can be a bit overwhelming at first,” she says, her tone light. 

“But it’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

You nod absently, your mind still turning over Eren’s words. 

“Yes… beautiful and vast. It is unlike anything I have seen before.”

The couple of hours on the ship pass in a haze uneasy silence. Sasha’s attempts at small talk and Reiner’s stoic presence do little to soothe your apprehension. The vast, unending sea serves as a cruel reminder of how far you are getting from home, from everything you’ve ever known. Each wave that crashes against the hull feels like a heartbeat, counting down to the moment you’ll arrive in Paradise.

And then just six hours after leaving Marley, the island comes into view. Its cliffs rise like jagged sentinels, crowned with dense forests that stretch as far as the eye can see. The docks are bustling with activity, soldiers in dark uniforms moving with disciplined precision. Their sharp gazes turn toward the ship as it approaches, their expressions unreadable. This is Paradise, the home of your enemy and now your future, the main island and ruling seat of Eldia.

The gangplank lowers with a heavy groan, and the Captain gestures for you to disembark. Your legs feel unsteady beneath you as you step onto the dock, the unfamiliar ground solid yet foreign. Sasha and Reiner follow close behind, their presence a small comfort amidst the sea of strangers.

A black carriage waits at the edge of the dock, its design austere yet imposing. Beside it stands a man who can only be Levi Ackerman. He is smaller than you imagined, his stature compact but exuding an air of command that renders his size irrelevant. His coal-black hair is neatly combed, and his piercing gray eyes meet yours with a cold intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. He is every bit the man Porco described; handsome, yes, but with a presence that feels as sharp and unyielding as a blade.

Levi says nothing as you approach, his expression unreadable. His gaze sweeps over you briefly, assessing, before he turns to the carriage. 

“Get in.” He says, his voice low and clipped. There is no warmth in his tone, no acknowledgment of the life-altering union you are about to enter.

Your heart sinks, but you force yourself to remain composed. You curtsy slightly, murmuring: “Your Majesty.” though the words feel foreign on your tongue. He offers no response, simply opening the carriage door and gesturing for you to enter.

The interior of the carriage is as cold and uninviting as the man who occupies it. Levi sits across from you, his posture rigid and his gaze fixed on the window. The silence between you is heavy, oppressive, broken only by the steady clatter of hooves against the cobblestone road.

You glance at him, searching for any sign of emotion, but his face is a mask of indifference. Finally, you gather the courage to speak. 

“I… I am grateful for your hospitality, Your Majesty.”

His eyes flicker toward you, but his expression remains unreadable. 

“Save your gratitude.” He replies flatly. 

“This isn’t about hospitality. It’s about duty.” You notice the difference in accent immediately, the way he shortens his words like the common folk would. None the less they sting the same, though you try not to show your disappointment. You clasp your hands tightly in your lap, your fingers digging into the fabric of your gown. 

“Then I hope I can fulfill my duty to your satisfaction.”

For a moment, he says nothing, his gaze returning to the window. Then, almost as an afterthought, he replies, “We’ll see.”

The rest of the journey passes in silence, the weight of his words settling over you like a shroud. You had prepared yourself for many things, but not for this. Not for the cold indifference of the man who now holds your future in his hands.

When the carriage finally arrives at the palace gates, you feel a mixture of relief and dread. The palace is grand, its stone walls rising high against the backdrop of the island’s dense forests. Yet it feels more like a fortress than a home, its beauty marred by an underlying sense of menace.

Levi steps out first, his movements precise and efficient. He turns briefly, his gaze meeting yours as he offers his hand. For a moment, you hesitate, unsure if the gesture is one of courtesy or obligation. Then you place your hand in his, the contact brief yet charged with unspoken tension.