A/N: Thanks for all the love on chapter 4! Here is the 5th 😊 enjoy!
Warnings for Eren being Eren haha
Mikasa leaves for Eldia two months later after the mourning period is over.
When her family hugs her upon departure, no one wants to let her go, frantically hanging onto her. Her mother's frail body regains its strength to grip her as tightly as possible. Her father essentially crushes her against his chest. Neither one wants to be departed from her, their bodies quaking with repressed sobs.
Even when Mikasa holds onto them for as long as possible and as thoroughly as possible, she still can't cry. Even though it feels like her heart is being torn into remnants when she heads onto the ship, she still can't cry. Even though it feels like chains are weighing her every movement down, she still can't cry.
Even though the voyage across the dim, dark sea reminds her of another time spent in a bright, luminous lagoon, she can only feel a fleeting imaginary warmth that leaves an unbelievably abrupt and potent sting in her chest.
But Mikasa still can't cry.
Upon first setting foot on Eldia, the first thing she notices that it's a dreary day, with no sun and dark, grey clouds covering the sky. Then, she takes in the sight of the nation, noting the different architecture and landscape.
Where Hizuru had cherry blossom trees that bloomed at this time of the year, this nation does not. Where Hizuru had picturesque mountains against the blue sky, this nation does not. Where Hizuru had lively streets filled with the chatter of the locals and music, this nation has busy streets with the cacophony of machines and factories.
Where Hizuru was her home, Eldia was not.
After a carriage ride through the city, Mikasa arrives at the Royal Palace. The architecture curves and spirals compared to that of her home. A large wall surrounds the palace, separating the royals from the outside world. When she peeks out from the curtains, she sees that the inside is just as grand as the outside appearance. Different sections are split off by gates and doors. There are many different gardens they pass and on one occasion, they pass a little lake, a bridge creating a walkway over the water.
Finally, they pass through a set of gates to her living quarters. It's small and quaint, with a little fishpond, a garden and a modestly sized pavilion for tea and drinks.
When she's ushered into the room, everything that happens is a blur. Mikasa's stripped of her clothes and bathed, until her skin is removed of any grime from the travel. When she comes out of the tub, she's doused in perfume and scented oils. Her face is covered with rouge and powder. Her hair is done up elaborately, the number of pins uncomfortable and poking into her scalp.
To her distant horror, the princess is crammed into something called a "corset", where the laces are pulled and pulled and pulled until she's gasping and heaving for breath. Finally, she's donned in the traditional royal clothing of Eldia, the fabric heavy and itchy on her skin.
Mikasa is fawned over by the servants and dressmakers repeatedly and animatedly. Despite their praises, she merely gives them a tiny, emotionless curve of her lips.
Not for the first time, she longs for the things from home, like the comfy kimonos and Paradisian skirts. She longs to see the beautiful sun and the cherry blossoms that are beginning to flourish. She longs for the solace of a home, not merely a place to live.
She longs for a place where her heart can feel safe and secure.
"You now need to pay your respects to the Royal Family," her lady-in-waiting reminds her kindly. She has dark-brown hair pulled into a ponytail and wide hazel-brown eyes. She's been extremely enthusiastic, putting her effort into her work, even though it's only been less than two hours.
Mikasa knows that people don't know what truly happened between Hizuru and Eldia. However, some part of her mind wonders what these people think of her: a pathetic princess who was sold by desperate parents, a lucky princess to marry into the prestigious Jaeger family, a pitiful princess who was forced here against her will, or a brave princess who chose to protect her nation?
Or a scared princess who just wants a home?
With an unsteady breath, she stands up and makes the trek to the throne room.
The entire time, her steps become harder and harder to take. Every time she lifts her feet, it feels like they become more and more stuck to the ground. Her calves need to exert themselves more, the sensation like needles scraping her legs up and down.
Nevertheless, Mikasa can only bite back the scathing pain when she steps through the doors.
Emperor Jaeger sits in the center on a little platform raised above everyone else. His throne is large, emitting his presence through the entire room. Empress Dina Fritz sits to his right. She looks the complete opposite of her husband. While he has dark hair, she has blonde hair curled into a bun. While he has harsh, angular features, she has smooth, round ones. While his eyes are empty and narrow, hers are kind and wide.
On the right side, a few women sit. They gaze at her with either feigned interest or apathy. All of them are extravagantly dressed and adorned in jewelry. Mikasa guesses that these are either princesses of the Emperor or women in the harem.
The left side is occupied by a few males. These are most likely some of the princes. She recognizes the blond man with the beard and glasses from the negotiation with her father to the direct left of the Emperor.
And then to his right is Eren.
Thus, Mikasa keeps her eyes trained on a spot in the floor, ignoring the way her heart starts pummeling rapidly and incisively against her rib cage. Blood quickly rushes to her head, starting to make her feel woozy. As a result, the urge to collapse to the floor engulfs her. For a split second, her knees are wobbly. Nevertheless, she bows in greetings, struggling to control her breathing and maintain the proper posture.
"Welcome. I hope the journey was pleasant. I trust your accommodations are comfortable?" The Emperor asks in what she thinks is supposed to be a friendly voice. Yet, it falls flat to her ears.
"Yes, thank you," she replies, dipping her chin. Some corner of her brain notes that her words are not any better, also sounding toneless and bland.
Emperor Jaeger plasters a little smile on his face. "I believe you've met my sons, Prince Zeke —" he motions to the blond man next to him "— and Prince Eren."
A small spot in the middle of her chest begins to tingle gratingly. Yet, she entwines her hands demurely in front of her, resisting the desire reach up and sooth the area. Mikasa raises her gaze slightly to stare at their feet before bowing again.
When doing so, the princess disregards the chill that slithers up her spine when their eyes fall on her form. Furthermore, she disregards her increasingly erratic and painful heartbeat upon hearing Eren's name — as if it were trying to carve its way out of her body.
Vaguely, a tiny part of Mikasa realizes a benefit of the corset: at least it holds her body together, to the point it'll be difficult for her heart to be ripped from her rib cage.
"As you know, when we appoint the Crown Prince, we will have a ceremony for your marriage."
