a/n: I'm trying something different with the tenses; past tense for the flashback/Historia POV chapters and present tense for the present-day/Eren POV chapters. I'm curious how this will be received, so don't hesitate to let me know! It's a bit unorthodox and admittedly self-indulgent (I want to have my cake and eat it, too), but it seems to work in the story's favor, I think.

"I swear I'm not going to make a habit of yapping incessantly before (and after) every chapter," she said, fingers crossed behind her back.

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

— Stohess, year 854

The stalls reek of manure and piss. It's clear the queen has had her hands full, too busy to send anyone out for consistent upkeep. It's sad, too, he thinks, that even the horses must suffer the consequences of those impossible demands.

Eren feels his muscles more than he has in weeks as he drags the pitchfork across the ground, sifting through the hay for any droppings or wet spots. There's a fresh one in this stall, huge and offensive, and it reminds him of the time Jean had fallen ass first in manure while trying to impress Mikasa with his 'horse whispering' (Rosie—named cheekily after Wall Rose—did not take kindly to being mistakenly poked with a pitchfork, and Mikasa was far from impressed that he'd tried to muck the stall with the horse still inside to begin with).

The stench from the wheelbarrow is almost unbearable and the summer heat is no consolation, but the image of Mikasa tying her jacket around Jean's waist as he sulked away with shit-stained pants makes him smile.

Truthfully, it feels good to get his hands dirty again. All these age-long days in stuffy rooms with pompous politicians, stiff uniforms, feigned pleasantries, and gods awful negotiations have found him wanting to crawl out of his skin for good. The past few months have felt so foreign, so painfully unlike him, that he almost doesn't recognize himself anymore.

But this; sweat-slick skin and breathless lungs, sore muscles and heavy eyes. The vague prospect of a hot meal and a good night's rest to follow. Small it may be—simple it may be—this feels like something he knows.

"Ah, the Queen's dog has use yet; functional legs and all!"

Eren looks over his shoulder to find Floch approaching him from the doorway of the barn. A split second passes where he thinks he might actually be here to help, but the thought quickly falls away as he takes notice of his crisp scout uniform. Pristine, freshly pressed.

"Watch it," he turns back to his work. "I'm still a soldier, too, you know."

"Yes, well, with the way they have you trapped in that castle of theirs these days, I wouldn't be surprised if you'd forgotten how to fasten a knot."

Eren actually laughs at that. A small laugh to be sure, but a genuine one with a shake of his head, too. "I'm not so far gone that I can't kick your ass if need be." Floch is close now, footsteps building and stopping just beside him. "What are you doing here, anyway? And don't say I've been sent for, or I'll have to shoot the messenger."

Floch bats at the air, flies dodging his hand. "The Queen said you'd be here. Don't know how you stand the stench, to be honest."

It's not much of an answer, but the implication is clear: duty calls. Any hope for meaningless conversation or blissful escape dissipates at the thought.

"So much for confidentiality," he mutters.

"I was persistent. Why the farm, anyway? It's hot and smells like horse shit." He taps Eren's arm with the back of his hand. "If I was you, I'd be milking those politicians for all they've got. Honestly, you've never been grateful for anything in your life."

It's mostly a joke, he figures, but his tone suggests there's some meaning there, too.

Resigning himself to this turn of events, he sticks the pitchfork into a pile of hay and approaches Rosie. The horse whinnies and shakes her head from inside the stall, growing eager for release as he unhooks the latch. Eren decides he knows how she feels.

"It's something to do, I guess." He wraps the halter around her face, coaxing her out with a few clicks of his tongue and some pets for good measure. "The kids and the animals are a nice distraction."

"Can't say I blame you. Having to sit through these never-ending meetings is making me lose my mind. It's like they think we have nothing better to do."

Curiously, an image of Ymir flashes in his mind. Hollow eyes stare back at him, filled with tears. Eren latches the lead under Rosie's chin. "Yeah. From everything, really. I feel like I'm losing my mind, too."

"Hm. Well, you're a natural. This one seems to like you." Floch nods towards Rosie, only a vague hint of disgust traceable in his expression. Eren pats her head with a smile.

"She's His—the Queen's favorite. I had to work for it, but she seems to trust me now. If I play my cards right, I'm thinking she'll let me ride her soon."

Floch grins. "The horse or the Queen?"

Eren sucks his teeth and lands a solid blow on Floch's arm. "I will kill you."

"Jeez, alright! Guess you still got it." Floch rubs his arm, gaze scanning the room as if on guard. "Well, as much as I'd love to hear about your nightly escapades, I'm playing messenger today so best get to it." He pulls an envelope from his coat pocket and holds it out for him to grab. "The royal government have formally announced the joining of Queen Historia Reiss and Sir Luca Belmonte in marriage. The Queen's protector has been selected as her escort, and she's asked for your attendance personally to assist in preparing the ceremonial speech."

