Chapter Text
Year 854.
I wasn’t sure where I was.
Even if it was the same moist air I was tasting, it didn’t help that this cell contained no window. The lights dimming was my only cue that it was time for sleep. Magath was an inconsiderate asshole.
How was I to do so without a bed?
My eyes wandered around the empty cell and settled on the food smeared all over the walls. My stomach screamed for anything. Anything to consume. I told it to shut up.
I crave nothing but a shard of glass. Poison might also do the trick if they’re feeling compassionate.
I’ve been in this cell for god knows how long. I used to count the cracks in the ceiling just to feel time moving, but then I started seeing faces in them. A clock would have helped greatly but Magath didn’t deem me sane enough to be surrounded by any item I could hurt myself with.
No glass, no metal. The pencil I was given has been worn down to a useless stub. It was too soft to cut, too dull to bruise. All I had left was the floor. The first time I tried to smack my head against it, the guards came rushing in. I wasn’t sure if they were more annoyed or entertained. One of them stepped on my hand and told me to not cause another scene unless I actually succeeded in killing myself.
Trust me, I’m trying. Why do they have to make it so hard?
With the tortuous dimming of the light, I had to squint my eyes to see what I was violently scribbling on the ground. It didn’t help that it was already full of my previous drawings and that all the lines were beginning to smear into one big mess of neurons connecting to each other. Whatever is left of them, anyways.
I didn’t even hear the door open. The footsteps were only background noise and never stopped my movements unless a voice spoke. Like it did now.
“What are you drawing?”
My head lifted up. Not because I find any interest in what Commander Magath has to say, but because my throat itches. He visits me so rarely that I sometimes forget I’m still capable of speaking. Some days I worry I’ll say something and not recognize my voice.
“Horns.” I muttered. “Do you like them?”
He peered over my scribbling and frowned. Maybe it was difficult to tell where one drawing started and where the other one ended. “They look like wings.”
“Were you never told that it’s incredibly offensive to label an artist’s artwork?”
“I’m only making sure you’re not lying to me–”
“You called the horns I worked so hard on ‘Wings’.” My gaze narrowed on his countenance. “Don’t upset me. You know what happens when I get upset, right?”
I aligned the pen to my throat and mimicked the movement I’d make if I were to pierce it through. If I was convinced it was my ticket out, I would’ve done it. Somehow I suspected that this dull end would only leave me with an injury no one would care enough to fix.
I craved death, not torture.
“Do you hate yourself so much?” He questioned and I ignored the hint of concern in his voice.
“On the contrary.” I answered. “I think I love myself. I love myself so much that I want to die. I deserve the peace death has to offer. Is that so wrong?”
Magath didn’t reply. He never truly did when I got like this. Instead, he’d take out his stupid little notebook and write something down.
I snorted and went back to scratching at the ground. The lines were nearly indistinguishable now. Shapes were overlapping and symbols folded into one another. I didn’t know what I was trying to draw anymore. And then without looking up, I spoke, “Did you know your heartbeat slows down before you die?”
His hand paused for a second before it resumed its course.
“It’s not sudden,” I continued. “It’s gentle. Your limbs get cold. You feel lighter than anything you’ve ever felt. And for a second, you think you’re about to float.”
“You talk a lot.” He crouched to my level and spoke softly. “So much that you didn’t notice the tea I brought for you.”
This caused my eyes to jerk up at the cup he held, shaped by the dim light coming from upstairs. “Really?”
He used a set of dangling keys to unlock the cell door and placed the cup on the ground. When he closed back the door, I crawled to it and felt the comforting warmth that emanated from the cup as I picked it up.
He watched me carefully. “It’s weird, you know. I always took you for a coffee person. You used to hate tea.”
I hummed carelessly at his comment and looked down at the green liquid, “Did you put something in it?”
“Do you care?”
My eyes locked on his. I’m sure my question was purely instinctual without any genuine regard for the answer. I took a sip and immediately scrunched up my nose in disgust. “No wonder I used to hate it. You can’t even brew it right.”
“Then who can?” He questioned. “Perhaps they could teach me.”
