Chapter 1: on a winter's night
Chapter Text
Men were simple creatures. This had been Mikasa's first lesson.
They loved to play pretend, they loved to live in a fantasy — to live in a world where they were the only creatures that mattered. It was her job to make that fantasy come true with soft caresses and honeyed words. For a few coins, she'd make any man, king or beggar, feel like he was the only person who mattered. She would bring them to their pleasure before they would disappear into the night, back to the ugly reality that led them right back to the threshold of this establishment.
The cycle continued on and on. It had since the beginning of time and would go on till the world collapsed in on itself.
It wasn't personal. It had never been. Perhaps that's what kept her sane most days. It kept a roof over her head and food in her belly. It kept her sickly mother alive one more day.
But their fantasies had become her reality — her personal hell. And every week, she needed a respite to live in her own fantasies. To be in her dingy old apartment, reading and chatting away with her mother by candlelight. And then, after her mother drifted off to sleep, she would let herself get lost in a world where it was just her mother and her — where money wasn't an issue and she could dance around the fields and pretend like there wasn't a cruel world that didn't care for anyone.
She was free in her mind, in the paradise of her own making.
You're not free until you're dead…
Mikasa could've laughed bitterly, if only she remembered how to laugh. She forgot how to feel. Since her father had been found bleeding out in an alleyway, all the light and joy had disappeared, being carried away with the smoke on her father's pitiful funeral pyre.
Now, all she knew was survival. Now, all she had were her wits and her charms. She cared little for how people perceived her. They could sneer and scowl. It didn't touch her.
They'd all be dead one day, anyway.
Tonight, however, she didn't have the luxury of cuddling into the scratchy sheets of her tiny bed and escaping into her fantasies. Rent was due next week and she was still a few coins short.
And with the winter solstice festivities drawing ever closer, this establishment was bustling. The nights were long and the cloaked figures that descended upon the northeastern district in the cover of fog and darkness. It was longer for them to get lost in their fantasies and indulge themselves in the presence of ladies of the night.
The building smelled of liquor, cheap perfume, and cigar smoke. Mikasa hardly noticed. Or cared. It smelled better than the outside, where piss and shit were strewn about. This life wasn't meant for the soft or the weak. The options were to either deal with it or die. No in-betweens.
And Mikasa had chosen to survive.
Tonight, she sat on a bar stool, leaning against the counter and waited. It was the same routine as every night.
The buzz of chatter filled the air, the main room clearing out as the girls and their respective gentlemen disappeared behind closed doors or up the stairs.
All familiar faces, not surprising. The wealthy descended on Mitras during the solstice, the festivities and parties could be heard from every district. It also meant that gentlemen would get a respite from the wives they did not choose and the families that society pressured them to have to indulge in a fantasy with a lady of the night that did not care for his status or what society expected of them.
Men were truly predictable.
Mikasa expected one of her own clients to walk through that door sooner or later. She waited and around her, so did the other girls. She wasn't in a talkative mood this evening.
The door opened again. Her eyes traveled to the door. Another shapeless, cloaked figure with a tall hat. She wondered who it would be this time. It was almost like a game to her at this point. It was her only form of amusement.
But he didn't remove his hat. He scanned the room and finally, his eyes met her own.
Those eyes, green as the trees in the summer, bore right into her soul. She'd mastered the art of stoicism so no one could see how her knees shook, threatening to buckle as the mysterious, cloaked figure floated towards her.
Mikasa understood the game by now. She was prey, they were hunters. But, no, that wouldn't give them excitement. Men were simple creatures, after all. They liked the chase. She'd learned to stifle the laughter that came with the swelling of their egos when they finally caught her, pinning her to the bed, and getting their fill of her.
It wasn't just a performance, it was a game.
Normally, the madam, Kiyomi would intercept anyone at the door, especially if they were new but she was nowhere to be found. And the man was getting closer, gently pushing others out of the way.
She lingered on the landing, watching as he weaved through the tables and people. His eyes never left hers. She'd been used to this by now but that didn't stop her heart from knocking against her ribcage. Her corset felt tighter, the lacing squeezed her center, threatening to give out. Only once he arrived at the bottom of the stairs, did she continue her way up. She lifted the hem of her dress up, looking over her shoulder.
The smile she shot him — the one she'd given so many men before — felt second nature to her at this point. But all she could see were his eyes. She stayed just out of reach, it made it more fun for them.
She heard him close behind her, his heavy footsteps threatening to bring the whole building down.
She was fast. But he was faster.
Halfway to her room, she felt his large hand grab her wrist, pulling her closer enough so that her back hit his chest. He lowered his head, the sound of his voice alone made her shudder.
"How much for the whole night?" he asked. His voice was ragged and wary as if he'd lived a hundred lives. But then his question sun in.
The whole night…
He wanted her for the whole night. Her heartbeats felt erratic now and she could hear them in her ears.
"How much are you willing to pay?"
"Anything. Just one night with you…"
Anything. There was a desperation in his voice, a gentle, quiet desperation. She knew the type all too well.
The smallest of smiles appeared on her face as she grabbed his hand and tugged him forward.
"Come with me…"
Just one night with you…
His words had been so soft, so desperate.
And he further confirmed that when they stepped through the door of her room, his hands were undoing her laces before the door had even shut properly.
He growled, cursed, and huffed until finally the corset was completely unlaced and her dress slid to the floor like a cascading waterfall.
She waited for him to pounce, for him to take his pleasure. For him to press that desperate mouth against hers — and have her whisk him away to a fantasy that only she could make possible.
She waited and waited and waited.
Instead, he stood completely still as his eyes traveled up and down her body. But his eyes were t clouded over with lust. She could see desperation, she could see exhaustion, but she could not see lust.
"Get under the covers. Now," he whispered, his voice hoarse and tired. His order was firm but gentle.
Ah. So, he's in no more mood to play games.
If he'd ever been. He'd just followed her and begged for a night with her. That is all. There was no honey on his tongue, he did not mince words, or whisper filth into her ear.
He gets right to the point. Perhaps that's not a bad thing…
She slid under the covers, the delicate silks felt heavenly against her skin. And she waited for him to follow.
And when he didn't, she beckoned with her hand. "Come closer. Please." She made sure to give her sweetest of smiles as the words came out in more of a purr.
Whatever trance he seemed to be in, he snapped out of it as soon as he heard the sound the sound of her voice.
He didn't need to say anything. It was his first time in a brothel — perhaps it was his first time with a woman.
She watched as he tugged away at his clothes, the hat discarded first and she saw his long, brown hair tumble out. Then, it was followed by his cloak.
It was her turn to stare as he discarded his shirt, revealing hardened muscles. She watched as the rest of his clothes were shed and then discarded.
Now she was really able to look at him. He was a young man, probably close in age to herself. His facial features were not particularly defined but there was a sort of boyish handsomeness to him, the kind that lingered in the transition from boy to man.
And of course, his eyes. She'd never known that eyes could be that color and she felt her mouth run dry.
Goddess, what was she thinking? He is a client. Not a lover. And you are no green girl. Play your part. Play your part!
Her voice was starting to sound like Kiyomi's.
Instead of pouncing on her, he simply…lifted the sheets and slowly shifted his body so that he lay on top of her.
She knew what came next or at least, she thought she did. Usually, she'd be ordered to part her legs, to lie back. And she would. Again, her job was to make fantasies come true and let her clients have their pleasure.
Why should he be any different?
He shook his head as if reading her thoughts. "No. No. Just let me…" his words trailed off and for once, she had no idea what he was asking for.
His arms wrapped themselves around her form, pulling her closer as he buried his face into her ample bosom.
Her eyes widened as he stayed like that, his head tilting only slightly to the side so that he could press his ear to her left breast. He held her tight and her heartbeat only heightened.
She didn't know what to do now. He just pressed himself closer, breathing in her scent and embracing her as if she was the only thing tethering him to the earth — like he was going to fly away if he couldn't hold onto her.
He smelled of the streets, of rot and piss. And iron. Especially iron.
He held her in silence, his embrace only growing more desperate and she could only understand that, perhaps, it wasn't sex that he was looking for tonight.
Slowly, she found herself threading her fingers through his deep brown locks — they reminded her of chocolate — and she ran her fingers through them. They were almost as silky as the sheets.
His breathing, which had been ragged up until this point, started to slow down and went steady.
Her heart, however, only continued to knock against her bones, beating faster with each beat…
Besides her heart, the ticking of the clock was the only sound she could hear. She didn't know how much time had elapsed because the night was still black as the abyss. He'd made no attempt to move, to do anything but cling to her and nuzzle into her breasts as if the essence of his very life depended on it.
Words were stuck on Mikasa's tongue, almost speaking several times but being unable to say the right words.
She didn't know what to make of this young man. She'd been at this for a while and she thought she had men all figured out, but this young man blew in like an early winter storm. He wanted to hold her — he wanted to be held. In the time that they've been here, she heard quiet sounds akin to a whimper.
She bit her tongue, waiting for him to speak instead.
Finally, he spoke and his voice had changed. The raspiness was gone, replaced with a low rumble straight from his chest.
"I'm Eren. Eren Jaeger."
She blinked as her eyes flickered downward. His chin rested on her chest as he gazed up at her. His eyes had gazed up at her. The desperation and weariness had disappeared, leaving something entirely different.
It was something like that of a curious child. There was a sort of wonder and softness to him.
"I'm Mikasa," she whispered, her fingers still threading through his hair, her nails raking through his scalp, causing him to close his eyes from time to time as he leaned into her touch.
"Mikasa…" he echoed. "Mikasa, Mikasa, Mikasa…beautiful. Very beautiful. Just like you. The most beautiful name I've ever heard for the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."
His smile was almost…unnerving.
"It's Hizuran," she said, not knowing why she said it but her cheeks felt a little warm and her tongue was a little loose.
"I like it a lot," he said. "I've never been there. But one day I'd like to go."
She hummed in agreement. She'd always wanted to see the land of her mother's ancestors. She knew so little about it. All she had were the tales her mother had weaved for her when she was younger. But, it was always a passing desire. It was a small fantasy that she could escape to.
"I think you should," she agreed.
He pressed his ear against her heart, closing his eyes as he did so.
"I like this. This right here," he said after a few minutes and she looked at his curiously.
"Like what?"
"Your heart. The sounds it makes. How fast it beats. I think it's my favorite."
He grinned and she couldn't even pretend to be flattered by that.
What an odd thing to say.
"You like…my heart?" She blinked again because of all the compliments she'd received, most of them hollow and generic, this one was the stranger, and oddly enough, it seemed the most sincere.
"Yes. I'm a doctor. I listen to a lot of hearts. But yours is the strongest. It sounds lovely as well. I could listen to it all night and for the rest of my life. It's perfect."
Who was this strange man?
"Is that…a good thing?"
Perhaps, it would've been wiser not to say anything.
"It means you're alive…"
Several moments went by in silence. His ear remained pressed to her heart as it continued to beat against his ear. He was unusually delighted with this fact.
"Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum…" he whispered, so softly that Mikasa almost didn't catch it.
"You're a doctor?" She asked, trying to think of something to ask. Trying to make sense of his odd fixation with her heart.
"Surgeon. But I trained as both."
The room went quiet again and he continued to listen to her heart with quiet wonder on his face. The way his face lit up as he nuzzled into her.
"So strong," he muttered. He held her closer as if he was afraid to let her go. He held her so tightly.
She closed her eyes and noticed his accent as he spoke. He didn't have a Paradisian accent. Not any accent she'd ever heard before. Perhaps he was from one of the districts?
"You're not from around here, are you?" She asked though it was more of her asking for confirmation than anything.
"No," he said, quietly. "I'm from Liberio. I just moved here a couple of months ago once I got my license to practice."
She continued to stroke his hair. She felt like there was more, so she waited for him to continue.
"My brother wanted me to stay, help him run my father's practice. But I had no interest in doing that. I was always a little different."
Why come here though? This country is a backwater near the north of the world that everyone forgets about. Why come here?
"So what led you here?" She phrased the question carefully yet she watched as his expression faltered and darkened a little bit. But the look in his eye, the fire that had ignited, that scared her.
Her heart started pumping harder, she could feel it in her ears.
"Relax," he said suddenly. "Shh, relax. I'm not going to hurt you. I could never, ever dream of hurting you."
Her chest tightened for the briefest moment, at his words. His words were anything but comforting.
"I'm fine," she smiled at him, lying through her teeth. "I promise."
Whatever wasn't written on his face, it was conveyed through his eyes.
"My mother was from Paradis. Trying to get in touch with those roots led me here and I've decided to stay for the year."
"Was?"
His face darkened, "She died when I was ten. Consumption. Or so they say…"
His words hung in the air for a while and she couldn't think of anything else to say.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "Truly." She held her tongue, stopping herself from empathizing too much. He could share his secrets. But she was never to reveal her own.
