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asciendo · 6 months ago

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Resurgence of the Founding

Summary: Eren Jaeger is resurrected centuries after the Rumbling, only to find the world still in turmoil, with Eldians oppressed and Marleyans in control. The Jaegerists ask for his help in protecting their people, but there’s a catch: Eren must be bethrothed and father an heir with the power to end the cycle of Titans once and for all.

content: eren jaeger x female reader

Warning: smut, violence, swearing

Chapters: Chapter 2/Chapter 3/Chapter 4/ Chapter 5

Eren Jaeger suddenly felt warm. He felt heat on his skin, the sweat on his brow. After so long of nothing, of ice cold nothingness, he felt the warmth of his breathing across his chest.

It’s been centuries after he passed, after the end of the rumbling that caused mass destruction. After his death, he felt nothing. Absolutely nothing but he remembered everything. Paradis, the titans, his friends…her. Everything. He wondered what happened after he died and what kind of lives his friends lived after. If the path he carved in blood and destruction led to something better, or had it only left them adrift, lost like he was now? These questions burned brighter than the newfound warmth, tethering him to the weight of his past, even as the world moved on without him.

The stinging sensation of bright light pierced through his closed eyelids, forcing them to flutter open in protest. For a moment, everything was a hazy blur—shapes and shadows shifting around him like a dream half-remembered. He blinked rapidly, his vision struggling to adjust, and slowly, the indistinct murmurs around him sharpened into words. Voices—unfamiliar and fragmented—filled his ears, each one tinged with curiosity and urgency.

His head throbbed as awareness seeped in, and his gaze focused. The blurry figures took form: people in sleek attire, some pointing at glowing devices in their hands, others exchanging quick glances. They surrounded him, a mix of caution and excitement etched across their faces. He squinted, finally taking in the world beyond them.

Towering buildings stretched high into the sky, their façades shimmering as if made entirely of transparent, reinforced glass. Light danced along their surfaces, reflecting the brilliance of a city alive and gleaming.

“He’s awake.” he heard one of the voices announce and the crowd around him began to stir. He blinked once more, trying to make sense of his surroundings as he slowly stood up.

“Eren Jaeger?” A tall man in a long coat stepped forward. Eren continued to look around at the people surrounding him, no one looked familiar to him at all.

“Eren Jaeger, is that you?” the man asked again and Eren just stared at him in confusion. “We did it.” another voice whispered next to the man.

“We-we brought you back. We really did…” The man whispered and Eren froze.

“Brought me back from where?!” Eren yelled and everyone stiled.

“Back to life.” The man said, proud. Eren’s head started spinning and he scanned the crowd. They all stared at him in awe.

“Who are you?! WHY DID YOU BRING ME BACK?!” Eren marched forward and the crowd stepped back in fear.

“Lucian…start talking.” A small woman next to the tall man, who Eren now knows is called Lucian whispers.

“W-we’re Jaegerists. Centuries after the rumbling, we still believe in Eldian liberation. Y-you see..it’s happening again. Our people…are suffering…because of those fucking Marleyans. My ancestor predicted it would happen again, even after your great sacrifice and it has…We–I brought you back because…we need you to fight with us.” Lucian finishes and Eren’s eyes widen.

It’s happening again, what he tried so hard to stop, is happening again. He took a step back and looked at his hands. How much more blood would he have to spill again?

Eren’s heart raced as the weight of their words hit him. His body felt heavy, his thoughts a turbulent mess. The familiar ache of guilt, regret, and loss surged within him. Mikasa, Armin, Historia—everyone—gone. The world he fought for, the bloodshed he caused, and the people he failed… he had lived with that pain for so long. And now, to be thrown back into a world that had moved on without him, to face the same fight, the same battle, was too much. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t go back.

“I don’t care,” he muttered, his voice low and cold, a familiar detachment creeping in. “I’m done. I don’t owe you anything.” His gaze swept over the Jaegerists, their desperate faces pleading with him. “You should send me back… to where I belong.”

Lucian stepped forward, his eyes pleading, his voice earnest. “Please, Eren, listen to us. You don’t understand. Our people are still suffering. The Marleyans have created new titans, they’ve kidnapped our families, they’ve turned them into monsters. And we, we need you. You’re the only one who can stop this. Only you can wield the Founding Titan’s power, only you can undo this nightmare. It’s all been prophesied. You have to help us.”

A woman from the crowd, her voice trembling, added, “My brother, my father—they’re Titans now. We can’t save them… but you can. You can bring them back. You can make it all stop.”

Eren’s eyes narrowed as their words sank in. His fists clenched at his sides, his breath coming in short bursts. Why? he thought. Why would they drag me back into this mess? I’ve already fought, I’ve already lost everything.

Yet, despite himself, something inside him stirred. The thought of his people, the thought of his family members turned into Titans, brought a cold fire into his chest. I couldn’t save them before… could I do it now?

His mind flashed back to the memories of his time on Paradis, the battles, the faces of those who fought alongside him. Mikasa, Armin, Levi... all gone. Would they have wanted me to fight again? He clenched his eyes shut, trying to push the thoughts away.

"You don't get it," he growled, voice breaking. "I tried. I tried to stop the cycle, to stop this endless suffering. I couldn’t even save my own friends. And you want me to go through it again? To stain my hands with more blood? For what? So you can carry on the same fight that took everything from me?"

Lucian’s expression softened, as if he understood the weight of Eren’s words. But his determination didn’t waver. “We know the cost, Eren. But we’ve seen the truth. We know that only you can end this. The Founding Titan’s power—it’s in you. You can stop the suffering, you can bring peace. You don’t have to do this alone, but you have to do it.”

Eren’s heart thundered in his chest as he looked at the faces surrounding him—desperate, pleading. But his mind was clouded with the suffocating weight of his past actions. He had brought ruin to so many, caused so much pain. How could he live with himself if he brought that same destruction once again?

A bitter laugh escaped him, as the image of his friends' faces flashed before him. “I don’t deserve their sacrifice. I don’t deserve any of it.”

"But you are their sacrifice," Lucian replied softly, the words like a dagger to his heart. "And it’s not just about you anymore. It’s about all of us. We need you, Eren. We can end this. You can end it."

Eren stared at him for a long moment, his thoughts tangled. He didn’t know if he could ever forgive himself for what he had done. But could he stand by and let more people suffer? Could he truly remain indifferent when he was the only one with the power to stop it?

The weight of their desperation, the lives of those still trapped in this never-ending cycle of war, pressed down on him. His hands trembled. Could he still be the person who made a difference?

Finally, with a resigned sigh, Eren lowered his gaze. “Fine,” he said quietly. “But don’t expect me to save you. Don’t expect me to be a hero. I’m doing this for them… and for the world we lost. Not for you.”

The crowd smiled and cheered which made Eren even angrier, they were basically celebrating bloodshed.

“Come with me, I’ll explain everything.” Lucian said, and led Eren to a mansion on the side of the road. Eren looked around and despite how different his surroundings looked, he felt a sense of familiarity.

“Is this–”

“Wall Maria. It still stands.” Lucian said.

“What is this place?” Eren whispered.

“This is Eldra Nova. What Paradis is now, where the Marleyans are keeping those who are descended from the Eldians. Much like before.”

They entered the mansion and was greeted by high ceilings and gothic architecture. “This was built a few years after the Rumbling, thankfully it was not destroyed and we were able to see a piece of the old Paradis.”