My gaze met him once more. I’ve gotten accustomed to being assessed as though I was a lab rat with a fevered mind to diagnose. Each of Magath’s visits had followed the same pattern: he’d sit across from me like a priest before the possessed, praying I’d exorcise the sickness. That I’d claw my way back to Marley by summoning the same dedication I once bore toward it. That I could choke the echo that’s been ringing in the back of my mind, and taunting me for what I’ve done.
I fiddled with the cup for a moment before pouring the substance down on the ground. I watched as it sucked it in like a black hole, and giggled at his scowl. “What’s wrong? You look angry.”
He rubbed his temple, “Come on, Yeager. Give me something.”
“Yeager.” I repeated. “Has it been so long that we’ve resorted to formalities, Commander?”
It was difficult to get a sense of time and space when I was stuck in a basement, fixed six feet down below with no sunlight to confirm that the world was still spinning. I wouldn’t believe it, anyway.
My world did stop spinning that day.
My sore muscles never allowed me to stay too long in one position. I waited for my body to adjust to the freezing sensation the ground offered before completely resting my back against it, head looking up at the ceiling. “I know you’ll most likely say no. But would it be possible for you to bring me a ladder?”
He frowned.
“I want to draw stars so I can at least pretend to know when the sun has set.” I was hypnotized by the canopy my mind conjured up. I peeked at him. “What day are we?”
“I don’t believe it’s a good idea.”
“Can you not grant me one single favour, Commander?”
He sighed through his nose.
“It’s July 1st, 851. You’ve been in this cell for four years.”
There was just this strange stillness inside me. I was stuck between two truths: one, that I had made it through four years of this. And two, that it hadn’t been worth it. Unfortunately, time was the one thing I had in abundance. I used to reassure myself by thinking that enduring this hell would count for something but the only thing it’s proven is that I can still manage to breathe even after I’ve stopped wanting to.
I finally looked at him with glassy eyes. “Wow, you must’ve been busy. Are the allied forces of the Mid-East still kicking our asses?”
He ignored me, eliciting an annoyed groan out of me, “Oh come on, you have to admit it’s funny that we have the cart titan, the armoured, the beast titan, the war hammer titan and we’re still losing. Thank god I’ve been stuck in this hole, let me tell you, I would not even dare to show my face if I were you-”
“Enough.” I couldn’t exactly decipher his face but I could detect the familiar sternness. “The whole nation is calling for your execution.”
“Oh.” My lips formed a straight line. “Well I guess I have no other choice but to go tell the nation to not call for my execution. That should calm them down.”
“Do you think I have time for your jokes?”
I tried my best to suppress my laugh. “It’s a democracy. Give the people what they want.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“And why is that?”
“Because you lied.” He stated, causing me to arch an unimpressed brow.
“You’re going to have to be more specific than that. I lied about many things.”
It was only then that his back left the wall and he slowly approached me. “Four years ago, you testified in front of the entire nation and confessed to killing the female titan Annie Leonhart, and the Colossal titan Bertolt Hoover. You claimed that you would have delivered the final blow on Reiner Braun if it were not for Zeke stopping you.”
My body slightly stiffened at the mention of my brother, but if Magath noticed, he didn’t let it show. He then continued. “You proclaimed yourself an Eldian Restorationist.”
I shrugged. “Like daughter, like father.”
“Lift up your shirt.”
“No offense, but you were always a father figure to me. I’m not exactly into incest–”
He rubbed his temple, his patience wearing thin. “Show me the damn scar on your stomach.”
I considered his request. Or more like his order. What else did I have to lose? Perhaps it could convince him that I was not worth saving. “As you wish, Commander.” With that, my fingers slowly lifted up the part that concealed the cross-shaped scar on my stomach. I then held out my forearm, hoping that even the dim light could catch the discoloration of the second identical one. “I’d say I did a pretty good job at replicating the one my father gave me. What do you think?”
A thick silence hovered over our heads before he answered. “I think that you didn’t give yourself that scar.”
My eyelids began fluttering erratically. I hated the way my body would involuntarily react to simple words.
“I’ve known you since you were a child. You trained under my supervision and gathered meaningful intel that helped the Marleyan military defeat multiple enemies.You were never on your father’s side. And yet, when it came down to the 845 Paradis invasion, you left this country, proud to prove yourself to Marley only to return and take all of the blame. Who are you trying to protect, Yeager?”
