A.N. – Heyo nice of you to drop by c; I just wanted to say that this story takes place around 1850/1900 so some things might seem weird or out to place but please bear with me D: its just to make it as realistic as I possibly can.

I don't own SnK or the characters or anything D: sadly enough.
Please enjoy~

He was running down the muddy streets, his legs were burning. It had been a while since he had to run for his life. There had to be a way out. But first, he'd have to get off the main road, it was too difficult for him to get around here, and he felt more at home in the backstreets of London.

"Hey, brat, get outta the way!" He managed to jump to the side of the road just in time before a two-horse carriage came charging by. Well, THAT was one reason why he wanted to get out of here.

"Hey, there he is, get him and don't let him get away!". And there was reason number two. A group of three large men came charging towards him. Two were obviously cops, recognizable by the hideous uniforms. The last man he recognised to be the rich mainroad store owner of whom he just snatched several pocket watches.

He really needed to get away from here. If he got caught, a terrible fate would obviously await him. There was no compassion for thieves and scum like him. Of course he was aware that his lifestyle wasn't what you'd call "legal", but it was their only possible way of surviving, it had always been. Not even just for them. Everyone in his street, neighbourhood really, came from an anything but noble origin in which low standard dealings and stealing were their only way to survive. If you add the fact the government couldn't care less about their fate and stopped investing in the slums, and the nobles had all actual power in this corrupt as fuck country, there was no way to persist in these conditions.

"Damn damn DAMN!" he cursed, he had no time to worry about those stuck up nobles. He still had those guys on his tail and didn't know how he could possibly shake them off. He would be reaching the end of the main road soon and had to come up with a plan.

He couldn't just run home. That would bring his whole family in danger. They would find out where he lived, where his family and dear ones were. They would keep watch of their place for the next couple of weeks. They wouldn't be able to properly do their business and because of lack of income, eventually come close to starving. Or WORSE. They would all be claimed thieves, all arrested, all his loved ones, his family through blood or not. He couldn't make them suffer his fate. The higher ups did not look fondly on thievery. Those who could take their precious riches away. They would be cruel.

No he had to find another way.

His bare feet were pounding on the muddy roads that couldn't be called a pavement. The last couple of years the situation of his hometown had deteriorated fast. Many were starving on the streets, children died young due to the prominent lack of care. Everyone tried to save themselves and their loved ones, every day was a struggle.

A quick and sudden turn to the right, ducking into an alleyway, was his first attempt of escaping. The men tracking him down were middle aged or older, and could by no means keep up with his young, albeit thin, physique.

At the end of the alley he took another right, desperately looking around.

Yes, he had grown up here, he was completely in his element, but being chased made it difficult to think fast and come up with a solution that would bring the least harm to his family. He decided to run straight for the small chapel, at the end of the street. This was there where he used to play as a kid. He knew every nook and cranny. If he could just throw them off his trail for a few seconds and slip inside… he'd be safe.

Looking down the street, he noticed there was quite some distance between him and his destination. He also noticed his way out.

Two chariots were charging in his direction, each from the opposite ends of the street. It appeared they'd be passing each other only a few feet away from where he was standing. If he could just get in between the two, he'd be able to tag along with the quickly accelerating cart, bringing him closer to his final destination.

Deciding this was the best plan of action, he got to work. Crossing the street till he was halfway, checking both ways carefully, assessing the time and distance left until his feet would be torn of the ground and towards the chapel.

He ignored the urgent shouts from bypassers and the chariot drivers, warning to get the fuck out of the way or be run over. Dancing back and forward on the tips of his toes, he got ready to leap.

He almost missed his time, when the chariot and his pursuer were neck and neck to reaching him. He reached out his hand and grabbed on in the last minute, feeling the harsh pull as his body was ruthfully pulled off the ground.

He regained his footing on the steps on the right side of the moving projectile, taking some pressure off of his body. As he looked back, he could see the officers staring after him, deep frowns on their ugly faces.

When the horses were sent slightly to the right, he decided to move past the back of the chariot to its left side, expecting it to take a turn to the right and fearing he would not get off on time.

As he expected, the whole coach veered to the right full force as soon as they reached the end of the main road.

