COTE x AOT: Ashes in The Sky
By QueasyEasy
"Why me?" Ayanokouji Kiyotaka is not having a good time. It's not like he knows what a good time is, it's rat... More
"Why me?" Ayanokouji Kiyotaka is not having a good time. It's not like he knows what a good time is, it's rat... More
I'm curious. Whenever Eveline is on screen, what do you imagine her to look like?
I've always thought of her looking like Anri from Blue Lock but with longer hair... and more Irish.
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Location: Eveline's Bakery, Wall Sina
Year: 844, Winter
Time: Early Afternoon
Eveline tugged at my tie for what felt like the hundredth time. Her red hair was pulled back into a ponytail today, which I guessed was supposed to make her look professional. It didn't stop her from acting like this.
"Hold still," she murmured. "If we're sending you to represent the bakery, you can't look like you just crawled out of the oven."
I adjusted my waistcoat, suppressing the urge to strangle the redhead. "What are you scheming this time, Miss Eveline?"
She giggled, a sound that was equal parts playful and devilish. "Scheming? Oh, please. I just think you should look your best. All those noble ladies at the gala are going to eat you up. Quite literally, I hope."
"..."
"..."
"...That was the plan anyway, minus the eating part, because I don't intend to lounge."
"Oh, lighten up." She smirked, tugging the tie just a bit tighter before stepping back. "You never know. You might meet someone who'll take a real interest in your... pastries."
"Very subtle. Are you sure you're not a pervert?"
She shrugged, still smiling like she'd won something.
Typical.
As she fussed with the last adjustment, I found my mind wandering.
I'd lived in Wall Sina long enough to understand its unspoken rules. Being a resident meant nothing compared to the nobles who controlled everything. They looked down on us, even those of us who worked hard to earn a respectable living. A simple baker like me had no place in their world, and I was fine with that.
"Done." Eveline's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. She stepped back, hands on her hips, and gave me an approving nod. "Looking sharp. I'll grab your coat."
She turned on her heel, but not before throwing one last comment over her shoulder. "Oh, and that Sannes guy? Awkward little shit, wasn't he? Could barely look me in the eye when he dropped off the suit."
"Maybe because you're scary. Though, you shouldn't talk about the Military Police like that."
She waved me off without turning around. "Yeah, yeah, so what if I chucked a rolling pin at him for scaring the shit outta me? What are they gonna do? Arrest me for calling them awkward?"
No, I think that's attempted assault.
When she came back with the jacket, I could see the smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. That was my boss for you. Always quick with a jab, especially at anyone who didn't immediately win her over.
"Here." She held the coat out to me, and I slid my arms into it, her hands brushing the shoulders to smooth it out. "Now you really look the part. Ready to charm the pants off Wall Sina's finest?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"Nope."
"Then why did you ask the question?"
She shrugged.
With a final adjustment to my sleeves, I was ready to leave. Eveline stepped back, arms crossed, as if admiring her creation.
"You'll do fine," she said, softer this time. "Just don't forget—our bakery's reputation is on the line."
"Right," I muttered, brushing invisible dust off my coat. "Wouldn't want to let you down."
I opened the bakery door to the street outside, only to be greeted by a howling gust of winter air. The cold slammed into me like a wall of ice, making me immediately balk. Without thinking, I slammed the door shut and stood there, frozen in place.
Behind me, Eveline snorted, trying to stifle a laugh. I turned to see her leaning against the counter, grinning like she'd just witnessed the world's funniest joke.
"Forgot about winter, did you?"
"..."
I stayed silent, brushing snowflakes off my sleeves.
"Oh, don't tell me," she said, her grin widening. "You thought you were walking there? Kiyo, you're being transported in a carriage, you idiot. Did you forget or were you trying to be funny? I'd bet you forgot."
I glanced at her, but the small hitch in my shoulders must have given me away.
"You did think that." She burst out laughing, clutching her sides as if it were the funniest thing in the world. "Oh, that's rich."
This is the worst.
"...Why do I even talk to you?"
Her laughter grew louder, and she leaned against the counter to steady herself. "HA! You're incredible sometimes, you know that? You can knead bread and other things for hours at a time but you—"
I didn't bother responding. There was no winning here, so I just adjusted my coat and waited for her to calm down.
A few minutes later, we stood outside the bakery, waiting for the carriage. I leaned back against the wall, hands in my coat pockets, my eyes closed against the chill in the air. The sound of horseshoes on cobblestone echoed faintly in the distance, mixing with the occasional gust of wind.