The house did look familiar to Eren in terms of architecture and he felt pang in his chest.

Lucian led him to a farther room, which Eren could deduce was the dining room and sat, Eren sat in front of him.

Lucian took a deep breath, his eyes heavy with the weight of the truth he was about to reveal. He lowered his voice, as if afraid the walls themselves might hear, and Eren leaned forward, his pulse quickening with a mix of anger and curiosity.

“The Marleyans... they’ve been toying with artifacts from Ymir. Old relics, things they never fully understood,” Lucian began, his gaze darkening. “After the Rumbling, we thought it was over, that the Titans were finally gone for good. But they didn’t stop. They found pieces of her, things from before the Founding Titan was lost. They thought they could control it, that they could use it to make weapons. They’ve been experimenting on Eldian artifacts for years—trying to awaken something new, something powerful.”

Eren clenched his fists, feeling the anger rising in his chest. “And now they’ve unleashed the mindless Titans again? You mean to tell me they’ve brought this hell back upon us?”

Lucian nodded grimly. “Yes. They’ve triggered a resurgence. But the worst part is, they still haven’t fully awakened the other Nine Titans. The mindless Titans—they’re nothing but shells. But the power of the Founding Titan, the power of the other Nine... it hasn’t manifested fully yet, and the Marleyans know it. They’ve used the Eldians—those who were turned into Titans—as weapons, blaming them for the destruction they themselves caused. They call us the cause of all this suffering, but they’re the ones who manipulated everything.”

Eren’s voice cracked as he stood abruptly, his fists trembling at his sides. “They caused this! They did this, and now they’re using our people as weapons? How dare they! We fought to stop this, to end the curse, and now this—this horror is back again because of them.”

Lucian’s expression was resolute. “I know, Eren. I know. And it’s because of that we need you. We can’t let them keep using the Eldians this way. They’re using our own people as pawns in their war while blaming us for the destruction they’re causing. But... there’s more. They’ve been developing new weapons from our resources—working with whatever remnants of Ymir’s power they can find.”

Eren felt his heart sink, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. “What do you want me to do? If what you’re saying is true… what needs to be done? Do you want me to do what I did before? Just… slaughter them all?”

Lucian hesitated, then shook his head. “To an extent, yes. But there’s something more. One thing we need that we didn’t have before: an heir.”

Eren’s brow furrowed in confusion. “An heir? Why?”

Lucian’s voice softened, almost as if he was trying to make Eren understand something he himself hadn’t fully accepted. “The offspring of the Founding Titan, combined with the blood of an Eldian… they’re the key to reversing the curse. The child born of that union will have the power of a new Titan—a Titan with the power to undo the transformations of those who have already been turned. The power to heal them.”

Eren froze. “You want me to… what? Create a child?” His voice was raw with disbelief. “I’m not doing that, Lucian. Never. I’ve seen what it costs. I’ve seen what happens when Titans are used like that, when bloodlines are manipulated to create monsters.”

Lucian’s eyes softened with regret. “I know, Eren. I know it’s a hard ask. But... you have to understand. This is our last chance. The Marleyans have locked us here, using our people as weapons. They’re creating new weapons from our resources. We’re being trapped in a cycle we can’t break without that child. You’re the only one who can stop this, and you’re the only one who can bring that child into the world. It’s the only way to end this.”

Eren slammed his hands on the table, his anger flaring like a wildfire. “How do you know this? How do you know all of this? How do you know about this... child?”

Lucian sighed, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the truth. “Because my family—my bloodline—they’ve known about Ymir’s legacy for generations. We’ve kept the records, the old writings. My grandfather was a scholar who spent his life researching Ymir’s power, tracing her bloodline, studying the Titans and the curse. He knew the truth. He knew that the Founding Titan’s blood could give birth to something new—something that could reverse the curse. I’ve seen his journals. This has been passed down in my family for centuries.”

Eren sighed heavily, slumping back into his chair as a weight settled on his chest. How could he even fathom being with anyone other than Mikasa? Despite everything that had happened, it was still her. He could still see her clearly in his mind—her almond-shaped eyes, the raven-black strands of hair that framed her face, her fair complexion, and the familiar red scarf she always wore around her neck. The memories of her, so vivid and constant, felt like an ache he could never escape.

“I know this is a lot to ask, but—”

“I’ll do it,” Eren interrupted, his voice sharp. Lucian paused, surprised by the quick response, but relief flooded his face almost immediately.

“Thank you, Eren… I knew bringing you back was the right choice. I’ll make sure everything is in place for you.”

Eren stood up, his fists clenched at his sides, feeling the weight of his decision settle on him. “You better. I didn’t come back to play their game.”

Lucian nodded solemnly, then hesitated before speaking again. “There’s one more thing. We’ve already… chosen women for you. You can take your pick.”

Eren’s stomach churned at the thought. His eyes darkened as he looked at Lucian. “Chosen women? You want me to pick like they’re objects?”

Lucian winced at the harshness of Eren’s tone but held his ground. “I know it’s not ideal, but we have to do this. It’s necessary for what’s coming. You’ll need an heir, Eren. And we’re trying to make this process as… manageable as possible.”

Eren’s fists tightened, his jaw set. The idea of choosing someone like that, reducing them to nothing more than a vessel, repulsed him. But he knew, deep down, that he had no choice. His resolve was all that kept him from shattering. He took a slow breath, forcing himself to swallow the bitter lump in his throat.

Lucian noticed the strain in his expression and nodded. “This is your home, by the way,” he said, gesturing to the mansion around them. “Get some rest. I’ll leave you to your thoughts for now.”

Eren nodded without saying anything, and Lucian bowed, then quietly exited the room. Eren was left alone in the silence, his mind racing with the enormity of what he had agreed to.

I know it's a bit long but just wanted to give a good introduction to the story, will be introducing y/n in the next chapter. :) Please let me know if you want to be on the tag list

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shiorihyugawrites · 3 months ago

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The Devil's Bride

Aurora Jaeger, Eren's long-lost childhood friend, was taken from him when they were children. After years of suffering under Marleyan control, Aurora is reunited with Eren while he’s undercover in Marley, igniting a bond neither of them expected. Despite her gentle nature, Aurora breaks her vow of pacifism to save Eren’s life, solidifying their deep connection. Secretly married before the Raid on Liberio, Aurora is swept into Eren's world of chaos and destruction. As the Scouts learn of her existence, tensions rise on the airship home. Mikasa’s heart shatters, and Levi demands answers. And Eren will stop at nothing to protect the only light left in his dark world—his bride, Aurora.

In this journey of love, loyalty, and war, Aurora must reconcile her innocent heart with the brutal reality of the man she loves, while Eren faces the truth of what he’s become. (Eren x OC)

Chapter Forty Seven

The Underground City beneath Wall Sina was a sprawling, dimly lit labyrinth, its stone tunnels stretching deep beneath the capital. Once a den of crime and poverty, it had been abandoned after the fall of the walls, its former residents forced to integrate with the surface world. Now, it was being repurposed as a last refuge, a desperate attempt to shield Paradis’ civilians from the devastation that was about to unfold.

With the countdown to the final battle against Marley ticking closer each day, Queen Historia had ordered a mass evacuation. It had been a difficult decision—forcing thousands of people to leave their homes, their livelihoods, their entire lives behind to take shelter underground. But there was no other choice.