"Don't be."
One of her hands moved from his hair to his cheek, stroking it lightly. He leaned into his touch. He was warm. So, so warm.
"She must've been quite a woman…"
Eren hummed and in response, he pressed his lips against her beating heart. It was a small thing but it made her heart flutter.
"She was. She was everything."
He slid up and for the rest of the night, he peppered her cheeks, neck, and the tops of her breasts with the softest kisses.
And before he kissed her mouth, he looked her in the eye. It was a look so tender that Mikasa felt like melting into the sheets. She almost forgot the most important thing about this job.
It's never personal. Don't become emotionally attached.
"She had a strong heart as well."
She didn't have time to respond before his lips crashed onto hers. It was soft, inexperienced, sweet but full of demand and something else.
He wanted and wanted and wanted.
And she gave it to him.
He fell asleep on her chest, nuzzling into the soft pillow of her breasts. And for her part, she could not keep her eyes open very much longer.
When she rose at first light, the weight of his body that she'd grown accustomed to over the long hours of the night was no longer there. She woke in an empty bed. As if he hadn't been there. As if she'd dreamed the whole thing.
And if it hadn't been for the pouch of coins on her vanity and her lack of clothing, she might've thought that she dreamed the whole thing. She covered herself in a silken robe and walked over to open the pouch and her breathing stopped when the gold and silver coins fell out.
But this is…
It would cover her rent, groceries, and her mother's medication for the next few months. It was too much. Considering all that he did was lie on top of her and listen to her heartbeat. Even the wealthiest of clients were penny pinchers in comparison.
She tucked the coins away while she dressed herself. Daylight meant that she was done for the day. Her mother needed her. Perhaps she would grab something along the way. She had the means to pay for it.
But when she stepped out into the hall, the chaos began.
"Mikasa!" her eyes shifted toward the stares to see Kiyomi running towards her. In a rare show of concern for her and not the pouch of coins she was holding, she grabbed the young woman's face as if checking for any sign of injury.
"I hadn't seen you, I thought, I thought…" she breathed, heavily. "Oh thank the Goddesses and the angels above."
It was dramatic, even for Kiyomi. Something had happened.
"I was with a new client," she said, the exhaustion evident in her voice despite the few hours of sleep she had gotten. "He wanted me for the whole night."
She expected Kiyomi to ask about it, to ask about payment, and for a name. But she did none of that, she just seemed relieved that Mikasa was safe.
"It's no matter. You're safe. That's all that matters."
"That's right," Mikasa nodded. "Now excuse me, my mother is alone at the apartment and she needs—"
Kiyomi stood in her way, standing between her and the stairs. Mikasa furrowed her eyebrows. "Kiyomi—"
"No one is to leave until I say that it is safe to do so."
Mikasa blinked at her, her lips parted slightly. She was ready to shove the madam out of the way. It was bright daylight outside and she wouldn't be solicited in the streets. And if she was, she knew how to handle herself. Kiyomi, though, never cared to send her off alone regardless of circumstances. So why did she suddenly give a damn now?
"I said no." Her voice was firm.
"Kiyomi, my mother—" she tried.
"I'll have someone look after her but you are not to leave, is that clear?"
She couldn't help the irritation that was slowly taking over. She did not want to stick around the brothel longer than necessary.
"Am I allowed to know why or have you decided that nighttime is not enough of my time and soul to give to you?" There was a bite. Normally, she might've been scolded for that or worse. None of the other girls would dream of speaking to the madam that way.
Mikasa wasn't in a mood to care.
And it seemed, neither was Kiyomi because she ignored the barb. Whatever Mikasa was expecting, it wasn't this.
"One of my girls was found murdered last night. The police are saying that her heart was cut out."
The blood in Mikasa's veins ran cold as a river in the dead of winter as all the color slowly drained from her face.
Chapter 2: bleed and bleed and bleed
Notes:
hi! this took a while and i do apologize for that.
so i did take liberties with history here like mikasa's living situation, social mobility, and the overall life in a victorian slum. so i hope you enjoy anyway! ❤️
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Her name was Lena. She'd been a pretty thing, with eyes like midnight and hair like the sun — or some nonsense like that. And now she lay dead in an alley somewhere, her blood running into the streets — left like a stray, to be forgotten and unmourned.
Kiyomi made her threats — they would be next if they even dared think to walk out that door. So now, they all stood around, muttering among themselves with trembling hands and shallow threats.
Mikasa sat alone at her table, her eyes glued to Kiyomi as she downed yet another bottle of the cheapest, rotgut booze they had. She kept slamming it against the table so hard, it was a miracle the bottle didn't shatter.
The other girls were fearful, careful to avert their eyes and not so much look in her direction.
Mikasa had no such reservations. After the madam was halfway through her third bottle, it was decidedly time to stop her. She could feel all eyes on her as she stood up and snatched the bottle out of Kiyomi's hand. It took the older woman a moment to realize and she snapped her head up, glaring icy daggers into her.
Most unfortunately for Kiyomi, that didn't work on Mikasa.
"Enough," Mikasa's voice was harsh, unforgiving. She didn't have time for this. She needed to get home. Her sickly mother was there alone, the cold winter chill was cruel on her weakening bones and Mikasa had no patience for Kiyomi's antics. "I'm cutting you off."
The room fell silent as death as all eyes descended on them. Mikasa held up the bottle just out of Kiyomi's grasp. To her credit, she didn't try to reach for it. She scowled at her.
"You really don't want to do that, girl," she warned, slurring her words and Mikasa tried her hardest not to roll her eyes.
"Or you'll what exactly?" she challenged. She heard gasps erupt around her and she spun around. Her last nerve frayed, "What are you all looking at? There's nothing to see here!"
Her voice echoed through the room and half and the conversation picked up again very quickly. She turned her attention back to the tipsy madam who was now smirking at her.
"It's a shame you don't want to take over. You'd be good at it, you know?"
"Not interested," she said flatly, although her resolve had been floundering as of late. She was starting to feel the weight of her mother's mounting medical debts along with the rising costs of food and rent of their dingy flat.
But no, she wouldn't. It would be a last resort.
"Pity."
Mikasa huffed, plopping down on the seat next to, keeping the bottle out of reach from Kiyomi, "Is it that bad?" She kept her voice low. She knew the girls, they'd be straining to hear what the two them had to say.
"Losing one of my girls is always bad…" Kiyomi said, slumping. "They don't see us as humans. Poor, sweet Lena…"
Mikasa briefly felt a pang of sympathy for Kiyomi. The woman loved her money and did just about anything for it, but in moments like this, it was almost unnerving to see her grieving — and not just because of the loss she would incur from it.
She didn't push. Of course, Mikasa hadn't allowed herself to think about why Kiyomi had resorted to locking them down rather than allowing them to go home. It was genuine worry.
Someone had been murdered. Brutally. Left out on the streets like a stray dog and just thinking about it makes her gut twist uncomfortably. No one would think twice about it. To them, she was just a whore and no great loss to the world. Her death would mean nothing. Probably a loss to her regular clients but they'd soon get over. She'd be mourned by no one, lost to time as yet another victim of the rot and filth of the red light district.
"So, you had a new client all evening?" Kiyomi asked, bringing Mikasa out of her thoughts.
Mikasa hummed, "Yes. He bought the whole evening."
Kiyomi eyed her up and down. Usually a night like that would result in visible proof. But there was none and Mikasa pursed her lips, "He just…wished to cuddle. That's all."
If Kiyomi was surprised, she didn't show it. She wasn't in the business of judging the clients so long as her girls didn't end up damaged as a result.
"Was he by chance the young man I saw walking out of here at dawn? The one with the green eyes?"
Those eyes. Those two jewels that had gazed upon her with all the tenderness of a lover, "Yes."
Mikasa couldn't see her but she could hear her tapping on the wood. She was deep in thought.
"What is it?"
There was this sad but fond smile that appeared on her face, "I thought for just a moment…"
"What?"
"Like I was seeing a ghost," she finished. She wasn't looking at Mikasa, her eyes were downcast, closing everyone off to her actual thoughts.
Mikasa imagined that Kiyomi saw many of those. Girls came and they went. Some moved away and found better fortunes. Some got sick. Some disappeared altogether. She'd been in this business way too long and her old bones were probably wary.
She opened and closed her mouth a few times but didn't say anything. The client — Eren — had said that his mother was from Paradis. Mikasa wanted to ask but the words remained heavy on her tongue.
She'd been in this line of work long enough to know that it was best not to question things or probe into the past. Even if that person was Kiyomi. This woman was haunted by ghosts, this wasn't anything new.
A comfortable silence settled over the two of them and the low hum of chatter finally began to pick up…
Kiyomi announced that she would be closing the establishment for the next three days so none of them better show up. Again, no one questioned the mighty madam. Mikasa, on her part, wasn't going to fight it.
There were officers everywhere and she felt eyes as she walked in the direction of her home. She was able to stay out of their way because they wouldn't be kind if she presented herself as a nuisance. They hated being in the northwesternmost district of Mitras at any time. This was where all of the dregs of society were and they couldn't have cared less if some streetwalker was lying dead in some alleyway.
She did, however, listen to small scraps of conversation as she passed on by.
"…female, about 1.6 meters tall…
"…found in some alleyway…"
"…her throat was cut. So much blood…"
"…her heart was cut clean from her body…"
Mikasa pursed her lips and kept her head down. She'd mastered the skill of eavesdropping without drawing any attention to herself.
"…I'd wager it's a lover that learned that she'll spread her legs for anyone willing to pay. Nothing new around here."
Mikasa walked faster and kept her face as neutral as she could. No, she wasn't surprised. She wasn't allowed to be. She'd heard it all. And she had to steel herself against it.
They don't see us human…
She didn't hear the rest of the chatter nor did she want to. She'd read about it in the morning post tomorrow anyway. She had three days to herself and — she gave her pockets full of coin a squeeze — perhaps more.
She could rest. She could forget the world and escape into her own dreamland, to that cozy cottage at the edge of the forest with blue skies that stretched on for miles and miles. She could imagine dancing in the meadows, the blades of grass and flower petals tickling her feet as she fell back. There was no need to worry about money, there was no need to worry about a killer on the loose. Just pure, unadulterated bliss.
She closed her eyes and inhaled, trying to keep herself tethered to a far bleaker reality.
No use dwelling on dreams now. She needed to get home.
The stench stopped burning her nostrils a long time ago.
She rounded a corner and went up some narrow, rickety stairs. The old structure threatened to give out with every step that she took. She could only hold her breath and mouth silent prayers as she always did.
One day, she'll move them out of this hovel. But for now, she was just thankful that she could afford to keep a roof, however shabby, over their heads and food in their bellies. As of now, it had to be enough.
She passed various flats. She could hear a woman cursing at someone in one flat, she heard someone snoring in another, and of course the sounds of children running around in the muddy courtyard. It wasn't much but it was certainly more peaceful than the events of that evening.
Word would probably start spreading and tomorrow, the entire island would know. But for now, for tonight, she wanted some peace and quiet.
When she entered the apartment and closed the door behind her, for once, she didn't see the sorry state of disrepair. She saw a place of refuge.
"Oh thank heavens!"
Her mother had surfaced from another room, walking with her arms stretched out. Before Mikasa even had the chance to say a word, a loving pair of arms were wrapped around her and she melted.
It was home.
"Mama," she sighed happily, wrapping her arms around her. It was something they always did. Even if Mikasa was gone for an hour, her mother would always be there to give her a hug when she returned. It was the smallest of gestures but it meant everything to Mikasa.
She dreaded the day that she would come home and no hugs or warmth would be waiting for her.
"Where were you?" she asked, pulling away. "I was so worried, I was about to go out and search for you."
Mikasa's stomach dropped. It was her luck that her mother didn't actually come looking. She was already frail, there was no need to add more stress to her plate.
"Sorry, mama. Kiyomi needed me to help her with some accounting this morning. It took longer than we both thought."
The lie rolled off her tongue easily. She wasn't about to reveal the true reason. Her mother already hated what she did.
"That woman," she mumbled as she shook her head. "You've already said you're not interested. Why does she continue to insist?"
"Have you ever known Kiyomi to give up on anything?"
"Whatever the case. Come, you look exhausted and hungry. I did make something for you. Sit down."
Mikasa sat down but when she turned her gaze to the meal in front of her, she frowned.
"Mama, what did I say about going to the kitchen?" She kept her voice steady because she was exhausted and she didn't feel like yelling.
Her mother was already fragile. Since her father had died, it had been one ailment after another. Finally, her lungs were close to giving out and Mikasa forbade her from so much as entering the kitchen space. Despite the small window, the air of the slums would only fill her body with poison. Absolutely not.
But her mother was stubborn.
"Hush," her mother chastised, plopping down across from her. "Eat. I won't hear of it. And then you are to go straight to bed."