"Alright, I have to ask," Eveline prompted.
I cracked an eye open to look at her. She was rubbing her hands together for warmth, her breath visible in the air.
"Why'd you agree to this gala thing in the first place?"
I started to answer, but she cut me off, crossing her arms and tilting her head like she was about to lecture me. "Wait, don't tell me—it wasn't for the girls, was it?" Her tone was teasing, but there was a knowing edge to it. "No, you're not the type. Too much effort, right? Like you always say... So... what then?"
"To represent the bakery."
She raised an eyebrow. "Really? You're doing this for me?"
I nodded, but her tone shifted slightly, the teasing replaced with something quieter.
"Well... I guess I should be flattered." She looked down, kicking at the slush on the ground with the toe of her boot. "But honestly, kiddo, as much as I joke about this stuff, I don't want to get caught up in noble drama."
"What do you mean?"
Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she let out a sharp exhale. "I mean, people like Sannes give me the creeps. He didn't just bring you that suit because he's a kind soul, you know. He's connected to someone higher up, and I'd bet my bakery those people don't do favours without strings attached."
"Maybe," I said, watching her closely.
"Not maybe," she shot back, scowling. "I've dealt with people like that before. They're always looking for someone to use as a pawn. Just... don't step on any toes while you're there, okay?"
Her voice softened at the end, but I could hear the genuine concern beneath the words.
"I'll be careful."
"You'd better," she muttered.
The sound of approaching hooves interrupted the moment. A carriage rounded the corner, its black finish gleaming even in the dim winter light. Eveline immediately brightened, her usual smirk returning.
"Well, that's your ride," she said. "Try not to freeze to death on the way there."
"You don't let up, do you?"
"Not in 1000 years."
As the carriage pulled up, she clapped me on the shoulder. "Good luck. And don't forget—if this goes well, we might actually get some rich customers who can pay for my overpriced croissants."
"What do you mean they're overpriced?"
|| 𝙏𝙚𝙭𝙩 𝙎𝙚𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧 ||
Location: Wall Rose (?)
Year: 844
Time: ????
Faust.
The name—or title, as some call it—has stuck to me for years, in dark alleys, muttered over deals, and sometimes proclaimed outright in moments of anger or desperation.
It's been said so often that sometimes I forget the name my mother gave me.
"Heh," I chuckle lightly at the thought, the sound almost lost in the clink of glass against polished wood as I wipe down the counter of my bar.
"Faust," they say, "can't be trusted, but he'll get you what you need."
They're half right, I guess.
Over the years as an information broker, I haven't met a single soul I couldn't manipulate. It's a game, one I play with the same ease as breathing. A nudge here, a subtle word there, and people bend to my will like reeds in the wind.
It's almost too easy.
Almost.
My hand stills for a moment as my thoughts catch on the word.
Almost.
I let out a low exhale through my nose, brushing a strand of hair out of my eyes.
One name comes to mind: Kiyotaka Ayanokouji.
Calm, collected, with a certain air that unsettles even me. He's sharp, too sharp, like a blade honed to perfection. Physically, he's no slouch either, and that's not even the strangest thing about him.
Shit, if Eugune got his and his men's asses beat that badly because of him, I wouldn't think of crossing him for a second, yet here I am.
I'm snapped out of my reverie by the sound of footsteps approaching the bar.
A patron, young, with tired eyes and a crooked grin, slides onto the stool across from me.
"What'll it be?"
"Whiskey. Neat," he says, rubbing his hands together as if trying to ward off a chill.
I nod and turn to the shelves behind me, the bottles gleaming in the light.
As I pour, my mind drifts back to Kiyotaka.
His existence within the Walls is... peculiar. He looks more 'Asian' than anyone I've encountered. That in itself is odd enough, but the way he carries himself—it's like he's always several steps ahead of everyone around him.
Calculating, methodical.
Dangerous.
The clink of glass against the counter draws me back to the present. I slide the whiskey across to the patron, who takes it with a nod of thanks.
"Busy night?" he asks, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.
"Always is," I reply. "People have their vices. I just happen to provide a few."
He chuckles, taking a sip. "Fair enough."
As he drinks, I continue to work, my hands moving on their own.
My thoughts shift again, this time to the Ackerman family.
Specifically, the girl—Mikasa.
There's something about her.