Eren’s plan to activate the Rumbling meant the walls would fall. The colossal titans embedded within them would awaken, bringing destruction in their wake as they marched across the island. Additionally, Marley’s aerial bombings would certainly cause mass destruction. The goal was to limit as much collateral damage as possible, which was why the only safe place for civilians now was below the surface.

Even so, the citizens were not happy about it.

Aurora could hear the murmurs of discontent as she walked through the underground corridors, her presence drawing whispers from those who recognized her.

"Why are we being forced down here like rats?" a man grumbled nearby.

"We should be fighting," another muttered, arms crossed. "Not hiding."

"We don’t even know if this place is safe," a woman added, shaking her head. "What if the whole thing collapses when the walls come down?"

Aurora stopped and turned to face them, her hands gently resting over her swollen belly. She knew the frustration they felt—she understood their fear. But the reality was brutal, and they had no time for illusions.

"I know this isn't easy," she said, her voice steady but gentle. "But you all need to understand that this is the only way to keep as many people alive as possible. When the walls fall, we have no idea how much of the land above will be destroyed in the process. If you stay up there, you’re risking your lives. Down here, at least, you have a chance."

Some looked away, unwilling to meet her gaze, but others nodded reluctantly.

Historia had personally overseen the restoration of the Underground City over the past few weeks, working tirelessly to make it livable again. Buildings had been reinforced, old infrastructure repaired, and essential supplies brought in. It still wasn’t perfect—far from it—but it was safer than being on the surface when the Rumbling began.

The only ones not being evacuated were the soldiers. Eren, Levi, Hange, Armin, Jean, Connie, Sasha, Mikasa, Porco, Reiner, and Pieck, along with the hundreds of Jaegerists, were all staying above ground, making their final preparations for war.

Aurora hated that. She hated that Eren would be out there, fighting, while she was stuck down here, helpless. But there was no room for negotiation.

Eren had made it clear: she was not going anywhere near the battlefield.

Historia was the one in charge of ensuring Aurora stayed put, and Aurora knew she wouldn’t be able to get past her. The Queen was determined to keep her and the baby safe, and Aurora had resigned herself to the fact that she would be waiting in the depths of the palace in Capital Mitras while the world changed forever.

Still, that didn’t mean she couldn’t help in other ways.

She had spent the past few weeks overseeing food and medicine rationing, working alongside Historia and the Jaegerists to ensure that the civilians had enough to survive the next six weeks. It wasn’t easy—supply shortages were already becoming an issue—but they were managing. Barely.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of heavy boots approaching, and she turned to see Armin striding toward her, his blond hair messy from exhaustion.

"You need to sit down," he told her, his sharp blue eyes filled with concern. "You’ve been on your feet all day."

Aurora sighed. "I’m fine, Armin. There’s too much to do."

"You’re literally thirty-six weeks pregnant," he deadpanned, crossing his arms. "You don’t have to do everything."

Aurora knew he was right, but she didn’t want to stop. If she wasn’t working, if she wasn’t organizing and planning, then all she would have left was time to think—to dwell on the war creeping closer every day. On Eren. On what was to come.

Still, she let Armin guide her to a wooden bench near the main storage area, where Historia was hunched over a map, speaking with a group of Jaegerists about food distribution. Aurora could hear the exhaustion in her voice, but she was pushing through it, just as they all were.

“We’re estimating at least another five hundred civilians will be escorted here within the next few days,” Historia was saying, tapping a spot on the map. “This area here—we can set up temporary housing if we repurpose the old market space.”

One of the Jaegerists hesitated. “Your Majesty, we’re already stretching our food supplies thin. How much longer can we keep this up?”

Historia didn’t waver. “As long as we have to.”

Aurora spoke up then, her voice steady. “We can begin rationing more strictly. I’ve already started organizing medical supplies to ensure we don’t run out too quickly. If we manage everything carefully, we can make it through the next six weeks.”

The soldiers glanced at one another before nodding. They knew better than to question Aurora when it came to logistics.

Just then, the heavy thud of boots echoed against the stone as Levi and Mikasa entered the underground chamber, dust and grime coating their uniforms. Behind them, a dozen more Jaegerists followed, escorting another wave of refugees.

"We got another group from the outer districts," Levi announced, his voice sharp as ever. "If this keeps up, we’ll have the entire population of Wall Rose crammed into this dump."

Aurora could hear the frustration in his voice, but she also knew he would do whatever it took to keep these people safe. That was just the kind of leader he was.

"Is Eren still above ground?" she asked, trying to keep her voice neutral.

Levi's expression darkened slightly. "He’s still training the recruits with the Inferno Blades. But don’t ask me to check on him. The brat’s too damn stubborn to listen to anyone."

Aurora swallowed down the urge to press further. She already knew Eren was throwing himself into this, refusing to rest, pushing himself beyond reason. And with every passing day, the moment they had been dreading crept closer.

The Rumbling.

She could see it in Historia’s eyes too. The weight of everything pressed down on all of them, but Historia bore it in a different way. She wasn’t just a leader—she was a symbol of hope for the people. And yet, despite everything, despite knowing what was about to happen, Historia still carried herself with unwavering determination.

Porco wasn’t far behind, standing close to Historia, his sharp gaze scanning the room like a protective shadow. He had barely left her side since the attack, and though Aurora could see the occasional flicker of amusement in Historia’s eyes whenever he got too overprotective, she didn’t push him away.

The weight of war had changed all of them.

Aurora let out a slow breath, rubbing absentmindedly at her belly.

Noah, the little boy she had saved, suddenly appeared at her side, holding a small wooden cup of water. “Aurora, you should drink something."

She smiled down at him, touched by his concern. "Thank you, sweetheart." She took the cup and sipped at it as Noah beamed proudly.

Reiner had been watching from a few feet away, standing off to the side, arms crossed. Aurora could see the conflict in his expression—how he still felt out of place here, like he didn’t belong. But Noah ran to him without hesitation, tugging at his sleeve, and Aurora saw something soften in Reiner’s usually tense posture.

“We’re doing everything we can,” Historia finally said, her voice carrying across the chamber. “This isn’t ideal, but we have to prepare for what’s coming. And when the time comes, we’ll fight.”

No one argued.

Because they all knew she was right.

Aurora clenched her fingers into the fabric of her dress.

They had no other choice.

…

Levi had been watching Aurora closely for the past hour, his sharp eyes catching the way her movements had slowed, how she leaned against the table just a little too long after organizing the latest food rations. She was trying to mask it, keeping up her usual determined pace, but Levi had been around long enough to recognize when someone was pushing themselves too hard.

And Aurora was pushing herself too damn hard.

Historia had noticed too. As the queen stood beside him, reviewing another set of evacuation plans, her gaze flickered toward Aurora with barely concealed concern.

“She’s been working all day without stopping,” Historia murmured, crossing her arms. “I swear, I’ve never seen a more active pregnant woman in my life.”

Levi grunted in agreement, already stepping forward. He didn’t waste time with pleasantries—he simply grabbed Aurora’s arm in a firm grip, ignoring her startled look.

“Alright, that’s enough,” he said flatly, already steering her toward the exit.

Aurora tried to protest, digging her heels in. “Captain, I’m fine—”

“You’re done,” Levi cut her off, unimpressed. “I’m not about to let you work yourself into early labor. You’re going back to the base.”