The words sound robotic and unlike him, as if repeating the message verbatim. Eyes scanning the room despite no one being here but them. Eren grips the envelope between dingy fingers as he leads Rosie down the barn and chooses to ignore Floch's distractibility for now, preoccupied with this new responsibility he's been saddled with.

Of all people to guide her down that aisle and hand her off to a man she may as well have picked out from the street, to break the tether holding them so strenuously together—

"Why me?"

Why not anyone else?

"Relax, she said nothing about you delivering it. Just that she needs your opinion on a few things." Eren almost corrects him, lips parting to interrupt, then decides it best he thinks he was referring to the speech after all. "That letter's your stamp of approval," he nods to the envelope, "courtesy of the MPs, granting you private attendance at her request."

Eren shakes his head. "What could she possibly—"

"Take it up with your Queen." Floch waves a lazy hand. "If you ask me, this whole thing is a giant waste of time."

Eren elects to ignore that, too. "Alright, then," he sighs. "Is that all?"

Floch looks at him then, mild annoyance tugging at his mouth. Something else, too, he can't quite place. "Really, Eren. What are you doing here?"

He's not sure how to respond to that. Just thinks of the MPs and Historia and Ymir and Jean's shit-stained pants, only instead of smiling at the latter he grits his teeth to keep from screaming. "Does there have to be a reason?"

"Yes," is his immediate response, unwavering. Rosie trills.

"I told you," he tries his best to ignore the looming presence behind him, tying Rosie up to the post, "it's something to do."

Floch leans against the post on the other side of the table. "I remember when something to do was more than we bargained for," he crosses his arms and one leg over the other with the confidence of a leader, and it's only then that Eren realizes how much they've both grown in just a few short years, "but never for you. You were always ready to put your life on the line. It's an excuse, and not a very convincing one at that."

Spoken like someone who knows him, which Eren certainly doesn't believe is the case. All they've ever done is not understand each other.

Of course, he can't deny the truth in that statement if he tried. Nothing about what they're doing is enough, he knows that. It's that very thought that shortens his breath and leads him to the solitude of the farm in the first place, when the military police deign to allow him some freedom away from business. It finds him, too, at the Queen's doorstep when the city is quiet and dark, with the juvenile hope that she'll erase those thoughts before they have a chance to become something tangible.

"Do you believe in choices?" Floch asks suddenly, just as Eren is bringing the shoe puller to Rosie's foot. The sweat on his skin cools as the clouds turn gray and the air damp.

"What?"

"Do you believe we have the will to make choices, and the right to exercise that will?"

Eren grunts as he clips the right edge of Rosie's shoe. "I… can't even humor that with a response."

"So, you don't?"

"Of course I do!" Eren shoots him a look. "What are you getting at?"

"What I don't understand, then, is how the boy seeking freedom could possibly be satisfied with the life of a slave."

And there's that familiar feeling again, bubbling and hot and like he needs to jump out of his skin to escape it or punch something to feel some relief.

Eren means to exercise what little authority he possesses and dismiss him or tell him off, tells himself he should go home and let this conversation die in the emptiness of the farm where it surely belongs, but no inch of this place feels anything like what he'd call home lately.

So: "What can I do?"

It's not really a question. Not one he expects an answer to, and from Floch of all people. It's more of a plea. A call for mercy. A surrender.

Floch is at full attention then, eyes crazed in that not-so-subtle way when he's got his mind set to something. He leans closer, voice low. "The scouts have been talking," he says, "since the meeting with the ambassadors."

There's this barely contained part of him that wishes he could be one of those scouts, gossiping about the powers that be instead of pandering to them. Bearing that weight is beginning to wear him down; he can only imagine how Historia feels.

"Okay," he concedes, moving the puller around the upper edge of the shoe, "and what are they saying?"

"That Zeke's plan is an insult."

Eren tuts. "We can agree on that, though it's doubtful these scouts have any brilliant ideas to replace it. And, anyway, civil complaints should go directly to the military police or the Queen. I'm her protector, not her messenger."

"They have, though it's clear to me now our message was never passed along to you, let alone the Queen." Floch shakes his head with a scoff. "But there's merit to their concerns. Paradis has no footing against nations that have developed far past our technological capabilities. This politics game we're playing doesn't guarantee Eldians' survival, you know it better than anyone."

Eren huffs as he snaps the last edge of the shoe. It makes a loud clang as it hits the ground, the humidity suddenly oppressive in the confines of the barn. He glances at Floch through thick lashes and recognizes the look in his eyes; the same one he'd had after they'd reclaimed Wall Maria.