It's said the Ackermans are a family of warriors, blessed with extraordinary power, and cursed because of it. I've often wondered if Kiyotaka's connected to them somehow. There's no proof, of course, but the similarities are... uncanny.
However, that doesn't explain why she didn't kill her kidnappers when they came for her. Not even her dad, who I'm sure gave her the Ackerman side to her, reacted to a knife slamming into his gut.
Are those rumours just myths then?
If they're not naturally strong then what are they?
If that's true then what the hell is Kiyotaka Ayanokouji—
"You're thinking about something heavy," the patron remarks, pulling me back to the present once again. His gaze was sharp despite the weariness in his eyes.
"Always am. Occupational hazard," I replied casually, leaning against the counter.
He grins, but it's lopsided like he's debating whether to press further.
He doesn't, and I'm grateful.
As he nurses his drink, I let my mind wander again.
The Ackermans... a family so strong the Military Police and the government want them eradicated. Fear, pure and simple. Power like that scares the people at the top, and fear makes them dangerous. I don't share their sentiments.
The Ackermans are an asset waiting to be exploited.
If I can... no, when I find a way to use them, it'll tilt the balance of power in my favour. I already made a blunder by getting on the older one's bad side and now I owe him a favour but still...
Puppetmaster...
When the strings become so intertwined, it'll be nearly impossible for them to escape.
"Refill?" I ask as the patron's glass empties.
He nods, sliding it across. "You're a hard guy to read, you know that?"
"Good. Keeps things interesting."
|| 𝙏𝙚𝙭𝙩 𝙎𝙚𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧 ||
Location: Aristocratic Palace, Wall Sina
Year: 844, Winter
Time: Afternoon
"It's still cold," Kiyotaka murmured to himself as the carriage came to a stop. It wasn't like he was wishing the cold could go away, he was just making a blatantly obvious observation out of boredom.
The door creaked open, revealing a pair of servants dressed in heavy winter cloaks. They bowed wordlessly and stepped aside, allowing Kiyotaka to disembark.
He stepped down with unhurried grace.
His brown eyes flicked upward, taking in the grand structure before him.
The palace was like something out of a fairy tale, its towering spires and masonry bathed in the pale light of a winter afternoon.
The design was reminiscent of French architecture from his former world—arches, sprawling courtyards, and opulence that bordered on the absurd.
Then again, the word 'absurd' lost its meaning given how many times he's used it in recent times.
Surprisingly, the snow had been cleared from the paths, leaving the stone beneath pristine and dry, much to Kiyotaka's satisfaction.
Wet shoes were an inconvenience he preferred to avoid.
He lingered for a moment, hands resting lightly at his sides, as he observed the flow of guests arriving. The Winter Gala was undoubtedly an event of political significance, he observed. As he was informed by Rod Riess, it was an event to commemorate the years of peace within the Walls.
A bit of an egotistic play by the nobility, but then again, it was effectively 18th-century France/Germany, so it was to be expected.
Rrrrrrr~
The sound of another carriage approaching drew his attention. Kiyotaka turned slightly as the vehicle rolled to a stop beside his own. The door opened, and an older man stepped out, his movements deliberate and composed.
Kiyotaka's gaze moved over him with mild curiosity.
Shorter than average—165 centimetres at most. A graying beard that was neatly trimmed. Wire-rimmed glasses perched on a nose... His military uniform, adorned with a few medals and insignias, confirmed what Kiyotaka had already deduced.
Darius Zackly, Premier of all three branches of the Military.
Kiyotaka's gaze lingered briefly before he turned his attention back to the palace, careful to keep his scrutiny subtle. Zackly's presence was significant. This wasn't just a gathering of aristocrats and figureheads; this was a convergence of genuine power.
'Would the other commanders of the Military be here too? Or just him?' He remarked.
The Premier's tired eyes swept across the courtyard, briefly meeting Kiyotaka's.
Zackly raised a brow but said nothing, his expression one of mild curiosity. Kiyotaka inclined his head slightly, a gesture of polite acknowledgment. The older man returned the gesture before moving toward the entrance.
Kiyotaka's thoughts churned in the silence that followed. Zackly's attendance meant this gala carried implications, very good or very bad ones, depending on outlook. Whatever alliances, deals, or schemes were in play tonight, they were bound to ripple through every corner of the Walls.
"Sir," one of the servants said softly, breaking Kiyotaka's reverie. "Shall we proceed?"
