Attack on Titan: A Wolf Among Sheep
Chapter 7: The Spies and The Soul of Lilia
…
The sun had just begun to rise, casting long shadows and bathing the quaint cabin nestled in the woods in a soft, golden light. Inside the cabin, the atmosphere was charged with anticipation. The Scout Regiment, including Ymir, Hannes, Levi Squad, and others, gathered together with Fenrir at the cabin.
They were here for a very specific reason - to test Eren's Titan-shifting ability and see if he could harden his skin, an ability that could prove pivotal in the battles to come. But that was not the only test planned for the day. Hange Zoe, her eyes bright with excitement and curiosity, also wanted to put Fenrir's human-form abilities to the test.
The first part of the test was simple - lifting a massive boulder. As Fenrir approached the boulder, there was a noticeable change in the atmosphere. Everyone watched in awe as Fenrir, with his human form, effortlessly hoisted the boulder, his muscles straining, yet unyielding, under the colossal weight.
But Fenrir didn't stop there. With a casual toss, he sent the boulder flying through the air, landing it several yards away with a ground-shaking thud. The demonstration was impressive and chilling, further solidifying Fenrir's otherworldly strength in the minds of the Scouts.
As the dust settled, Hange approached Fenrir again, this time her mind brimming with curiosity about the wolf's expansive knowledge. "Fenrir, you've been around for a very long time and you seem to know a lot of things that are bizarre, even outlandish to us," she began, her eyes alight with excitement. "Tell us, what other creatures exist out there in the world?"
Fenrir took a moment before responding, his gaze far-off. "In my time, I've traversed the nine realms of Yggdrasil, the cosmic world tree that spans these realms," he began, his voice deep and resonant. "There are creatures as lowly as the parasite Nidhogg, gnawing at the roots, to Ratatoskr, the squirrel that scurries up and down the tree carrying messages. The universe is filled with beings of different kinds, each with their own stories and abilities."
The Scouts were left in stunned silence as they tried to comprehend the magnitude of Fenrir's knowledge and the vastness of the universe he described. Yet, this was just another chapter in the story of Fenrir - the monstrous wolf who was proving to be an invaluable ally.
Fenrir's voice was a steady hum in the quiet cabin, his tale unfurling like a tapestry of cosmic knowledge. The room was still as he spun his words, each syllable striking a chord of wonder in the hearts of the Scouts.
…
"The realms of Yggdrasil are vast and diverse, each hosting its own unique inhabitants," Fenrir began. "Asgard is the realm of the Aesir, gods who know the heart of war and command the skies. In its grand halls rests Valhalla, the final abode for warriors who meet their end in honorable combat."
"Vanaheim is a realm flourishing with abundance, governed by the Vanir. These gods find power in the earth, fertility, and wisdom. Jotunheim, a harsh and wild land, is home to the formidable Jotunn, the giants. Alfheim, in stark contrast, is bathed in radiant light, inhabited by the graceful Light Elves."
"In the scorched expanse of Muspelheim, the fire giant Surtr presides over a land of unquenchable flames and blistering heat. Niflheim, a kingdom of biting frost and ceaseless cold, houses ancient beings and the relentless dragon Nidhogg, who gnaws tirelessly at the roots of Yggdrasil."
"Midgard, a realm encapsulated by a vast, churning ocean, is home to humans. In these waters lies Jormungandr, the Midgard Serpent, ever-ready to strike. Svartalfheim, known for the exceptional artistry of its denizens, the Dwarves, lies in the shadowed corners of Yggdrasil."
"And then there's Hel," Fenrir's voice softened a bit, a certain depth creeping into his tone. "It's a realm for those whose end came not from battle but from old age or illness. It's a place governed by my sister, Hela."
As his narration tapered off, silence fell over the room once more. The Scouts sat, utterly rapt, minds buzzing with the newfound understanding of the universe that was vastly more intricate and sprawling than they could have ever imagined. They were but a speck on the cosmic tapestry of existence, and they were just beginning to comprehend the enormity of it all.
…
On the same day, the Scouts repeatedly tested the limits of Eren's abilities, trying to activate the hardening power of his Titan form. However, their endeavors were fruitless, and each subsequent transformation weakened Eren's Titan form noticeably.
The third transformation was particularly alarming. The Titan that Eren managed to form was significantly smaller than his usual fifteen-meter form. Even more distressing, Eren's human body had partially fused to the back of his Titan form, an aberration they had not observed before.
"Stop the experiment now!" Hange's order echoed across the open field.
Levi and his squad sprang into action, cutting into the Titan's nape to extract Eren. But as they made the incision, they realized, with a jolt of horror, that part of Eren's face was unnaturally melded with the Titan. In the extraction process, they had to cut it away.
The field fell into an uncomfortable silence as Eren's muffled cries of pain echoed through the air before finally, mercifully, he lost consciousness. Despite the horrific sight of Eren's mutilated face, the Scouts knew his regenerative abilities as a Titan shifter would mend his physical wounds. But the psychological toll of the ordeal, and the ominous implications it held for their mission, hung heavily in the air. It was clear that they had to rethink their approach, to minimize the risks and maximize the potential of Eren's – and their – abilities.
