Chapter Text
How long has this fight been going on? Minutes? Hours? It was hard to tell.
The sun was just beginning to set, the golden light slowly dropping. Every minute felt too long, with seconds going by in minutes. Everyone was tired and no one was energetic. Not like the beginning. They had been basking in adrenaline for too long.
It was no longer the slight feeling of excitement as they rode through, chasing after their target. That feeling had webbed away, as soon as the skies began to change colors.
The horses left trails behind, clouds of dust flying in the air as the animals ran at full speed.
Jean stared at the Armored Titan, then turned to Mikasa. She was out of it, he knew. As desperate as she was, she wasn’t quite… here. Her dark eyes were unseeing, half-lidded, and dull—more so than usual. And her body was stiff as a statue.
He swallowed. “Mikasa,” he called out. He faltered for a moment, as her attention turned to him. “P-pay attention.” He hoped he was able to convey what he wanted to say. He cursed himself for stuttering. With more confidence, he added, “We need to get Eren back.”
It was as if Mikasa had understood—maybe she did. Jean wasn’t sure. But she nodded and turned back to the target in question. He watched as her eyes sharpened, her dull eyes brightening. Her hand was on the handles of her blade, ready to jump at any moment.
How nice must it be to be Eren.
Jean was jealous. So, so, so , so jealous of Eren. That wasn’t sarcasm; it was the truth.
Eren was pleasant to the eye. His soft features and his tousled brown hair that never seemed to be brushed did not look untidy, but natural on his looks. He had a nice smile and nice friends who believed in him, no matter what.
Oh, what he would do to have someone like that.
Marco was dead… and he was the closest to what he would consider an Armin-Eren level of friendship. And even then, his friendship felt shallow compared to theirs.
He let out a sigh.
Furthermore, what Eren lacked in brains, he made up in strength. He was scarily good and efficient at fighting and he excelled in practical areas. He was like a magnet; people always came near him, as if attracted. It was confusing, to be honest.
Eren was in no way charismatic. He sucked at talking and was too easy to read. He lacked logical tactics and stuttered all the time. And yet… he was charismatic . He brought people together just by being there and strengthened people’s resolve without even saying anything.
For Jean, Eren was someone he wanted to be. Someone he looked up to, but he was also someone he hated.
It made no sense, right?
It didn’t to him, either.
Eren was clumsy, stupid, and everyone bet that he would be sent to the fields within a week. Jean was so confident that he bet his bread against Connie. But then Eren stayed and shined like the brightest star, easily rising up the ranks. Still, everyone believed Eren to be a simple person, nothing hidden, nothing to consider a secret.
And then Krista was kidnapped and they saw a whole new side to him.
A killer , Jean remembered thinking.
The cuts were too precise, too confident, and too swift. They were calculated and definitely made by someone who knew what they were doing.
Jean glanced up at the sky, suddenly feeling tired.
Eren had killed someone—some people in the past .
Maybe that was why he wasn’t terribly surprised when Eren turned out to be a Titan. He felt almost detached when he found out. His mind echoed a soft ‘Oh…’, almost like a realization, as Eren suddenly transformed. He still remembered the event quite clearly. Flashes of lightning and steam. Lots and lots of steam.
That reminds him…
“Eren better do some explaining after this,” Jean griped.
“Yeah…” Connie agreed softly. “Eren has so much to explain.”
Jean tilted his head, ever so slightly. He said, “And he better explain everything , or else I’m not sleeping in the same bunk as him.”
“He doesn’t even sleep in the same room as us anymore,” Connie pointed out.
The two laughed for a moment, reminiscing of the past. Those were the good times, where things weren’t as complicated. Everything was simpler… well, simple. Youthful. Almost childlike in a sense.
It was a feeling that they never realized, and it was something that they would never realize until it was gone.
Like now.
“The world outside is painful,” Ymir murmured.
She was right. The world outside is painful.
This was her perfect world. Their perfect world. A garden of paradise, where everything was perfect, and where all their deepest and darkest desires are fulfilled. As long as he stayed here, remaining blissfully ignorant of the occurrence of reality, he would be safe from pain. From the harsh reality.
But this isn’t right.
The perfect world… seemed not so perfect. Little bits and pieces felt unrealistic, like a cheap imitation. It felt fake underneath his fingers and it brought shivers down his spine. There was a voice at the back of his head, speaking, coaxing him to stay.