He gave a faint nod and allowed himself to be guided toward the grand entrance. The distant hum of music and the murmur of voices grew louder with each step.
"Blend in. Make an impression when necessary. Avoid stepping on toes," Was all he murmured to himself.
───
Kiyotaka Ayanokouji stood in the middle of the massive ballroom, a glass of champagne in hand.
He held it with the casual air of someone blending in, though he hadn't taken a single sip. Around him, high-class aristocrats clustered in small groups, their voices carrying snippets of conversation that wove together like a... er... salad.
Unless he focused, he couldn't really understand what was being said.
"The southern farms are struggling. Another bad harvest might mean rationing," murmured one man with a finely trimmed beard.
"Have you seen the latest designs from Madame Beltaine? Truly exquisite!" another woman exclaimed, her gloved hand gesturing toward the embroidered gown of her companion.
A pair of younger aristocrats stood nearby, half-whispering about the latest gossip.
"I heard the Reiss family has brought in foreign spices for tonight. Imagine the cost!" one said, her voice lacing itself with equal parts envy and fascination.
Kiyotaka's gaze flicked from group to group, taking it all in detachedly.
He wasn't sure why he had bothered to come. The palace was grand, yes, and the gala offered a glimpse at the inner workings of Wall Sina's elite, but he felt aimless amidst the crowd...
No, scratch that, he didn't know what was going on at all.
Should he just go up to random people and start advertising the bakery?
No.
That would not only embarrass him but most likely traumatize him for life.
Thinking about it now, he probably should've stayed home.
Still, there were people here he hadn't met—people whose influence could prove useful—and the prospect of spotting the King was reason enough to linger a little longer.
Taking a breath, he began to walk, moving through the maze of silk and velvet-clad figures, trying not to disturb them. He kept his expression neutral.
A few faces caught his attention, though none he could immediately place. His path took him toward the food and drink section of the ballroom, where the air carried the faint, irresistible aroma of pastries and wine.
As he neared, a young woman's voice drew his attention. "Who is he? I've never seen him at one of these before."
"Go talk to him," one of her friends urged, nudging her shoulder with a grin. "He's just standing there. Perfect opportunity!"
"Oh, don't be ridiculous," the woman replied, her voice flustered. "He probably already has someone. I wouldn't want to... step on any toes. And besides, he likely has somewhere else to be."
"Where? It doesn't look like he's going anywhere, go, come on!"
Kiyotaka resisted the urge to sigh. He kept his face neutral, letting the exchange play out behind him without acknowledging it. But the low murmurs of encouragement and the woman's growing fluster were hard to ignore.
A moment of quiet fell, and then a soft, hesitant voice called out:
"Excuse me?"
Kiyotaka turned smoothly, his eyes meeting the source of the interruption.
A young woman stood there, her cheeks visibly flushed, her expression a mix of embarrassment and mortification. She had striking white hair that fell in soft waves and a pair of vivid blue eyes that gave her an almost doll-like appearance.
Despite her obvious nerves, her posture remained upright.
"Yes?"
"I... um, I just..." She paused, glancing back at her giggling friends, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her gloves. "I wanted to introduce myself. My name is Catherine, daughter of the Viscount of Arkadyev."
She gave a quick curtsy, her movements hurried and slightly awkward.
Such a playboy~
Kiyotaka took a moment to process the name.
Arkadyev.
He recalled hearing it mentioned in passing—a family of decent influence within the Walls, but not significant enough to be a major player. Nonetheless, her introduction demanded polite acknowledgment.
"Catherine," he said, offering a slight nod. "It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Kiyotaka Ayanokouji."
Her eyes widened slightly at the name, though she quickly masked her surprise with a smile. "Ayanokouji... That's a unique name. Are you enjoying the gala so far?"
"It's been interesting," He replied. He noted the slight tremor in her hands as she clasped them together. Realizing that her nerves might cause a scene if left unchecked, he decided it was best to put her at ease. "And yourself? I hope the evening has been to your liking."
Catherine blinked, caught off guard by the question.
"Oh, yes. Yes, it's been wonderful s-so far," she stammered. "The decorations, the music... everything is so grand. Although... it can be a bit overwhelming at times, don't you think?"
"It can be, especially in a setting like this. But it's also a good opportunity to meet people and understand the world better."
"That's a very... practical way to look at it," Catherine said, her lips curving into a hesitant smile.