Despite the disheartening results of the experiment, the scouts knew they could not afford to waver. But it was clear from the current state of Eren that they were a long way from harnessing his hardening ability to seal Wall Maria. The mood was somber, and the gravity of their situation weighed heavy on everyone's hearts.
"That's enough for today," Hange finally announced, her usually bright eyes shadowed with concern.
"Make sure there are no witnesses," Keiji, one of the veteran Scouts, ordered. With Eren's incapacitated state and the evidence of their failed experiment dispersed across the field, secrecy was paramount.
However, unbeknownst to the Scouts, their activities hadn't gone entirely unnoticed. In the distance, hidden from immediate view, a pair of individuals had been watching the experiment. Their keen eyes followed the plumes of smoke rising from Eren's transformations, and their gazes lingered on Fenrir. They watched his every move, his every reaction to the events unfolding. His mysterious abilities and seemingly limitless knowledge held their attention and sparked a dangerous curiosity.
The identity of these onlookers remained a mystery, but their intense interest in Fenrir and the Scouts signaled the beginning of another complex thread in the ever-winding tapestry of their struggles.
…
In the silent quarters of the Trost District that evening, Commander Erwin Smith was engrossed in the report Levi had brought him. It detailed Hange's failed experiment, an account that was as disheartening as it was revealing. Levi's stern countenance held a trace of frustration as he voiced his thoughts on the matter.
"The problem is that we lack information about this hardening ability," Levi suggested, the words falling into the quiet room like weights. He paused for a moment, considering his next words. "What about Historia? Could we gain the information we need through her?"
Erwin's eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of the young woman. He had delved into her background, and what he found was intriguing. "Historia is the illegitimate daughter of Lord Reiss," he stated, recalling his investigation. Yet, as he spoke, his mind drifted back to a conversation he had with Fenrir, and his words echoed in Erwin's thoughts.
"The sad part is, our first king, he wasn't just some monarch. He was like the Colossal Titan, the Armored Titan...and like Eren," Fenrir had said. The heavy words had lingered in the air between them, their implications sinking deep. "He could erase the memories of his own people, all to keep you in the dark, to maintain this farce of peace within the walls."
Fenrir's tone had grown solemn as he continued to divulge the bitter truth. "The Will of the First King... it's not a simple inheritance. It passes on to the one who consumes the previous holder. This is how the power of the Titans is transferred. One has to be turned into a Titan and then consume one of the Nine Titan shifters... That's how it's always been."
The pieces began to click together in Erwin's mind, a sobering realization taking hold. It was not the monarchy's unwillingness that kept them from acting against the Titans. It was something far more deeply entrenched in their lineage. The Will of the First King passed on from parent to child, binding them to the First King's desires. The implications of this information were staggering, and Erwin felt a cold dread settle over him as he considered what this meant for their fight against the Titans.
…
Fenrir, or 'Fen' as the members of Levi Squad had grown accustomed to calling him, stood engaged in conversation with his comrades. They were just outside their cabin, maintaining a light-hearted atmosphere despite the disheartening results of the recent experiments and the chilling revelation about the First King's will.
Gunther was showing encouraging signs of recovery, and he was slowly reverting back to his usual self. Yet, amidst their casual banter and shared laughter, Petra noticed something odd about Fen. His green eyes, usually filled with vibrant energy, had drifted off to the side. His attention was no longer with the group.
Suddenly, Fen turned, his gaze boring into the depth of the surrounding forest. His sharp eyes seemed to pierce through the dense foliage, a focused intensity replacing their usual liveliness.
"I hear someone..." Fen muttered, his voice so soft that it was almost swallowed by the evening breeze. His senses, far superior to that of any human, had picked up hushed voices, a quiet murmur from deep within the forest.
He could discern the whispered exchange between two individuals. Their words were low, barely more than a murmur, but Fen's enhanced hearing could pick up their conversation. The intruders were evidently uncertain if they had been detected or not. Fen didn't let on, his expression gave nothing away. His sharp green eyes remained fixed on the forest, silently conveying a clear message – he could hear them. He knew they were there.
Huddled amidst the dense foliage of the forest, two figures kept a vigilant eye on the cabin in the distance. The men, loyal servants of Lord Rod Reiss, were tasked with an extremely risky mission: to spy on the infamous Levi Squad, and most importantly, on Eren Yeager, Historia Reiss, and the enigmatic figure known as Fenrir.
The younger of the two, Rolf, shifted uneasily under the intensity of their assignment. His eyes darted to his companion, concern etched in his features. "Are we certain they haven't noticed us?" he whispered, barely daring to breathe for fear of alerting the formidable individuals in the distance.
His companion, an experienced spy named Dieter, kept his focus fixed on the cabin. "Keep your voice down, Rolf," he admonished in a hushed tone, "we're far enough away. They can't—"
His assurances, however, faltered as he caught sight of a shift in Fenrir's posture. The green-eyed man, previously engaged in lighthearted conversation with the others, now looked directly towards their hiding spot. An icy shiver crawled down Dieter's spine.
