The crickets were chirping quite loudly, peaking nighttime cold. The birds, on the other hand, seem on a mission in heightening the sunshine. The reason why they overlap was something you're not entirely sure until a glimpse of a huge blonde man towering above you snapped it all out. Surely, the figure brought you back to your disposition. As if a camera lens adjusted to be of use, the blur slowly dissipated. The first thing uncovered was his face looking down at you, so unamused and bored beyond repair amidst the searing glare towards his prey—just as if the prey in question was just a measly bird, not an injured being who feels like seconds away from dying.
He motioned to get back to work upon noticing your efforts in gaining consciousness, removed his green cloak which revealed a tight sleek black undersuit and a metal breastplate that lives to its job in shaping his body to further brawn, then—much to your surprise—he wrapped it around your shoulders.
The very uncanny gesture reverberated the tingling red alarm as you remembered that: this menacing man is the one in command, the one who ordered for you to be in this chamber—tied up and forced to speak for days god knows how long.
"This wouldn't be long," his face closing the proximity as he dabbed an ice-cold cloth towards your punched cheek. "Hold it." The order made you realize that you're not tied up anymore.
Momentarily following the command, you examined the surrounding cell—old, moist, and reeking of rusty iron. You then gauged whether you could fight, perhaps manhandle him.
It was until he let out a flat announcement, "Choose your battles wisely this time around; one slice of my finger and you'll get smashed to death, burnt."
It didn't take long for you to realize that you are, in fact, doomed.
Not only is he to be followed by the underlings who grudgingly ruined you for being the only captured enemy, but he is also the highest in command—the hell of a Commander in a land where devils reside, and the greatest card to be pulled out as he's none other than the Colossal titan.
To avoid further slip of disorientation, you examined your body next. The blemishes on your feet had been already addressed. You felt your stomach—one that was kicked badly when you were captured—wrapped in gauze underneath your clothes. You caressed it to be sure, then shot him a bad glare thereafter.
"I had my subordinate help me with matters concerning your bare body."
What type of help? you hissed inside your mind. Your uniform had long lost its buttons; it's not even tied properly anymore. Maybe that was why the night breeze and fuzzy sunshine overlapped in your dreaming mind; your body's been fighting your injuries for its life and yet the whole chamber was reeking cold.
"I made sure your major wounds were attended to for all the time you were unconscious. Are you feeling quite better now?"
Further questions ensued—just… why?
Why, indeed? or the blonde silently concurred by raising his brows as he noticed your confusion.
It's because he was impressed. It was reported that none of his comrades heard your voice for weeks they attempted so—not by their provocations, not by brute force, not even when the urban legend Ackerman held onto your collar with gritting teeth, asking you where Eren Yeager was.
"Just so you know, during the moments you were unconscious, we managed to seize Eren. Don't you think your resistance is futile now? Your plans are beyond ruined."
Not that you're unwilling to retort, but your throat is too hoarse to even utter a word. You cleared your throat and when he noticed that, he stood up again and walked towards the counter. The smell of tea kind of replaced the reeking rust. He poured on two cups, gave you one, then casually sipped on the other to remark that it wasn't in any way poisoned.
Finally, you let out a raspy chuckle—perhaps a cynical one. You were fucking thirsty. If you're gonna die, at least you would be tasting a delicacy from this reputable land of the devils.
He continued addressing your wounds thereafter, "One team had planned to trap the Colossal at the port so it'd transform as Eren announces the war. You, on the other hand, were specifically tasked to lure the Recal Corps towards Liberio so that they'd be forced to assist Eren when he finally shows up all bare and at risk at the enemy's territory." With that, he went to dab the cotton at the bruise on your forehead, making your face nearer as he established another point, "And for some reason, despite the intricacies of the plan, you're the only one who was captured. I wonder why."
He knew.
You finally fleshed out the gesture of care toward your wounds. "This is planned, isn't it? The aftercare of this torture—the highest in command talking to me with cotton of disinfectants. It's all planned."
Much to your surprise, you caught a glimpse of amusement on his face; either he was trying to commend your sharpness or he was satisfied that he finally managed to hear your voice.
"If you're thinking you could make me speak through this, then—"
"Then why not? You have nothing left on you. Nothing but a measly prisoner of war offered as collateral for moments to come. See," much to your disdain, the Commander established the next point through a stern whisper, all the while remaining the distance, "you were used as bait. If you were to come back, considering that you're just a newly appointed underling of Zeke, the next role you'll have is to become a titan once he screams."
How did he even manage to know that much?
"What—"
"You are, indeed, left with nothing. All you have left in your life is my generous offer," he repeated, and the searing attempt to register his point so you'd give in jabbed your consciousness like a knife. The kind of nothing he speaks of is the worst one—way too worse than all the nothings you had encountered in that hell of a country.
You covered the faltering demoralization with a frown then urged him to continue. You know that much, after all, ever since you woke up. This can't just be a measly arrangement of him playing hospital games with you; more of his subordinates could be bothered on this job if so.
"Eldia has always been full of beings that are bound to break, shredded apart, torn to pieces—even in front of their loved ones. That's why I've always wanted to own things that wouldn't break."
"Things that wouldn't break…" you slowly trailed, not quite getting the proposal at hand.
"Given that you were left behind by your comrades, no one's gonna make use of you anymore. Think about it, I couldn't be so generous anymore if you were to turn me down. The least that I could do by then is make you choose how you want to die."
"Stop beating around the bush and tell me what you want."
He smiled a bit; finally, or so his face said. For all the weeks you were utterly defiant, he shattered a bit of a wall, enough to open a negotiation. "I'll make use of you. Be a loyal wildcard that wouldn't break for the Commander—just as you formerly wouldn't with Zeke—and I shall offer you a decent disposition despite all the crimes you had done with my men."
You were shocked beyond words. Nothing could prepare you for that. When confusion crept up your face, he just repeated the statement of horror, "You have nothing left after all; nothing but my generosity of taking you as my possession."
The confusion had indeed dissipated to pure horror—the horror that you'll be under someone who could be way more perilous than the previous one, and the horror that he very much took his pleasure on.
After all, you're left with nothing, nothing but him, nothing but to be his impressive toy in war that has great potential in staying intact
the plot has so much potential. i really am torn in turning this to a multi-chaptered fic or just leave it as it is.