"So, what's their perfect alternative, then?" Eren swipes a withered farrier knife from his back pocket and gets to work scraping away at the dirt between Rosie's shoe. "To ensure our survival and minimize bloodshed? To bring about world peace? Let's hear it."

"Don't patronize them, Eren," Floch glowers. "'If someone is willing to take my freedom, I won't hesitate to take theirs.' Wasn't it you who'd said that?"

"That's different," Eren snaps, "and a long time ago."

Not very long, to be sure. When had he stopped feeling that way? Had he stopped feeling that way? Had life moved so fast that he'd forgotten what his own ideals are? It must have been when Historia agreed to this sin, the moment he'd realized for the first time how utterly weak he is, particularly when it comes to her.

The worst moment of his life will be when he finally decides protecting Historia isn't enough, when he can no longer shake the feeling that the world owes him what is rightfully his.

That moment seems to creep closer and closer with every painstaking breath.

Rosie stirs at his pause, her foot dropping to the ground in defiance. "We all make choices," Eren mutters, "and this is mine. I'll live with this choice, just as Historia will live with hers, to ensure Eldians can live in peace with the rest of the world."

"Peace?" Floch laughs. "You really expect me to believe you've agreed to this for peace, of all things? I know you, Eren. This isn't for peace, or your precious freedom for that matter. We both know—"

"Floch," Eren warns, eyes piercing. "Leave her out of this."

"No," he shakes his head, "not even that. Though, there's your problem right there. No, you're doing this because you're afraid to look in the mirror and see what wanting the alternative makes you."

A monster, he thinks immediately, the most despicable person in the world.

"Listen," Floch grabs Eren's shoulder. "I see they've got you wrapped around their royal fingers these days, so I'll be blunt. I've been conferring with the scouts and we've agreed that it'd be in our best interest, as well as the world's, to trigger the rumbling on Marley and end this mess once and for all."

"The volunteer woman has already suggested hitting Fort Karifa." Eren nudges his hand away, swiping the fallen shoe from the ground. "Plans are in motion to—"

"Not their military," Floch whispers, and offers a suggestive nod. There's a moment of confusion, searching for the answer in Floch's cryptic expression, before Eren takes a step back incredulously, letting his hand fall into the open air.

He blinks. "Are you out of your mind?"

"Oh, spare me the hero act, Eren." Floch counteracts Eren's defiance with a step forward. "Those savages have killed so many of our people, kept us locked away like animals for longer than we even know, and I'm out of my mind for suggesting we punish them for it?"

Eren presses his hand against the table to steady himself and wishes his eyes could burn holes into the ground beneath his feet until it swallows him whole. A sharp pain pierces his temple at that horrifying image he's tried so desperately to scrub away; colossal bones of great calamity, billowing smoke, blood, so much blood, and Ramzi—

"And what of our fellow Eldians on that island?" His voice wavers then. "Should they be punished for crimes committed against them, too?"

"They commit the same crimes against us," Floch retorts. "They have no right calling themselves Eldians. As far as I'm concerned, they're our enemies, too."

Eren breathes out a scoff. The air feels heavy and his chest tight and it's not like he's never had these same thoughts because, the truth is, it really wouldn't take much convincing to have him go through with it. There's nothing on Earth that terrifies him more than that.

"What you're asking of me…" Eren grips the pliers tighter. "…it's impossible."

"I know you don't believe that. It's the only choice that makes any shred of sense if the MPs cared at all about the security of this island. To reclaim our footing in this world, to show it that we have teeth and claws and will to use them, lives must be sacrificed. Blood must be shed. There's no other way."

Curiously, Eren thinks of his childhood then. Of that nameless boy who'd stolen Armin's bread, never mind how poverty-stricken the young boy was. The rage he'd felt staring up at this boy who was twice his size and dared to take what didn't belong to him was burning and unfiltered, trained on only one thing because it was the only thing that mattered: revenge.

He'd told himself he was doing it for Armin or because it was the right thing to do—to stand up for those weaker than you and up to those stronger than you—but he knew, deep down, that he'd really only done it because he was tired of seeing punks like him go unpunished.

"Why must you be so reckless, Eren?" His mother had chastised that same night, wiping a wet towel over his head wounds. "How many times will you make me find you like this?"

When he was young, it was harder to pretend. Things were either black or they were white, good or bad, right or wrong. There was less room for doubt, and even less for understanding.

"They should have to feel what they do to others," he'd pouted like a child, because he was one, yet: "or they have no right to exist in this world."

He just barely recalls the expression on her face; something between shock and grief—maybe offense, too, he could never be sure—that said more than words ever could. So, she didn't offer them. Just a gentle hand on his head, fingers raking through his boyish hair, expression softening with a sad smile that haunts his dreams even now.