"He heard us," Dieter muttered, the dread evident in his voice. Despite their distance and the caution they had exercised, Fenrir had somehow detected their presence.
"But... that's impossible," Rolf stuttered, panic flitting across his face. His eyes darted between Dieter and Fenrir, who continued to stare in their direction. "Should we... retreat?"
Dieter, despite his fear, thought critically about their next move. Fenrir hadn't moved yet, nor had he alerted his companions. Maybe it was a bluff, a test? But those unwavering green eyes suggested otherwise.
"We retreat," Dieter finally said, his eyes never leaving Fenrir. "Slowly. Without alerting them."
As they began their cautious withdrawal, one thing was clear to both of them: Fenrir was not only an asset to the Scouts, he was a game-changer, a being with the potential to tip the scales of their long-fought war. Their report to Lord Reiss would certainly prove interesting.
Just as Dieter motioned for a cautious retreat, a vibrant, neon green rift split open in the air in front of them, cutting off their escape. Wide-eyed with terror, they barely had time to register the anomaly before a pair of large, powerful arms reached out from the rift and latched onto their clothing. The next instant, they were yanked off their feet, pulled through the rift, and deposited unceremoniously on the ground in front of the startled Levi Squad.
Along with them were Hannes, Gelgar, and Nanaba who had been patrolling nearby, their expressions equally as surprised. But what truly sent a bolt of fear through the two spies was the sight of Fenrir standing just a few feet away, his eyes glowing a feral green, his lips pulled back into a wolfish grin. He was the one who had effortlessly plucked them from their hiding spot.
"It's impolite to spy on others," Fenrir's voice broke the stunned silence, his tone deceptively calm considering the situation. Rolf and Dieter lay immobilized on the ground, a sense of doom washing over them as they fully realized the scope of their predicament.
The faces of the Scouts around them hardened, their hands moving subtly towards the weapons at their sides. As the shock faded, tension spread among them like wildfire, their gazes fixated on the two spies now in their midst, brought forth by their powerful and mysterious ally. The mission had taken a perilous turn, and it was clear that the stakes had become higher than ever.
The sudden commotion had drawn attention, and soon a group of scouts joined them outside, curious expressions quickly turning to ones of surprise and concern as they took in the scene. Among them were Sasha, Hange, Historia, Jean, and Armin, their eyes wide at the sight of the two strangers detained before Fenrir.
"What happened here?" Hange was the first to break the silence, her gaze flickering between Fenrir and the two strangers on the ground.
Fenrir stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest. "These two were spying on us from the forest," he stated, his voice steady, his green eyes unwavering as he glanced back at the two men. "They work for Rod Reiss."
The revelation sent a ripple of shock through the crowd. Questions began to rise, but Fenrir continued, his gaze scanning the faces around him, his tone authoritative. "I've remained hidden among the royalty of the walls for quite some time, but it seems they are pushing it. They've been watching us."
Armin frowned, turning to Historia. "Historia, do you know anything about this?"
Historia shook her head, her expression troubled. "I knew my father had his methods, but I didn't know..."
Fenrir sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Well, the cat's out of the bag now," he muttered, his gaze hardening. "We should prepare ourselves. You've about to face a side of the monarchy you've never seen before."
…
Inside the cabin, the atmosphere was tense, a palpable layer of apprehension hanging in the air. The two men from the forest sat stiffly across the table, their eyes darting between the scouts present. Hange, ever the scientist, had her eyes gleaming with curiosity as she leaned over the table towards them.
"So, you work for Rod Reiss, do you?" she started, her tone deceptively soft. "What's he planning?"
The men remained silent, lips pressed into a thin line. Their gaze flickered to Fenrir, who was standing off to the side, his green eyes cold. His patience was fraying; it was clear to all present that he had little tolerance for liars, a trait honed from his years dealing with deceitful Aesir.
Seeing that the men weren't planning on divulging any information, Hange changed her approach. "What is it he wants with Eren, and Historia?"
Once again, they were met with silence.
Fenrir's eyes flashed, and he moved, crossing the room in a few strides. He towered over the two men, an imposing figure of power and intimidation. "We can do this the easy way, or the hard way," he said, his voice dangerously calm. "You're not in a position to hide the truth."
One of the men swallowed visibly, sweat beading on his forehead, but he stubbornly kept his mouth shut. The other, bolstered by his companion's silence, spat, "We won't betray Lord Reiss."
Fenrir's green eyes bore into him, and he simply said, "I know when you're lying."
The implication hung in the air, heavy and threatening. The room went quiet, all eyes on Fenrir and the two men.
Fenrir took a seat, his posture relaxed but his aura anything but. His green eyes held a sharp glint that was impossible to ignore, causing both men to squirm in their seats.
"Over the millennia," he began, his voice low, "I've seen people develop fascinating methods of torture. From the Greeks and their brazen bull, to the Egyptians and their hook up the nose, to the tribes of man with their skinning and staking, and all the way up to the present day with its elaborate psychological methods."