The chilly sensation becomes more solid and strong, wrapping around her entirely until it stretches to her collarbone and roots her to the floor. Then it begins to squeeze and squeeze, constricting her trachea. Mikasa's fingers lightly tremble from the exertion of not reaching up to massage feeling back into her throat.
"In the meantime, please make yourself at home." The Emperor gives her a polite smile. With her best efforts, the princess manages a small, dry upturn of her lips while forcing herself to not crumble. A twinge erupts between her eyes; she blinks for half a second longer than normal, hoping it'll diminish the soreness in her head.
It doesn't.
Suddenly, her dark-grey eyes meet Eren's vibrant green ones by accident.
For a second, a scorching heat overcomes her, melting through the frost that was trapping and confining her. But as quickly as she's allowed a respite to breathe, the heat is just as quick to find a way to her heart — only to torch the organ to ashes and dust.
Instantly, it's like her entire body has disintegrated into nothing, leaving her to float in the wind like petals being carried away from a flower. Mikasa barely keeps her position upright from the blow of the agony. As a light sheen of sweat forms on her forehead, she continues breathing rhythmically despite her irregular heartbeats. Her lungs are overworked and exhausted and the sting in her head grows worse.
Nevertheless, her muscles bow in partings, despite the nerves howling in distress. As she exits, Mikasa focuses on lifting one leg before the other. Slowly, the movements become more fluid and natural. Her knees still feel a bit weak. Her calves still scream in protest, but she perseveres through the doors.
In the back of her mind, she realizes it's difficult for her to walk because there are chains covering her ankles, binding her to this place like a bird in a cage.
She never noticed how Eren's nails dug moon-shaped marks into the palms of his fists, enough to draw blood.
"My lady, I don't believe we've officially met. My name is Armin Arlert."
She remembers him clearly because he was there the day the sun fell from her sky.
Compared to the serious and blank expression he donned that time, today his face is kind with round, youthful features. His blue eyes are soft and friendly, complimenting his open and approachable presence.
It's so unlike anyone else in the palace.
The harem and princesses are all beautiful, but have defined, sharp features that make Mikasa think of perfectly sculpted dolls to put on a shelf. The princes are no better: the few times she's caught a glimpse of them, they all look worn down and harsh, as if the weight of the world was bearing down on them.
Even though some don't give her a second glance, they also discreetly peek at her from the corner of their narrowed eyes. While some show politeness, they also observe her with a curious kind of detachment. While some are outwardly eager, begging for her to come over to try on new dresses and gowns, they also study her with a cloying interest.
Regardless, it's like they're waiting for the princess of Hizuru to show if she'll be someone to ally with or someone that will break down from the pressure from the title of Crown Princess.
It's become very evident in these past two weeks that this palace is not one where people can spend the rest of their days carefree and happy. It's not a place that she can be safe and secure in. It's not a home, but rather a prison that restricts and prohibits her.
It's not a place where Mikasa can have her peaceful life.
Dipping her head, she pastes a tiny, empty smile on her face as he bows. She's outside in the pavilion, trying to absorb the rays of the sun beaming brightly from the sky.
Yet, no matter how long Mikasa sits there, she can't get rid of the encompassing cold that covers her from head to toe. She can't seem to bask in the warmth that could melt the icy confinements that ensnare her. She can't seem to feel anything in this world other than a never-ending chilly torture.
"How are you doing so far?" Armin's blue eyes are wide and earnest — as if he were genuinely concerned about her.
Upon looking at his demeanor, she realizes that this is the first time someone has been this sincere toward her since her arrival.
Swallowing a bit unsteadily, Mikasa responds, "Well. Thank you." Controlling the quivering of her fingers, she puts them on her lap.
Nowadays, she can't speak more than a few words at a time now. Every time she tries opening her mouth, her tongue is heavy and dry. It's like there's something still pressing down on her throat, increasing the difficulty to release the words.
Armin nods slowly, appearing as though he wants to say more. However, he presses his lips together. His hands are clasped behind his back, giving him an upright, assured posture. Nonetheless, she catches a bit of anxiety emanating from him. Shuffling a bit on his feet, he says, "It's incredibly useless to say this… But I'm sorry for what we did."
The rays of the sun fade away. Blackness covers every inch of her world. The cold comes back in full strength to rapidly swirl around her. All these sensations cause her to inadvertently hunch over slightly in her seat, as though it'll help increase her body temperature.
Any second now, Mikasa thinks that the ground will transform into liquid, throwing her into a deep, bottomless ocean where she needs to breach the surface for air. Already, she can feel the water filtering into her lungs. It takes everything she has to not double over and retch the few bites of food she's eaten today out.
"We must seem like monsters," Armin says lowly, his gaze lightly falling to his feet. A gloominess overcomes him as his spine becomes as taut as a bow, waiting to release at the speed of light. His shoulders vibrate with friction, rolling off in tumbling waves.
As Mikasa struggles to calm the storm that is beating and pummeling her to bits, some obscure part in her brain feels like the ways he looks is… familiar.
"I wish I could've introduced myself under different circumstances," he says gently, eyes still fixed on the floor. "I just wanted to check in with you. This is an unfamiliar nation but please let me know if you need anything."
With that, Armin bows but the strain is still apparent in his frame. His arms hang stiffly by his side. Solemnly, the blond man begins to turn on his heel and leave.
For some reason, Mikasa picks up on the way his legs seem to have trouble moving. She notices the way that his feet seem like they're stuck to the ground. She recognizes the way he's trying to hold himself upright as if he cannot let himself be pressed down by any burdens that threaten to shove him to the ground.
She picks up on the way he carries himself because she's acted in a similar manner before.
Therefore, Mikasa launches herself up from the water, breaking through the waves to breathe.
"Wait," she croaks out. Her mouth still has trouble uttering words, but her tongue feels a little lighter and less dry. When she breathes this time, her windpipe doesn't constrict as unevenly. Her lungs feel like they're still inflamed, but it becomes easier to get the words out.
Armin pauses. Turning around slowly, he looks at her with hints of nervousness and apprehension conveyed on his face. His form is still rigid and inflexible.
Motioning to the seat in front of her, she says softly, "Please sit." The lines around her lips turn up a little more earnestly.