Historia arched an eyebrow. “Captain, we still have work to—”

“I don’t care,” Levi said, throwing Historia a look over his shoulder. “Jaeger would bitch in my face all night if I let his wife drop from exhaustion. She’s done for the day.”

Aurora sighed, exasperated. “Captain, really, I—”

“Shut up,” Levi said. “I’m taking you back to your husband.”

Aurora blinked, thrown off by the edge in his tone. But before she could respond, Levi had already led her above ground, guiding her toward the black horse he had tied up outside.

With practiced ease, he mounted the horse before reaching down and hoisting Aurora up in front of him, settling her securely between his arms.

“Captain—”

“Just relax,” Levi said dryly. “Not like you have a choice.”

Aurora huffed but didn’t argue further. She was tired, she had to admit that much. And as the horse began its steady gallop toward the Jaegerist base, she found herself leaning slightly against Levi’s chest, exhaustion finally catching up to her.

By the time they arrived at the training grounds near the base, Aurora could hear the sounds of clashing steel and the shouts of Jaegerist recruits echoing through the air.

Levi pulled his horse to a stop and dismounted first, before turning and effortlessly lifting Aurora down. She barely had time to steady herself before he was already marching toward the training grounds, his eyes locked onto one particular figure.

Eren.

Aurora spotted him immediately, his dark hair damp with sweat as he moved through the recruits, demonstrating how to properly wield the Inferno Blades. His movements were fluid, controlled, but there was a lethal edge to him, a barely contained intensity that never seemed to fade.

The moment Eren turned and saw her, his green eyes widened slightly before narrowing in question.

Levi wasted no time. With barely any effort, he grabbed Aurora again and quite literally dumped her into Eren’s arms.

“Make sure she actually rests,” Levi said bluntly. “She’s been running herself ragged.”

Aurora yelped slightly as she landed against Eren’s chest, his strong arms immediately wrapping around her instinctively. She tilted her head back to glare at Levi, but the Captain was already turning away, mounting his horse again.

Eren, however, kept his gaze locked on her, his expression shifting into something between concern and amusement.

“She’s been working all day?” he asked, glancing up at Levi.

“Like a damn lunatic,” Levi muttered. “Make sure she doesn’t get up unless it’s to eat or piss.”

Aurora scoffed. “Captain, I—”

Levi didn’t wait to hear her protests. With a sharp tug on the reins, he turned his horse around and galloped off, leaving her standing in Eren’s arms.

For a long moment, Eren just stared at her, his jaw tightening.

“Are you seriously overworking yourself again?” he asked, his tone low, though there was a clear note of irritation.

Aurora sighed, pressing a hand to his chest. “I’m fine, Eren.”

Eren exhaled sharply through his nose, clearly unconvinced. His hands slid down to cup her waist, firm but gentle as he pulled her closer. “No, you’re not. You need to rest.”

Aurora huffed, but the way Eren was looking at her made her stomach twist with warmth. There was worry in his eyes, a depth of concern that had only grown stronger as her pregnancy progressed. He wasn’t just protective—he was downright obsessive when it came to making sure she was safe.

“I just… want to help,” Aurora murmured, glancing away.

“You are helping,” Eren countered, tilting her chin up so she had to meet his gaze. “But you’re not doing anything if you collapse.”

Aurora bit her lip, knowing he had a point.

Eren sighed before he bent down slightly, tucking his arms beneath her legs and effortlessly lifting her into his arms.

“Eren—!” Aurora gasped, gripping his shoulders.

“You’re done for today,” Eren said simply, carrying her toward the base. “No more arguing.”

Aurora gave up fighting. Instead, she just curled into him, her head resting against his shoulder as he carried her inside.

She supposed Levi had been right.

She really did need the rest.

…

The recruits had been training relentlessly for hours, their bodies drenched in sweat, their muscles aching from the sheer intensity of their drills. Many of them had idolized Eren Jaeger from the moment they set foot in the Jaegerist ranks. He was the symbol of their revolution, the man who had declared war on the world and was going to bring Paradis its long-awaited freedom. To them, Eren wasn’t just a leader—he was nearly godlike.

But now, as they watched him carry his pregnant wife in his arms, murmuring something softly to her as she tucked herself against his chest, the recruits couldn’t help but stare in stunned silence.

This was not the Eren Jaeger they were used to.

The Eren they saw in battle was ruthless, a terrifying force of destruction that could rip through entire armies without hesitation. Even when he trained them, there was no leniency—only grueling, relentless drills that left them gasping for breath.

Yet here he was, holding Aurora as if she were the most fragile thing in the world, his hardened expression softened into something almost unrecognizable. He wasn’t barking orders or glaring at them with those intense green eyes. Instead, he was whispering something low enough that only she could hear, his fingers brushing against her platinum hair, his movements careful and deliberate as if making sure she was comfortable.

A few recruits exchanged glances, unsure of how to process what they were seeing.

One of them, a younger boy barely out of his teenage years, hesitantly leaned toward his squadmate. “Is that… really the same guy who trained us this morning?” he whispered.

His squadmate, a girl with her arms crossed over her chest, shook her head, equally as baffled. “I don’t know… I mean, I knew he was married, but I didn’t think he’d be… like that.”

They weren’t the only ones whispering amongst themselves.

One of the older recruits scoffed, crossing his arms. “Tch. Can’t believe this is the same guy who wiped out Liberio. Looks almost… normal.”

Another recruit, a more seasoned soldier who had been around long enough to witness Eren’s transformation over the years, chuckled under his breath. “You lot forget he’s human? He’s not some mindless war machine. He’s got a wife, and she’s carrying his kid. Makes sense he’d be different around her.”

That thought alone unsettled some of them.

Eren Jaeger, a loving husband? A father-to-be?

It was almost too much to wrap their heads around. To many of them, Eren was more myth than man. He was the embodiment of their cause, the relentless warrior who would free them all. Seeing him this way—so gentle, so… devoted—it was jarring.

Another recruit hesitated before speaking. “I just thought… he’d still be the same, you know? Even with a wife.”

The more seasoned soldier shrugged. “Everyone has something they care about.”

A hush fell over them as they continued watching.

Eren had reached the entrance of the base now, and just before he carried Aurora inside, he paused, his gaze flickering over his shoulder.

The recruits tensed.

His sharp green eyes scanned over them, his expression unreadable for a long moment. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he turned away, carrying Aurora into the building without another word.

The tension among the recruits lingered long after he was gone.

One of them let out a shaky breath. “That was weird.”

Another nodded. “Yeah… but it makes sense, I guess. She’s… she’s different.”

A silence settled over the group, and for the first time, some of them began to realize something they hadn’t considered before.

Aurora Jaeger wasn’t just Eren’s wife.

She was someone who had an undeniable influence over him. The way he had softened with her, the way he had carried her away from their drills without a second thought—it was clear that no matter how hardened Eren was, Aurora was the one person who could pull him back from the abyss.

And that, more than anything else, left an unsettling thought lingering in the minds of the recruits.

If something ever happened to her… what would become of Eren Jaeger then?

Meanwhile, Eren carried Aurora into their bedroom, the door creaking softly as he kicked it open. His hold on her was firm yet impossibly gentle, as if she were the most precious thing in the world, something he had to protect at all costs. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he walked with purpose, his arms tightening around her just the slightest bit.