He paused for a moment, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest, watching the men's faces drain of color. "But you know what interests me the most? It's the fact that if you don't talk, I'll have no other choice than to send you to my sister, Hel."
A collective shiver ran through the room at the mention of the name. Fenrir's lips curved up into a cruel smirk, watching the terror creep into the men's eyes. "I understand you're scared of me, but trust me when I say this. If you think I'm bad... you have no idea how bad the rest of my family can be."
The room fell silent once more, the only sound being the shallow breaths of the two men as they struggled to comprehend their situation. "In her realm," Fenrir continued, his voice a dangerous whisper, "she may make you squeal like pigs for all eternity. Now, I'll ask you again. What is Rod Reiss planning?"
Just as the second man seemed ready to spill the beans, the first one snapped, his words slicing through the tension in the room. "You're nothing but a demon mutt," he spat, glaring defiantly at Fenrir. "You're not worth the flesh you're printed on. You're a monster, a freak. You have no place among humans."
His voice was loud and harsh, and yet there was a hint of fear that betrayed his bravado. He glared at Fenrir, chest heaving from the force of his tirade.
His tirade went on, growing louder with every word. "You think we're scared of you? You're the one who should be scared. You're a beast, a monster. You're no better than the filth we scrape off our boots!"
Finally, he leaned forward, his face inches from Fenrir's. "So, if you're going to kill us and send us to hell, then do it! Do it, you mangy mongrel!" His breath hitched as he finished, waiting for the retaliation he knew would come. But still, he did not back down, meeting Fenrir's gaze with a defiance that was both reckless and courageous.
Fenrir calmly watched as the man's tirade ended, his face a mask of eerie calm. In response to the defiant challenge, he slowly raised his hand, reaching out and placing it gently on the man's forehead.
"I'm not a demon, nor a mongrel... I am Fenrir, and I am far more than you could ever comprehend." His voice was a low rumble, the calm before a storm. As he spoke, a small glow began to appear from his palm, a rune etched in radiant green light emerging.
"Isaz," he intoned, his voice holding an ancient power, a word that seemed to echo with the weight of thousands of years. The rune, known to bind and paralyze, pulsed once and then sank into the man's skin, a glowing brand that disappeared as quickly as it had come. The effects, however, were immediate.
The man's eyes widened, his body going rigid as his screams died in his throat. He tumbled backward, chair and all, a thick foam forming at his mouth as his eyes rolled back. He was trapped, a prisoner in his own body, unable to utter a single word or move a muscle, his defiance replaced by a silent horror that chilled everyone present in the room.
The room fell silent, the air heavy with shock and unease. Everyone present stared at the branded man's rigid form, then turned their eyes to Fenrir. The reactions varied widely, from shock and horror to a strange kind of respect.
Hange's eyes were wide, her mouth slightly agape as she looked from the foaming man to Fenrir, clearly taken aback. She had known Fenrir was powerful, but seeing such raw force displayed was another matter entirely.
Petra, who had been standing next to Fenrir, took a step back, her gaze shifting between Fenrir and the man now lying on the ground. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with shock and fear, but also tinged with sympathy for the tortured man.
Armin was also visibly shocked, his eyes wide and his body tense. He swallowed hard, his gaze shifting from the now silent man to Fenrir, a hint of fear visible in his eyes. However, he was also deep in thought, analyzing the situation.
Hannes and the other veterans in the room remained stoic, but their eyes were wide with surprise. They were used to violence and even death, but the swift and brutal display of Fenrir's power was something else entirely.
As for Historia, her face was unreadable. But her eyes, those clear blue orbs, held a quiet kind of awe. She stared at Fenrir, silent and thoughtful, as if seeing him in a new light.
The other spy was staring at his companion, his eyes wide with terror. His face had gone deathly pale, and he was visibly shaking. He turned to look at Fenrir, his eyes pleading for mercy.
Levi, who had been silently observing from the corner, gave a small nod of approval. He didn't like the method, but he could see the necessity. It was a brutal show of power, a clear message. Fenrir was not to be trifled with.
"All right... up and at 'em," Fenrir said lightly, as he tapped the man's head. The burning brand disappeared as though it had never been, and with it, the binding rune that had left the man a prisoner in his own body. Now freed, the man gasped for air, his body convulsing slightly. Fenrir effortlessly propped him up with his seat once more, his gaze never leaving the man.
"Now," Fenrir's voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of a threat that promised further discomfort if he chose to remain silent, "Let's try this again, shall we?"
The room was dead silent, the tension almost palpable as the man swallowed audibly, beads of sweat trickling down the side of his face. His gaze flickered towards his companion who merely nodded, a silent agreement passing between them.
"L-Lord Reiss... he wants his daughter back... he wants the Coordinate..." The man's voice was shaky but clear.
"He... he intends to use Historia's royal blood... to regain the Coordinate... to control the Titans..." he added, his voice dropping to barely a whisper.
The room was silent for a few heartbeats before everyone erupted into hushed conversations, trying to make sense of the new information. Fenrir, however, was silent, his gaze turning towards Historia, a silent understanding passing between them. It seemed the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place, and they were walking straight into a storm.