"You have a good heart," was her response. A small mercy.

At the time, he'd felt proud. Proud to have stood up for them and proud that his mother had recognized his efforts and praised him for it. Proud, always so proud. Yet, he'll never forget that twisted expression, as young as he was to have seen it and as many years as it's been. If even his own mother could look at him the way some of his many sufferers did, he wonders now if her response was for him or for herself, and if things would be different had she said aloud what her face said without words.

"We would be playing right into their irrational view of Eldians." Eren finally says. "Island Devils. That's all they see when they look at us. Devils. Where's the logic in proving them right? Where's the hope in that?"

"Your priorities are in the wrong place," Floch retorts, suppressing an eye roll. "Hope is not going to save Eldians from utter annihilation. Survival. That's what we're fighting for."

"Is that all we're fighting for?"

Floch opens his mouth to respond, but seems to think better of it. Eren has no delusions that he'll change Floch's mind on this issue; he knows him too well to know he'd rather die trying than give up on his own ideals, and he resigns to the thought that he can understand that stubbornness.

Eren sweeps Rosie's foot back into his hand. The work is mindless as he scrapes away at the rot there, wishing he could do the same to the grooves of his brain where nothing makes sense anymore. Where all things that have happened, and all things that will, echo in his mind like an endless nightmare.

An involuntary grimace tugs at his mouth. "The Azumabito family have seen to it that there is another way, in any case. There's talk already of a treaty between Paradis and Hizuru delegating access to the island's resources in exchange for advanced technology, weaponry, and political knowledge. If we're patient, we can—"

"Are you really satisfied with that?" Floch interjects at last. "Staking our survival on petty politics and unfounded optimism?" Eren shoots Floch a look then, an ache brewing in his temple. No longer humoring him with a response. "Are you satisfied with sacrificing Historia?" He continues, "With dooming future generations to the same hell we're fighting so hard to protect ourselves from? Can you allow the world to go on as it has for centuries, under the false pretense that repeating history will somehow change it?"

"You talk about insults," Eren offers a mirthless laugh. "Don't pretend to care about any of those things. I know you just as well."

"Say yes," he challenges, "and I'll never bring it up again. Just say the word, Eren. Otherwise, you're just as complacent to this farce as the rest of them."

We all make choices, he wants to say, but when had he made a single choice for himself these past few months, really? Historia had been adamant about this, more persistent than he's ever seen her—gods know why—but he'd never explicitly agreed to this. It was yet another decision made for him, despite his grievances, and if he were to let her go through with this, would it be his own free will guiding him towards that end, or would it mean following the path already laid out for him from the very beginning?

Eren shakes his head. "Don't speak a word of this to anyone. I won't let you jeopardize the hell Historia has put herself through to keep this island safe. It's not ideal, but it's better than having the world's blood on our hands."

It has to be.

Floch finds his way outside at some point—Eren can't be sure when as his voice never seemed to grow quiet, not even beneath the screaming in his own mind or the rain that suddenly tears through the fields with a vengeance he so wishes he could embrace.

He stands there, hands folded behind his back with the austerity of someone ready to recruit an army. "Consider the scouts, Eren. The power you wield is too great to waste and we're quickly running out of time. You know where to find me when it does."

Thunder cracks in the sky, not unlike the booming steps of a titan. Vision white, all he sees is steam.

a/n: While I certainly didn't hate the deterministic universe element introduced at the end of the series, it didn't feel to me like the concept was executed in the most interesting way.

I did, however, find it intriguing what Eren said about trying everything in his power to change the course of the future and failing no matter what he did. Despite my reservations and interpretation of his character, this was something I wanted to explore in this fic, but in a way that adheres to my agenda, lmao. Because, ultimately, I believe Eren is predisposed to violence; violent thoughts and actions and beliefs, and he's selfish, too. It's who he is at his core, a concept that's alluded to throughout the series and proven to be true in the end, so I choose to interpret it less as, "because the future cannot be changed" and more as, "I cannot be changed." I really enjoy the idea that it's Eren's selfish nature that dooms the future, that the future is fixed because Eren himself is fixed in his ideals. It's so much more interesting to me thematically.

The determinism approach doesn't negate this idea entirely, but it does, to me, nullify the personal responsibility the characters have over their own actions, and that personal responsibility is what I loved so much about Eren's characterization. The fact that he was willing to go to such lengths to assert his deeply ingrained worldview. That no one in the world could have changed his mind because it's who he's been from the very beginning.

TLDR; Is Eren selfish because the future is fixed, or is the future fixed because Eren is selfish? (Peep the reference, by the way. If you know, you know.)

I'm interested to hear your thoughts on this if you feel so inclined!