Astonishment filters through his expression. His blue eyes widen as they peer into her dark-grey ones. His hands clench and then promptly loosen before limply falling to his side and hanging there. Hesitancy soon flickers across his face. Armin shuffles his weight, unsure of whether he should sit down.
Swallowing thickly, she nods, indicating that it's all right.
Finally, his posture slackens. Anxiety and unease slowly vanish from his demeanor. His previous air of despondency and dreariness gradually evaporates. Traces of relief enter his expression as he walks over. Gingerly sliding into the seat, the blond man asks with a small smile, "I'm sure the food here is different. Are you eating well?"
The lightest sheen forms over her eyes.
Even though Mikasa still can't cry, at least her body doesn't feel as cold anymore for the rest of the afternoon.
"You know she's miserable right?"
Armin's voice breaks him out of his musings. He's currently looking at the transaction records that Floch left on his desk: they detail some of the corruption and bribes that Zeke's strongest supporters have done in the past.
Ignoring the headache that comes from hearing the little boy rancorously knock against the metal bars, Eren asks as blandly as possible, "Have you found anything from the leads we have?"
Yet, without missing a beat, Armin states, "It's been almost two months; she hasn't adjusted."
The prince remains mute and continues looking through the accounts. Yet, there's a terrible prickling that runs over his skin. A smoldering ache permeates his body, spiraling and convoluting his insides. Unconsciously, his hold on the book binding strengthens until they're sure to rip through the pages.
Placing his hands on the desk, Armin looms over the table and Eren's seat as he says in a tight voice, "I won't pretend to fully understand why you proposed this marriage in the first place"—the prince clamps his jaw, grinding his teeth and ignoring the way the prickling sensation gets more agonizing—"but I do know that she's not used to living in an environment where everyone is waiting to pounce on one another."
Eren also knows.
He knows that this environment is completely opposite of the loving, sheltered one that she grew up in. He knows that she was taught the many rules and traditions to be a proper lady, but still developed a mischievous and lighthearted side. He knows that she was encouraged by her close family to embrace her full potential, uncaring of her gender when others concluded her sex already defined most things about her.
And he knows that this environment bars her from all those things: it prohibits her from obtaining the peaceful life that she yearned for.
But Eren also knows he could still give her that life she desires.
With a low sigh, Armin hangs his head briefly before straightening up. Pursing his lips, he taps the wood a few times in thought. In a light tone, he suggests, "Maybe you could send her back to Hizuru for a few months."
"No."
Even Eren is somewhat surprised with how firm he sounds.
Drawing a controlled breath, Armin's face flickers momentarily with something unpleasant. However, he tries to school his expression. Even so, there's still some stiffness and tension in his posture. "I know you care for her deeply. Why is this not an option?"
Because he can't bear to be in a reality where they are apart.
He drops his book with a mildly destructive thump on the desk. Armin is undeterred by his aggression and continues staring at him, dead-on.
"The political atmosphere is still unstable. If she goes back to Hizuru, then the monarchy might get ideas to forgo the treaty," Eren replies in a clipped tone. The stinging sensation now torches through his skin, diving inside his body and turning everything to charred dust.
Armin crosses his arms, narrowing his blue eyes. His spine is rigid and upright. "Then send her to the villa in the countryside."
"You know Zeke is watching her for an opening," the prince retorts, unyielding in his answers. A shadow falls over his appearance, accentuating the dark bags on his face.
"He's not foolish enough to do anything harmful before the appointment." Hints of acid leak through Armin's sentence as his forehead knits subtly in ire.
"She'll be safest by my side."
Even though his voice is ice, Eren himself is walking through a seething inferno, disregarding the flames that touch and mar his body.
It doesn't matter how much the little boy in the cage injures himself, struggling to escape. It doesn't matter how much the little boy cries and wails to be let out. It doesn't matter how much the little boy wants to run away and go back to those carefree days.
He is unyielding in his desire to be by Mikasa's side. Unyielding to fight for the Crown so that they can still be together. Unyielding in his desire to fight for the Crown so that no one will dare try to harm her. Unyielding in his resolve to give her a peaceful and blissful life.
Unyielding to bring about a world where he and Mikasa can be free.
Armin's aura noticeably takes on agitation and annoyance. Nevertheless, he bows slightly before turning on his heel and leaving the room. Before striding through the doors though, the blond man rotates partially to peer at Eren over his shoulder.
Distantly, the prince notes this is the first time his friend has appeared so incensed. The lines on Armin's face become dour and sharp as he says lowly, "I mean it — any place is better than this den of snakes."
Silence fills the room when his strategist exits.
Eren remains in his seat momentarily before grabbing the book and hurling it across the room.
Rain drips down the glass as she gazes absentmindedly out the window.
It's been a little over two months in Eldia — and this place is still by no means a home.
Every day is a routine: she wakes up to the curtains being drawn in the morning. Even though light hits her face, it's never an enthusiastic and enjoyable shine that makes her excited for the day. She'll put on rouge and powder and get dressed in lavish uncomfortable clothing, while her servants admire how beautiful and perfect she looks.
Only one of her servants, Sasha, doesn't look at her like she's a doll: fragile to touch but easy to mold and sculpt to their desire. Her eyes are large and genuine as she scans over the princess's frame. She's a clumsy maid, often dropping things randomly or stuttering in her unique accent when caught off guard. But she sees that Sasha beams at her with enthusiasm and sincerity, brightening up the room just a tad.
Then, Mikasa will tread to the Empress's living quarters. She'll pay her respects to the harem and sit with them for morning tea. Most of the women slink and slither around her, waiting and assessing her to see if they need to sink their teeth in yet. Empress Dina, however, is cordial and friendly, attempting to help her with the transition as much as possible.
Regardless, Mikasa will just sip her tea and tune out the conversation, unless directly spoken to. Even then, she finds that the words still are ensnared in her throat. Therefore, her responses are short and emotionless. She's sure that the others think of her as rude and conceited; yet the Empress simply smiles and redirects the conversation.
It's so unlike the gradually-more-fluent conversations that she has with Armin. The companionship that she's built with him is strange. Nevertheless, she finds that the times when she feels the least cold are during their afternoon teas together.