Oh, how she'd missed being nagged. That's how she knew that her mother was having one of her rare days of health. She took a spoon full of porridge and shoveled it into her mouth. It wasn't much, especially now with winter settling in, but it was better than nothing and somehow her mother was able to work with the little that was available to them.
"It's good."
It was worth it to watch her face light up. She would let it go. Just this once.
"I'm home for the next three days. And, we don't have to worry about rent this month…" she slid the pouch of coins her mother's way and the woman gawked as the coins fell out.
"Good heavens, child! Kiyomi let you walk away with this?"
"Kiyomi doesn't have to know. The point is, we're good for this month and we can afford a few more things as well, mama. We'll be fine. And if you're good, I'll take you for a walk one of these days."
"Am I your child or are you mine?"
"I'll always be your girl, mama. Just let me take care of you, alright? I have it all covered."
Her mother smiled but it was a wary one. Age, grief, and illness had ravaged her beauty, the wrinkles were prominent on her face, making her look older than she actually was.
No, that was wrong to say. Her mother was still beautiful and nothing could change that, not in her eyes.
"I know a seamstress. I've shown her your work, won't you consider?"
Mikasa kept herself composed because if she didn't, her grief might actually show on her face. Yes, she'd like to consider it.
The problem? It wouldn't cover rent or the mounting medical expenses. She'd love nothing more than to spend her days embroidering and creating. But the sight of her father's bleeding corpse had pulled the wool from over her eyes.
In this life, it was about keeping one's head above water by any means necessary. She had to survive so that maybe, maybe she could start living at some point.
But she lied and smiled as she did it.
"I'll consider it, mama."
It was worth seeing her mother's shoulders relax and they lapsed into a comfortable silence as she finished her porridge.
"I'll wash the dishes and march straight to bed. And you too. I don't need you wearing yourself out."
She leaned down and kissed her mother's cheek before moving to the small cramped kitchen to clean her bowl.
And finally, she has a moment to herself. Her eyelids droop and she's exhausted. She was always so exhausted. But she fought through it and pushed through.
Exhaustion was weakness, she reminded herself.
And resting was a luxury.
The sky was dark blue with colors of the sunset painting the horizon when Mikasa finally stepped out of the flat.
The air smelled rancid as usual but that didn't bother her. Complaining was also a luxury. She leaned over the rusty railing. The world was quiet and it was nice. She savored it.
Because in the morning, the panic would begin and Mikasa would have to think of some way to keep the news from reaching her mother's ears.
Goddess, it never ends.
She didn't want to think anymore. She just wanted to enjoy her damn peace. A moment of quiet was a rarity and a luxury — the only one she allowed herself to indulge in.
"Well, hello, stranger."
She looked up to see a friendly, welcoming face walking towards her. Slowly, she smiled, that sought-after peace settling over her.
"Armin, long time no see," she said, moving to embrace him.
His embrace was warm — comfortable and easy to fall into. It had been so long. Despite the fact that he lived a few doors down, she worked nights and he was gone until supper time on most days. She hadn't allowed herself time to really think about visiting him.
They found themselves leaning against the railings and for a few minutes, neither of them really exchanged any words. She'd known this boy since she was nine years old. Her father had just died. She'd gone quiet and her life was a perpetual rainstorm with no end in sight. This kind boy came along and made things better. They'd run around, he'd read books to her, and he'd tell her all about the world around them. He had dreams of studying at the university and traveling around the world as an ambassador. And he'd told her that he'd take her with him.
They'd been each other's first loves. They were each other's first everything.
And even now, they stood together, their arms touching, but there was comfort in that. Especially after the events of the day and the night before, it was nice to have him around.
"You're not usually here when I get back. I couldn't resist," he said, chuckling. She hadn't stopped smiling.
"I have the next three days off," she said. "You'll be seeing a lot of me."
"Perfect. I'm on holiday from the university this week. Maybe we could go down to the bakery tomorrow morning and get something. We can catch up and…" He trailed off, looking out into the pitch-black darkness. Winter was settling in and heavy cloud cover hung over the city, obscuring the views of the stars. Winters in the city were the worst of them all. There was no beauty when there were dilapidated buildings as far as the eyes went and the air smelled of sewage.
"I'd like that," she said.
"Sasha and her new husband just opened a new bakery near the university. I promised her that I would bring you around. So no excuses, you're coming."
Her smile fell a little bit. It had been a while since she'd seen Sasha as well. Sasha had worked for Kiyomi as well, but she'd left over six months ago when she'd met a sweet Marleyan cook who worked in the kitchens of some nobleman. They were married and she hadn't really seen her since. In all fairness, Mikasa hadn't tried to meet up with her either. Outside of Kiyomi's establishment and her own other, where was the time?
"She misses you, you know."
"I miss her too," she confessed. "I just…have a lot going on right now."
You know, like bills and my mother's failing health. I have Kiyomi hounding me to take her place as the madam of her brothel while my mother wants me to leave it to be a seamstress. I'm trying to keep a roof over our heads while also keeping our bellies full. There's medical debt that needs to be paid off and until those are settled, I can't start saving to move out of this shit hole.
But she bit down, keeping all of this to herself. Why burden Armin? University was probably keeping him stressed enough with exams while also trying to provide for his grandfather.
"Your mother? How is she by the way?"
"Better today," the answer was immediate and rehearsed but Armin had the good sense not to press her for more details.
"That's good. Maybe after Sasha's I can come over for a visit."
"She'd probably like that. She asks about you a lot. She sees your grandfather all the time but she never gets to see you. Truth is, she doesn't get to go out much."
"Great."
Things had changed. Despite the comfort between them, there was a distance. Mikasa had never been much of a talker, Armin did most of that.
"Remember when we were kids?" He asked. "Remember how we said we'd get married someday and travel the world together."
Yes. Those were the happier memories of her life following her father's death.
"Yes. We even made rings out of the weeds that grew between the cobblestones. My mother used to think it was the sweetest thing…"
"Yes. My grandfather officiated the whole thing but he said we had to grow up before we could have an actual ceremony with the actual paperwork."
"You said you'd marry me after you finished university," she laughed. "And look at you now. Getting the top marks and taking the world on by storm."
She moved hair out of his face, her fingertips lightly brushing his hair out of his face. He'd cut his hair recently and she had to admit, she missed it very much.
"My offer still stands, you know."
Her heart stuttered in her chest as the weight of his words sank in. They'd had something, once. But like anything in this place, nothing sweet or beautiful could grow.
And it didn't. It had died, slowly and painfully.
"I know…" she whispered and they stood in silence, neither daring or wishing to say more.
As promised, the next morning, Armin dragged her away to the nicer part of town. It was a long walk and her legs felt numb by the time they reached Central Mitras.
The sunlight was soft through the clouds and she was bundled up in her nicest coat, which wasn't really saying much but it got the job done.
A few times, her hand brushed against Armin and the two of them looked away. Their cheeks no longer heated up and it was just awkward but they were still friends, first and foremost.
The bakery was small, charming little building on the corner. The smell of baked goods caused her stomach to grumble and she realized it had been a while since she'd eaten anything that even remotely resembled appetizing. Her mother had tried her best but good food was expensive and out of reach for them.
The moment she stepped foot, she heard the gleeful squeals that could only belong to one person.
"Miiiiiiikassaaaaaaaaaa!" The other shoppers stopped their chatter or their business to look around at them and Mikasa just wanted to melt right into the floor because she hated being the center of any sort of attention.
"Hello," she mumbled but Sasha had all but tackled her to the ground. Decorum be damned, none of that mattered to Sasha. And her patrons, though momentarily put off, just turned their noses up and continued about.
"I haven't seen you in eternity!"
Before Mikasa could even say anything, Sasha was dragging her away, behind the counter and into the back. Her husband, Niccolo was working the counter and she asked him to take over for a little bit. How ever could he refuse his sweet wife?
Mikasa looked around and was in awe of what her friend had achieved in such a short amount of time. Until now, the fanciest establishment she'd seen was the brothel. She was proud, to say the least. A little envious but there was a little motivation in all this as well.
Before she knew it, they were at a table and there was a full breakfast spread around them. Bread, baked goods, omelets, sausages, and, of course, potatoes.
"I'm so, so happy to see you, Mika!" she gushed for the hundredth time and now she was starting to lay it on a little too thick.
"I've missed you, too," Mikasa said. "Life has been lacking the usual excitement without you and Armin."
She'd become so used to lying and flattering that sometimes, the truth felt odd on her tongue.
"But I'm so happy that it wasn't you."
And there it was, the hideous reality crashing down on her because she didn't even need context. Sasha and Armin were looking at her now, so much relief in their eyes and she felt stupid for not noticing it before.
"Have you heard anything? What have you heard?" And, damn it, she hadn't checked for the morning paper today. She didn't know what was being said.
"It's on the front page," Armin started. "Just a streetwalker found murdered in the alleys of the northwestern district. Her heart was cut out and apparently one of the doctors at the medical college doing the autopsy. They're asking for leads, but so far…"
Apparently, they hadn't given much detail about the girl if Armin was being this vague.
"It was Lena," she said, quietly.
The loss wasn't felt so personally because they hadn't really known her. She raked in some of the highest paying clients and that had warranted her getting a room on the top floor of Kiyomi's establishment and now, there would be a vacancy.
"Poor thing."
The conversation had died with those words and Mikasa felt her spirits going down again. She ate in silence as she recalled the night earlier. It had been an ordinary night, one where she'd been ready to play her usual part and be a part of some paying man's fantasy because that was her damn job.
No, instead, while one of her fellow girls was being brutally murdered, she was in the presence of a man who simply wanted to cuddle and share his life story with her. Again, it wasn't in her place to judge but she usually didn't think about her encounters afterwards.
But she could only think about the man with the emerald green eyes, who'd cuddled up to her chest and kissed her heart.
"Your heart. The sounds it makes. How fast it beats. I think it's my favorite."
"…yours is the strongest. It sounds lovely as well. I could listen to it all night and for the rest of my life. It's perfect."
She dropped her cup as the words started to replay over and over again. It had briefly occurred to her the day before but she pushed it away because he was with her all night. He was with her.
"It means you're alive…"
It was probably the strangest conversation she'd ever had. And she's had many. Entertaining many men meant having the most outlandish conversations in existence, but who brought up liking someone's heart?
She went pale. No, no. You're overthinking it. He's a doctor. He's a surgeon.
"Mikasa?"
She couldn't even tell who was asking until she turned and saw her friends were staring at her. They'd been chatting away and she'd completely disconnected herself in the conversation to get lost in her own thoughts.
"Oh, sorry. I just realized I forgot to tell my mother I'd gone."
It was such nonsense, even to her own ears. Mikasa was a terrible liar. She'd always been. She had told her mother and her mother even encouraged her to go and not dare think about her while she was gone.
If they didn't believe her, and they likely didn't, they didn't say so.
"Sorry for bringing it up," Sasha muttered. "Let's talk about something else. Armin I heard…"
And Mikasa just sat there, not contributing anything to the conversation because she looked at two of the people she'd loved most in the world. They were coming up in the world. Sasha had left the northwest district while Armin was well on his way to. And they would leave her behind, even if Armin promised to marry her, Mikasa wasn't naive.
She wouldn't be good for his image. She would only be an anchor for his ambitions and he deserved to sail into a sea of possibilities.
She nibbled on her bread, just listening to her friends chatter away, taking her mind of off reality and allowing herself to experience what others did so frequently…
Sasha wouldn't allow her to leave without bags and bags of food. Mikasa groaned but she was grateful. She could save up her coin on purchasing groceries or going to the butcher shop. Armin helped but Mikasa was always the stronger of the two. They ended up taking a detour and ended up walking around and chatting about the city. There were so many sights that she hadn't seen and honestly? She might not ever again. She was going to get out of here. And she was going to take her mother with her.
The clouds had started to clear but only a little and it was beautiful with light snow dusted over the streets.
They were sitting by a fountain in the nicest part of town, nibbling on Sasha's treats when she looked up at the sky and noticed the sun hung low.
She'd left her home alone, to rot away in bed with no one to attend to her. She'd told her that she'd be back by the afternoon but the late afternoon sun was slowly lowering and she'd completely lost track of time.
Armin followed closely behind her. He looked apologetic though he didn't say anything. He was quiet as they sprinted through the city. The surroundings were becoming shabbier and shabbier as the shadows descended upon the city.
I'm late. I'm so late. I'm so sorry, mama.
The sun was disappearing beneath the horizon by the time they'd returned to their building and Mikasa threw caution to the wind as she ran up the rickety old stairs. She didn't even recite her usual prayers.
Her mother wasn't there when she reached. All there was, was a crumpled-up newspaper on the table.
"Mama? MAMA?"
"Mikasa?" Armin was breathless behind her and she'd completely forgotten about him and now she was panicking.