“Aren’t you being a little dramatic?” Aurora huffed, shifting in his grasp, though she didn’t actually try to escape.

Eren ignored her completely as he stepped forward and carefully set her down on their bed. His hands lingered, steadying her for a moment, his thumbs brushing against the softness of her waist. He looked at her for a long second, his expression unreadable, but there was something intense in the way his emerald eyes bore into her—something possessive, protective.

“You’re staying here,” he finally said, his voice brokering no argument. “And you’re going to rest.”

Aurora scoffed, crossing her arms. “I wasn’t even tired—”

She never got to finish the sentence.

Before she could so much as blink, Eren leaned down and crushed his lips against hers.

Aurora gasped against his mouth, her entire body tensing in shock. But Eren wasn’t giving her a chance to argue, wasn’t giving her space to breathe. His lips moved over hers with a hunger that sent a fire coursing through her veins, a desperate kind of urgency that made her forget every single thought in her head. His hands slid up her body, one gripping the side of her neck, fingers threading into the soft strands of her platinum hair as he tilted her head back, deepening the kiss.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle.

It was raw, overwhelming, like he was pouring everything he felt into her—his love, his frustration, his desperation to keep her safe.

Aurora’s breath hitched as his tongue swept against hers, slow and deliberate, claiming her completely. A soft, helpless sound escaped her throat, and Eren swallowed it greedily, his grip on her tightening, pulling her closer like he couldn’t stand to have even an inch of space between them.

His teeth grazed her bottom lip, nipping just enough to make her gasp before soothing the spot with another slow, intoxicating stroke of his tongue. It was dizzying. Mind-numbing. She couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything except melt into him, her fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as if he was the only thing keeping her grounded.

Eren groaned into her mouth, a low, deep sound of approval, and the vibration of it sent shivers down her spine. He was relentless, not letting up for a second, stealing every breath she had, every ounce of strength, until her body was pliant in his hands, trembling under his touch.

Aurora didn’t know how long the kiss lasted—seconds, minutes, eternity—but by the time Eren finally pulled back, her lungs were burning, her entire body flushed with heat. She was left breathless, her lips tingling, swollen from the intensity of his touch.

When she opened her eyes, she found Eren staring at her, his expression smug and far too satisfied with himself.

“Still want to argue with me?” he murmured, his voice husky, laced with amusement.

Aurora blinked up at him, dazed, her mind struggling to catch up. “You…” she started, then scowled as she realized she had completely lost her train of thought. “That… That was dirty.”

Eren smirked, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip, admiring the way it was already puffy from his kisses. “Worked, didn’t it?”

Aurora glared at him, her cheeks still burning. “You’re manipulative.”

“And you’re stubborn,” he shot back. “Which is why I have to make sure you listen.”

Aurora exhaled sharply, still trying to steady her breath. “I was listening.”

Eren arched a brow. “Yeah? And what was I saying?”

Aurora’s lips parted, but no words came out. Damn it. She had completely forgotten.

Eren chuckled, the sound deep and satisfied. “Exactly.”

He leaned in again, pressing one last lingering kiss to her forehead before pulling away completely. Aurora expected him to climb into bed beside her, to wrap her up in his arms like he always did, but instead, he straightened, taking a step back.

“I have to get back to training,” he told her, his voice softer now, but still firm. “I’ll come back when I’m done.”

Aurora frowned. “You just carried me all the way here to make me rest, and now you’re leaving?”

Eren smirked. “Because you need to rest. I don’t.”

She huffed. “You need rest just as much as I do.”

Eren shrugged, not bothering to argue. Instead, he bent down and brushed another quick kiss against her lips, much softer this time, but just as possessive.

“Stay put,” he murmured against her mouth. “I’ll be back soon.”

Aurora sighed, watching as he turned and headed for the door.

She still hated the idea of him overexerting himself, but at least he had gotten her to actually lie down. She supposed that was a victory in his eyes.

Still, as he disappeared through the doorway, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she already missed him.

…

A few hours passed and Aurora shifted restlessly in bed, staring at the ceiling as the dim candlelight flickered against the walls. Sleep refused to come, no matter how much she willed herself to relax. She sighed, rubbing a hand over her belly, feeling the faint, rhythmic kicks of her child. It was comforting, but it didn’t settle the unease gnawing at her chest. Eren wasn’t back yet, and even though she knew he would be fine, she couldn’t stop herself from worrying.

Frustrated, she sat up, throwing the blankets off her legs. Maybe she just needed to keep herself busy. That always worked when her mind was too loud.

Slipping off the bed, Aurora padded quietly across the room and began tidying up. She reorganized their things, folding clothes, straightening the pillows, and dusting off the nightstand. Eventually, she found herself at the small bookshelf tucked in the corner of their bedroom. The wooden shelf was slightly worn, its contents a mixture of old books, some of which she recognized as Historia’s.

Her fingers traced over the spines, stopping on a particularly aged book with a delicate leather cover. The title was faintly imprinted in gold, nearly faded with time. She pulled it out, feeling the weight of it in her hands, the edges of the pages slightly frayed. Something about it drew her in.

Curious, she made her way to the balcony, wrapping her shawl around her shoulders as she stepped into the cool night air. The moon hung high, bathing the Jaegerist compound in a soft silver glow. Below, she could see the recruits still training, their movements sharp and disciplined under the watchful eyes of the senior soldiers.

Settling into the rocking chair, she adjusted her shawl, pulling it tighter around her body before opening the book.

The first page revealed the name Krista Lenz.

Aurora tilted her head, intrigued. The name felt oddly familiar, but she couldn’t place why.

As she read, the story unfolded before her—a tale of a girl who was pure of heart, selfless beyond measure, someone who always put others before herself, even at the cost of her own happiness. Krista was kind, gentle, and willing to bear any burden if it meant easing the suffering of others. She was praised for her virtue, admired for her unwavering compassion.

Aurora turned the pages, engrossed. But the more she read, the deeper an unsettling feeling bloomed inside her.

She saw too much of herself in this girl.

Krista reminded her of who she used to be in Marley—before everything changed.

Back then, Aurora had been soft, docile, obedient. A servant girl who always did as she was told, who never spoke out of turn, who smiled even when her heart ached. She had spent years serving the Tybur family, catering to their every need, always making herself small, quiet, agreeable. It wasn’t just because she had to—it was because she had believed it was the right thing to do.

She had convinced herself that her suffering didn’t matter, that as long as she was useful, as long as she kept others happy, then her existence had value.

Aurora swallowed thickly, gripping the book tighter.

She had spent so long trying to be perfect, trying to be good.

Trying to be like Krista.

And yet, in the end, it hadn’t mattered. The Tyburs still treated her like a disposable tool, an object they could discard when she was no longer convenient. She had been used, discarded, betrayed. It wasn’t kindness that saved her. It wasn’t selflessness. It was Eren. It was the rage she had buried deep inside her for so many years, the fury that finally broke free the day he pulled her out of that golden cage.

Her fingers trembled as she turned another page.

Krista suffered. She endured. She gave everything for others.

But was she ever truly free?

Aurora exhaled, closing the book and pressing it against her lap. The wind blew gently, tousling strands of her platinum hair as she stared out at the horizon, lost in thought.

Something about this story didn’t sit right with her.

It was too perfect, too idealistic, too… romanticized.

Her gut told her there was more to this tale—something hidden beneath the flowery words and moral lessons.

And then, a shiver ran down her spine.