Fenrir's voice cut through the murmurings like a sharp blade through the air. "Well... I've got news for you..." he started, leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he locked eyes with the now terrified spies. His tone was matter-of-fact, as if he was stating a universally known truth, "It ain't going to work."
His declaration left a stunned silence in its wake. The eyes of the spies widened at his assertion, and even the ever-composed Hange raised her eyebrows, clearly intrigued by Fenrir's knowledge.
"If Historia does become a Titan and eats Eren... then you all will have your memories wiped. That's why you've been living in this hell for the past hundred years." He continued, his voice steady and eyes filled with conviction. "If any of her predecessors would have changed it, they would have. But like I said... The brainwashing of the first king isn't easily undone when it comes to his descendants..."
His words hung heavy in the air, their implications far reaching and profound. For a moment, everyone just sat there in stunned silence, the reality of the situation hitting them harder than any Titan ever could.
Fenrir's gaze moved from the spies to Eren, who had been silently observing the interrogation from a corner. "And just between us..." he began again, his tone dropping into a lower, more solemn register, "...it's probably best that Eren got that power."
He paused for a moment, letting the gravity of his words sink in before finishing his thought. "Because unlike the first king," Fenrir turned his gaze back to the spies, his eyes icy and unflinching, "Eren isn't a coward."
A ripple of shock passed through the room at Fenrir's proclamation, but also a sense of affirmation. Despite the unsettling revelations, there was an underlying tone of hope. Their fight was far from over, and they had an ally in Eren - and an unpredictable one in Fenrir - who weren't afraid to challenge the status quo.
"So," Fenrir began, casually crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair, "when you return to Rod Reiss...do tell him about what I've said." His tone was eerily calm, as if he was simply giving them a message to deliver, rather than the sharp warning it truly was.
His gaze hardened as he continued, "And have him ask himself about that look in his own father's eyes...the one that Christa's sister had whenever she would seem like a different person." His voice dropped to a whisper, the silence of the room amplifying his words. "Have him ask himself if he wouldn't suffer a similar fate if he succeeds, whether it be him or Historia over there."
With that, Fenrir rose from his chair, untied both men with a swift, practiced movement, and opened the door. A gust of wind blew into the room, stirring the papers on the table, but Fenrir's gaze didn't waver from the spies.
"Go on," he said dismissively, gesturing towards the open door with one hand. "I've said my piece. The choice is yours to make." With that, he stepped aside, allowing the men to stumble out into the night, their faces a mask of fear and uncertainty. The message had been delivered, and the fate of the Walls was now up in the air.
As Fenrir closed the door behind the spies, the room was filled with a profound silence. Every eye was on him, wide with a mixture of shock, fear, and respect. The intensity of the moment had left everyone in stunned silence, their minds spinning with the implications of what they had just heard.
Historia was the first to break the silence, "Is that true? What you said about my family... about the First King's brainwashing?" Her voice was quiet, barely a whisper. She looked at Fenrir, her eyes wide and vulnerable. This was her family's legacy they were discussing, after all.
Fenrir turned to face her, his face softening into an empathetic expression. "Yes, Historia. It's a grim inheritance, but it is the truth. The First King's will has held dominion over your family for a long time."
In the silence that followed, Armin seemed to find his voice. "If it's true, then our fight against the Titans...it's more complicated than we ever imagined." He was deep in thought, his brow furrowed.
Fenrir paused, letting his gaze drift over to Armin. He was deep in thought, his brow furrowed as he processed everything that was said. After a moment of silence, Fenrir finally spoke.
"Now you understand why I've tried to keep my existence under wraps for so long," Fenrir began, his voice quieter than before, contemplative. "I didn't want to be involved in all this... this war, this... confusion. But it seems the Royalty has given me no choice."
His eyes held a distant look as he continued. "It's a deeply seeded aspect of human nature, you see. Discover... weaponize... destroy. It's a cycle that's been repeating since time immemorial. Not to say you're all like that, but that's the harsh reality of human nature."
He let out a sigh, turning his gaze to the silent observers. "But now, we have no choice but to confront it head-on. We have to break that cycle, for the sake of everyone within these walls... and beyond."
His words echoed in the silent room, prompting thoughtful expressions on each face. This was more than they'd bargained for, but the weight of the truth couldn't be denied. Fenrir had indeed painted a complex picture of their struggle against the Titans. Now it was up to them to figure out what to do with this new knowledge.
…
Fenrir was standing some distance from the cabin, his gaze lost in the vast expanse of the forest. His posture was relaxed, yet there was a certain alertness about him, a predatory readiness that never truly left him. His senses picked up Ymir before she even spoke, her quiet footsteps barely making a sound against the forest floor.
"If what you've said is true... then, you know what I am... right?" Ymir asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Slowly, Fenrir turned to face her, his emerald eyes meeting hers. He nodded, a brief, simple gesture. The message was clear - he knew, he understood.
"I know," he confirmed, his voice carrying a sense of unspoken camaraderie. "You're one of the Nine. A Titan Shifter."