"Armin, Armin, my mother. She's not supposed to leave the flat without me," she spoke fast as tears gathered in her eyes. Crying was a luxury but she wasn't too proud to cry over her mother. Armin had his arms wrapped around her as she kept muttering to herself.
"We have to find her. We have to— we have to—" She didn't even finish her thought before racing out the door. Armin was left behind and she couldn't think about that now. She would apologize later but she needed to find her mother first.
The streets weren't safe once the lights were gone, but her safety was secondary.
"Mikasa!" Armin sounded so far away but she wound the streets and alleyways.
"MAMA! MAMA! WHERE ARE YOU? GIVE ME A SIGN!" Hot tears were streaming down her cheeks as her chest tightened.
Not again. Please not again.
She remembered the last time she'd been in an alleyway. Her father was slumped over, a river of blood gushing from his lower belly and there was absolutely nothing she could do. She wasn't quick enough.
No, I have to find mama. I have to—
time blurred and she screamed her throat raw.
Her knees were wobbly and she was shaking but she persisted. And looked again and again until the sky was pitch black. She ran until she felt her feet blister and bleed. She didn't even know what the hour was when she heard Armin's voice call out to her.
"MIKASA! SHE'S HERE, PLEASE WHERE ARE YOU?"
They both knew better than to scream out onto these streets. They could attract who knows what in the shadows but no one and nothing came towards them. Instead, Mikasa ran in the direction of Armin's voice.
She never sprinted it off so fast. They'd found her. They'd found her!
"Mama! Mama!" she cried. It was like she was nine years old again when she saw their darkend figures in the distance. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark and every inch of her ached. The world was strangely quiet but she didn't want to think about that right now.
The low streetlights were enough for Mikasa to see her mother's cold, pale face. She was hardly able to stand. And she was in the arms of someone much taller.
"Mama," she breathed. "Mama!"
She got to them and Armin was smiling. Why was he smiling?
"We found her. She's cold but…" Armin was breathless.
"Thank you," Mikasa whimpered but she looked at her mother, who was clearly not well. She stayed in the man's arms. She couldn't quite make out his face but she squinted hard enough.
And then her heart stopped.
Those eyes, green as an emerald and the trees in summer, were staring right back at her.
Notes:
i'm a mikasa's a mama's girl truther clearly...........
Chapter 3: you. nothing more.
Notes:
okay! as promised, a sunday night (pst of course) update! now just warning here, mikasa is mentioned to have sex with someone else in this chapter. it's pretty vague, but just letting you know! thank you ellie for reading this over! enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
She opened her mouth, questions ready to tumble out of her mouth like a raging current. What was going on? Why was he here? Why did he have her mother? Why was Armin not more alarmed?
But the bluish tint of her mother's skin and lips were enough for her to swallow those questions.
"She'll freeze! Mama!"
Her mother's forehead felt like a block of ice against Mikasa's palm. "Oh Goddess," she whispered in horror.
Armin was saying something to her but she could not hear. All she could think of was getting her mother back into her warm covers and never, ever allow her to leave again.
"We have to get her inside," she said desperately. And she rushed up the stairs with the two men following her. She didn't even think of how inappropriate it was for a client to know where she lived or even how dangerous it was because her mother was half frozen to death in his arms. She cursed herself for being gone so long. She was so thoughtless. She felt like the worst daughter in the world.
The old rickety stairs creaked, as did the floorboards when the three of them arrived into the apartment. She was acutely aware of how cold the apartment was, how little relief it provided from the frosty air of the late autumn and early winter.
"Set her down, gently," she said breathlessly, pointing to the unmade bed. She was about to say more but Eren got to work tucking her in and ensuring that she was warm. He rubbed her hands. She watched, unable to form words. Her head was spinning and her lungs were on fire. Her legs wobbled and only now did she feel how sore they were.
Somehow, the world had sped up and slowed down all at once. That was how the past two days had gone for her. Everything was a blur and it was like she was watching the world without taking any sort of part in it. Aside from smaller moments.
Now she was dropped back into reality and her mother was paying for it.
Oh mama, mama, I'm so sorry. I'll never leave like that again.
Armin's hand snaked around hers, giving her a tight squeeze. She didn't pull away and she didn't look at him. He knew her well enough now to not say anything. She needed him nearby, that was all.
Eren didn't seem to acknowledge her words.
"Can one of you heat up water? Just warm water, make sure it is not boiling," Eren turned to them. She didn't see the young man from the other night. Not the same doctor who listened to her heart and needed her warmth. No, this was Doctor Jaeger speaking. She thought she saw his eyes flicker downwards to their joined hands but she was out the door without another word.
She'd handle this later.
Armin was not too far behind her. She set a small kettle over the stove and opened the tiny window. Her heart pounded furiously as the blood rushed to her ears and face. She tried to get her breathing under control, trying to see through her blurry vision. No, she couldn't cry. Damn it, she would not cry!
"Mika, it's alright—"
"—It's not alright!" she snapped, spinning around. He was taken aback—a little hurt, even—by her raised voice and she found herself softening. "It's not alright. I left her alone all day, knowing of her condition, knowing of everything that's going on. I lost track of time. I should've—"
She bowed her head in shame, squeezing her eyes shut as tears trickled down her face, "I should've been back when I said I would. I could've prevented all this."
She wasn't a fool. She knew what that crumpled-up newspaper meant. She knew exactly why her mother had gone out, despite her ill state. If—no, when—her mother recovered, she would have to answer for this. In all likelihood, her mother would force her to take the seamstress job for significantly less pay. They were barely keeping the roof over their heads and their bellies filled as it was. She, in a very literal sense, could not afford this.
She felt a warm hand under her chin, lifting her face up. She was taller than him now, she realized. When had that happened?
"If you're at fault for that, then so am I," he said gently. "I should've had you home instead of running around the central districts. And Mikasa? You're allowed to be selfish sometimes. Your mother knows that better than anyone. That's why she let you go with me. You do everything around here without a thought for yourself…"
She didn't want to hear this. She really didn't want to hear this. Selfishness was for those who could afford it. Selfishness was for people who didn't have to worry about where their next meal would come from. Selfishness was for people who didn't have to worry about surviving the winter and keeping a crumbling roof over their heads.
"Armin…" she trailed off. She didn't really know what to say to that. He'd grown up with her but unlike her, he'd found a way out. He was getting educated. He was would become a lawyer, buy a lovely house in the respectable part of the city, and he would be comfortable. He would have to tear down all associations with squalor to build something new, something respectable.
That included her but she never said that part out loud. But they both knew that it was true.
She remembered then that they weren't alone and that Eren, her client from the other night and a doctor, was also in the flat with them. And Armin was somehow familiar with him.
"That doctor," she said, quietly. "You two seem familiar?"
"Hm? Oh yes, him!" Armin's face lit up and Mikasa had to take a step back. "Yes, that's Dr. Eren Jaeger. He's working at the university hospital. He's from Liberio. He's Dr. Grisha Jaeger's son, you've heard of him, haven't you? He found a cure for The Winter Plague, that seemingly incurable disease? Yes him! Eren's his son!"
Oh, of course. She thought that name had sounded familiar. How could she forget? Grisha Jaeger was one of the few members of the upper class that anyone around here respected. Eren was his son?
"I suppose that explains a few things," she muttered but her head was spinning. Her headaches were returning and only when she heard the sharp whistle of the kettle did she remember her task.
"Shit, shit, shit!" curses flew from her lips as she removed the kettle from the stove top and moved to open the tiny window, airing out the kitchen.
The water was boiling and it was obviously too hot to use for the time being. Very rarely did she allow herself to allow her tears to fall in front of someone but they started falling silently as she held up the tea kettle.
"Mikasa—" Armin began but that's when she heard footsteps pressing down on the creaky floorboards. Eren stepped into the tiny kitchen, his expression completely unreadable.
"The water—" he started but stopped when he saw the tears rolling down her cheeks. She moved her hand to brush the tears from her cheeks. She turned away. Eren didn't say anything, he didn't even walk over. But when she looked into his eyes, there was a look in them she'd never seen before.
A client had never looked at her like that. Then again, he wasn't just another client. He'd never looked at her with unrestrained lust or like she was something to feast upon. No, there was…something else entirely.
"Here, it's alright," he said after a minute. "It'll cool." His lips slowly curved upwards, an uncomfortable sort of smile of reassurance that he clearly wasn't used to giving.
He took the kettle from her hand, "Can you bring me a cloth? A clean one, preferably? She has mild hypothermia but she'll be alright. Don't cry…"
His voice dropped octaves so that only she could hear the last part of that. His tone had entirely changed. Something akin to pleading and begging. Like the pleas of a child, begging their mother not to cry.
He was gentle with her mother, even more than Mikasa was. He was a surgeon, his calloused hands had sawed through bones and dug into entrails, but one wouldn't know it from the way he kept checking to make sure her body temperature didn't continue to drop.
It was pitch-black outside. She wasn't sure of the hour but judging from how her eyelids drooped, it was very, very late.
Armin stood next to her but from the corner of her eye, she could see how his shoulders slumped and how he struggled to stay awake. She frowned. He didn't need to be here. He had his own grandfather to return home to.
"Armin, you should go home. Come back in the morning. I'll let you in," her voice was calm, almost soothing. It was a tone she'd used often with clients but she never imagined using it with him. But he'd stood with her half the night and he'd been keeping her company. She was thankful, truly. But she didn't need more suffering.
"No, I'm not…" he trailed off but in the process, he yawned. She finally noticed the dark shadows under his eyes and she shook her head.
"Get some sleep. Please," she rubbed his shoulder, caring not how intimate the gesture appeared.
"But—"
"She's right, Armin," Eren's voice cut in. He was seated next to Mikasa's mother. He didn't look up and the look on his face was unreadable but both of them just stared at Eren. "You're exhausted and you have exams coming up. Your body and mind need its rest. I'll be here till morning as well."
"Someone needs to take care of Mikasa too," he protested, albeit weakly. "She never puts herself first. She'll worry herself to an early grave."
"I'll watch her too. And I'll make sure she sleeps too," his eyes fall on her for a second, a very long and lingering second, "You have my word on that."
There was something, just something in his words that unnerved her in a way she could not explain. But she'd spent a whole night with him before and he wouldn't try anything.
And even so, how could she sleep when her mother hadn't opened her eyes. At least the color had returned to her cheeks and lips, she supposed that was a good thing.
"Go," Eren was firmer. "That's the order of a doctor."
It took a little more convincing but eventually and reluctantly, Armin resigned himself to Eren and Mikasa's coaxing.
"I'm coming back in the morning," he promised Mikasa before he stepped out. "But if something happens, I want you to come get me. Pound on the door if you have to, but you will call me."
She nodded, "You have my word on that."
He kissed her cheek before disappearing into the darkness. Mikasa lingered at the doorway, not being able to see him. The night was pitch-black, not even the light of the moon could penetrate it. These were the darkest, saddest days of the year, but Mikasa didn't linger on that. She had more important things to think about.
The bedroom was lit by a couple of candles. Eren was still as a statue and Mikasa crossed the room, her skirts brushing against the wood before she sat at the foot of bed. She touched her mother's feet, stroking them.
Get better. Please. I'm sorry. I won't do that again.
"You two are close," Eren's arms were folded and in the soft glow of candlelight, she could see that his eyes were closed. It was clear he wasn't talking about her relationship with her mother.
"We grew up together," she said, honestly. "He's been with me through the worst and best times of my life." Yes, her life. The worst had, unfortunately, outweighed the best parts. But Armin had remained steadfast. She didn't mention their past romantic entanglement or intimate relationship. Eren was still a client and it would be foolish to share more than that.
It was bad enough that he knew where she lived.
"He mentioned he had a good friend that he missed dearly. I didn't know," he hummed. She couldn't tell if he was displeased or not. His voice was heavy with sleep but he refused to get up.
"Why were you here tonight?" If her words sounded accusatory, it was unintentional but no one just loitered around the slums. Not even those who knew these streets. When the sun set and the lights dimmed, demons came out to play.
"I wanted to see you again."
His answer was immediate, with no signs of shame or embarrassment. He said it as if it was the most obvious fact in the world. Her shoulders slumped.
"Sorry, the brothel is closed for a few days. Because of…" she didn't want to say it and thankfully, he didn't finish that sentence.
He hummed, "Yes, I did see that. That's where I ran into your mother. She looked terrified and ill and I couldn't just leave her alone there."
She continued to stroke her mother's feet as her mother continued to sleep. She was the worst daughter, truly. How could she even think of leaving her mother alone with a killer on the loose? How could she be so foolish? She was smarter than this.
"She suffers from consumption. She shouldn't have been out there on her own." She paused. "Thank you for bringing her back," she whispered. "I don't know what I would've done…"
She swallowed the lump that was forming in her throat. The room was dark enough that she allowed her tears to fall again. She was lucky today thanks to Eren. Her mother had escaped death very narrowly.