Occasionally, she'll have an evening event to attend, to which she also meaninglessly and mechanically goes through. Mikasa will be put into lavish dresses and don extravagant jewelry, only for her to stare blankly at a wall or daintily pick at the food on her plate. Empress Dina will shoot her an encouraging smile from time to time, coming over to make polite conversation with her.
However, that only directs more attention to her than necessary, prompting some of the other royals and ministers to peek at her from the corner of their beady eyes. The weight of their shameless stares bears down on Mikasa until her throat is overworked from the effort of heaving out her words.
Finally, every time she ends the day by taking off her makeup, Mikasa stares into the mirror as she wipes off the powder. Slowly, the image of the ideal figurine fades and there's only an empty shell of a person beneath the mask.
The sight only makes her heart shatter into remnants again. At times, she'll rub the towel harshly onto her skin, attempting to create friction and heat as the pale substance smears and clings to her cheeks. Sometimes, Mikasa will even dig her nails into her face, trying to make the repressed tears fall as faint red streaks contrast the paleness of her face.
It never works, but it doesn't stop her from repeating the process every night.
And no matter where she goes in the palace, there is always the dim rattle of chains trailing her.
Since her arrival, Mikasa has difficulty sleeping. The food doesn't suit her taste. On the occasions she falls asleep after endless tossing and turning, a pit still settles in her stomach every time she wakes up and takes in the surroundings of her luxurious room.
Whenever she can, she takes a stroll through the different palace gardens. The plants are different to the ones from Hizuru but the scent of the flowers wafting through the summer air brings Mikasa the closest to home. She'll try to stand for as long as she can under the sun, hoping the rays will melt the cold glaze that encases her.
But it doesn't work — no matter the amount of time she stays in that position.
Otherwise, she'll go to the library or read and write letters to her family. Those letters are her only source of solace. Every time she grips the paper, Mikasa's touching the hand of her father, her mother or her cousin. Every time she reads the letters, she can feel their presence by her side, brushing her hair softly.
Every time she writes the letters, she can finally feel the glow from whatever light is in the room permeating through her and embracing her with security and affection.
But the sensation is fleeting and leaves her staring out the window in an even more hollow haze, wondering if water will start gushing down her cheeks.
They never do.
Today, she thinks that the heavens are crying for her because she's incapable of doing so.
Levi has recovered from his injuries, but her father and mother's bodies are becoming increasingly overworked. In the two months that she's been gone, there's been a sudden wave of foreign businesses coming to Hizuru, which the locals may or may not be receptive to. Now her parents are trying their best to accommodate the terms of the treaty, while maintaining stability among the people.
She can sense the fatigue through their letters. She can sense their worry for their home. Above all, she can sense their worry for her in a new territory.
A knife digs into her chest, twisting and turning until a numbing soreness expands through her entire body. Rubbing the focus point tenderly, Mikasa looks at the water dripping down the pane like tiny streams of rivers.
Legend says there is a river in the high mountains of Hizuru that —
Her breath hitches. Her lungs feel like they're folding inward, making her gasp in short spurts for oxygen. Shakily intaking an uneven breath, she massages the spot over her heart, feeling it pump and beat violently against her cavity.
What would she forget?
A swirl of images flash in front of her vision. She's unable to identify any of the visions, but they only serve to aggravate the needle that's being driven into the back of her skull. Closing her eyes, Mikasa concentrates on maintaining a rhythm for her breathing, despite the escalating agony in her head.
In. Out. In. Out.
Moisture forms in the corner of her vision. Hazily, she wonders if she'll finally cry.
Placing her hands on the table, she tries to stand up on coltish legs. There's absolutely no strength in her arms, however, so she can rest her hands lightly on the dark wood. Inadvertently letting out a cry, she tries to will the muscles to work but they won't listen. It feels like they're constrained and stuck in place. Her forehead feels damp from the energy draining from her body.
In that moment, Mikasa shifts to glance toward the window again, glancing at the sky through her blurry vision. It's dreary and bleak. There's no sight of the sun coming to peek out through the dark clouds. There's no sense of light coming down to shine warmth and life onto this world. There's no happiness or contentment when she peeks outside.
But then suddenly, she remembers when she saw a completely opposite scene.
That sky was dark but colorfully lit with hazy orange lights radiating comfort and peace. That sky brought life down to the earth, making her exclaim with amazement and joy. That sky carried her wish to be happy forever up to the heavens.
That sky carried one of the happiest moments in her life, which Mikasa remembered never wanting to forget.
Abruptly, the chilly sensation wraps around her snugly, forcefully pulling her down.
Doubling over onto her knees in shock, Mikasa can't get rid of the terrible — and beautiful — illusions flying before her. Screwing her eyes shut, she tries to will the visions to go away, muffling a cry from the sting between her brows.
When vibrant green eyes pop up from a distant memory, she lurches forward, slamming her hands onto the floor to prevent her from falling flat on her face. Yet, this action only leaves her more light-headed and weaker to keep herself from crumbling.
No.
"My lady!"
Vaguely, she hears Sasha running over. Black spots dance in her vision before she passes out.
Before that happens though, no moisture leaks out from her eyes.
The world is dark and fuzzy when she wakes up.
Mikasa tries opening her eyes slowly, but the light from the lamps instantly causes her to wince and turn her head into her pillow. Eventually, however, she's able to flutter her lids gingerly to clear the fogginess in her vision. As she cranes her head up, she realizes that she's tucked into her bed.
Her dark-grey eyes flitter across the room, noticing Sasha stepping through the door while carrying a basin of water and some towels. Hearing some quiet, discreet whispers, Mikasa shifts her gaze to the corner of the room. Blinking tiredly, she discerns someone with blond hair facing someone with dark hair.
A little stitch forms in her side as she struggles to sit up. Her breath catches in her throat, causing her to cough unceremoniously.
All three heads turn toward Mikasa. The sound of Sasha's surprised gasp makes her turn to her lady-in-waiting. However, her head rotates a bit too jerkily, causing her to groan. Her maid hurries over to the bedside table to pour a cup of water. With trembling hands, Mikasa accepts the cup. Quickly putting an arm over her shoulders, Sasha props her up. Leaning her head back, she rests against the headboard with a grimace.
"The doctor says you've been under great stress lately. You also haven't been eating or sleeping well," the brunette servant says with worry obvious in her eyes.
