❖ The Laboratory – Late Night
Sarah was bent over the stone table, the lamp's flame trembling with every breath of air, as though it shared her anxiety.
Shadows of bottles and glass vials wavered across the walls like restless ghosts, taking turns to judge her.
Her fingers, dusted with white powder, moved lightly between test tubes, scribbling hurried notes in a tense hand—
as if she were racing time itself before it slipped away.
Then came the sound.
Soft knocks.
Not the knock of a soldier seeking permission—
but the knock of someone afraid of waking a secret.
Nicolo entered.
This time, he carried neither the rigid authority of a royal guard nor the cold dignity of noble blood.
He carried something heavier.
Tired eyes, clouded with the dust of old prayers that had never been answered.
A face that refused to confess defeat, yet screamed it in silence.
Sarah stopped. She lifted her head toward him.
He smiled bitterly as he stepped closer.
"You're still awake?"
She replied softly, her smile never quite reaching her eyes:
"Science doesn't sleep."
Then she tilted her head slightly, studying him.
"But you… you look as though you're carrying a war greater than all of ours."
Nicolo sat on the edge of the table, his fingers brushing the glass without realizing it.
Then he looked directly at her—as though she alone could bear this confession.
"Do you know…"
His voice faltered.
"I never saw you as just a scientist.
You're more like a mirror… of something I once wished I could be."
Sarah raised an eyebrow slowly.
"Wished?" she whispered.
"Why do you speak as though it's a past that's already over?"
Nicolo closed his eyes.
This was not ordinary silence.
It was the silence of a man who had once inhaled the cold scent of a stone church again—
the echo of chants that bound his childhood,
the memory of his father's slaps blending with the toll of bells.
❖ The Royal Church – Within the Walls
He was only eight years old.
His small hand was forced into his father's iron grip as they crossed the ornate gates of the church.
The walls rose around him like gods carved of stone.
The towering ceiling hid the sky itself,
white pillars twisting upward like the bones of silent giants.
Candles melted slowly upon the altars—
hot wax dripping like tears,
as though weeping in place of the worshippers.
From the depths of the hall, the priests' voices rose—
not one voice, but a collective chorus, chanting in fractured devotion,
as if dragging the world down to its knees:
"O Wall, our eternal guardian,
Keep the stranger from us,
Keep the unknown beyond the light,
For we have no homeland… but you."
The people repeated the hymn with genuine tears, foreheads pressed to the cold stone floor.
Even the priests wept, their voices trembling—
believing and fearing at the same time.
Young Nicolo lifted his head.
His eyes wandered across the murals on the walls:
towering walls painted as sacred faces,
children smiling inside them—
but without eyes.
A shiver crawled through him.
And deep inside, a small question was born, pressing against his throat:
"What lies beyond the wall?"
Before the word could escape, his father crushed his shoulder, whispering harshly into his ear:
"Do not think.
The wall is enough for you."
It was not advice.
It was an order.
His mother followed behind them, silent—
a pale shadow flowing with her husband's steps.
She said nothing.
She protested nothing.
She offered no look of understanding.
She was obedience, given a body.
That night, back in the family manor, Nicolo sat alone in his room.
The candle before him burned slowly, its shadows trembling against the walls,
as though trying to flee an invisible prison.
He lifted his gaze to the narrow window,
where a stolen fragment of sky hung like a secret.
And he whispered—
a whisper no one heard:
"If the wall is everything…
why does my heart tell me there is more?"
But he dared not say it aloud.
The question hid itself.
Just as he did.
❖ Valdris Manor – The Hall of Mirrors
Adolescence
Night wrapped itself around the estate,
yet inside Valdris Manor, silence was heavier than any wall.
Candles stood in disciplined rows,
and the distant chants from the church slipped through the tall windows:
"O Wall… protector of souls… eternal shadow."
The hymn made fifteen-year-old Nicolo feel as though his heart were suffocating.
His father, Lord Walter Valdris, sat upon a massive wooden chair, wineglass in hand,
his eyes two stones untouched by mercy.
"You will soon join the Royal Military Police,"
he declared, as though delivering a sentence.
"The future of House Valdris is not squandered on fantasies of freedom.
We protect the throne.
We protect the king.
And we bow to the Wall."
Nicolo clenched his fists, fire burning in his chest.
"And what about me?
What about my dreams?"
The words were brave—
but his voice trembled.
His father laughed, a bitter, hollow sound.
"Dreams are a luxury for the poor.