When they passed the cornered, just outside of view of his pursuers he leaped off, rolling through the dirt, quickly scrambling to his feet to get the hell out of there. The chapel was only a few doors down.

Having been there many more times before, he knew of the secret door on the right of the small, deteriorated building, and snuck inside once he had reached it.

It would be safest to wait out here for some time, before trying his luck on the streets again.

The inside of the chapel was a sad sight. It hadn't been used for years, and the rows of benches still left intact, were few. The serenity that was still present in this small building however, was overwhelming yet oppressing.

He slowly moved in between the aisles left and right, sight set on the front row seat he used to claim when he was younger every sunday morning. This small place was all they had back then, all anyone had back then.

When he finally claimed the seat that used to be his, he felt a sense of serenity come down on him. He had returned home after a long while.

He could imagine it, the room still in its original state, benches standing neatly in a row, one after the other. Preachers in the front, reassuring the people begging the Lord for help. The room filled with his family, his friends, all looking for a safe haven. Something to get them far, far away from this misery.

He himself had never really believed in all this talk of God. How could a lord so almighty let his good and innocent civilians starve, die? No, he strongly believed in taking matters into his own hands.

It was this belief that had driven him to act today. It was that believe which had gotten him in all this trouble. He feared the possible consequences if he were to be caught. Of course he would, only a fool wouldn't, with a possible execution knocking on the door if he were ever to be caught.

Hopefully, it would all be worth it in the end.

These neighbourhoods have been going downhill very quickly. He lived with his mother, sister and best friend, in a little shack in the far reaches of these slums. They lived from selling their plunder on the cities black market. Their expensive items, silk, pocketwatches, or plainly wallets and silver. But from fear of illnesses few nobles and richmen had dared come downwards to these areas. Their profit had been minimal to nothing and he had heard the stomachs of his loved ones rumble. He felt responsible for them. So he went out and did what he had to do.

If it wasn't for that nosey lady, pointing out his actions to the owner, he would have gotten away with it. Well, in the end he still did.

He could imagine the smile on his mother's face when he got home, asking him if he'd had been able to snatch anything today. He'd show here the watches, oh how she'd react.

She'd probably whack him over the head with today's paper, and tell him how foolish he had been. That it was madness to steal from a prestigious store, just to make sure they would be okay. Tell him that they would be able to handle themselves. Then she'd pull him in close and hug him to her chest, like she had almost lost her son. Stroking his hair lovingly, and whispering sweet words to him, telling him they'd be alright and he didn't have to go that far. They'd manage.

He knew it wasn't true though. She was falling ill. He could see it in her eyes, which used to sparkle with life. They had clearly dimmed over the years, and lately they seemed as dull as the dirt covering the streets outside. Their living conditions were not only tormenting her physically, but she now seemed mentally affected as well. Carla was a hard working woman but there was only so much she could do.

And then there was Armin. He and his grandfather had been living together with them for years, for as long as he could remember anyways. Armin had always been an upbeat boy, ready to go out there and see the world. Until his grandfather died that is.

Armin had been out too late, and the drunken bastards who, sadly enough, also lived in these parts came out to play. They had seen Armin and thought it a fun game to play around with him. Luckily his grandfather had seen him on time, and came to the rescue. Armin got away on time, thanks to his grandfather, who himself had not been so lucky. In their drunken stupor the men had beaten the old man to an inch of his life, and had left him bleeding to his death in the early morning sun where they had found him. Ever since, Armin had had difficulty keeping up with life.

But the past few months Eren had found that the young blonde had found a new joy in his life. A new source to light the fire in his eyes again. He had even taken up reading again.

But despite the fact the boy was on his healing way, he was in no way capable of taking care of himself. He had always been small and anyone without a heart would be able to beat him mercilessly.

The only one who would possibly be able to fend for themselves would be Mikasa. His mother had taken her in when she was still fairly young. She had a traumatic past, having to watch her parents be murdered by a bunch of thieves, and had never really gotten over it. Of course the murderers, only petty thieves, had been prosecuted and hanged, but that in no way brought her parents back or saved her the pain.

His family and her's had been close for as long as he could remember, and had helped each other out on several occasions. His mother had been in a better condition back then and there had not even been a doubt in her mind that they would take Mikasa in. She wouldn't have it any other way, Mikasa was a part of the family and she would not let her rot out on the streets by herself.