She would not let this happen again.
"How can I repay you?" she asked after several minutes. "I don't have much money, but I can pay you in installments."
She felt ill at the already mounting medical debt, further moving her plans to save up to leave Mitras down the road but she would pay everything off all the same. She was speaking to a Jaeger, surely that wouldn't come cheap.
No, of course not, she'd counted the money he'd paid her. He was no penny pincher.
"Repay me?" He sounded genuinely confused, almost offended by the question.
"Yes, for treating my mother tonight. It wouldn't be right not to pay you. Anything, just name your price."
She might come to regret her words because there was a long silence that followed her question. Time stood still and Mikasa heard her heart in her ears. The seconds, minutes had ticked by tortuously but still, he said nothing.
"Anything?" he clarified.
She swallowed thickly but slowly nodded, "Anything."
Several more minutes ticked by without another word and she slowly began to go insane. He had done her a kindness but she did not know him at all. He was not supposed to be inside of her home.
Still, she kept her mouth closed. She didn't dare yell. She owed him for this kindness.
And just as her last nerve frayed, he spoke up, "You. That is my price. You. Your time. Just you, all to myself."
She gaped at him for several moments. The tiny flame flickered, casting shadows on his handsome face. She couldn't read his face and it bothered her. She wanted to know what he was thinking.
"I don't accept charity. I have coin to pay you. You don't—"
"—you said anything and this," he motioned to between them, "is what I want."
"But—"
"My mother died of consumption, I told you that. I'm involved now and I wish to treat her. Money is not required but if you wish for there to be a price, I've named it. You and your time. Nothing more."
That wasn't fair. He could always come to Kiyomi's and have her for the evening, just as he had the night before. Unless she was with a client, of course. She did regret her choice of words. He had done her a favor, a kindness. And required no payment for it. Not anything that could be paid in with coin. She was in no position to negotiate and she had told him that she was willing to pay any price. And so, he'd named his pride.
Her.
Story of her life.
She resigned herself to that fate. He would become another one of her regulars. It could be worse, she supposed.
"I don't work Saturday evenings so…" she whispered. "Don't come around then."
For a minute,, he didn't speak. And when he did, all he said was, "There's no need for your mother to see any of her old physicians. Bring her to the university hospital and I will personally tend to her myself. Just ask for me."
"Alright," she whispered. She wanted to express her gratitude but she bit her tongue. She didn't pretend like she was enjoying this. She was being foolish. Clients weren't supposed to know where she lived. That's why Kiyomi's establishment existed. It was for her safety. It was for her peace.
Eren, meanwhile, who'd only demanded to cuddle naked, knew the most important and intimate aspects of her life. It was dangerous. It was stupid. She knew better than this.
"You should sleep. You're tired and the body heat will help warm her more. Come, I'll watch over you both tonight."
She had no energy to resist his order. It was extremely unwise to let him stay while she and her mother were in their most vulnerable state. But wakefulness was failing her and she'd had a full day.
She just felt her body move and she felt completely disconnected from the world as she collapsed onto the bed. She felt the covers tucking her in as she slid closer to her mother.
And just before sleep overcame her, she could've swore she felt a pair of lips brush across her cheek.
The light was blinding as she stirred from sleep. Her body felt like it was weighed down by cinder blocks and for a lazy few moments, she kept her head on the flat surface.
Every muscle, every joint felt stiff. Part of her never wanted to rise. She wanted to stay in the warmth of these sheets forever.
Of course, she'd trained her mind to drag her back into her cruel reality the moment she wandered off in dreams again. This time was no different.
The memories of the previous evening came flooding back and every unpleasant feeling that was involved. Her neck was stiff as she turned her head to see her mother asleep next to her. Her breathing was open, and her cheeks and lips were their normal color.
Oh Goddess, You are good. Thank you. Thank you…
"She should be coming to soon," Eren's groggy voice brought her out of her own head as she turned to the foot of the bed to see that he'd moved his chair there. There were dark rings around his eyes, which were also bloodshot. He looked exhausted but he made no move to sleep.
He really had stayed there the whole night.
"That's good," she muttered, slowly rising from the bed but her entire body was stiff. "You stayed?"
He nodded, "Armin came by at sunrise to check on everything. I told him everything was alright and that he didn't need to worry. You're welcome by the way."
"Thank you," she sat up. Her muscles were screaming but she stayed silent. She had today to rest before needing to return the following evening. Eren just stared at her. She couldn't read him. This man was a walking mystery. He wanted nothing and yet, he was doing everything for her.
"I can walk you out," she said after a while of the two of them just sitting there and staring at one another.
He didn't protest. Instead, he grabbed his coat and allowed her to lead him. Her stomach was all tied up in knots but she'd already agreed to it.
As he was about to step over the flat's threshold, he turned to look at her.
"I intended to spend time with you last night. And I got exactly that." He smiled and it was simultaneously dazzling and off-putting.
"Thank you for everything," she whispered, returning his smile, as strained as it was.
"It was no problem."
He turned around and just as she was about to close the door, he looked over his shoulder.
"I didn't get your mother's name. I like to know my patient's names."
Mikasa blinked as her brows raised. It wasn't an odd question, not really, but still.
"It's Yuna."
Something flickered in his eyes for a moment before he composed himself and nodded with acknowledgment. "Lovely name."
And then he was gone, disappearing down the rickety old stairs. She closed the door and for a few minutes, she pressed her back and head into the old wood, closing her eyes.
Her head was swimming, just replaying the last few days. Nothing seemed real or ordinary. Suddenly, this young man shows up in her life, paying her just enough to be comfortable for a small while and treating her mother. Perhaps kindness truly did exist—
Don't be a fool, Mikasa. A man who visits a brothel can never be kind. You heard him. He wants your company as payment. You owe him, and he knows it. Don't mistake a transaction for kindness.
She closed her eyes. She knew it. She just wanted to hold onto what little she could. But she had to remind herself not to get carried away in a fantasy. She was the fantasy. That was her job.
Before she could spiral further, a small voice called, "Mikasa? My sweet girl?"
She rushed back into the bedroom to see that her mother was awake. She was still lying down, and there was exhaustion in those eyes that once had shone so bright. It broke her heart just a little bit each time.
"Mama, how are you feeling? Oh, why didn't you wait for me?" She knelt at her mother's bedside, taking her hand and kissing it. In her head, she offered a prayer of gratitude to the Goddess.
"Why didn't you tell me what was happening?"
Her mother sounded more hurt than accusatory. She hated that more than anything. She had no regrets about hiding it, though.
"I didn't want you to take any stress. Mama, even so, how could you run out in the cold the way you did? What if something had happened? What would I have done?"
Her mother looked guilty now, so now they both felt guilty but still, Mikasa took more of that responsibility. She should've returned while there was still daylight outside and then perhaps, her mother wouldn't have run out in a frantic search, wondering if she would find her daughter lying dead in some alleyway.
"I want you to take up the seamstress job," her mother whispered but Mikasa shook her head. But her mother wasn't having it, "I don't care if it brings in significantly less. I won't have you risking your life like this. I'll send word to Kiyomi and—"
"—mama, no. We cannot afford it."
Moments went by before she remembered Kiyomi's offer. Taking over for her. Shadowing her in the meantime, not having to take clients but mind the whole establishment like the shadowy business that it was. She didn't want to. But with the terrified look on her mother's face. She didn't really have much of a choice.
"I'll consider it, mama. Let me figure out the finances first. And then. I'm not saying no."
It was all she could offer her. And her mother knew it. She couldn't forbid her any more than she could march to Kiyomi's right now and demand that she release her. It was simply not done. It wasn't how the world worked.
"That young man…" her mother began, changing the subject after a minute, causing Mikasa's heart to lurch.
"He was a doctor. A friend of Armin's. He found you. He was…on his way to see Armin and ran into you," the lie was almost convincing to her ears. Which meant not at all for her mother. But her mother nodded.
"Did you pay him?"
"He didn't require payment." Not monetary payment, anyway.
"No?" Her eyes went wide.
"No. I asked and he said that he didn't require it. And…he would like to continue treating you."
Her mother didn't protest because Mikasa knew that she didn't like her current doctor. The crotchety old man didn't listen to her, just insisted on bleeding and purging until the woman was too weak. Mikasa knew little about the body so she could only weakly argue and pay the man's fees.
"You know. I saw him and for a moment…I thought I was seeing the face of an old friend…"
Her mother squeezed her hand as Mikasa waited for her to continue.
"A dear friend whom I haven't seen in many years but I hope she's doing alright."
"Which friend?" she asked, entertaining the conversation and keeping her hands warmed. She was so precious to her.
What would she do without her?
"You didn't know her. She was a friend from my girlhood. We were as close as you and Armin are now. But I met your father and I was never able to meet her again after that…"
Mikasa nodded, "I could perhaps get her name. See if I could find her. Would you like that, mama?"
Her mother smiled, shaking her head, "It's been twenty-four years. She probably has her own life. I don't wish to brother her after all this time."
"What was her name? Am I allowed to know that, at least?" Mikasa pressed, gently.
Her eyes were starry, as if she was floating back to reveries of times past. Those were the good times, the best of times. She'd told her stories, but oddly, her mother had never given her names. Now, she was asking for them. And she finally relented.
"Carla. Her name is Carla…"
The next day and a half passed in a blur. Mikasa went through the motions, tending to her mother and doing chores around the tiny flat. There was only so much she could do in such a small space, but it kept her mind busy. Her mother had gotten up at some point to help, but Mikasa chased her back to bed, resisting only with a pout.
Her mother was reluctant to let her go the following evening. She clutched her arm, tugging her back into the flat, but Mikasa had to be strict.
"I have to go, mama. I need to save money. We cannot survive only on a seamstress's income."
And reluctantly, her mother let go of her arm.
"I won't sleep till you return. I will be sitting right here."
She couldn't fight her on that because she'd gotten her stubbornness from that woman. All she could say was, "Fine. But make sure you eat. I've left some stew on the stove. Please eat that."
The shadows were cast over the building. The streets were eerily quiet, but Mikasa kept her head down. Her eyes scanned the streets, she wasn't stupid. Her hair was tucked under a hat, and her body was obscured by her father's old coat. She was tall enough to pass off as a man, and that was enough.
The sky was a deep blue when Mikasa passed through the door of the establishment. Already, there was a buzz of chatter. Already, all of the tables were occupied. Aristocrats were laughing with their drinks, with girls on their laps. The place was more packed than usual.
She'd shrugged off her hat and coat, walking towards the bar on the other side of the building. She felt hungry eyes follow her as she walked by. She paid it no mind. By now, she was already used to it.
Kiyomi was seated at the bar, counting coins with that greedy little gleam in her eyes. It was as if the past three days hadn't happened. Either that or she didn't want to think about it. She was going to go through life as though this was just one of the many unfortunate things that happened on the northwestern side of Paradis' capital.
She was going to accept Kiyomi's offer. Her pride had taken a hit, and it was still marginally better than what she was doing now. She walked up to her and just as she was about to open her mouth, Kiyomi spoke first.
"Colt Grice requested you. He's up in your room now," she didn't bother looking up at her. She was counting her coins and scribbling them down in her books. Mikasa shut up, knowing Kiyomi wouldn't want to hear anything when there was a paying customer upstairs.
Mikasa swallowed her frustration, making no noise as she floated upstairs. It could be worse, she supposed.
Colt Grice was certainly one of her best regulars. He'd come to her a couple of years ago, eager to please. After the first few times of fumbling and learning how to take pleasure, learning her body and plucking the right strings, she found him almost enjoyable. As enjoyable as a client could be, in any case.
Tonight was a little different. He'd all but pounced on her as soon as the door closed. He had no words of greeting for her. His mouth was almost as desperate as his hands. This wouldn't be like any of those nights. He kissed like he was drowning. He fucked like he would be hanged at dawn. She kept up, luckily, indulging his every touch. And she allowed him to take his pleasure over and over.
Afterwards, they lay in the candlelight side by side. She smiled, a practiced thing, and men were none the wiser. She didn't need them to be nor did she want that. She was a fantasy, after all.
Colt was a talker; he never got up and left once he reached his release. She appreciated it because she learned things. His family was new to wealth; his uncle had come into money via the railroad and the rest of the family joined in on it. Colt was all set to take over. He bragged about it in his own humble way. Yes, somehow, that was possible. The boy had no arrogance in him. He was eager to please and even more eager to perform.
He was halfway there, she supposed.
She rubbed his arm as she looked at him. He smiled back but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes.
"What troubles you?" She cooed, cupping his face. She'd played her part well but tonight was the first time it felt…wrong. Because the whole time he was pushing into her, she wasn't seeing those pretty hazel eyes. No, she saw deep emeralds and she was ashamed to admit that it was the only way she'd been brought to her peak.
"I'm to be wed," he whispered. He actually seemed sad about it and he looked at her with a sort of desperation. She didn't lose her smile. Poor fool, he'd grown attached. But she hadn't.