Every part of her body feels overworked and overexerted. There's a dull ringing in her ears, as if someone took a battering ram and slammed it into the back of her head. Bringing the cup to her lips sluggishly, she takes a sip of the water. Instantly, she downs larger gulps, discovering how refreshing the water is for her parched throat.
"He suggested that you take some time away from the palace. Perhaps, spend a few weeks in a place that would remind you of home," Sasha adds, sitting down gently on the bed with her. Her hands begin mollifyingly rubbing her back. For some reason, her touch is extremely relaxing, causing her eyes to close. Her posture slackens even more against the wooden board.
"There's a villa in the countryside that belongs to the royal family. You could stay there for a little bit," Sasha suggests, continuing her motions.
Upon hearing the sincerity in the brunette's tone, something reverberates in Mikasa. It makes her throat close for a different reason than cold confinements pressing down on her windpipe. Instead, an instant overwhelming amount of heat surges through her. Her tendons and joints loosen, making her almost melt onto the bed. The tenderness in the middle of her forehead begins to fade, clearing her senses.
For an instant, it feels like her body is extremely light and floaty — as if she didn't have to worry about the invisible chains that had been plaguing her for the past two months. The words finally register, prompting her to feel an unbelievable sense of relief. In that second, Mikasa finally realizes how heavy everything felt around her. Letting out an exhale, she nods fuzzily as some tiny droplets form in the corner of her eyes.
"I still think it'd be best if she stayed here."
And just like that, the glow fades.
Her body freezes into another frosty prison. It becomes more difficult to breathe, her lungs starting to crumble. The cold chains suddenly clasp around her again, rendering her incapable of moving. Her heart constricts and contracts fitfully, reigniting the unbearable misery that she thought was gone from Sasha's touch.
Mikasa slowly opens her eyes to direct them towards the corner of the room. Armin is partially leaning against the table, his fingers holding onto the side of the wooden surface. Concern and anxiety are apparent in his appearance; yet she sees a little vibration run through his shoulders upon hearing the dark-haired man speak.
Eren stands against the window, one leg propped up on the wall behind him. He's dressed in dark blue robes with his typical updo. His arms are crossed, his posture poised and straight. The lines of his face are callous and rigid as his forest-green eyes watch her intensely.
Quickly turning away, Mikasa directs her stare to her lap. The cold starts becoming more prominent around her collarbone, weaving and coiling until her throat can't seem to regulate the necessary oxygen for breathing. They solidify and become thinner, transforming into something like vines. The wisps begin slithering up her neck. Suddenly, she has the urge to tilt her head up frantically to save herself from the sensation.
Nevertheless, she reigns in the temptation by clutching her cup more sturdily.
Mikasa hears Armin draw a controlled sigh before saying in a stiffer-than-usual voice, "The doctor said —"
"I know what the doctor said," the prince interjects. There's a razor edge to his voice: it's something so unfamiliar. It's something she had never heard from him before.
How much did she truly know about the person who she promised to never forget?
Another dagger pierces her chest, splintering her heart into fragments again. The spiraling vines around her neck only grow worse. A breath gets stuck in her windpipe, causing her to let out a faint inadvertent gasp. This time, Mikasa cannot resist the urge to lightly massage her collar, trying to alleviate the pressure.
She misses the way Eren twitches, as if he stopped himself from lurching forward to see what was wrong.
Despite the caustic suffering that she's currently experiencing, an overwhelming sense of lethargy also rushes through her; in that second, Mikasa is so tired.
Therefore, she declares hoarsely, "I'd like to go to the villa."
If she looked up, Mikasa would've seen Eren's eyes vividly reflecting his pique. She would've seen his mouth morphing into a scowl while a fleeting shadow falls over the contours of his face. She would've seen a detectable friction diffusing off his stance upon hearing her words.
Knock. Knock. She rotates her head towards the sound.
Zeke stands by the entrance in off-white robes with his hands behind his back. His hair is groomed with not a single stand in disarray. His demeanor appears friendly and kind. Everything about his aura speaks to pristineness and perfection, the look completed with his round glasses.
Yet, Mikasa notes that his smile is a little too perfectly formed.
Dipping his head in greetings, Zeke says, "Good evening, my lady. I heard you weren't doing well, so I wanted to drop by and see how you were doing." There's concern in his tone, but the vines around her only strengthen.
Unconsciously, the hand by her throat rubs a little bit harder, attempting to soothe the sensation. Forcing her lips to curve up, Mikasa responds, "Thank you."
With his picturesque smile in place, the eldest prince asks, "May I come in?" His steel-grey eyes observe her like a hawk.
Swallowing unevenly, she slowly nods, maintaining her expression. She brings the hand by her throat down to clutch onto the cup, instantly needing an anchor to root her.
Poised with that same polite smile, Zeke enters the room. Striding over to Armin and Eren, he gives them each a quick clap on the back. Armin merely gives him a similar courteous, but bland, expression.
Eren, on the other hand, has removed any previous sentiment from his expression. Nevertheless, the air gets bleaker when the two interact for that brief second. Neither say anything, yet Zeke's smile transforms into something frostier as he stares at his youngest brother.
Meanwhile, Eren not-so-discreetly burns a hole into his older brother's back when Zeke rotates to Mikasa, unaware of — or choosing to ignore — the building tension in the room.
"I hope the doctor was able to help. What did he say?" he asks, sitting down on a chair and crossing his legs.
Clearing her throat, Mikasa discovers that the action seems to only further puncture her lungs. However, she answers quietly, "The doctor said a change of scenery may help. Perhaps the royal villa would be of use."
Zeke tilts his head, pursing his lips momentarily. Under the light, she notices a fleeting glint in his eye which makes the thorns from the vines bristle her skin sharply. Nonetheless, the look disappears quickly. Clapping his hands in front of him, he replies, "Well, I don't see why not. If it'll help you recover, then please arrange the trip accordingly."
Despite the creeping sensation trickling down her spine, Mikasa can't repress the tidal relief that spreads over her. Her neck feels less strained and constricted. The ache in her body lessens, giving her a reprieve from the excruciating onslaught of sensations it's experiencing. Dipping her chin, she responds lowly, "Thank you, Your Highness."