Ever since she moved in with them she had been training hard to be able to fend for herself, to be able to protect herself, and the ones she loved.

In a fair fight, he was sure, she'd be able to take down anyone. Sadly enough they did not live in an era or an area where people were particularly fond of 'fair'. We all wanted to live a prestigious life, and we all wanted to have riches. Sadly enough, most of us couldn't, so everyone just took what they wanted and used any means to get it.

Mikasa, a pretty young girl, with fair white skin and raven black hair, in the prime of her life, was not a person you should let loose on the dirty streets at night to do some dirty job for minimum income. The risk at her life would be humongous, and the additional damage to her already fragile mind would be tremendous.

No, he was the only one who would be able to take care of them. And that's why he had to take the risk.

He had been sitting there for a while now, reminiscing the past. It was time to go back out there again, and test his luck.

This time using the main front entrance he left the building, after first peeking outside and assuring the bothersome men were not awaiting him right outside.

When he assumed the coast was clear, he ran out, sloppily throwing the door closed behind and sprinting off. Only when he rejoined the moving traffic on the streets did he feel safe again.

There was a little skip to his step, knowing he had taken a big risk and had still gotten away with it. His family would be fine for now.

He started running further down the street, joy radiating from every fiber of his being. He felt victorious.

He started a slow run, which turned into a sprint, darting towards his home. All of a sudden he started laughing which, soon turned into hysteric cackling, while twirling around several times. He didn't care about the weird looks he got, or the judgmental stares of people who thought he had gone insane.

All he cared about was his family and that they would now be saf- SMACK

A surprised squeak escaped him as a hard object slammed into his shins and landed him face first into the dirt covered road.

As he looked back up, his face fell. Standing there, looking all high and mighty, were two men. They were both sporting high class suits, one tall and blonde and the second shorter, black hair and an annoyed expression seemed to be permanently stuck on his face. Three words came to mind. High class… and.. trouble.

The eerily smiling blond was the reason he had fallen in the first place. He was twirling around a hard wooden cane, which he had apparently ruthfully slammed into his legs, just below his kneecaps. The man didn't seem to be looking at him though, rather at something behind him.

He saw two cops clad in uniform quickly walking towards him. Apparently the word had been spread and coppers all around the city were aware of his situation.

He tried to scramble up and get away in time. But when he was up on his feet he was once again met with an obstacle.

The two men were still standing there, and the blonde didn't seem very fond of letting him go that easily. The short guy merely seemed bored.

He guessed that was his best shot. Glances were exchanged between the three of them, and his two opponents were trying to anticipate his next actions.

He charged at the smaller, and seemingly weaker of the two. The next thing he knew he was on his back on the road again.

It had all gone by in a daze. One moment he had his hand on the ravenhaired's shoulder, and the next thing he felt was a tough grip on his wrist and his weight being thrown into the air to ungracefully land on the ground.

A loud groan left his lips as all air was ruthlessly forced out of his lungs.

As he was temporarily disabled the two coppers charged towards them and grabbed his arms. With a strong grip on either limb, he was hoisted of the ground and now caught up in his biggest fear. He would certainly not get away with this, and his family would still be in trouble. The fact that he just attacked a noble didn't help his case in the least.

The men in uniform turned to the men in suits: "Thank you for assisting us in the capture of this criminal." The demeaning words were accompanied by some harsh jabs to the ribs.

They started patting him down, in search of the stolen goods. His jacket pockets were searched and they would soon find the watches in his left back pocket.

A triumphant: "AHA!" could be heard from one of the officers, as he pulled the three watches from his pocket. They were still in perfect shape, and wrapped in a small patch of linen to prevent damage.

"You're coming with us, filth" the words almost hurt as much as the punch to the gut that followed.

Almost.

He tried doubling over because of the pain, but the strong hold on him kept him upright. He lost his footing and was now completely dependent on the two men who he desperately wanted to get away from.

He struggled, kicked and tried to hit them. He spat one man in the face, and tried to bite the other.

It was all in vain though. They were taller and had a stronger build than him. On top of that, he hadn't had a good meal in almost two days now. After running away from them for a good half of the day, he had no energy left to burn.