The two spoke for a few minutes, the conversation flowing more easily as Catherine's initial anxiety began to fade. She shared a few polite comments about the event and asked where Kiyotaka was from, clearly trying to gather more about him without being too forward.
Eventually, her curiosity seemed to peak. "If I may ask," she began, her voice still tinged with caution, "I've never seen you at one of these gatherings before. A-are you new here?"
Kiyotaka met her gaze steadily, weighing his response.
"You could say that," he replied. "I was invited to this event by Baron Reiss."
The name landed like a pebble in the water between them.
Catherine's eyes widened again, this time with a mix of surprise and recognition. "Baron Reiss?" she repeated, her tone soft but it was unmistakably intrigued.
"Mhm."
Catherine's composure wavered briefly, but she recovered quickly, offering a polite smile. "That's... quite impressive. Baron Reiss is a respected figure. You must be very accomplished to have earned his invitation."
"Not particularly," Kiyotaka replied, his tone as even as ever. "It's more a matter of circumstance."
Catherine seemed unsure how to respond, her expression flickering between curiosity and propriety. After a brief pause, she inclined her head. "Well, I won't keep you any longer, Mr. Ayanokouji. Thank you for indulging me."
"It was a pleasure meeting you, Catherine. I hope to get to talk to you soon, perhaps?"
"R-Right! U-um... if you'd excuse me!"
She offered another quick curtsy before stepping away, her friends eagerly crowding around her the moment she returned to their circle.
More giggles and gossip it seemed was the result.
Kiyotaka watched her retreat for a moment.
'The Arkadyev name might be worth remembering,' He thought. 'Perhaps when I leave I can... Yes, that would work fine.'
After that small interaction, he retraced his steps, making his way toward the large table full of snacks and drinks.
His eyes scanned the selection. There was a faint sense of satisfaction in his chest as he spotted the apple tarts and strawberry pies, both sliced neatly into triangles. He and Eveline had worked tirelessly to complete the pastries for this event, delivering them just in time.
Seeing them now, perfectly presented, felt like a victory in an otherwise monotonous evening.
Nearby, a pair of older men debated heatedly.
"The walls can't sustain this kind of economic pressure forever," one argued, his hand motioning emphatically. "We'll need new solutions, or we risk collapse."
"New solutions?" the other retorted with a scoff. "You mean outside influence. That's dangerous talk."
Kiyotaka tuned out their discussion, more interested in his immediate surroundings.
He reached for a plate when he felt a tap on his right shoulder.
"?"
"Go on," a cheerful voice said behind him, "you can take a bite. You made them, after all."
Kiyotaka turned his head, but no one was there. His mouth twitched slightly, turning to his left just in time to feel a playful poke against his cheek.
"??????"
"Over here," the voice said, laughter dancing in its tone.
Standing before him was Frieda Reiss, a warm smile lighting up her face. She wore an elegant gown that shimmered faintly in the light, a bluish colour. He was most certain it was made out of some sort of silk.
Her hair was styled with effortless grace, and her blue eyes held a basket full of mischief as she met his gaze.
"Good evening," she said. "It's nice to see the person behind such wonderful treats. I've already had a slice of the strawberry pie."
Kiyotaka inclined his head slightly, setting the plate down. "I'm glad you enjoyed them. I didn't expect to meet someone who'd already tried them."
Frieda chuckled softly. "You've underestimated the speed at which sweets disappear at events like this. But tell me, are you enjoying the gala?"
Their conversation was quiet but that didn't stop the surrounding crowd from taking notice.
"That's Lady Frieda Reiss, isn't it?" came a whisper from a nearby cluster of nobles. "She rarely speaks to anyone for so long."
"I'm pretty sure that is," another voice chimed in. "And who's that with her? He looks... exotic."
Kiyotaka's sharp hearing picked up every word, though he made no outward reaction.
The monarch, however, frowned slightly, the corners of her mouth tightening as her eyes flicked briefly toward the offending voices. She quickly masked her annoyance, returning her attention to him.
"Would you like to take a walk with me?" she asked suddenly.
Kiyotaka studied her face for a moment, noting the slight tension in her brow.
"Why?"
"..."
Frieda gave him a look.
The White Room Masterpiece sighed.
"Very well, lead the way."
It wasn't like he wanted to try some apple tarts or anything.
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Words: 4183
Author Notes:
God, I never knew how hard it was to write ballroom scenes—AT ALL.
Seriously, AOT isn't Game of Thrones goddamn it! I don't have many nobles to go off of!!