We are Valdris.
You are born a guard…
and you will die a guard."
His mother, Eliana, intervened softly:
"Let him speak, Walter… perhaps—"
One glance silenced her.
She retreated into her habitual quiet,
a shadow too afraid to stand against the wall her life was built upon.
Nicolo, eyes wide with fury, said:
"The Wall is not a god.
It's a cage!
Can't you hear those chants?
They're crying—not praying!"
The slap came before he could finish.
Its echo filled the hall louder than the hymns themselves.
"Never repeat those words, Nicolo,"
his father thundered.
"You will learn loyalty…
or I will teach it to you by force."
Nicolo stumbled back, tears burning his eyes—
but he did not break.
He stood at the tall window, staring into the darkness beyond the walls, whispering:
"If I am destined to be a guard…
then I will guard the truth, not lies."
And within him, the first rebellion was born.
❖ The Present – Queen Historia's Palace
Now, after all those years, Nicolo stands behind Historia as her personal guard.
But within him…
the frightened boy no longer exists.
Every time Historia smiles at him with genuine warmth,
he feels she is the first queen worth protecting.
Not a stone idol.
Not a shadow of the Wall.
But a human being who wishes to break the chains themselves.
As Historia walks calmly among the people,
he sees in her the opposite of his father.
His father wanted him to guard the Wall.
She taught him to guard freedom.
❖ The Laboratory – Return from Memory
The vials breathed softly, the scent of alcohol filling the air.
Nicolo remained silent for a long moment,
as though the boy from his past had surfaced and sat beside him.
Then he lifted his eyes to Sarah, his voice no longer a confession—
but a wound laid bare:
"My father… is no longer the man who filled me with fear.
Since the truth of the Walls was revealed—
since their sanctity collapsed—
he collapsed with them.
He is weak now… sick.
And his eyes, once unshakable stone, now follow me as if accusing:
You are the reason. You are the traitor."
He gripped the edge of the table, his hand trembling.
"My mother?
She is still the same—
a shadow that follows him.
But now she feeds him, supports him, carries him from bed to chair.
When I visit…
I do not find a home.
I find a cold grave."
He paused, the next words heavier than the last.
"I sit before him, and he looks at me with empty eyes—
eyes that no longer see a son,
only a traitor who betrayed the Wall…
betrayed the goddess they built their lives upon."
He forced a bitter smile and looked at Sarah.
"That's why… when I'm here, in this laboratory, beside you…
I don't feel like I've betrayed anything.
I feel—
for the first time—
that I am guarding something worth guarding."
Sarah watched him quietly, feeling something crack open in his chest—
an inner wall beginning to crumble.
She stepped closer, placed her hand gently over his on the table, pressing lightly.
She did not say much.
She only whispered:
"Sometimes… true betrayal isn't leaving the Wall.
It's spending your entire life guarding it—
while it never guards you."
Their voices lingered in the laboratory like a new kind of prayer—
not to walls,
not to gods,
but to truth itself.
When the words faded, a strange silence fell.
Not empty—
but heavy with everything that had been said.
Only the sound of the burning wick remained,
and a small vial trembling at the edge of the table.
Nicolo rose slowly, as though shedding a burden he had carried for years.
He walked to the narrow iron window and opened it, letting cold air in.
And there—
He saw it.
A small white butterfly, wings pale and fragile, fluttering in the restless night.
Just a moment.
Yet it felt like a breach in an inner wall,
a message without words:
There is always something beyond the Wall.
Nicolo smiled faintly and whispered, as if answering it:
"Perhaps… I didn't betray anything.
Perhaps I only found a wing no one dared to see."
Sarah stood behind him, watching the butterfly with him.
She said nothing—
but she felt the silent wall between him and the world begin to crack.
And in the darkness of the laboratory,
a moment was born that resembled a prayer—
not for gods,
not for walls,
but for truth…
and for those brave enough to cray it 🦋
• Did you like Nicolo as a new character?
• Did his past feel believable and fitting within the Attack on Titan universe?
• Do you see him as a meaningful addition—or a dangerous complication?
• And most importantly: did his story move you?
Your comments, thoughts, and reactions truly matter to me.
They help me understand if this world I'm building resonates with you.
If you've read all the chapters so far, please let me know in the comments—I'd love to see how many of you are still walking this path with me 🕊️
And if this chapter touched you, don't forget to leave a like or a comment. Your support is what keeps this story alive.
Thank you for reading.
And thank you for giving Nicolo a chance.