Ymir's eyes widened slightly, but she nodded in acknowledgment. There was no use denying the truth.
"But," Fenrir continued, his gaze never leaving Ymir's. "You need to understand this, Ymir. If you decided to go with them, knowing how Marley operates, they would have fed you to one of their Warrior units. I could smell it in the Beast Titan's intent."
Ymir swallowed hard, her eyes reflecting the gravity of Fenrir's words. It was clear that she hadn't fully considered this reality.
"They... they would do that?" she asked, her voice almost choked with shock and disbelief.
Fenrir simply nodded, his expression grim. "Yes. They would. Your freedom, your life, it wouldn't matter to them. They are only interested in power. They will sacrifice anything, anyone to get it."
Fenrir's words hung heavy in the air. Ymir stood there in silence, her gaze distant as she absorbed the harsh reality of her situation. It seemed like the world, for all its complexities, was even more brutal than she had imagined.
Fenrir continued, his tone somber. "And if they ever got their hands on Historia, they would not hesitate to use her to further their own agenda. For the past eighty years or so, they have been manipulating and scheming, trying to force women like Historia into bearing children for their cause."
Ymir flinched slightly, the mention of Historia clearly hitting a nerve. She stayed silent, but the furrow in her brows revealed her growing concern.
"Remember, Ymir," Fenrir's voice was stern now, his gaze intense, "human greed and the lust for power among the corrupt is not easily extinguished. Especially not when they, their fathers, and forefathers have been so deeply brainwashed into believing it's their right, their destiny."
He let his words sink in. The brutal honesty of his revelation seemed to cast a cold shadow over the conversation. But it was important that Ymir understood the grim reality, especially when it came to the ones she cared for.
"Marley... their Royal government... they are blinded by power and prejudice. Their hearts are hardened, their minds are closed. They only see others as tools, means to an end." His voice softened slightly, "But we... we can be different. We have to be."
Ymir was silent for a long moment, absorbing Fenrir's words. She knew that what he spoke was the harsh truth of their world, a world where might was right, and power was the ultimate prize. A world where beings like her and Historia were reduced to mere pawns in a gruesome game of power and control.
Did you know any other titan shifters... before you came here? ... personally, I mean?
Fenrir's gaze turned distant, as if reaching back into the far corners of his memory. "Yes, Ymir, over the course of my existence I've encountered some Titan Shifters," he said, a wistful note in his voice. "I've always tried to keep a low profile, but these encounters were inevitable."
His gaze sharpened as he recalled the past. "I've crossed paths with an ancient Armored Titan, a Female Titan, even a Beast Titan. And a few... bearers of the Attack Titan."
"Attack Titan?" Ymir questioned, intrigued. She hadn't heard that term before.
"Indeed," Fenrir nodded, his voice holding an unmistakable note of respect. "The Attack Titan is unique...it has the ability to peer into the future, to see the flow of time yet to unfold."
"And Eren...he possesses this power?" Ymir asked, a mixture of disbelief and curiosity flickering in her eyes. "He inherited this from his father?"
"Yes," Fenrir confirmed, his gaze steady. "Eren now carries this unique ability, alongside his father's relentless spirit of freedom."
The weight of the revelation hung heavily in the air. Eren held not just the power of a Titan, but also the potential to foresee the future - a future in which they might finally find freedom.
After a moment, Ymir broke the silence. "And you...you believe in this future?" Her tone was skeptical, yet curious.
Fenrir's gaze met hers, his expression unreadable. "I believe in the power of choice, Ymir. And Eren...he's chosen to fight for freedom. So yes, I do believe in that."
"I've seen into people's fates...including my own," Fenrir began, a grave look in his eyes. "I've seen Ragnarok."
Ymir shifted slightly, a guarded look in her eyes. "Ragnarok?" she echoed, the name sounding unfamiliar and yet undeniably ominous.
Fenrir nodded. "It's an ancient prophecy... a cycle of death and rebirth," he explained. "Ragnarok refers to the end of the world as we know it - a great battle where gods and monsters clash, where the nine realms themselves shatter and burn."
The air seemed to grow colder as Fenrir continued, the tale he spun one of profound destruction and inevitable doom. "In this prophecy, I am fated to play a significant role. It is said I am to slay Odin, the All-Father, only to be killed in turn by one of his sons."
His gaze shifted to the sky, his eyes reflecting the ever-turning wheel of fate. "But after the end, there is a beginning. The world is reborn anew, the realms reassemble, and life begins once more."
Silence hung in the air as Ymir absorbed the weight of Fenrir's words. He, like Eren, was not only burdened by immense power, but also by the inexorable pull of destiny. The realization stirred a deep empathy within her. Despite their vastly different origins, they were bound by a shared fate - to play pivotal roles in the battles that would shape the world.
"And do you want to know what it is that finally kills me, Ymir?" Fenrir said, a strange smile playing at the corner of his lips. "It's not some mystical weapon, but a piece of footwear, a mystical boot that Odin's son uses to pull my jaw downwards... just so he can rip my mouth open."