Forming attachments went against the job description.
"That's exciting. Who is she?" She was only a little interested. Marriage didn't change anything. Most men who frequented this place were married. They had no meaning within these walls. It was all about fantasies and finding pleasure. Nothing more, nothing less.
"I don't know her really. She's some girl from Liberio, a daughter of my uncle's business partner. I'll be settling there for a time when we are wed. I'll return after a year, I think!" The implication hung on every word. She didn't really care if he did. She hoped the marriage would bring him some sort of happiness.
"I'm sure she'll be lovely. And she is very lucky," she purred, running a finger up his bare chest. "The marital bed will be a very happy place for her."
He didn't look happy but he relaxed a little bit. Yes, good. As long as she made him believe it, he might be able to achieve it. In all likelihood, a well-bred girl would have nothing to compare. Perhaps that's why men preferred to wed and bed them, while sneaking to brothels once their wives drifted into slumber.
"You think so?" He asked. She likened him to a puppy, practically wagging his tail, desperate for affection and praise.
"I know so."
His mouth crashed against hers in a kiss that was a mess of teeth and tongue. She had to keep herself from wiping her mouth. She was trying her best, but she couldn't help it. Normally, she was rather fond of the young man, but tonight, she found him something bordering on repulsive.
"I hope so. I just don't know her. I don't know what she's like or how to make her happy outside of the bed chamber."
Oh, he was so sweet. Tonight, sweet was nauseating.
"Write to her," she urged. "Learn her. She's probably thinking the same thing."
Yes, the other part of her job: doling out marriage advice to men who were decidedly cheating on those same wives they were trying to keep happy.
He hummed, not so interested, but she knew Colt well enough. He would do it because she said so. He had almost no mind, at least not in the way she knew him. She had no idea how he was going to lead Grice Railways.
"Tomorrow is a big night. Lara Tybur has agreed to wed. Tomorrow is the engagement party."
Mikasa stopped rubbing his chest, looking at him. Lara Tybur, she knew that name. Everyone knew that name. She was known for her charity, her dignity, and her disgust at any suitor who came her way. She was said to be generous and kind. If not a little haughty and somewhat full of herself.
Though it was always a man who said that last bit.
"To whom?" She was curious and felt like a gossipy old lady but everyone would want to know.
"No one knows. They're announcing it tomorrow night. You'll hear about it in the Thursday papers, I suppose."
She hummed. Thursday morning would be very interesting, indeed.
After Colt, there were three others. None of them spoke. None of them were worth remembering. And she hoped none of them would come back either. Even if their money was good, the sex was certainly not.
Dawn was breaking as the last client left, and Mikasa rose from the bed, her muscles sore. She cleaned herself up before grabbing her dress and tying the laces herself. It was an art, she'd been told, to be able to lace one's own corset from behind. She didn't think so. She wanted to get home to her stubborn mother, who'd probably sat awake all night in worry.
The establishment was quiet, with the sounds of exaggerated moans and grunts permeating down the halls. She'd learned to tune those out.
Kiyomi was still counting her coins and filling her ledger. She didn't know how the woman did it, but greed was a funny thing. She would do anything for just one more piece of coin. As Mikasa was ready to shuffle out the door, deciding that she'd just talk to her tonight, Kiyomi stopped her.
"That young man came by again. The one with those pretty eyes. He was quite disappointed, but I told him he could come back tonight. He left a note."
She slid a piece of paper toward Mikasa, and it really was a scrap of paper.
You and only you. That is my price. Thursday at lunch. I will come to see you.
She kept her face neutral, not wanting to let Kiyomi hear her gasp. No, it was against some unspoken rule about seeing clients outside of the establishment. Well, it wasn't a rule, but there were some boundaries that needed to be maintained. Meeting a client in the middle of the day, outside of regular business, was decidedly crossing a boundary.
Kiyomi would frown and chide her, maybe. And she was in no mood for it.
"What does he want?" Kiyomi asked, completely uninterested. Good, she hadn't read it then.
Mikasa shook her head, "Just that he would be back to see me. He didn't specify." She said it quietly enough so that Kiyomi wouldn't catch the deceit.
"Oh."
Mikasa just turned on her heel and left quickly, her money in her pocket. She didn't want to stay in this establishment. Despite the cold, her skin felt like it was on fire. What was she doing? What was she going to do?
She was only trying to survive.
The universe was likely punishing her for some crime. Because snow started to fall before she'd made it a single block, and she cursed. She'd forgotten to purchase gloves, and she'd have to do that before returning home. The shops were open by now, so she decided to make a detour.
She knew better than to cross alleyways because that's where all the worst of the worst slept. So many had been attacked, but at least Mikasa knew how to defend herself. It was necessary in her line of work.
It smelled foul, but she'd grown accustomed to it. Piss and shit, rot and…blood.
Blood.
Her own blood ran cold when, as she continued to walk down the alleyway, the scent became harder to ignore as it grew heavier. There was nothing in the world that came close to the scent of death.
She'd learned that lesson as a girl. Death had followed her home, but instead of her, it had taken her father. And now, it followed her again because she turned into another alleyway, just a small distance from the clothing shop, when she tripped over something.
It was heavy, as though someone had disposed of luggage or a rather large sack of potatoes. Mikasa should've continued, kept walking like nothing had happened, but she looked behind. And suddenly she was that little girl who'd found her father bleeding out in an alleyway near their home, the grim reaper having long visited.
In the early morning light, she saw death once more. In the form of a young, dead woman. Her face was ghostly white, a macabre sort of smile cut to her brows, her throat was slashed, and her chest had been cut open, an ocean of blood spilling from the cavity.
Her scream would be heard all the way to the King's Palace.
Notes:
UH OH.
Chapter 4: twice damned
Notes:
so this was late and i am sorry. i'm also sorry it's so short too. truthfully, it's been a rough time for me. good news is, i managed to plot the finer points of the story around this one so we're going to start really cooking next chapter. hope you enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Once you saw death, you could never forget it. No matter how much you tried to run away from it, it would catch up to you. They went as far as to say that if you'd seen the face of death, you were cursed.
In that case, Mikasa was damned twice over.
Her screams were still echoing in the distance as she scrambled to run out of there. She didn't stay to look at the girl's face, but bile rose in her throat. No one would come running. She knew that. There were three unspoken rules of the northwestern district: you saw nothing. You heard nothing. You say nothing. Those were the rules. No one would come to help you if you were slaughtered.
So she ran while she could go undetected.
She didn't have time to process what she'd seen. She saw nothing. She saw nothing.
Just as when her father died, she saw nothing. Even though she'd seen his body slumped over and blood pooling out of his chest.
She saw nothing.
And no one saw her. No one heard her, even if the whole city had just broken up to her screams.
She was almost home. Just a little ways longer. She probably looked guilty, but her heart was pounding so fast she could feel it in her ears.
You are twice damned. You are cursed. Good things don't happen to girls like you…
She ignored the sinister voice in her ears as she made it to her complex, climbing the rickety steps as quietly as she could. The whole world was tinted in a soft blue, so different from the river of blood she'd just witnessed. No one would be prepared for what they were going to wake up to just a short distance from here.
No one. None.
Goddess, give me strength…
Bile rose in her throat as she slammed the door shut before leaning against the worn-out wood with her forehead.
Her hands trembled, and her breathing was troubled.
Not again. Please, not again.
She moved towards the bedroom to find her mother's still sleeping form. It seemed that despite everything, she was still able to find some rest. Good.
Mikasa moved to tuck her in. She could see that color was returning to her mother's cheeks. It was little consolation, considering what she'd just witnessed.
It was only a short distance from here. A murder, somehow more heinous than the last one. Then again, Mikasa had not seen Lena's corpse nor did she have any desire to ask.
She floated towards the kitchen and, finally, was able to empty what little was in her stomach.
And all those memories came back to her, raging like the midsummer sea.
Pale as winter, a river of blood, a clown's smile. Discarded in an alleyway to be forgotten. Later to rot in the cold ground for an eternity, would she even get a grave?
Like papa. Like papa…
She gripped both sides of the counter as her throat started to burn from all the bile that had been forced up.
Four days. That was all it took for the world to burn down around her. A week ago, she was just another lady of the night; she worked, she slept, she cared for her ailing mother, and she survived. She dreamed of leaving this wretched existence, getting more out of life than just this. They could leave tonight if they really wanted to.
They could disappear. No one would miss them. No one at all. Her mother could heal, surely. What was better than the clean mountain air?
Her body continued to tremble as she bowed her head. In the quiet of the early morning, she heard a rooster crow. The day was beginning, and the city would wake up to death…
On a normal day, she would slip into bed next to her mother, keeping her warm. Her mother would rise when the golden rays of sunlight streamed in and allow her daughter to sleep.
Today, Mikasa just sat at the old table, a cup of tea in her hand. She wished it were whiskey; at least it would've taken the edge off.
Her mother had regained enough strength to walk out, disoriented and near panicked when she didn't see her daughter next to her. There was relief, followed by confusion when she saw her daughter sitting at the table.
"Did you sleep well, mama?"
"All I do is sleep," she sighed, "Unlike you."
"I'm not tired," it was as honest as Mikasa could get. There was a time when she shared everything with her mother but now that she was ill, she was careful.
She kept sitting, hiding the bruises from her mother's rather perceptive eyes.
She sat across from Mikasa, leaning back into her chair. It hurt; her once vivacious mother was rotting away. And there was nothing much that she could do.
"Mama, what would you think about leaving Mitras?" She put her cup down, sitting up straight. She needed to have this serious conversation now. They didn't have much to their names. Just a few clothes and belongings. They could start over. She would miss everyone, truly, but she had to do this.
Her mother raised her brows, rolling her head forward, "Leave Mitras? Where would we go?"
"Anywhere," she answered. "Maybe Shiganshina? I know it's far and it's not the richest of districts, but it is a bustling town and I could easily find work as a seamstress or we could even open a shop. No one would know me. I could start over, and you'd be able to feel better. The big city is not good for us anymore."
She did not bring up the first murder. And she would not bring up the second one. "I've been thinking of this for a while. I wanted to save up, but I think we should go now. I know you met papa here and had your whole life here. But we're both rotting here. I want us both to heal and find happiness. Somewhere, no one knows who we are."
The older woman seemed thoughtful about it. She didn't motion Mikasa away like she was a child. After all, Mikasa was running everything now.
"I had hoped," she started, "That you would leave only when you married. I wanted you to find a good man, one who loves you with all the love in his heart. I wanted to stay here till my last days. It isn't much but this is the hike I made with your father. All of our memories are here."
Mikasa gazes at her mother sadly. The last thing she wanted was to rip her mother away from here. But it was no longer safe, and the anxiety she felt was that one day she would return to find her mother murdered or taken as her father had been. She could not stand that.
"Papa would've wanted us to be safe and happy, more than anything mama."
She silently pleaded with her mother.
"You're right. He'd want us to be happy. His heart would break if he saw us now…" Tears gathered in her eyes, and it broke her daughter's heart.
"Do you agree then?"
A painful silence that stretched for an eternity followed. Mikasa's hands were kept on the table but under the table, her leg shook. She didn't want to resort to underhanded tactics, but she would if she had to. Her mother deserved paradise, not this hell.
"One more winter here, sweet girl. That's all I ask. We can get everything sorted and then leave, but I'd like one last winter here, it was our season, your father and I's. He loved the winter, you know…"
It was only November, and that meant the delay of their departure till March. It might even stretch into April if the snow and winter chill stayed.
But there was a soft look of sadness in her mother's weathered eyes. She looked so much older, and the years had worn her down. She wanted one last winter to live among memories of a happier time.
"Alright, mama. We can do that."
She floated away to the kitchen to serve a small breakfast. It wasn't as fast as she'd hoped for. She understood that she was just thinking about running away from her life here. From Armin, Kiyomi, Sasha, and all of her friends…
Eren.
She nearly burned her hand when the image of his face flashed into her mind, silently cursing.
No, not Eren. He was a client and her mother's unofficial doctor. He was nothing more, and she needed to stop thinking of him as anything else.
Because he couldn't be anything else.
The afternoon was spent obsessively cleaning every nook and cranny of the flat. The dilapidated condition was of no consequence, she just wanted to think about anything other than what she saw.
She scrubbed and scrubbed until there was absolutely no trace of filth anywhere. The longer the image of the woman's face lingered, the harder she scrubbed. Her mother was sitting with the paper, peering over.
"Darling? Are you alright?"
"Yes, mama. There's just a stubborn old sport.I'll use the wool. Don't worry.
She didn't tell her mother how her hands cracked and bled. She would not show her anything. She could bathe it off later. She'd have to. She had to leave for work in a couple of hours.
She was in the process of scrubbing her nails clean when there was a frantic knock at the door. The two women exchanged glances, unsure of whether or not to stay quiet until the person went away.