To remain here, just like back then .
“Stay here and you’ll be free.”
He was… in a way, free from the clutches of the chains. But a new one soon appeared, invisible, and yet, even stronger than before. These chains kept him in the forest, wearing down his mind, and bringing a state of depression; a period of uselessness, where he sought a purpose .
But he was no longer the person from his past.
He had grown in the last few years and he knew that. The resolve in him, hardening with every moment, is the proof. The him in the past would have never taken this path, especially with the knowledge that he would go through pain. Again. The him in the past would have taken the easier route—the road to the garden of paradise and obediently lived the rest of his life in a cheap imitation. And he would have been content.
The him now, the him in the present, would never be content.
He would never truly be happy.
And that’s why…
“I know. I know it’s painful,” he spoke.
He was still speaking in a lost tongue, fluently. It came easier to him, like a flow of water. His words weren’t as jumbled and they came out more eloquent, more… well, better .
Ymir tilted her head upwards. “Why do you want to return so bad?” She sniffed, rubbing her eyes a bit.
Because there’s something important.
But Eren didn’t say that. Instead, his gaze softened, and he murmured ever-so-softly, “Because I also have a family there.” He looked up from beneath his eyelashes, hesitant.
Ymir sniffed again. “You made me into this.”
“I know.”
“You wanted a friend—someone to stay by your side.”
“I know.”
“Am I not your family?” Ymir demanded softly.
There was a slight pause. “You are,” Eren answered. He smiled sadly, “And they’re my family, too.”
There was so much more he wanted to say. He wanted to comfort her—and of course, he wanted to stay with her! But… it was hard, because she remembered him, while he has no recollection of her. It was like trying to converse about past occurrences with someone with amnesia. There was no emotional connection. Just empathy and compassion.
That’s not right either, he thought.
There is an emotional connection. As small as it may be, it’s still there, and it exists.
He and Ymir are connected, one way or another. Maybe in ways he still doesn’t quite understand, but what matters is that he’s trying. He understands that there is something wrapped around them, connecting each other. But he still isn’t quite sure.
It feels as if he has the pieces. He has everything, and yet is unable to figure out where they’re supposed to be placed.
“Ymir,” he began. “What happened for you to end up here?”
He jolted up in surprise when the girl suddenly looked up, her blue eyes sharp, as they pierced through his green ones. It looked as if she was thinking, very deeply, and for a moment, he just stayed there, frozen.
“What—” Ymir blanched, then shook her head. “Nevermind. That doesn’t matter.”
It does, Eren wanted to say, but Ymir quickly continued, changing the subject as she spoke.
“You wanted power, didn’t you?” She took Eren’s hand and held them in her own. “I can help you.”
“Great—”
“ But ,” Ymir interrupted, she looked at Eren through her lashes. “If you want all of your power back, you’ll need to continue doing what you did.”
Eren blinked in bewilderment. “What?”
There was a sigh from Ymir. “You really don’t remember?” She asked.
Eren shook his head. “Sorry,” he apologized. “I don’t remember… anything. All that I can remember is… you, falling into the water. Sorry,” he said again.
“Don’t be,” her words came out sharper than expected. Eren flinched. “Just—just—I’ll take you back to the real world, but promise me that you’ll come back.” She looked at him pleadingly.
Her expression was desperate, her blue eyes wavering as she waited for his response. It pulled his heartstrings, making his eyes sting a little.
He swallowed. “I will,” he promised. “And…” he scratched his cheeks nervously. “How do I use it? The powers.”
Ymir paused for a moment, then responded, “Just… command them, I guess. If you order them to do something, the Titans will listen…” she lowered her voice, then added, “Always.”
“C-command? Like, demanding them to do something? W-wait, Ymir! H-how do I—”
But it was too late.
—Come back?
When Eren opened his eyes, still a little disoriented, he was immediately drawn to the shivering figure beside him.
Shivering? More like —
‘Bertolt.’
Except, his mouth was gagged, so it sounded more like a sequence of muffled incoherent noises.
He watched as Bertolt jolted upwards in surprise, almost flying several inches into the air when he noticed his awakening. It was almost laughable, if it wasn’t for the situation. Bertolt’s dark eyes steadily widened and he shortly began to tremble, shaking uncontrollably.