I brought my knees to my chest, hugging them tightly. I didn’t respond.
“I see.” He conceded. “Your brother misses you a lot.”
The abrupt change of topic forced my gaze upward. “You only have yourself to blame for that.”
Whatever comeback he prepared was severed by a familiar voice. “She’s right, you know.”
The only thing I caught in the distant light was a subtle glint of blond hair and my entire body stiffened. My brain really was a treacherous thing. I backed away slightly, hoping to put as much distance between myself and the fleeting image of a man I once called a friend. I never even had the strength to bury him properly. Did he even receive a burial?
It was only when the figure approached that mind finally pieced together reality and Zeke’s calm expression gazed back at him. “Relax,” he murmured, “It’s just me.”
Somehow, I couldn’t tell which was worse.
Magath’s posture tensed with an unmistakable irritation and he turned on his heel. “What do you think you’re doing? All warriors were given a clear order to oversee Tybur’s speech.”
“They’re here.” Zeke informed him.
Who’s here?
Though no further explanation was needed because as soon as their eyes locked, whatever tension had been carved into Magath’s jaw softened in an instant. My brows furrowed when he leaned in and whispered words I couldn’t catch in my brother’s ears. And with one last nod of acknowledgement to him, the commander walked out.
My momentary internal questioning about wherever Magath was heading faded into a conflicted expression. I blinked in a fractured rhythm, “Where have you been?”
He ignored my question and his eyes trailed over my broken frame. I knew I lost weight since the last time he visited me a year ago. There was no mirror here. I couldn’t remember the curve of my cheek, or the shape of my mouth when it smiled. I didn’t know if my eyes had dulled. I only had my brother’s eyes now and I searched them with a quiet desperation that they’d offer something back.
He looked over the smudged food on the wall, “The food wasn’t to your liking?”
“If they’d sprinkled a bit of poison in it, I might’ve reconsidered.”
He chuckled and I didn’t take his insensitivity to heart. I was glad I could still make someone laugh. “I thought you’d never come back.”
He readjusted his glasses and I could tell he was only stalling. For what, though? I had no clue and didn’t care to ask. “I always come back. I don't abandon my family.”
“Could’ve fooled me. You haven’t shown your face in over a year.”
“I was busy.”
A beat of silence passed. Then, slowly, I pushed myself to my feet and took a few steps toward him.
“I know Magath prohibited all visits. But that’s not all, is it?”
“Oh, here we go–“
“You felt guilty.” The chuckle that followed was difficult to suppress. I couldn’t help but find the situation quite humorous. “You were terrified of watching your little sister fall apart after you sent her to that cursed island and used her for a plan you never told her a thing about.”
“You and I both know it wouldn’t have mattered.” He defended. “You would’ve still gone.”
Any outsider might have mistaken his tone for gratitude. No, he was simply calling me out for being weak. There was an odd sort of unspoken understanding between us that I’d protect him. He knew too. He was never worried that I would turn against him when he threw me inside this cell under the government’s orders. And I doubt he ever felt the slightest remorse whenever he used that attachment to his advantage.
He felt the need to prove his point further, “You never told General Calvi the reason you stalled for time in Paradis.”
“And why would I?”
His expression turned thoughtful. “You tell me.”
“They would’ve killed you.” I said, forehead resting against the bars now, voice mock-sweet. “I’m starting to think you’re the suicidal one.”
He spread his arms out in a theatrical motion, “Well, see. It didn’t kill you to tell the truth for once, did it? Even though you probably wish it did.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and laughed at his own joke. “Anyways, tantrum over right? Because like it or not, we need to talk.”
“I don’t care what little monologue you rehearsed before walking in here. Just give me a knife.”
“How many times will I have to repeat it for your schizophrenic brain to get it?” He laughed. “I don’t abandon my family.”
“The same way you left our parents’ fate to the hands of the Marleyan military?”
“The same ones who left you with this nasty Eldian restorationist scar?” He leaned his forearm against the cell as he stared at my forearm.
Truth be told, as much as I hoped my eyes could convey the anger I felt, I think everything that made me human was sucked out of my soul. I completely forgot what facial expression was associated with what emotion. I could only stare at him with detached eyes. My own body stopped trying to understand me.