It was faint, barely there, but she felt it.

A presence.

Watching. Observing.

Her grip tightened on the book as her pulse quickened.

Ymir.

Aurora wasn’t sure how she knew, but she knew. It was the same feeling she always got when the Founder’s presence lingered near her—something ancient, something beyond comprehension, something that existed in the spaces between reality and dreams.

She had been feeling it more often lately, as if the Founder was watching her more closely than before.

And for the first time, Aurora wondered if Ymir had something to do with this book.

Her fingers ghosted over the cover, tracing the name Krista Lenz.

Who was she really?

And why did this story feel like something more than just a simple tale?

Aurora continued to turn the pages slowly, her fingers trailing over the delicate, aged parchment. The book had been filled with poetic descriptions of Krista Lenz, a girl of virtue and selflessness, but as she neared the end, something entirely different caught her attention.

An illustration.

Unlike the neat lines of text that filled the previous pages, this was the only drawing in the entire book. It was striking, unsettling even. Her ice-blue eyes widened as she took in the eerie details.

On the left page, a monstrous, grotesque figure loomed, hunched over with thick sinewy muscles twisting beneath its exposed flesh. Its face was contorted into a terrifying grin, rows of sharp teeth bared, its deep-set eyes brimming with something ancient and relentless. Its long, clawed fingers stretched out, and in its palm dangled a small lantern.

Aurora's stomach twisted.

A Titan?

It had to be a depiction of one of the early Titans, one of the first ever created. But why was it here? What did this have to do with Krista Lenz?

Her gaze shifted to the right page.

A girl.

Dressed in a flowing, modest dress, her long hair cascading down her back in soft waves. Her hands were stretched outward, as if offering herself—or surrendering—to the figure across from her. There was something delicate about her stance, yet something deeply unsettling as well.

Aurora's breath caught in her throat.

Something about the hooded figure standing before Krista made her blood run cold.

It wasn’t just that the figure was covered in a dark hood. It was something more.

Something familiar.

She didn’t know why, but every nerve in her body screamed that she had seen this posture before. The way the figure stood, its form rigid, slightly hunched as though carrying a weight too heavy to bear. The quiet yet commanding presence. The looming aura of something inevitable.

Her fingers trembled as she reached out, grazing the figure on the page as her mind raced.

Why does this… remind me of Eren?

The thought came unbidden, but once it was there, she couldn’t shake it.

If Krista was meant to represent the perfect, selfless girl… then who was this?

Before Aurora could even process another thought, the world around her shifted.

The ground beneath her vanished, the cool night air was ripped away, and suddenly—she was falling.

Aurora’s breath caught in her throat as her vision went black, weightlessness overtaking her. But then, just as quickly, her feet landed against something solid. The sensation was strange—like stepping onto soft sand, yet there was no dust, no movement, no wind.

Just silence.

She gasped, her hands darting out instinctively as she tried to steady herself, her eyes darting around in confusion.

A vast, endless expanse stretched before her. The sky was a void—neither day nor night, just an infinite horizon that stretched forever in a muted blue hue. The sand beneath her feet was pale and lifeless, like powdered bone, and in the distance, the towering branches of an enormous tree loomed, its roots sprawling endlessly in every direction.

Aurora’s heart pounded in her chest.

She knew this place.

She had been here before.

The Paths.

A low, shuddering breath escaped her lips as she turned her head.

And then she saw her.

Ymir.

The founder.

Standing directly in front of her.

Aurora’s breath hitched, her fingers curling at her sides.

The girl was small, barefoot, dressed in a tattered linen gown that hung loosely off her frail frame. Her face was expressionless, her sunken eyes vacant, hollow—like looking into an abyss that had long since been emptied of hope.

A chill ran down Aurora’s spine as she met that unblinking gaze.

The Paths were not a place she ever chose to come to. Ymir always pulled her in, always summoned her without warning. But why now?

Why after seeing that illustration?

Aurora swallowed, forcing herself to speak, her voice barely a whisper.

“Why did you bring me here?”

Aurora's heart pounded in her chest as she stared at Ymir’s hollow, sunken eyes. The air in the Paths was thick with silence, pressing down on her, making every sound feel insignificant, swallowed by the vast emptiness.

She took a shaky breath, steadying herself on her feet. The pale sand beneath her felt weightless, as if she wasn’t standing on solid ground but floating in an endless void. And yet, Ymir stood there, still as a statue, watching her with an expression that wasn’t quite blank, yet wasn’t quite there either.

Aurora swallowed, forcing herself to speak.

"Why did you bring me here?" she repeated, her voice quiet but firm.

No answer.

Ymir simply stared, unblinking, her face unreadable.

Aurora took a step forward. "Ymir… why? Why did you summon me?"

Still, nothing.

The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Ymir’s presence was overwhelming, but not in a menacing way—it was eerie, unsettling. She was ancient, a relic of suffering and history so vast that Aurora couldn’t even begin to fathom what she had endured.

She clenched her fists. "What do you want from me?"

Nothing.

No words. No gestures. No indication that Ymir even acknowledged her words.

Aurora’s frustration bubbled beneath her skin, but she forced herself to remain calm. There was no use in getting angry—not with someone like Ymir, someone who had existed in this liminal space for over two thousand years, building Titans with her bare hands, bound to a fate she never chose.

Then, something clicked in Aurora’s mind.

Asking questions directly wasn’t working. Ymir had never spoken before, at least not in any way that anyone could understand. If she wasn’t answering, maybe it wasn’t because she didn’t want to, but because she couldn’t.

Aurora took a deep breath and changed her approach.

“…Thank you,” she said softly.

The words felt strange leaving her lips, not because she didn’t mean them, but because she had never imagined herself thanking someone as enigmatic and terrifying as Ymir Fritz. But she was grateful. No matter what Ymir’s reasons were, she had helped her before.

Aurora’s voice was steadier as she continued. "Back when those Titans attacked… when the fire was spreading and we were trapped… you helped me. If you hadn’t appeared, if you hadn’t shown me the way out, Historia and the Azumabitos—we would’ve all burned alive. You saved us."

She studied Ymir carefully, watching for any reaction.

For a long moment, there was nothing.

Then—just the faintest twitch.

Aurora’s breath hitched.

Ymir’s lips moved. Barely. It was almost imperceptible, but Aurora saw it. A tiny, fleeting movement. Her fingers, which had been stiff and unmoving, curled ever so slightly, as if something within her had stirred.

It wasn’t much.

But it was something.

Aurora took a careful step closer. "You can hear me, can’t you?"

Ymir didn’t respond, but she didn’t look away either.

Aurora exhaled, feeling the weight of the moment press against her chest. She didn’t know what this meant, but she knew one thing—she wasn’t imagining this. Ymir had reacted to her words. For the first time, the ancient girl who had built the Titans with her own hands had acknowledged her.

And Aurora had a feeling that meant something far greater than she could possibly understand.

Her breath was slow and deliberate as she inched closer, careful not to startle Ymir. The way she stood there, motionless, expression hollow, reminded Aurora of a wounded animal—one that had long since stopped fighting back.

She hesitated for a moment, then extended her hand.

"Ymir…" her voice was soft, cautious. "It's okay."

Ymir didn’t react. Not at first. Her fingers twitched again, a barely-there movement, but Aurora saw it.

Encouraged, she continued. "I just want to hold your hand."

