Great Descendant || Attack on Titan x Reader

1 || Leather Journal

Tiny footsteps belonging to you echoed throughout the empty hallway. Your forehead scrunched as a bead of sweat trailed down your skin, but you dismissed the discomfort as you needed to find your father, wanting some explanation.

It was around four in the afternoon, and you were certain that your father must be occupying himself inside his study, probably enjoying his coffee as he read some reports regarding the military advance. You always wondered why he got all of that information even though he was not even in the military, but perhaps the book in your hand was the answer to your question, and you had to find out more.

You were used to running around this part of the mansion — since you would spend some of your time here with your father when he didn't invite the military higher-ups or some of his business partners for a meeting together. Truthfully, you could have waited for later after dinner to confront him, but your mind was already fueled with curiosity that wouldn't die without being given the right extinguisher.

So you scurry out within an instant, far from the east wing where the library was located to the west where your father would entertain his friends and colleagues. In your small journey, you took off your mules and ran barefoot, ignoring the gasp from the maid that you passed in the hallway.

Panting, you felt the exhaustion course through your body as you finally reached your destination. Some eyes regarded you with worry beneath their intimidating gaze, but they knew that you had been running out of breath before, certain that it was nothing serious.

Two guards were standing tall on each side of the door, guarding your father's study against the outside, and you were certain there were another two on the other side of the door. They didn't give you any attention or warning, so you knew that he was not in some kind of meeting or too engrossed with work.

Sucking a deep breath, you hide the book that you found behind your back before raising your hand to the wooden door, knocking it with your knuckles several times, soft yet enough that it would echo inside the room. You heard the rustling of papers, probably from some of the military letters that he read.

"Name and busi—"

"It's me, pa!"

Your voice cut him off in a gleeful manner, holding yourself from bursting hundreds of questions. If you wanted to know the truth, you needed to play your cards right. Well, what could a six years old girl do? Anything of course, especially if you were the only child (for now) and your parents loved you like you were their stars in the night sky.

You tried to hide your smirk when you heard the audible 'click' coming from the inside, followed by the door opening simultaneously. The sun penetrated through the windows, lighting up the whole room and the hallway behind you. A pleasant smell of cedarwood filled your nostrils in an instant, the unique scent that you knew embedded on your father's suit too since he spent the majority of his time here.

There was a massive round table in the middle of the room, one where you like to sit when your father was busy with work but wanted your company. You would sit there without a care and boredom since your nose mostly touched the paper book in your hand, too engrossed with whatever literature that you could find within his study.

You didn't need to go back and forth from the east wing and grabbed some books there. Your father studies already engaging enough with a wide variety of history, self-improvement, and many other philosophy books. The room would be engulfed with silence if that happened, but the atmosphere was serene and comforting to both of you, making times fly past naturally and just felt right.

"Well, isn't it my precious daughter?" He stood up from his plush leather chair, dark yet warm eyes never left your figure as you skipped toward where he was. His lips shaped into a gentle smile as he watched how giddy you looked right now, with both hands on your back as if you had a surprise for him.