“They would’ve doomed you. I saved you twice, Isla.”
“And the second time..” he continued.
I shook my head. “Stop.”
“No, I think you need a reminder-”
“I don’t need a fucking reminder.” My voice rose as I threw the pencil against the cell bars and a small clang rang.
They always said I’ve been infected and I can’t exactly blame them. There’s no version of me left untouched by the devil in green. That’s what they call him. Every thought I conjure up eventually returns to him, and I can’t utter a word without hearing how he would respond.
I sunk back to the ground and brought my knees closer to my chest. My voice was small when I spoke, “You know, call me delusional if you will but I used to think that you cared for me.”
“I do.”
“Then put me out of my misery.”
He sighed like I was annoying him. “Are you asking me to kill you?”
“As if.” I scoffed. “You were never the one to pull the trigger. Just the one handing the gun. But for once, I’m giving you the opportunity to turn the tables and finally make Dad proud.” I tilted my head up. “Come on, Zeke. He’s looking down at us right now.”
His eyes narrowed slightly, that subtle twitch in the jaw that meant I was pushing the right buttons.
“What if I started talking?” I tilted my head like a curious child, “I’m a liability. I’m already half-insane. All it would take is one slip, and poof– your whole precious plan falls apart.”
Still, he said nothing.
“God, you’re boring when you want to be noble,” I spat. “Kill me. End it. What did you call me once? A ticking bomb waiting to explode?” I held out my arms, “Tick, tick, tick.”
Suddenly, his face released all the tension he was holding and he gave me that smile he only ever wore when it was time for battle. “If you insist.”
His hand slid through his trench coat’s pocket and what he pulled out made a bile rise up my throat. The last time I’ve seen this dagger was in Paradis. In the hands of—
“How do you have that?”
He chuckled. “Weren’t you eager to end yourself just a minute before?”
“Why do you have that dagger?” I didn’t realize I was shaking.
He raised a brow as if the answer should be obvious, “I’m saving you for the third time.”
He chucked it underneath the metal bars and I didn’t hesitate to bend down to pick it up. I didn’t realize how erratic my breathing pace has gotten until the urge to shove this blade down my chest returned. It couldn’t be the real one.
“You forged it.” Accusation mixed with denial was laced in my tone.
“I didn’t.”
“That’s impossible.” I shook my head. “If that was the case, that would mean you-”, my voice trailed off as my eyes locked on his.
“Why do you think I’ve been so busy this year, hm?” He cocked his head to the side. “Why do you think I didn’t visit you during that time?”
He’s made contact.
My body bolted upright. One second I was standing, and the next, I was doubled over, clutching my stomach. I barely made it to the corner of the room before I threw up. It hit the ground in dark streaks of blood, the only thing I’d managed to keep down since I drank that wretched tea.
I coughed again. More followed. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and stared at the red staining my fingers. God, I wish I could empty out my stomach of every memory my brain refused to let go of.
“Where is he?” I breathed out.
“Here.”
My eyes widened and a crushing pressure closed around my throat, squeezing out any remaining air. “Zeke, this isn’t funny.”
“Don’t tell me you can’t hear anything.” He gave me a onceover. “Magath’s done a commendable job at convincing you you’re ill enough to dull your senses,” He mused, head tilted as if detecting a faint melody.
Oxygen was getting harder to grasp. “Magath. Where did he go? What’s going on out there?”
“Shh Isla, you’re ruining the melody.” He perked his head, half smiling. “Gunshots: one, two, three. Ooh, that one was particularly loud. I wonder who died.”
At first, it was like remembering a song I hadn’t heard in a long time. But the high-pitched whine of whirring couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than the ODM gear. The hiss and click of grapples embedding into stone. Movement too fast to be classified as belonging to a human and yet, it very much was.
“The Survey Corps infiltrated.” My voice trembled. “That’s why you came.”
“If he is here,” I managed weakly, “then why am I still alive?”
“We struck a deal.” He leveled his voice. “I’d collaborate with them and go to Paradis on my own free will.”