Any uncertainty vanished when the voice at the other end chimed.
"Mikasa! I know you're in there. Open up, these are heavy!"
She'd never been happier to hear Historia Reiss' voice than she was at that very second. She wiped her hands on the front of her dress as she opened the door.
How one small woman was able to carry all of that was anyone's wonder.
Bread, sweets, a basket of additional food and condiments most likely and all Mikasa could do was gape.
"Historia—" she gasped as the blonde pushed her way past her friend. She smiled sweetly at her mother.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Ackerman. I thought I would bring you more food. Kiyomi's given us all a week off. With pay!"
Well, that was certainly news. Mikasa blinked several times before closing the door.
"Oh, did she?"
"She did! Come, let's talk in your room. I have so much gossip to catch up on with you!"
She placed the food down on the table before dragging Mikasa right into the bedroom. She didn't even give her a moment to react or anything of the sort. She just closed the door. She just blinked at her friend, arching an eyebrow when the lock clicked.
And when Historia turned around, that cheerful smile disappeared, and she looked rather disturbed.
"What—?"
"It's another one of our girls," Historia said. "It was Sabine this time."
Mikasa's eyes furrowed, and her frown deepened.
"Sabine? She was that loud blonde one, right? She was one of Rod Reiss's girls, wasn't she?"
Historia made a face at the mention of her father. It was a bit of a sore spot for her. She was the product of one of her father's frequent trips to the brothel with his favorite whore of them all, Alma. Of course, being the bastard of such a wealthy nobleman meant absolutely nothing because Rod wanted nothing to do with her. Her mom resented that attempting to trap a wealthy man with a baby didn't work, so now she was stuck with the product of that mistake.
The thing was? Rod didn't stop seeing Alma. He had plenty of other girls too, but she was the one he kept coming back to, after all of these years.
"Yeah, that's the one. Lena was one of my father's girls too…"
Historia managed to say everything with nothing because, slowly, it dawned on her too. Historia waited for her to catch on. Mikasa was not stupid but her eyes landed on her friend.
She knew Historia had little love for her father, but to accuse him so blatantly of such a thing…?
"Why would he…?"
"Because he's done it before."
Once upon a time, Historia had been quiet and sweet. It had obviously been a façade but she used to share nothing. She used to say everything and yet nothing.
That was her brothel persona. She called her Krista.
But with Mikasa, she didn't beat around the bush. Now, if she were thinking about something, she would say it. And if she couldn't, she would say it in such a way that her words were impossible to mistake.
That was Historia Reiss.
"What do you mean he's done it before? If you're talking about Lena…"
"It's not Lena. There was another girl he used to favor before he met my mother. He found her and had her killed and made it look like natural causes. Mikasa…" She walked over to her and grabbed her hand. "You are the only friend I have around here after Sasha. Believe me, my father is capable. But I don't have proof. So we're going to get it."
"How do you even know that?"
"He's my father, Mikasa. I've spent years unearthing his skeletons. Help me obtain proof. Please, come with me."
"Have you lost your mind? Have you gone mad? The authorities already see us as stains in society. Now you want us to go right into the belly of the beast? You cannot be so naive. There is no way."
Historia didn't pout or scowl. That was what gave Mikasa pause. There was a silent pleading in her eyes.
Please, help me. Help. Me.
Because this involved her mother, whom she had little love for her but was her mother. Because it involved ber. If her father wanted to make all of his mistakes disappear, he could do it with no problem.
But why would he do it like this?
"Hisu," she used her nickname. "What's the plan? I swear if it's breaking into the Reiss' palace, I swear to the Goddess herself—"
She rolled her eyes but there was a spark in there. Mikasa was getting ripped into this whether she wanted to be involved or not. Her heart was pounding in her chest so hard. She didn't want to get involved in any of this.
This was no business of hers but Historia has never really asked her for anything either.
"Of course not. Tonight is Lara Tybur's engagement party. And no, we are not going without invites. My eldest half sister, Frieda, got me two invitations. So who better to ask than my best friend?"
So that was it. Mikasa closed her eyes. She could back out now. She could just push Historia out the door and pretend like she knew nothing. Maybe she could introduce her to Armin. They would get along beautifully.
But she didn't. Historia seemed so determined. And Mikasa was involved.
"The engagement party is at your father's?"
Historia shrugged, "He has those nice gardens. Also the Tybur's estate is being remodeled at the moment. It would be unsightly, so my sister says."
Mikasa pinched the bridge of her nose. She did not want to. She shouldn't. Good judgment told her that this was a breathtakingly stupid idea. This could go so badly.
Yet, she could not get Sabine's face out of her mind. Yes, that made sense. That's why she couldn't recognize her. Sabine was full of life and perpetually drinking. Her cheeks were rosy. Death didn't become her.
But if nothing was done soon, another would be next.
And Historia could figure right into that. And Mikasa couldn't see it happen.
It was stupid. It was reckless. It could turn her life upside down. And yet…
"I'll go with you. I'll help. But only this once."
A frighteningly bright smile spread across Historia's face as she jumped into Mikasa's arms.
"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you, my friend! I promise you won't regret it!”
She had better not. She better return to her mother before dawn broke…
Notes:
next update: june 15th
Chapter 5: a fool's heart
Notes:
it is done! not quite as long as I thought but hey, the pieces are coming together! enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The devil worked hard, but Historia Reiss worked harder.
Mikasa stared at her reflection in the lone mirror, twirling around a few times. It was a simple dress, a pink so pale it was almost white. Her hair was pinned up, and curls draped around her shoulder.
It was the most beautiful dress she'd ever seen, and after tonight, she never wanted to see it again. This was just another game of pretend for her, but instead of indulging the fantasies of men, she was humoring Historia and doing police work. She was a fool. Worse than a fool.
Not to mention, she did not want to step outside of her flat tonight, not after what happened this morning. While twirling and fixing her hair, all she could see was a river of blood and a face so pale, she could've mistaken the young woman for a porcelain doll.
She closed her eyes, forcing herself to remember to breathe.
"Oh my!"
Mikasa froze, her eyes locking onto her mother's in the mirror. Her mother covered her mouth with her hands, her eyes going wide. For several moments, Mikasa's heart thudded in her chest. Yes, she'd wanted to keep her mother in the dark as much as possible. And it was still not enough.
They lived in a small flat. Secrets could not be kept in such a small space.
"Mama," she mouthed, her eyes wide. It was the same reaction she'd had when she was a little girl, being caught doing something she wasn't supposed to.
On her part, her mother didn't seem to notice. Her eyes were brimming with tears, "How lovely you are…"She stepped forward, putting a delicate hand on her shoulder. Mikasa looked down at the cold, clammy hand on her shoulder. Her skin was pale and paper-thin. She looked so much older, and it frustrated Mikasa to no end that she just refused to leave.
"I imagined this is how you'd look on your wedding day," her mother's confession broke her heart. When her father had been murdered, it hadn't just been life as they'd known it that had been shattered. It had been their dreams of a far better life.
For once, there was no comfort that Mikasa could offer her. Everything would sound hollow because both of them knew that her wedding day would likely never come, let alone in a dress like this.
"But," her mother shook her head, "You do look beautiful, my girl. But I have to ask, is this something Kiyomi is asking of you?"
Behind the weariness, there was a subtle hint of venom. Her mother held back when it came to Kiyomi — and they both knew it.
"No, mama. It's something Historia is asking of me. I'll be home late, so please don't wait for me."
The older woman arched her eyebrows, "Historia? Where could she be taking you where you're dressing like…that?"
Mikasa groaned inwardly, trying to find a quick lie to cover up for the fact that she was crashing a high society event with her friend because said friend's father owned the estate it was being held on.
"Something for polite society. A friend invited her, and she was allowed to bring a guest. She came by earlier to ask me."
She tried to keep her face and tone as neutral as possible to hide her annoyance, but her nerves were frayed, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to lie to her mother. She wasn't stupid; her mother saw everything but never questioned her on things.
At least, not out loud.
"I am proud of you, you know," her mother whispered. "I don't say it enough. And when you get back home, there's something I'd like to discuss with you. But tonight? I want you to make merry and have all the fun. I want to see you smile again, genuinely. I will be fine here. But that is all I ask of you."
Again, Mikasa's heart broke. It was a simple request, and she didn't have the heart to tell her mother that she wasn't going for fun or to have an evening of pleasantries.
Or find love, as you so desperately want me to. Sorry, Mama, my priority is you and getting out of the capital as soon as I can…
So she lied, as she always did.
"I will, Mama. And I'll bring you back something."
Her mother shook her head, stepping back and getting a better look at her daughter. She laughed, and it was one of the few times since her father's death that she heard genuine humor in her mother's voice.
"My love, your mother has been to more than a few of these in her day. No, the food is awful. I'd rather eat moldy bread and blue cheese for the rest of my days. No, tonight, I want you to be a carefree young woman. Forget all else."
Mikasa didn't ask why her mother had been to high-society parties. She didn't have to. There was a silent understanding between them.
So she smiled and repeated, "I will. Just for tonight…"
The lie fell seamlessly from her lips. And she'd never felt more disgusted with herself.
The northwestern was a dilapidated ruin, a forgotten area where no decent folk would dare be caught dead. Even the roads, with potholes and jagged rocks, were a testament to the lack of care. And it was worse in a carriage because Mikasa felt every little bump and snag. Her back would be sore the following morning, she already knew.
Historia sat across from her, the two women sitting in silence for the initial few minutes. Neither dared look outside, for they knew that behind the tinted glass, people were watching. They were always watching.
Only once they crossed the threshold into an easier part of town did Mikasa feel comfortable enough to exhale.
"So? What's the plan? Please don't tell me we're winging it because I'll get down right now."
Historia scoffed, rolling her eyes, "I wouldn't risk our safety or lives if I didn't have a plan. My sister is in on this, so you can thank her for this…" She motioned to their surroundings, "Lovely accommodation."
"See, you're saying all that, but I have yet to hear the actual plan."
Mikasa stopped herself when Historia's words sank in. Historia mentioned it earlier, but Mikasa was too preoccupied with the other details. Her half-sister had given her two invites specifically, and Mikasa narrowed her eyes.
"You said you've spent years unearthing your father's skeletons. Was your sister digging with you, or did she hand you a shovel and tell you where to start digging?"
Her words were purposeful, and they were accusatory. Because that was how nobility operated. Everyone else did the work that they were unwilling to get their dainty little hands dirty for. The only thing good about them was their money and how much they were willing to spend on a lady of the night.
And Historia was no fool.
"My sister wouldn't put me through this if she weren't sure of it. She'd do it herself, but Rod Reiss keeps all of the girls on a tight leash; they can't even wander into empty rooms without an escort or stroll the gardens. And she can't go snooping now of all nights because all eyes will be on her. But Rod's attention will be diverted, so we can do our thing. After the engagement announcement, they'll all be dancing and conversing, and we can sneak off. My sister has the specifics of the plan. Please, just trust me."
Alright, maybe she was a fool. Mikasa could laugh, genuinely. Historia was trusting the worst of a wealthy half-sister who was having two whores from red light district do her dirty work so if they were caught, the world wouldn't care if they disappeared or were done away with.
And if Rod Reiss was the killer, they might as well have been walking straight to their execution.
"You can't be serious," she muttered. "And what if things go south? What is our escape route? Have you ever even been to the estate before? Is your sister going to help us escape if the worst comes to pass? And before you answer, tell me honestly. Will your sister stick her neck out for us?"
Historia opened and closed her mouth several times. Because she honestly couldn't say that. To the wealthy, they were all expendable.
"Even so, we owe it to the girls who've lost their lives, don't we? And…who's to say that neither of us is next?"
And that kept Mikasa from jumping out of the moving carriage and racing back home.
We could be next.
And that made Mikasa's gut twist. Once Rod was done with his women, who was to say he wouldn't prowl the streets for more targets, erasing his sins and washing them away with the blood of every woman he was killing.
She didn't know Lena or Sabine that well, even then, they didn't deserve to die. They didn't deserve to be discarded like trash in the filthy alleyways, with their murderer still at large and enjoying their lives.
It could be Mikasa, one of these days, left to rot and decay, and the world would continue to turn.
No. No, that couldn't happen.
She tilted her head backwards, closing her eyes, counting her heartbeats, and making sure she was alive.
It means you're alive.
She heard his voice in her head, echoing the strange words he'd said to her that day. And unlike every other time she thought about him, she didn't push the thoughts away.
Because she needed that reminder tonight.
I'm alive. I'll stay alive. And I will escape this pitiful existence. And I'll live, not just survive.
I'll live.
I'll live.
A bit dramatic, but she chanted the words as the coach continued down the dark streets.
Some sights were too breathtaking for words. As the coach slowly made its way up the steep mountain road that led to the Reiss Estate. A palace in the sky, Mikasa snorted, it was something out of a fairy tale. Except there was nothing magical about this.