He let out a short, sardonic chuckle. "It's ironic, isn't it? I, the great wolf of legend, cursed to die in such a manner. Not by fire, not by sword, not by some heavy explosive... but by a boot."
Fenrir's gaze was distant as he recalled the prophecy. His voice echoed with a mix of amusement and resignation, the absurdity of his foretold demise not lost on him. Yet, beneath the humor was a subtle note of melancholy, a reflection of the brutal inevitability of fate. His words hung heavily in the air, serving as a grim reminder of the inescapable roles they were bound to play.
Ymir stared at Fenrir, a mix of disbelief and shock etched across her face. She blinked, her eyes wide and her mouth agape. "A...a boot?" she finally managed to stammer out. The idea seemed so absurd, so impossible. She'd witnessed first-hand the resilience of this ancient being, seen him endure burns and shredding, explosions and wounds that would have killed any other.
She tried to reconcile this image with the notion of him falling to something as mundane as a boot. It felt ludicrous, almost comical, yet his expression, his tone, they spoke of a truth she found hard to fathom.
"But... but you're..." Ymir faltered, struggling to find the right words. "I've seen what you can endure. You heal almost instantly. It's just... it's hard to believe that... a boot could do you in."
There was an underlying sense of concern in her voice. This was Fenrir, the legendary figure she'd grown to respect and in a strange way, trust. The idea that he could fall, that he was destined to be defeated was unsettling. It was a stark reminder of their own mortality, of the fragility beneath their seemingly invincible exterior.
Fenrir's words hung heavily in the air, laced with bitterness and centuries of bottled-up resentment. His expression hardened, and his green eyes held a certain sorrow that was hard to overlook. The more he spoke, the clearer the picture of his past became - a past filled with betrayal, hatred, and fear.
"It's tragic, really," Fenrir continued, his voice low and tinged with anger. "They didn't even give me a chance. They feared what I might become, what I was destined to do, and so they thought to contain me. Not once did they consider the possibility of changing my fate, of altering the course of destiny. They just... they just locked me up."
Fenrir's voice faltered for a moment, his gaze dropping to the ground. "I was just a pup. Barely a few days old, and yet, they shackled me. Each time I broke free, they found a stronger chain, a sturdier lock. And when they couldn't contain me with chains, they shoved a sword in my mouth. And the worst part? After I bit off Tyr's hand in my struggle for freedom, they laughed at me. Mocked me. Celebrated my misery as if it was some sort of grand victory."
As Fenrir's voice trailed off, the silence that followed was heavy with the weight of his tale. Despite their own complicated histories and the horrors they had witnessed, none of them could truly comprehend the depth of Fenrir's torment. It was a testament to his resilience, his strength, that he still stood strong despite the hardships of his past.
Fenrir offered Ymir a slight smile, the pain in his eyes receding as he found comfort in her presence. "Thanks, Ymir," he said softly, his voice carrying the gratitude he felt. "It's good to talk about it every now and then. Helps put things in perspective, I guess. Reminds us to count our blessings while we still can."
With that, Fenrir turned to leave, but not before giving Ymir a final, appreciative glance. As he walked away, his figure radiating an aura of tranquility, it was evident that the conversation had somehow relieved him of a burden he had been carrying for far too long.
He moved towards the cabin, in search of Petra. Her presence had a calming effect on him, a soothing balm to his troubled soul. She was his anchor amidst the chaos, a beacon of light in the darkness that often threatened to consume him.
Ymir stood in silence for a moment, lost in thought. The revelations from Fenrir had given her a new perspective on the world, but more so, on the wolf himself. His past, his pain, his strength, and his loneliness resonated with her, creating a bond of empathy and understanding.
The compassion in Fenrir's eyes had taken her by surprise. She was so accustomed to contempt and hate that this simple act of kindness stirred something deep within her. His empathy felt like a soothing balm on her own wounds, some of which she had long forgotten, but had never healed.
As she remembered her own grim past in Marley, Ymir realized that Fenrir's look was not one of pity, but of understanding. He knew what it felt like to be used and discarded, to be feared and loathed. His experience mirrored her own, and in his eyes, she saw a reflection of her own story.
In this strange world, amidst the Titans and the wars, Ymir found an unlikely kinship in Fenrir. And for the first time in a long time, she felt less alone.
…
As Fenrir exited the cabin, he found Petra sitting alone on a tree stump, her gaze focused on the distant horizon. He approached her quietly, not wanting to disrupt her contemplative silence.
"Petra," he said, his voice gentle, breaking the silence that surrounded them. She turned to look at him, her usually bright eyes now shadowed with thought.
"Fen," she responded, her voice softer than usual. "I... I've been thinking about what you said. About the First King and his will."
He simply nodded, understanding the weight of her words. It was a lot to digest, not just for her, but for everyone who had heard the truth. The concept of free will, the idea of being controlled by an ancestral lineage - it was all too overwhelming.
"How are you holding up?" he asked her, concern lacing his voice. Despite the nature of his own existence, Fenrir found himself deeply empathetic towards the humans around him, especially Petra. He couldn't help but feel a certain protectiveness over her. After all, despite their differences, they had fought together, survived together, mourned together. It had formed an unspoken bond between them.