Eren would have said something reassuring, if he wasn’t tied up and gagged. Then again, what Bertolt might be looking for, may not be his comforting voice. Especially since it’s quite possible that it’s him that Bertolt is scared of.
But just as a precaution, he tilted his head, just enough to see who may be lingering behind him.
…
There was no one there.
Eren sighed and turned back and saw Bertolt flinch (again(. Seriously? Eren thought in mild disbelief. He glanced behind him and then back at Bertolt. The boy flinched again.
They sat underneath the Armored Titan’s clutch, right above its chest plate. The air around them was uncomfortable, a little dry.
“I know you hate us,” Bertolt suddenly said. He looked up to stare at Eren. “We destroyed your hometown, your family, and now… we’ve destroyed our friends. You have every right to hate us.” He laughed quietly. “Although… I was a little surprised when you said that you knew.”
Eren didn’t answer.
The other boy continued, “This means that you knew about Annie, too, right? That’s why you…” he trailed off, biting his lips.
No, Eren wanted to say. He didn’t eat Annie—not on purpose, anyway. Her being a Titan had nothing to do with it. But he was planning on killing her, not that he would ever be able to admit that.
Bertolt inhaled shakily. “J-just wait for a little longer, okay?” He looked up hopefully, then paused. “Oh…
“Here, I’ll take it off.”
The fabric that was around his mouth was gently taken off, freeing his mouth. Eren took a deep breath, then looked at Bertolt. There was no anger in him, it was all extinguished. He just felt tired.
“I did not want to eat her,” was the first thing he said. He averted his eyes, away from Bertolt, feeling uncomfortable. “I…” he shook his head. “I’m sorry—”
“What do you know?”
Eren jolted upwards in surprise at the harsh tone. His jaw slacked and he stared at Bertolt, shocked. The other boy stared back, just as surprised at his words, but he didn’t seem to regret it.
He sighed. “I do know,” he answered.
He watched as Bertolt faltered, stilling at his words. Dark eyes stared at him with uncertainty, becoming more and more fearful as the seconds went by.
“I do know,” Eren repeated. He paused to think, then added, “I know, because I had no choice too. I know how it feel… because I was like you too.”
That wasn’t what he wanted to say.
He looked towards Bertolt, who had an unreadable expression on his face. It was mixed with emotions that were hard to decipher, but maybe… he thought that maybe… Bertolt understood.
“Eren…” Bertolt swallowed. “Who are you?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he looked away, stiffening as the question registered in his mind.
Bertolt didn’t seem to mind his lack of an answer. He looked at his feet, fiddling them, then looked up through his lashes. “I… I don’t think you’re a human.”
Still, Eren didn’t answer.
“Why won’t you answer?” Bertolt asked tiredly. “Is it because I’m true?”
Eren bit his lips. “No,” he answered curtly. He turned his head back, staring at Bertolt, who cocked his head to the side.
“Why not?” Bertolt asked. “How am I wrong?”
“I am human.”
There was a pause, then, “Really?” It was obvious in his tone that he didn’t believe him. He looked down and murmured, “Even if you’re a human, you can still be a monster.”
He looked back up, straight into Eren’s green eyes. The next thing he said, was:
“All it takes is for someone to say that you are.”
The two silenced.
Finally, Eren asked, “Why are you asking me this?”
Why was Bertolt asking such… complicated questions? There was no need—It was the truth, after all. He was no human. Humans live and grow old, dying eventually, but Eren had not died—he never died, at least, he thought he never died.
But the doors to death had closed and would never open to him again. He would be resigned to living miserably, as one by one, everyone starts to die. He would be alone, again, a dark part of him whispered. Alone, without a purpose .
And that scared him.
Bertolt glanced to the left, then turned back to Eren. He shrugged, “It was just a thought,” he answered softly.
Then, Bertolt did something Eren never would have expected.
He started to laugh.
It was actually a chuckle. It began softly, barely audible, before morphing into a full-blown laugh. Bertolt covered his face with his hand and started shaking uncontrollably, his chest heaving with every sound. It was hard to tell whether it was amusement or something entirely else, but either way, Eren felt shivers go down his spine.
Bertolt’s laughter… was scary.