"We will take him off your hands now, gentlemen." They meant to escort him away by foot. He would still have a chance there. If he could just find the right opportunity.

He just had to stay calm and seem defeated. And once they'd be far away from these two… rather strong nobles, he'd run. Run like his life depended on it. Which it probably did.

"Oh don't worry. I'll accompany you to the office. I have some business there either way. Why not join me on my ride," the blond said to the officers, a cheerful smile displayed on his face.

No… NO NO NO! This could NOT be happening to him right now. He NEEDED to get away. His family.. Mikasa… Armin.. MOM… they were depending on him. He had to get away.

"Let me GO!" he struggled, he did everything he could, but they would not relent their grip on him.

They trusted the blond entirely, his high status made sure of that, and accepted the invitation to ride with him.

The boy slumped his entire body dejectedly, as his last effort to obstruct his captors. But all hope seemed lost.

Their host seemed eager to escort them, but before accompanying them into his chariot he turned to his almost forgotten companion who was about to enter, what could be assumed, his own ride home.

The taller man grabbed the underarm of the shorter and said: "I expect you will be at the gathering that will be held in three days time? We can't have you losing face, now can we?" He seemed all smiles and kindness, but there was tension in the air. There was definitely a clash of powers going on there, and the shorter of the two didn't seem amused by the threat. He roughly pulled his arm out off the grasp the blond had it in.

"I will show up whenever I deem your.." there was a slight hesitation before he spoke the next words "audience... worthy of my presence. And only then." He spoke with confidence, something the young boy now in the clutches of authority could only wish for.

The continuation of the conversation was lost to him as he was roughly shoved into the cart. He got another kick in, before the officer grabbed him by the back of his neck and shoved into the nicely cushioned seat. Only a few seconds later were they joined by mister nice-guy again.

He was now stuck between the two cops, but he didn't fear them in the slightest. No, the only one who got chills to run down his back was the man sitting in front of him, with a menacing look radiating off of every fiber that made up his being. He never knew a smile could feel that threatening.

They said there for a short while, on the way to the police office where his judgement would follow, in relative silence. Only the two officers would engage in idle chitchat, completely oblivious to the tension present in their chariot. All he could do was stare at the man nonchalantly sitting there, like he wasn't transporting a criminal, and nothing was going on. All he ended up doing was glaring daggers at the blonde opposite him. There was nothing else left for him to do.

The blonde in turn was looking at him every so often, slow glances after which he would chuckle or occasionally smirk.

It wasn't long until the horses´ hooves stopped pounding on the badly paved roads, which inquired their arrival.

From that moment onwards it all went by in a blur. He got kicked in the shin as a signal to get up. They had bound his hands on the trip there, to make sure escaping would become difficult, and were now prodding his side and back with their sticks to make him walk in front of them.

He shook his body, as to get rid of the annoying motions they were making towards him. He was glad they weren't holding on to him.

When they entered the building, the officers inside looked at him with disgust. He felt bare in the room, out of his element, and insecure. He knew his fate was now in their hands, and he was almost certain those hands would not be kind on him.

They never had been, so why would they be now?

They moved to the back of the room, past several work desks and even past some cell doors. He was scared now. Scared of what would happen to him.

They reached a dark wooden door at the end of the room, which was opened and he was roughly shoved inside. It was dark, and an officer, not sure if it was one of the men guiding him here before or someone else entirely, guided him towards a chair standing in the middle of the room. He looked around the room, as he was forced to sit down. There was only one door, the one through which he had just entered, and there were no other exits or means of escape. His situation turned desperate and he feared there would be no way out, except for the gallows.

As everyone left the room or never even entered in the first place, there was one man left standing in the shadows. He should have expected the blonde to step out of the shade and advance towards him. The expressionless facade on the man's face made him scowl.

It was clear the man had a lot of power, not just in the political circuits but also the economic and possibly even the military fields, considering how sharp he was dressed and how well he was build.

The man neared him once again, and there was no way to run or to avoid this man´s touch, as the rich bastard let his his right hand slide over his strong jaw.

He felt disgusted by the touch. Who was this man to defile his body like that. He might not be rich or powerful, but he had always taken pride in the control and ownership of his own body. They could take away all his property, but at least they couldn't take control over him.