"Not at all." He stands up and smooths out his robes, before throwing a quick look over his shoulder at Eren. Said man continues to stare at him with apathy and taut shoulders.
Dimly, in some corner of her mind, Mikasa wonders why the relationship between the two brothers appears so acerbic and hostile.
One of the corners of Zeke's lips twitch upward quickly to form what seems to be a slight smirk. However, it promptly evens back into that well-mannered smile. Stepping deliberately to her side, he bows in partings. "Well, I should be going. I just wanted to drop by and see how you were doing."
In one fluid motion, he takes one of her hands and dips his head to bring his lips to it.
Her entire body freezes.
A memory of a dark-haired man doing the same thing comes to mind.
For a second, the only image she can see is the dark-haired man delicately pressing his lips to her knuckles. The only sensation she can experience is the momentary but powerful warmth that tingled briskly and rapidly, making her feel incredibly content and like she was by a cozy hearth.
And then when he looks up to meet Mikasa's shocked gaze, the only image she can see is his face.
But she doesn't want to look at him.
The vines grow longer and pricklier, compressing her until she may pass out again. There's something knocking into the back of her skull so powerfully that Mikasa needs to force her posture to stay upright against the headboard. Her heart feels like it's shattering against her rib cage, as if it's determined there is no longer a safe place where it can rest and hide.
But, with as much control as she can, Mikasa restricts the impulse to quiver. She suppresses the images with a silent, deep breath and pastes an empty smile on her face. Tilting her head down gingerly, she murmurs, "Thank you."
Mikasa completely misses the rage and ire that flash across Eren's face. She misses the way that he digs his nails into his biceps, leaving imprints through the clothing. She misses the way that a darkness begins to emit off him. She misses the way the way the teal flecks in his vibrant green eyes blaze and smolder as they watch this entire exchange.
"Sleep well." Zeke's eyes flash swiftly with something unrecognizable. Retracting her hand, Mikasa brings her dark-grey eyes down to her lap. His smile is still courteous and friendly when he leaves the room without a second glance at the two young men in the corner.
All is silent. Sasha peeks between her and the two men, wondering what to do. Armin looks solemn, flitting his eyes to Eren in the corner of his vision. The prince only continues to stare intently at Mikasa, ignoring everybody else in the room.
But she doesn't notice.
The only thing she can think about is the chilly lingering touch on her hand, a stark contrast to the heat of the memory that suddenly circulated through her.
And then unwillingly, Mikasa sees the memory of the dark-haired man again, beginning to lift his gaze up to peer at her with playfulness and affection.
But she doesn't want to remember his face.
Swallowing unsteadily, she lets out an unconscious sight. A light sheen forms over her eyes. Hoarsely, she states, "Please leave me now. I wish to rest."
Eren doesn't even take a breath before he strides out the door with a vicious bang.
Before, she thinks she would've cried.
Now, she's not sure.
"So, you're saying four days before your grandfather and father were accused of treason, there was a servant who wasn't registered in the employment list?
Armin nods breathlessly "Yes. Someone must have tampered with the original list and excluded this person. But a month later"—he points to a transaction line in his household's account books, directing the prince's gaze—"when most of the servants were let go with their last payment, there was an extra draw of funds from our payable accounts."
Unconsciously, Eren leans forward, hanging onto his strategist's every word. This could be it for them.
"This doesn't add up to what we should've seen in the balance. If we find this servant, it'll be an important step," Armin states, the corners of his lips curving upwards. His blue eyes flare with traces of excitement.
The prince's eyes also gleam with eagerness, his brain working rapidly to connect the pieces of the puzzle. "Find whoever could've tampered with the original list and this servant. The servant most likely would've fled the city. See if you can find a record of anyone leaving the capitol that matches our description after the money was drawn."
His strategist gathers up the papers with a determined air, giving a resolute nod. Things were progressing slower than expected. But perhaps it was better this way: it would eventually make the other side lower their guards. More of the neutral ministers were also waning toward his side, further delaying the appointment for Crown Prince.
The prince stands up sluggishly, stretching his arms and rolling his neck wearily. Walking to the glass doors separating the room from the outside pavilion, his green eyes take in the sight of the setting sun.
It was a beautiful day. In the horizon, the orange glow from the sun shines brilliantly and vividly. His study is right by the garden that his mother was so fond of, reminding him of the times that he'd play in the dirt while she chided him for being so unruly and disobedient. The flowers are in the last stages of their blooming season now that it's the end of the summer. The beams of light bounce beautifully of the many different colored petals.
Unconsciously, a recollection of running through the streets under a setting sun with many dazzling, colored lights comes to mind.
Eren grits his teeth when he hears the slamming of the cage.
The image of a light purple petal fluttering in the breeze to land on Mikasa's dark hair comes alive in front of his eyes.
Curling his hands into fists, he stuffs them into the pockets of his trousers. The ridges of his shoulders are now stony and unyielding. Letting out a silent breath, he screws his eyes shut, a wrinkle forming in the middle of his forehead.
When he heard she collapsed two weeks ago, Eren froze on the spot. Words could not describe the grief and fear that struck him in that second. All he recalls is the little boy in the cage screaming and wailing to go to her. He remembers the little boy injuring himself, propelling against the metal bars to try to be by her side — and for once, he didn't attempt to ignore the cries.
Therefore, ignoring any reason to stay away from her, he immediately went to her room with Armin in tow.
When Eren finally saw her after two months since her arrival, he heard the little boy fall onto the floor, sobbing. Mikasa was lying in her bed, her skin extraordinary paler than normal. There were deep circles under her eyes. There was no color to her cheeks and her face looked wispy and frail. Moreover, in her sleep, there were instances of her shivering, even though she was tucked snugly under the covers.
It took everything he had to not crumble onto the floor also, beating the ground in misery and anguish. It took everything he had to not brush her cheeks, hoping that it would warm her up. It took everything he had to not hold her in his arms, protecting her from all her sadness like he once did.
It took everything he had to not let the little boy out of the cage.
But when Zeke came, all Eren could think about was how much he wanted to torch him alive, right then and there. Thus, he had to dig his nails painfully into his arms and built a frosty tomb to cool the fire raging within.