For a moment, she thought she saw something flicker in Ymir’s empty eyes. It wasn’t emotion, not exactly, but a glimmer of something just beneath the surface, buried deep.

Aurora kept her movements slow and steady as she reached forward. Ymir’s hand twitched once more, then went still.

She took that as permission.

Her fingers wrapped gently around Ymir’s hand, and the instant they touched, a deep, suffocating chill shot through her.

Aurora gasped.

It was unlike anything she had ever felt before—not just cold, but something more, something ancient. It was as if she could feel the weight of two thousand years of suffering pressing into her skin, sinking into her very bones.

Ymir’s hand was small and delicate, but it felt lifeless, as if it had been drained of warmth long ago.

Aurora squeezed it gently, cradling it between her own hands.

"You're not alone," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "Not anymore."

And then she saw it.

A single tear.

Aurora��s breath hitched as she watched it slip down Ymir’s pale cheek.

She was crying.

The realization sent a sharp pang through Aurora’s chest.

For two thousand years, Ymir had been alone, forced to obey, forced to serve. No one had ever reached out to her—not with kindness, not with warmth. She had been used, discarded, treated as nothing more than a tool, a vessel.

And now, for the first time in centuries, someone was touching her.

Not to command her.

Not to hurt her.

But to comfort her.

Aurora swallowed past the lump in her throat. She lifted her other hand and, hesitantly, brushed away the tear from Ymir’s cheek with her thumb.

Ymir flinched at the contact. It was barely noticeable, but Aurora felt it.

Still, she didn’t let go.

"You’ve been alone for so long," Aurora murmured, her own voice thick with emotion. "Haven’t you?"

Ymir still didn’t speak. But she didn’t pull away, either.

Aurora tightened her grip slightly, just enough to reassure her. "You don’t have to be anymore."

More tears followed.

They slipped down Ymir’s face in slow, silent streams, as if they had been locked away for centuries and were only now finding their way out.

Aurora couldn’t stop her own tears from welling up. She didn’t even know why she was crying, but something about Ymir—about this moment—felt so unbearably heavy.

For so long, she had thought of Ymir as some distant, untouchable entity. The Founder. The one who shaped the Titans. A being of legend, of myth.

But standing here now, holding her trembling hand, she didn’t see a god.

She saw a girl.

A lonely, broken girl who had suffered more than anyone ever should.

Aurora exhaled shakily. "It’s okay to cry," she whispered. "You don’t have to be strong all the time."

Ymir closed her eyes, and for the first time since Aurora arrived, she moved.

Slowly, hesitantly, she turned her hand over and gripped Aurora’s in return.

Aurora’s heart clenched.

It was the smallest gesture, but it meant everything.

She squeezed back, her fingers wrapping securely around Ymir’s.

"You’re not alone," she repeated, her voice barely above a breath.

For the first time, Ymir Fritz looked at her—not just an empty, hollow stare, but something deeper.

Something raw.

Something human.

But then, Aurora’s heart clenched when Ymir suddenly pulled away from her grasp, retreating as if the fragile moment they had shared had never happened. The warmth—or rather, the lack of it—that had lingered in Aurora’s palm faded almost immediately.

"Ymir?" she called softly, stepping forward again, hesitant.

But Ymir didn’t look at her.

Aurora watched, perplexed, as a small wooden bucket materialized at Ymir’s feet. Without hesitation, the ancient girl knelt on the vast, endless plane of sand and began to scoop and shape it with her bare hands.

At first, Aurora thought she was simply building some kind of structure—perhaps a wall, a home, something small and insignificant.

But then she noticed the strange precision in Ymir’s movements. The way her hands worked with methodical efficiency, sculpting something much larger than what Aurora first assumed.

Aurora frowned. "What are you—"

She blinked.

And in the time it took for her eyes to close and reopen, the small pile of sand had transformed into something enormous.

A titan.

Aurora’s breath hitched.

What the hell?

She stepped back, her pulse quickening as her gaze trailed up the massive figure Ymir had built in what felt like a single instant. The details were too precise, the structure too perfect. It was as if she had spent years constructing it—except she hadn’t.

Aurora shook her head, trying to dispel the disorienting sensation creeping up her spine.

Time worked strangely in the Paths. She had felt it before, but this—this was something else entirely.

A minute ago, Ymir had barely started.

Now there was a completed titan standing in the sand before them.

Aurora turned to Ymir, still kneeling, still building. The girl’s hands worked tirelessly, scooping up more sand, molding, shaping—creating.

Aurora’s stomach churned.

This wasn’t just any titan.

This was real.

She could feel it, somehow, deep within her bones. This titan was forming somewhere in the real world right now.

"Ymir, stop!" Aurora tried again, louder this time. She took a step forward, reaching for her, but Ymir ignored her completely.

She kept building.

Aurora’s chest tightened. "Ymir, please—look at me!"

No response.

Nothing but the sound of shifting sand, of hands working, of creation in motion.

Aurora could feel herself slipping—losing all sense of time, of space. Had it been minutes? Hours? Years? She felt lightheaded, like she had been here forever, watching Ymir build, and build, and build.

She gritted her teeth. This isn’t real. It’s only been a few minutes. It’s just the Paths messing with you.

Still, she couldn’t shake the unsettling sensation crawling beneath her skin.

She tried again. "Ymir—"

Before she could finish, a violent force ripped through her body.

Her vision blurred, her breath caught in her throat, and suddenly—

She was falling.

Aurora gasped, clutching the arms of her rocking chair as she was yanked back into reality with a force so strong it made her stomach lurch.

She sucked in a sharp breath, heart hammering wildly against her ribs.

She was back.

The wooden balcony beneath her feet. The cool night air. The book still resting in her lap, its worn pages open to the illustration that had started all of this.

Aurora’s hands trembled as she pressed them against the book, her fingers tightening around the edges of the paper.

What the hell had just happened?

Had that been real? Had she truly been in the Paths again?

She swallowed thickly, her mind racing to process everything she had seen.

Ymir had been there. She had touched her. And then—then she had started building.

Aurora’s breath hitched as the realization settled in.

Ymir had been building titans.

And if she had been doing that in the Paths, that could only mean—

Aurora’s stomach twisted violently.

Somewhere, in the real world, titans were being created right now.

…

Far across the sea, in the depths of Marley’s internment zone, screams rang out into the night.

Prisoners—men, women, and children—scrambled in terror as a monstrous roar tore through the silence.

A titan’s body sprung up from a Subject of Ymir, its massive frame rising from within the confines of the prison walls, eyes burning with mindless hunger.

A dozen more followed.

Guards fled. Civilians cried out.

And standing atop the highest wall, watching it all unfold, was Zeke Jaeger.

He stood with his hands tucked behind his back, his face void of emotion as he observed the chaos below.

He had screamed only moments ago. And now, before him, the result of his command was unfolding perfectly.

The Eldian prisoners—those who had dared to escape, who had dared to defy Marley—were now being torn apart by their own kind.

It was almost poetic.

Zeke exhaled through his nose, watching as the first titan lunged forward, seizing a screaming man between its massive fingers before crunching down on his body with brutal force.

Blood splattered across the dirt.

More screams followed.

And all the while, Zeke’s expression remained eerily neutral.

This was necessary.

A sacrifice for the greater good.

He turned his gaze upward, staring at the night sky as if searching for something unseen.