Well.. atleast… untill now. And he hated the feeling.

"A nice build…clear features and contours… one MAGNIFICENT set of eyes… tall..oh and he sure is tanned… could use some more muscle mass though.." he was unsure what this was all about, as the suited man started feeling him all over and in a way… assessing him.

"Oh, I'm sorry.. am I making you uncomfortable?" the blonde asked, literally looking down on him. He refused to reply, refused to give in, as his examination continued.

Damn sure you are! You creep, into little boys now are you. He couldn't help smirk at the idea of the other nobles finding out about the blonde's rather… peculiar taste in past time activities.

His captor didn't pay a second's notice to his odd behavior though, and continued on his merry way with whatever he was doing.

The blonde squatted in front of him and gripped his thighs, giving them a good squeeze and rubbing them up and down. Next moving on to his shirt, which was pulled up and a cold hand was now positioned on his flat stomach.

It all felt really uncomfortable.. being assessed by this man, having these hands all over his body, without being able to do anything about it.

"You better get used to it. The sooner you do, the easier it will be for you." his examinator said.

As the man continued to stand up and move away, he couldn't help and get a little revenge. He took a breath and spat full force in the man's face.

Said man cringed as the dirty substance came in contact with his face and started to wipe it away while moving towards the door.

"You better not show this attitude in a few days. I'm pretty sure the others will not be appreciative and accepting of it as I am" he said with a smirk, and his hand resting on the door handle.

He opened it and two men were called inside. One seemed to be a normal officer, there to secure their safety. The other man seemed to have a high status, a chief of some sorts. His uniform was riddled with badges and banners, declaring his rank and status.

"I think I'll take him off your hands" the blonde declared, apparently rather sure of his case and no doubt in his mind that he would get what he wanted.

"Its always a pleasure doing business with you Mister Erwin," the chief said, his tone slimey as if sucking up to the ones in charge was his only chance of staying in his current position. It probably was. "The protocol is the same as always I assume?"

"You have assumed right, my friend" Mister Erwin answered, "but I almost forgot to ask the most important question of all, related to my merchandise."

He walked back to the chair standing in the middle of the room and looked down on the boy sitting in it. He made eye contact with the boy, and held on to the contact while asking his carefully formulated question in a slow and enticing voice.

"For my merch its of utmost discretion that they are in perfect condition, which means brand new. Now tell… are you still a virgin?"

He couldn't possibly answer the question. He couldn't even look up. He was dying of shame, at the prospects of what was to come and how he was seen in this man's eyes. As a mere object, a property.

He hated it. He felt so frustrated and ashamed. Frustrated that he couldn't do anything to save himself. That he was this weak. And ashamed because he truly felt like a useless piece of shit right now. Just like how these men saw him.

His head was suddenly yanked up by his hair. "You will answer when I ask you something. Are. You. a Virgin?"

Tears started forming in the corners of his eyes as he tried to look away again. This was made impossible by the tight grip on tuft of his hair. He refused to answer. He refused to give this man the satisfaction to hear his voice break in shame and pain. To hear the tremble and even crack in his voice as he desperately tried to answer. No, he would not give this man what he wanted.

"Well considering your reaction.. I'll assume the answer is 'yes'. We'll deal with that attitude of yours another time."

A hand was slapped into the side of his head, and everything turned dizzy and disorientated.

As the blond released the hold on his hair, he let his head fall back down. Both Erwin and the chief shuffled around the room, something was written down and hands were shaken.

He could hear the blonde, at least he assumed it was the blonde who was currently the only one extracting pleasure from such dealings, chuckle and clasp hands with one of the police officers.

A sinister sneer of: "Oh, he'll do JUST fine" could be heard escaping the man's lips, and chills ran up his spine.

The nicely suited man moved back over to where he was still sitting in his dirty clothes, hands still bound. His hair was pulled again and he was forced to look up to his tormentor once more.

The question asked next made every last sense of safety fall away. "What's your name, boy?" the last word was spat in his face with such menace he shrank away from it.

He felt bare and open to be wounded as he defiantly looked up into those empty blue eyes.

It took him effort to spit out the word, but once he did, it came out full force. Blue's met strong willed green as one word resonated throughout the room. "Eren."