And when his older brother went up to her side and kissed her knuckles…
It still took everything he had to not let the inferno escape and melt through the icy prison.
He clenches his jaw even more. The scrunch in Eren's head becomes even more defined. Inadvertently, he hunches over, friction now rolling off him in waves. A ringing sounds in his ears, prompting an ache to erupt between his eyes. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he heaves a deep sigh.
There was a time when he promised to be her protection against sadness and sorrow.
"Eren?"
Armin's voice is concerned. Yet, there's an underlying current of apprehension like he understands what's going through his friend's mind.
Without turning back or halting his actions, the prince simply asks lowly, "Is there anything else?"
There's no response temporarily. But Eren knows Armin well enough to know what he wants to ask.
Nevertheless, he waits.
"You know that it's wrong. You know that you can't have both," Armin finally states, his voice controlled and deliberate. A dagger twists and rotates into his side with every word. "I know you're not heartless. So, why?"
Vaguely, Eren registers that the blond man sounds like he's almost wary of the upcoming answer.
But what did being her protection matter, if she wasn't by his side?
Of course, he knows.
"Because all I want… is to just be by her side."
Mikasa's sitting in the library, her hands daintily holding onto a letter from her parents.
Eldia, by the terms of the treaty, are currently outsourcing production of certain goods to Hizuru. The influx of foreign businesses coming to the nation has waned, solving one issue for her parents. Even though this means that revenue will increase, Hizuru is required to turn a certain amount of it over to Eldia. Her parents now need to plan for infrastructure and increase spending through either government debt or taxes — both of which need to be handled delicately.
As she ponders over the letter, Mikasa can sense the stress and anxiety from her parents. But they still worry the most about her. They worry about her health, the food, whether she's getting enough sleep and if she's adjusted to a new nation yet. They worry if she misses home, attaching a dried flower from the apple blossom trees in their gardens.
Most of all, they worry if she's happy or not.
Thus, Mikasa can only write that she's fine.
She's well-rested after spending some time away in the royal villa in the countryside for two weeks. The food is acclimating to her taste. The scenery here is beautiful. Her days are enjoyable. Everyone is courteous to her. The palace is grand but spacious, allowing her to have some freedom to do what she desires in the middle of her schedule.
Mikasa tries to convey as much sincerity as she can into her writing, so that they can't tell that half of the words are lies.
But she doesn't want them to worry about her. She doesn't want them to think about her more than the nation or themselves. As she thanks them for the memento, Mikasa takes a moment to run her fingers delicately over the petals.
In that moment, the tips of her fingers burn.
Retracting her hand swiftly, she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. The heat begins to tingle and flood through her, increasing her body temperature. However, it worms its way to her heart, the sensation beginning to sharply prod and poke at the organ. Biting her lip, she unconsciously presses the pen down harder, the ink forming a large black dot on the page.
"My lady."
Jerking her head to the entrance, Mikasa sees Zeke standing at a distance, bowing respectfully. Today, he appears no different than the last time she saw him: affable, with a courteous smile etched onto his face.
Nevertheless, a little chill slithers down her spine. Straightening up in her seat, however, she tilts her head down in acknowledgement and reciprocates the smile with one of her own emotionless ones. "Good afternoon, Prince Zeke."
The sound of his shoes echoes lightly in the spacious room as he steps through the entrance. "How was your trip to the villa?"
Mikasa doesn't fail to notice the tiny gleam in his steel-grey eyes. "It was well, thank you. The fresh air was what I needed."
Those are probably the most genuine sentences she's uttered today.
When she arrived at the villa with Sasha, there was an instant sense of reprieve that engulfed her. As she stepped out the carriage and took in the beaming sun, Mikasa felt her entire being become submerged in a pleasant heat, not even realizing that she almost forgot what the feeling was like. Instantly, the cold vanished. Her body felt lighter, released from the chains. She remembers intaking the air and feeling like she could finally breathe.
Everything about those two weeks reminded her of the mountains in Hizuru — it reminded her of home. It made her feel like she finally had her own peaceful world. It made her feel protected and secure under the orange sun.
It made her forget all her sorrow and sadness.
However, everything hit Mikasa at full power when she came back to the palace. The chains began to rattle around her again, trailing wherever she went. Frost penetrated her lungs again, making it difficult to breathe. There was no more relaxation. No more protection or tranquility.
And now, she remembered every sorrow and sadness.
Nodding, Zeke gives her that same considerate smile as the distance between them gradually reduces. "I understand that this adjustment has been a bit difficult for you," he gently comments. She tells herself to not tighten the hand gripping her pen. "I wonder if there's anything that I can do to help make it easier."
From anyone else, these words may have helped melt the ice that covers her from head to toe. Yet, every feature on his face is too ideal to give off a friendly appearance. With the same blank smile, she responds, "Thank you. It's a slow process but I'm learning how to live in Eldia."
His smile becomes a little more amused, prompting a faint bristle to run through her. With a casual air, Zeke says, "That's reassuring to hear. I imagine you loved your home country with all your heart."
The corner of her lips feels stiffer on her face. "Yes."
"It must've been gut-wrenching to be dragged away from it." As he takes another deliberate step to her, Mikasa catches the barest layer of shrewdness in his eyes.
The urge to curl her hands into fists almost overtakes her. Nevertheless, she keeps her hands where they are on the table: one holding her pen — more forcefully than necessary — and the other placed by the paper. "Well, anyone will miss their home if they're far from it."
The eldest Eldian prince gives a thoughtful hum, but Mikasa can tell that it's not sincere. "Indeed. But your circumstances were a little particular, were they not?" His hands fold behind his back leisurely as he continues to stare at her.
Distantly, she doesn't think her heart is beating. Instantly, the princess tries regulating her breathing as silently as possible, ignoring the coldness that begins to trickle into her lungs. However, she replies lowly, "Perhaps. But I'm not the first person to do so."
Zeke still looks a tad amused. Something lights in his steel-grey eyes. Creeping dread begins shooting its way down her back. Stopping a respectable distance from her, he states nonchalantly, "I understand that my little brother was… taken… with you during his stay in Hizuru."
Instantly, she plummets back into that dark, bottomless ocean, battered and smacked around by wild waves.