Petra looked at him, then sighed, "I won't lie, Fen. It's a lot to process. It's... disconcerting to think that Historia...all of them, could be under such control."
Fenrir sat down beside her on the stump, his large frame causing it to creak slightly under the added weight. He remained silent for a while, letting her sort through her thoughts before finally speaking, "It's a grim reality, but it's one we need to face. Together." His voice was firm, but there was a softness to it that Petra appreciated.
In the silence that followed, Petra felt the tension ease from her shoulders. She felt heard, understood, and she was grateful for it. This was their world now, complicated and cruel. But as long as they stood together, as long as they had each other, she knew they could face anything that came their way.
Petra felt an uncanny warmth wash over her, a sensation not entirely her own. It was as if she were linked to something - or someone - on a plane beyond her understanding. As her hand brushed against Fenrir's, an unexpected vision surged forward, a memory seemingly ripped from time itself.
In this phantom memory, she found herself within the confines of Shiganshina District, the smell of freshly baked bread wafting in the air. She moved with purpose, her arms burdened with a loaf of bread. Out of nowhere, a powerful blast wave assailed her, and the world crumbled into chaos.
Just as abruptly as it had come, the memory flickered away, leaving Petra back in the tranquil presence of Fenrir, who seemed oblivious to the torrent of emotions and memories that had just passed through her. It felt surreal, as though she had lived a moment from another person's life.
Petra glanced towards Fenrir, a well of questions bubbling within her. He, however, remained unresponsive, his gaze still lost in the horizon. She wondered if he had also felt the strange rush of a foreign memory. Unlikely, she thought. If he had, he would have shown some reaction.
"P-Petra?" Fenrir's voice broke through her thoughts, his usual calm replaced by genuine concern. "Are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Her eyes met his, the question that haunted her eyes was clear. Should she tell him about the memory? Could he even comprehend what she had experienced? Yet, choosing honesty over fear, she said, "Fen... I just had a... vision. A memory, but not of my own. It was from Shiganshina District..."
As she narrated her experience, Fenrir listened in silence, his emerald eyes scrutinizing her with an intensity that felt like he was looking into her soul. He didn't interrupt her until she was finished, his silence only adding to the suspense that had taken hold of the atmosphere.
Finally, he broke his silence, the deep timbre of his voice painting a solemn picture. "That... sounds like a memory," he admitted, "But not one of yours."
His admission hung heavily in the air, leaving Petra with more questions than before. What was happening to her? Why was she experiencing these strange memories? Most importantly, what did it all mean?
Was there anything else? Fen asked.
As Petra drifted back into the memory, the voices returned with a haunting clarity. "Lilia... we heard you're thinking of getting engaged... is it Fen?" The scene was incredibly vivid, like she was there, a participant rather than an observer. The feeling of the loaf of bread in her hand, the rumble of the ground as the blast wave approached, the heat and panic that surged through her as the world around her crumbled, and finally, the painful shock of being buried in debris.
As the memory faded and reality set back in, Petra was struck by a jarring realization. This wasn't just a memory, it was her memory, a scene from a past life she had lived. The very life Fenrir had described in his stories - the life of Lilia.
"Fenrir," she said, her voice wavering, "I think... I think I was Lilia... in a past life."
He looked at her, his eyes wide with shock and confusion. The silence stretched on between them as he processed her words.
"Lilia?" He muttered, almost as if speaking to himself, "You...were Lilia?"
"Yes," Petra affirmed, her gaze steady on him. "I remember being her. I remember the fall of Shiganshina. And I... I remember you."
Fenrir's eyes, once filled with disbelief, softened as the shock started to fade. The world around them seemed to dissolve, leaving them alone in their shared revelation.a
"Lilia," he murmured, testing the name on his tongue. His gaze deepened, taking on a wistful quality. "Could it really be? Is it possible...?"
Petra, for her part, felt a strange sense of calm. "Is there an explanation for this?" she asked, echoing his earlier question.
Fenrir fell silent for a moment before finally responding. "There is one possibility... but it would require the intervention of my sister," he admitted, his gaze dropping to their intertwined hands. "She is the ruler of Helheim, the realm of the dead. She could... theoretically... send a soul back. It's unheard of, but if anyone had the power to do it, it would be her."
His voice trailed off, the implications of his words hanging heavy in the air. Lilia, his beloved, might truly be standing right before him, reincarnated in the form of Petra. He turned to her, his eyes holding a new kind of warmth, a recognition of the love he once felt, and might still feel, for the woman she had once been.
"But to think she would actually do it..." he whispered, more to himself than to Petra. The thought brought a faint smile to his face as he looked at Petra, seeing her in a completely new light. This was no longer just Petra Ral, the trusted comrade. This was Lilia, the woman he had loved and lost, returned to him in a way he had never dared to hope for. The magnitude of the situation was almost overwhelming, but in the silence of the night, they found a shared understanding and a sense of peace in the revelation.