As soon as my brain processed the words, my pacing around the limited space halted. I didn’t hesitate and marched toward the metal bars to meet my brother more closely. I didn’t know who I wanted to kill more. Myself, my brother or him.
“You knew.” I rasped. “This whole time, you knew he was alive.”
“Don’t act so surprised.” He replied smoothly, adjusting his glasses. “You did too. Even if you spent the past four years claiming otherwise.”
He stared at me and I wanted to claw his eyes out because I always hated that stare. It was like holding a mirror up and waiting for me to look into it. Instead, I dragged my palms through the blood I’d just coughed up and smeared it across the walls, over the drawings I left behind. Tornadoes, wings, horns, tea.
“You aren’t crazy, Isla.” He added. “You just got too good at pretending you were. Because if you weren’t insane, you’d have to admit that you always felt him somewhere. And of course, I don’t blame you. You chose to believe that death held him back from coming for you rather than face the other alternative: he simply didn’t care enough to come.”
“Stop talking.” My nails scraped at the drawings, desperate to rip off the tapestry.
“I thought it was ridiculous at first,” Zeke continued. “The idea that two people could be so close, yet so far away. But then, when I asked Eren about Mikasa Ackerman, his eyes told me everything.” A small chuckle escaped him. “Between you and me, I’m starting to feel a little left out. You two are more similar than I thought.”
My body snapped around and my eyes clashed furiously against his. “I am nothing like Eren.”
And as if on cue, a roar that I never thought I’d hear again sounded. It was so loud that I was convinced Magath left the door open. Or maybe they weren’t as far as I originally thought. I brought my hands to my ears on instinct and covered them but my balance quickly gave out as the ground shook.
My brother, in contrast to my reaction, was the picture of calmness. He looked like he rejoiced in the sound of the screams that followed. “I wish I could say I’ll miss Liberio but I’d be lying.”
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” I asked in a breathy voice. “You’ve invited the founder and a spinning tornado inside our country. They won’t leave without drawing blood.”
“I can handle Eren.” He retorted and I wanted to scoff so badly at his confidence. “You, however, are in charge of the spinning tornado.” He smiled as he motioned toward the dagger I grasped for dear life. “Don’t you think it’s time for a reunion?”
“You’re out of your mind.”
“I meant what I said before. You are a ticking bomb waiting to explode.” He eyed the dust raining down from the ceiling. At this rate, we’ll both be buried before this conversation is over. “But I do hope that when you do, it’ll be in his vicinity.”
“You need to get out of here.”
He hummed in agreement. “Then you better hurry and answer my question. Who is Levi Ackerman to you?”
I froze. No matter how hard I tried to beat it out of my head, burn it off my tongue or sever it from my spine, that name would always follow me. And the memories that clung to it would always follow. It was never made a rule and yet, all the officials somehow knew not to say his name in my presence. It was now made clear why when my knees buckled beneath me and I collapsed onto the floor.
I could whisper “the devil in green” all I wanted, could curse him into the walls and the floor, but in the end, if I hated that devil, and yet kept chasing his ghost, then what did that make me? My breath came in short bursts as I rocked slightly back and forth, trying to make sense of a thousand thoughts screaming over each other.
“I’m waiting, little sister.” He mused.
The ceiling above us groaned again, “The entire building is on the verge of collapsing. You need to leave.”
“Not until you answer my question.”
"Why are you doing this?”
“Simply because I need you to stay on my side.” He said gently. “Because he won’t stay on yours.” He clasped the bars. “But to do that, you need to remember what he did and what he left you to become.”
I looked down at the blade and the dried blood that adorned it. My grip on it tightened and at the same time, a chunk of stone ripped loose from the ceiling, crashing where I’d just been standing. It wouldn’t have missed me had I not moved.
It’s terrifying how even after my mind has already signed the death certificate, my instincts refuse to let go. Because somehow the only thing that’s worse than remembering him is forgetting him.
“You won’t be able to kill him until you hate him enough.”
I stared at him unblinking and his smile crept back. “So here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to stop pretending your mind is too far gone and you’re going to remember everything.”
His voice dipped to a near whisper. “Tell me what happened on Paradis.”
He reached for the keys at his belt and let them dangle, metal clinking like the ticking of a clock.
“And I’ll open this door.”
9 years ago - Year 845