The words echo clearly, nothing dulled or muffled in the water. There's no inkling of light. Panicked and fearful, she thrashes underneath the sea. She's completely chilled to the bones, making it difficult to move. As she attempts breaking through the surface for large gasps of air, Mikasa is pulled and tugged down by dreary, slimy plants sneaking up her ankles. Her arms wave frenziedly in the water, struggling to free herself from their hold.
"But for him to do what he did…" the blond prince trails off with a lingering glint in his eyes. Shrugging indifferently, he continues, "Well. Some of the older ministers said he'd be a monster when he got older. He simply never knows when to stop."
She's frantically trying to lift her head above the water. However, the more she struggles, the more the plants strengthen around her calves. They pull and pull until she can't resist descending further into the limitless ocean. As the seconds tick by, she gets more and more exhausted, her body beginning to run out of oxygen.
"Your marriage to the future Crown Prince will be important for political stability. I was wondering if we'd have aligned interests." Zeke tilts his head, as if he were asking an innocent question about the weather.
Mikasa continues straining for the surface. Her arms grasp and flail, trying to pull herself up but to no avail. Everything about her feels excessively sluggish and heavy. The plants have wormed their way up to the center of her body, continuously yanking her down. Her surroundings get impossibly darker. Her muscles and limbs are on fire, but she needs to free herself.
"My little brother is passionate about serving this nation, but I don't agree with his means. I believe you may share the same thoughts?" The blond prince phrases it as a question but it's more like a statement.
Desperate and panicking, Mikasa opens her mouth and screams.
Finally, she breathes.
Blinking abruptly, Mikasa realizes she's in the palace. As she transitions back into this reality, a little noise falls from her mouth. Surprised, she registers it sounds something like a cough for air and a… laugh.
Zeke also seems confused, slightly raising an eyebrow at her response but not questioning her.
Clearing her throat, she says hoarsely, "Forgive me."
On remarkably steady feet, Mikasa stands up deliberately. While her heart thumps irregularly against her rib cage, she tucks her letters away. It's only then that she realizes that her hand is cramped and sore. Discreetly looking down, she sees the pads of her fingers are white. Furthermore, there are noticeable prints on the smooth surface of her pen.
Silently inhaling a deep breath to compose herself, the princess shifts her head back to Zeke, who is studying her with a careful expression. Intertwining her hands in front of her, Mikasa merely replies, "I have no interest in who becomes Crown Prince. Either way, this place will never be home for me."
Tilting her chin in partings, Mikasa starts to stride past him. Keeping her dark-grey eyes fixed on the door, she focuses on putting one foot in front of another and ignores the never-ending remote clink of the chains behind her.
"Love is such an interesting thing, isn't it?"
Her feet are rooted to the floor.
Unconsciously, her hold on her letters clasps down more rigorously, about to bend and tear through the paper. Her body amazingly loses more heat than she thought possible, freezing her veins. She continues to stare ahead at the doors, ignoring the sensations of the thin, yet strong vines inching towards and tickling her neck.
Obscurely, she realizes this is the first time he's spoken in an honest, intrigued tone.
"It's like a dagger. It's meant to protect, but at the same time it kills." Zeke fully rotates to face her with a calculating glance.
The vines crush her in full force.
They squeeze and squeeze and squeeze until she's sure she'll faint. The thorns rake and poke into her skin. Her heart begins hammering briskly against her chest, as if endeavoring to break free from the confinements but only creating a more bitter suffering that flows through her body. A pounding starts to sound in her head, the blood surging in her ears.
Yet again, Mikasa realizes that her lungs have stopped working properly, prompting the sudden longing to reach towards her neck and just claw at the invisible restraints.
"Loving my little brother is just like wielding a dagger. It can strengthen you; but one wrong move and"—Zeke waves one hand with an unconcerned air, moving close enough that she can feel the oscillations coming from his body—"well… I'm sure you already know."
A pit settles in her stomach, prompting the little food she ate earlier to start churning inside. A sharp twinge penetrates her skull, provoking an unbearable agony to flood through her. It takes all she has to not just double over onto the floor and curl up into a ball with her knees to her chest. Tiny beads of sweat form on her forehead from the exertion of keeping her body outwardly unaffected.
Biting the inside of her cheek, she compels the muscles in her windpipe to open and intake air. The nerves howl in pain, but they nonetheless comply after some difficulty. Mikasa turns back to Zeke and quirks her lips up slightly to paste a blank smile. In a low voice, she replies, "I imagine anything in this world can be a double-edged blade — whether it be a dagger or one's own ambition."
The words hang in the air.
For once during this exchange, a noticeable flash of ire occurs in his eyes. His smile becomes stonier. His posture emits a little hostility, eradicating his polite demeanor for a short second. Nevertheless, the façade slips back into place as Zeke gives her a little bow in goodbye.
Continuing towards her chambers without a backwards glance, Mikasa heads out the library and back to her chambers with a rigid spine, feeling like a puppet on strings walking stiltedly and awkwardly.
Behind her, the chains continue to sound dimly. The vines are still entwined around her snugly — as if it were emulating a lover's embrace but only serving to trap her in another prison.
It's only when Mikasa enters the safety of her chambers that she throws up the little contents of her stomach.
In the end, that love was only the woven fabric of an illusionary dream...
Right?
A/N:
So, Eren and Armin are now figuring out how to bring Zeke down. Mikasa is grieving and homesick. She's still incredibly hurt and doesn't know what to do in the palace, so she's mainly repressing everything. Zeke fails to be smooth. Eren is being possessive, but at the same time trying to protect Mikasa by keeping her at a distance by not talking to her…
Sounds similar to canon? Except I'm about to take this possessiveness to another level lol (sorry, not sorry).
That interaction with Zeke and Mikasa was surprisingly fun to write. But Zeke clearly miscalculated lol. He thought that she'd be easy to manipulate because of what she went through and she really wasn't. He was definitely forward and confident, but he probably thought that would intimidate her and then it'd be easier for him to use her to bring down his brother. But... not the case.
The next chapter will be out soon: originally 5 and 6 were going to be one chapter, but I wrote too much when editing, so I decided to split them up into two chapters.
In the meantime, please let me know your thoughts if you have any 😊