Eren slowly inched away, scooting back little by little. By then, Bertolt was on the ground, still laughing. In this cramped space—underneath Reiner’s hands, to be exact—It was a little uncomfortable.
If only there was a way to get out, he thought. He glanced at his tied hands then turned back to the other boy, who continued to laugh hysterically.
He looked away, slumping in his seat. He was tired. His head hurt and his eyes kept on twitching uncomfortably. The ropes around his wrist burned, and the familiar feeling, the feeling of being trapped, brought along long-lost memories of the past. Things that he would be glad to never see again.
It was hard to tell when, as he was buried in his thoughts, battling away the memories, but it was shortly after before the change in tone registered in his mind.
Bertolt was crying.
“ Please ,” he heard Bertolt sob. “ Please save us.”
But Eren wasn’t sure how.
Ymir had said that a simple command will do. She said that the Titans would follow his order.
Now was the perfect time to test it.
“Eren? What are you…” Mikasa trailed off uncertainty.
Eren stared back, just as hesitant. What if it didn’t work? What if Ymir made a mistake and he was unable to use it? He glanced at the nearing Titans. His eyes narrowed.
He raised his tied wrists, gesturing towards the ropes. “Take off, please,” he quickly said, sweating profusely as the adrenaline caught up to him. Gosh, he was tired.
Mikasa, despite her confusion, quickly untied the rope, expertly releasing the knot in a matter of seconds. Still, she turned to him, tentatively asking, “What are you going to do?”
He wasn’t sure either, was his honest opinion. But one glance was enough to show just how scared she was. It was unlike her, he thought for a moment. To be scared. His hand moved automatically, touching the slight trails of blood at the corner of his mouth. His fingers lightly tickled her cheeks, before moving down, gently caressing the item.
A flash of blonde hair.
Eren smiled. “It is okay,” he reassured. He didn’t wait for Mikasa’s answer, but stood up and turned away instead.
He straightened, his expression static, as he turned to stare at the horde of Titans.
An apple.
Everything felt slow, he thought. He could feel everything around him, almost as if he was hyper-aware of the situation. The grass rustled underneath his boots, the sounds of the ODM gear were muted, almost inaudible, and the nearing Titans almost looked to be slowing down, even though he knew that it was, in fact, the opposite.
There was no time to calm his heart. It beat against his ribcage, hitting it harshly. He could even feel the heartbeat against his arm, hammering wildly as he narrowed his eyes.
A tree.
Did he have to transform? He briefly wondered, but the trail of thoughts quickly ended. No, it was too late. There was no time. The Titans were so close and a moment of hesitation could cause the most terrible outcome. All he could do is pray that Ymir was telling the truth and hope for the best outcome.
Ymir, he thought. Slowly, he raised his arms, little by little, and outstretched it, as if he was waiting for something. His hand was held out, palm facing upwards.
A raging fire.
He whispered two words, barely audible, and yet it worked.
“Kill them.”
Lend me your strength.
Green eyes flashed to Amber in an instant, glowing brighter than ever. His expression was serene, almost unseeing, as electricity coursed through him. Power was addictive, he thought, as he felt something surge in his bloodstreams, spreading like warmth.
For a moment, everything was silent, as if the world had suddenly stopped. Then, as fast as it came, it resumed, with a Titan shooting past him and to the hoard of the Titans.
He sucked in a deep breath, awestruck, as he watched the Titans rip each other apart, limb by limb, head by head. Blood spurted everywhere, landing on everything, but he paid no mind. His mind was still on the aftereffects of this… something .
Eren took one step forwards, disregarding the alarmed shouts behind him. “The power…” he murmured. He found himself grinning as he felt tears blur his eyesight, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.
The sensation was phenomenal and he was still drunk on it. It felt as if everything had just clicked in place, as if the pieces were finally put where they were supposed to be, and the puzzle… now finished.
It was beautiful .
But he felt devastated at the same time.
A mixture of contradicting emotions, morphing into one big mess that he wasn’t quite sure what it was. The puzzle was now complete. The centuries-old puzzle was finally finished for him to look at… but it wasn’t what he wanted. It wasn’t something he expected. It was horrible.
Then again, wasn’t the truth always something he hated?
Eren stopped to take a deep breath. He wasn’t sure when, but he was kneeling on the ground on all fours, silent.
I was the demon all along, wasn’t I?
Right, Ymir?