Somewhere, beyond the stars, beyond time itself, he knew Ymir Fritz was watching.

And he knew she was obeying.

The same way she always did.

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avariantflaire · 2 years ago

Text

Why Levi and Petra?

Of course, upon general viewing of SNK and its characters, it's clear that they have established Erwin, Levi, and Hange as the leading trio of the Survey Corps. They represent this faction of the military and in interesting ways, mirror the main protagonists of the series.

While there is a lot to be said and appreciated about Levi's relationships with Erwin and Hange, I have come to find that the character who humanizes him is the lovely (albeit forgettable) Petra Ral.

Early in the series, we are introduced to Levi as Humanity's Strongest Soldier. Erwin makes use of his abilities in this sense, and Hange often relies on his strength in combat as well. That is not to say this is the extent of their relationships: we have Levi's iconic "Give up on your dreams and die" scene with Erwin (S3 E16) and the infamous "Maybe we should just live here [away from my responsibilities] together" request from Hange (S4.2 E8). However, something to note with both scenes is that while they give depth to Levi's relationship with both characters, he essentially serves to highlight others. In the former, Levi's response directly challenges Erwin's dream, and allows this commander a defining moment of growth. Similarly in the latter, Levi is used as a means for Hange to express and eventually overcome their fears and insecurities about the deal they've been dealt as the new Commander of the Survey Corps (which at the time was rapidly disbanding under the Jaegerist movement).

In other words, Levi is the "subplot character" to Erwin's and Hange's individual arcs. (According to John Truby, 'The subplot character… provides another opportunity to define the hero through comparison and advance the plot.')

Which begs the question… at what point in the series, if any, is Levi defined as a character in and of himself?

Two prominent scenes from season 1 come to mind, which are namely: 1) The dying soldier scene (S1 E9), and 2) Petra's conversation with Eren in headquarters (S1 E15).

In the first, Levi comforts a dying soldier and vows to carry on their will and exterminate all Titans. When the soldier passes before he can reply to Levi's words, Levi turns to his fellow soldier Petra and asks her if he was heard. Petra provides confirmation, emphasizing the peaceful expression on the soldier's face.

In the second, Petra confronts a gloomy-looking Eren, who has been tasked to clean headquarters along with the rest of the Special Operations Squad (aka the Levi Squad). She specifically points out how Levi is 'not the hero he's expected to be' in the sense that he has a terrible personality, though she does so while smiling almost fondly, as though it doesn't matter what his personality is because they can always put faith in him as their Captain. It seems she wants Eren to understand this - or a notion similar.

It is in both moments that we are able to clearly see Levi beyond being a powerful soldier. Always, he is a threat. When he enters the scene we expect the shift in the dynamic of the battle - we expect him to win. He's a trump card. Erwin's last words to him are an order (S3 E16), and Hange's last words about him is "he's [Armin's] underling now, so really put him to work" (S4.3.1). Levi acknowledges Erwin's and Hange's humanity, bolsters it even, with the conviction of "dedicating your heart". In SNK he is the symbolism, the embodiment, of a soldier. That's all he really ever gets to be. Even his softest moments with - heck, anyone in the series - are meant to deeply reflect on the guilt, the burden, the purpose of getting the job done. ("So… you're telling me… I've spent all this time and energy running around killing people?" (S2 E12) / "Just think, if your hands were still clean... Jean wouldn't be here right now." (S3 E2) / "If we just run away and keep on hiding, what will we have left?" (S4.2 E8))

But for those singular moments in season one, he's more than just the threat. We see him as a human not only with (personality) flaws, but also with dreams and convictions, tied so seamlessly with his comrades' cause that we are reminded painfully, at the end of the series, that it was Levi who carried them all to the end. Throughout the story we see Levi lament fallen soldiers; we are exposed to how much he empathizes with his comrades and their deaths, to the point where it can be said that no one keeps us more aware of the lives that have been lost throughout the show more than Levi himself.

In this manner, Petra was the subplot character to Levi's hero. She gave the audience a (subconscious) glimpse of the Humanity within "Humanity's Strongest" and built the bridge that would lead us to compelling and important revelations about Levi's thoughts and actions as the show progressed. It's Petra whom he finds tending to a dying soldier; Petra whom he asks for confirmation that the soldier heard; Petra who, against all expectation, asks Eren to see past the station, the status, the soldier, to the person himself.

"He's not quite the great, perfect hero society makes him out to be, huh? The real Captain Levi is shorter than you'd expect, temperamental, crude, and unsociable. (…) You thought that because he's skilled, he doesn’t have to follow the rules like everyone else?" (S1 E15)

It's even Petra who, despite her rank, asks Levi to step aside when Eren becomes a half-baked Titan. Here, Levi's robust intuition and split-second decision making skills are shown even away from the battlefield. It's Petra who leads the Special Operations Squad in their apology to Eren (S1E19 "Bite"), who first instills in us (narratively) the notion of trusting your fellow comrades. More specifically, she is who convinces Eren to place his life in their hands. It's this notion that Levi carries with him even until the final arc - "I've saved Eren countless times over - each time, more comrades dying. All because I believed he was the hope of humanity." (S4.1 E13) In the manga (Ch112), it's Petra we see at the forefront of this belief.

"Do you, Eren? Do you find it that hard to trust us?" It's Petra who dies, her words the final say in convincing Eren: "I believe my squad will be victorious." (S1 E21)

"It's like some awful joke," Levi reflects later on, as his comrades' dying hopes and dreams flash by in the canopy of the forest. "What the hell was the hope that we saw? Such bullshit. It's not even funny." (S4.1 E13) "We" here could definitely mean the soldiers who've given their hearts, but the metaphorical representative of this heart is Petra herself... "Eren! Trust us." (S1 E19)

And in the end, it's Petra in the forefront alongside Erwin and Hange, representative of her fellow soldiers, the one (experienced/veteran) Scout we've seen and interacted with in the entire series to have professed the values of hope, of trust, of belief, which is henceforth carried on by Levi himself, his own convictions, his own dreams. They are, in the entire series, the glimpse we get into the Scout Regiment beyond the series' titular character and his comrades in the 104th, and a thorough dive into what makes Levi Humanity's, not simply its strongest.

Her character song, "The Light of Dual Wings", can literally be taken as an allegory of the dreams the Scouts have entrusted to Levi. That's how prominent she is as a Scout; how coded her devotion to Levi is, whether interpreted platonically, romantically, or narratively, as the dedication of hearts.

So, yes, I love them together. I love their scenes, the implications of them narratively, the values Petra professes so effortlessly in the air, washed away by the higher tides of the Female Titan arc. I love that it's still Petra at the forefront, in all of Levi's reflections moving forward, because she is our first glimpse into Levi's character, the real him.

In the end this is just a ship post struggling to keep from delving too much into the symbolism of Levi and the Scouts (how Levi is the face of the Scouts more so than Erwin himself, really), the truest depiction of humanity's collective fight for freedom in this entire series. In his early days, Eren wanted to be a Scout, after all. It is Levi and Petra who push him forward into 'that hell' - for better and worse, respectively.

#levi ackerman #petra ral #rivetra #levi x petra #levipet #aot #snk #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #levi character analysis #levi petra relationship analysis #aot analysis #snk analysis #i even cited episode numbers!#i was too lazy to get the overall episode number though xd #so you get dumb citations like S4.3.1 lol #analysis.vtf

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