Historia wasn't starry-eyed about it. She didn't look out the window and she wasn't fazed by the bumpy road. She flattened the creases of her gown — a pale blue color — and fidgeted. There was no smile as her gaze stayed firmly on her own lap.
As the coach continued to climb, Mikasa remembered what Colt had told her the evening before.
"Tomorrow is a big night. Lara Tybur has agreed to wed. Tomorrow is the engagement party."
"To whom?"
"No one knows. They're announcing it tomorrow night. You'll hear about it in the Thursday papers, I suppose."
She almost groaned, remembering that Colt would be there. She wagered that a lot of her clients would be there. She pursed her lips, imagining all of the potential scenarios and awkward scenarios.
"What's with that face?" Historia had that look of teasing on her face, and it looked odd — considering that the rest of her looked wound up and ready to snap.
"Our clients are going to be there. Some of my gentlemen and some of your ladies."
For some reason, Historia relaxed.
"Oh, I'm not worried. Ladies like this wouldn't dare. Imagine the scandal. No, if they know what's good for them, they won't say anything. And my sister won't let it happen.
Again, the sister. It took all of Mikasa's willpower not to scowl. Yes, good for Historia. She had an out; Mikasa did not. Goddess, why had she agreed to this? She hadn't thought this through at all, and it was becoming a distressing pattern.
She sank back into her seat, closing her eyes and remembering to breathe. Looking for anything else to focus on.
So, naturally, she began to wonder if Eren would be there. He had money, goddess did he have money. She wondered if she would run into him there. She pictured how he'd look in evening attire. She pictured their eyes meeting—
—and then she stopped herself. No, where were these fanciful ideas coming from? She mentally slapped herself and brought herself back to reality.
Imagining herself getting swept off her feet by a handsome, if not strange, doctor was useless. He was her client for goddess' sake! He came from money. She came from filth, was raised in filth, and rolled around in it out of necessity.
Even if he wanted to spend his days with her, it didn't mean anything. He was a paying customer, and she provided services that he wanted.
She reminded herself of this over and over, but each time, that organ in her chest grew heavier.
He was strange. She convinced herself that she didn't think about him enough to warrant all these circles she ran in.
Her mind, however, wasn't on the same page currently.
Liar, liar…
She was so lost in her thoughts that it took Historia grabbing her hand and squeezing softly.
The coach had stopped, and soft lights were twinkling outside, the chill of the night air slapping them in the face with its chill as the coachman opened the door for them.
Historia tugged her along impatiently:
"Come on. My sister is expecting us in front of the hedge maze!"
Frieda Reiss was the spitting image of her sister, the only difference being her long, dark tresses.
The garden was lit up for the occasion; several guests were filing down the long pathways, conversing and indulging in each other's company. They were not paying attention to anyone outside their bubble, so it made it very easy for Mikasa and Historia to slip down a narrow pathway towards the hedge mazes.
This walk might've been frightening, but Mikasa had walked the streets of the northwestern district at night by herself countless times, so this was nothing. This was a private estate belonging to a member of the aristocracy.
When they finally did come face to face with Frieda, Mikasa's legs were wobbling beneath her skirts. The young woman was friendly enough, smiling at both of them.
"I am glad to see you, Historia," she smiled, embracing her sister. Mikasa didn't know how an embrace could seem so warm yet so cold at the same time. Then again, this whole situation was out of the ordinary. She'd mastered the subtle art of not giving anything away — and she wasn't about to give away how uncomfortable and out of sorts she felt.
"Frieda," Historia said, as both sisters kissed each other on the cheeks. "This is Mikasa. She has agreed to help us tonight."
Frieda turned to Mikasa and smiled — a smile that did not reach her eyes — and nodded to her.
"I am pleased to have you join us this evening. I appreciate you taking this risk, but this must end."
And why exactly do you care? What are you getting out of this?
"And I appreciate that you're doing all this. Justice will come fast if everything goes right tonight," Mikasa responded, in her most polite tone. She was used to pretending. It was nice to have a little change in why she was pretending. But she said too much and she'd kick herself for it later.
Frieda nodded before turning back to her half-sister, "Father is preoccupied this evening, meeting with ministers. Mother is hosting, and I am helping her. We have exactly one hour before the engagement is officially announced. Take the staircase in the back, as all of the guests are going to be lingering in the front. I'll make sure no one is prowling the upstairs. Father is in his conference chamber, but his room, his study, and his solar are empty. He rarely frequents the other rooms."
Frieda was shooting off instructions, and Mikasa just stared. They had to go rummaging through documents or journals.
"Should we expect to find jars of human hearts somewhere?" Historia asked, and Mikasa could honestly not tell if she was just making light of a rather fucked up situation.
"You might find that too," Frieda said, her smile finally disappearing. "You might find anything. But rest assured, I will not let anything happen to you. That is on my honor as the Reiss heir."
Honor. That didn't mean much to the people of the northwest. And she knew they didn't mean anything in the upper echelons of society, either. Men who frequented Kiyomi's were breaking oaths every day by disappearing into a lady's room each night while their wives waited for them at home.
What did it mean coming from one of their daughters?
She hooked both of her arms around each of theirs — her right around Historia's and her left around Mikasa's — as they made their way toward the estate. Somehow, it seemed to grow larger as they approached.
"Historia, you are a distant cousin of mine. You're from Marley and you're visiting. Mikasa, you are the daughter and representative of a Hizuran ambassador. Your father was a Paradisian diplomat who fell in love with a local woman, and you've split your time between. If anyone asks, these are the stories I want you to give them. Details are yours to come up with, and if anyone asks me, I will back it up. Now, smile and hold your head up high!"
It was uncomfortable, but it was just another part to play. Mikasa sighed as they walked into a world she was a total stranger to.
Frieda let go of their arms, and the first thing Mikasa realized was that her eyes burned. The room was lit up by a giant crystal chandelier in the center of the room, and Mikasa gaped at it before having to pinch herself. She had to pretend like she belonged in this world. But she also wanted to avoid any unnecessary interactions.
"Come on," Historia whispered. "I know a way…"
Frieda disappeared into the crowd, being dragged in every direction by ladies and interested gentlemen. Fine, Mikasa thought. She kept her head low, not wanting to capture the attention of anyone who might recognize her and blow their cover. She knew Colt was here, and she didn't want to run into him.
The foyer, dining hall, and drawing room seemed to stretch on for miles. Luckily, no one stopped them to chat or introduce themselves. Everyone was stuck in their individual little worlds. All Mikasa could hear was the loud buzz of a hundred different conversations and the crackling of wood from the fireplace. The estate was hot, sweltering even from the heat of the fire and the many bodies so close together.
And once they reached the end of the drawing room, they lingered a bit at the edge of an archway that led into a darker, closed-off area of the large manor. Normally, every instinct in her body would tell her to get as far away from there as possible, but it led to the back, where they would need to climb the stairs. They weren't here to be entertained; they were here for a reason.
"Pretend like we're deep in conversation. No one will approach us."
"Oh yes! So, how do you like Marley? I hear the mountains this time of year are to die for. And word is that you're well-traveled."
There was an art in bullshit spinning and Mikasa had mastered it.
"Oh yes, but surely not as much as a diplomat's daughter."
They continued to weave a conversation as people passed them by, paying them no heed. And when everyone seemed lost in their conversation, both young women nodded to each other.
They disappeared into the dark hallway that was as silent as death.
And Mikasa was so focused that she didn't sense a familiar pair of eyes watching her from the opposite corner of the dining room…
They could still hear the hum of chatter as they reached the top of the staircase. Unlike the rest of the hallway, the top floor was well lit. And unlike the downstairs, the upstairs was silent. And Mikasa could finally hear herself think.
What now?
"There's a giant green door that leads to Rod's study. It's on the left and you can't miss it. Let me handle his room. It's riskier to be in there. And it's further down. The guards know me, so if I get caught, I can easily make excuses. And his study is never closed either. No one would suspect if they found the door ajar."
"But—" Mikasa started, but Historia darted down the hallway, leaving her alone. Yes, she would kill the girl later for putting her through this.
She walked along the wall, sliding her feet along so that she wouldn't be detected. Her mother had always said she was light on her feet, but she wasn't about to take any chances. She was in the belly of the beast, almost literally.
When she did find the door, she made a face. It wasn't even a nice shade of green, and it was out of step with the rest of the decor. The paint was chipping, and it looked like no one had given it any proper care in decades. Regardless, Mikasa slipped through the small opening, her heart clamoring in her chest. Her legs were wobbling, and she could feel sweat trailing down the nape of her neck. It was ridiculously warm, or maybe that was her own body's heat pulsing.
"Keep it together, Mikasa," she muttered to herself. "Do it for the girls. And do it for yourself."
The table was against an adjacent wall, and the walls were as rundown as the door. This looked so different from the rest of the estate, and it was eerie. She'd heard of such things, abandoned rooms and closed-off sections of a large house. They said demons and ghosts prowled such rooms.
Don't be stupid. There's no such thing. Just a way to scare the fools.
She was a fool because she was scared. But not of any demons or ghosts. Slowly, she made her way to the desk, and she shook her head at the state of the desk. How did Rod Reiss get any work done here? Apparently, his vanity didn't extend to his work space.
If he worked at all, that was.
She opened the top drawer — oddly, there was no lock — and went through endless documents regarding land grants, properties, accounts, and a list of the servants. She found his ledger and decided to save that one for last. She was about to close the drawer in frustration when, at the back of the dusty drawers, rested a journal.
Mikasa sucked in a breath as she pulled out the leather bound notebook. She kept her expectations low because surely, it wouldn't be that easy. But she flipped to a random page.
It was dated 25 years ago.
Oh, had I married another, such as the beautiful creature I beheld last night. Father always said never to dishonor the family name by being caught in the arms of a whore, but I could not help it. Last night, after yet another argument, I went to an establishment in the northwestern district, and that's where I saw her — black hair and golden brown eyes — she knew how to make a man feel wanted. She heard me out.
If only she were my wife and not the crone I'm forced to be with…
Nothing was surprising there. Mikasa supposed she could've been disgusted by it, but she'd entertained men who'd said far worse about their poor wives. If anything, this didn't make him any different than the types of men she was used to seeing.
Just another fool who was so struck by a lady of the night. She must've been good at her job. Good for her.
Only several entries in, he was still talking about her. His mystery lady with the black hair and golden brown eyes. He spoke of how she was the only one who understood him, how she spoke to him like an actual person, and her stomach dropped as his writings became more unhinged and obsessive. There were dreams about running away with her, setting aside his wife to marry this mystery woman.
She would never refuse him, he'd written. He was Rod Reiss. Whatever he wanted, he got. And he would have her.
And then, came an unusual burst of anger.
She wasn't there today. She knew I always saw her on Saturday evenings. I demanded an address but that bitch of a madame refused to give it to me.
Through it all, she did not see a single name. Well, it was there, but it was crossed out. In every single entry. And well scratched out.
April 12th, 834 —
She wasn't there. She left without telling me. That bitch of a madame wouldn't tell me where she went. Only that she'd left the profession and moved away. I demanded and seethed, but I couldn't handle it, so I took up with another one, Alma. She was pretty, I suppose. But she isn't my darling— Again, the name was scratched out.
As the years went on, his obsession seemed to grow. He'd hired private detectives and all that to find her. Several pages had been ripped out, and there were several missing dates. She was scared to ask what might be in those, if the ramblings of a madman.
Finally, in 845, there was a final passage about this mystery woman. And Mikasa's heart sank to the pit of her stomach.
That whore married some doctor in Liberio. The widower of my distant cousin at that!! She even had a whelp with him, one that bears her face but his coloring. He should've been OUR son! No, she must be punished. She was mine. She was MINE!
I will cut her heart out. Yes—I will cut her heart out as she has cut mine out. And I will never love again. A whore is a whore. One is as good as the next. But she will pay—
The diary cuts off there, and Mikasa closed the diary, the room spinning. She wobbled backwards until her back hit the wall. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe.
I will cut her heart out as she has cut mine out.
I will cut her heart out as she has cut mine out.
And every murdered girl had her heart cut out of her chest. They were all frequented by Rod. She shoved all the documents back into the drawer, cursing her luck that her dress didn't have pockets.
The last entry was playing over and over in her head. She felt no satisfaction. She thought there would at least be relief if she'd at least found the killer, but no. There was none. There was just horror and rising bile in her throat.
She needed to find Historia. And they needed to find Frieda. She wanted out. She would throw this at the Reiss sisters and get the hell out of here because she was quite literally in the mouth of hell itself.
Goddess help and protect her.
And as she was about to close the drawer, the door flung open, and her heart stopped. Her life flashed before her eyes because Rod Reiss was coming in. He'd catch her, and this would be it. This would be it.
There was an invisible hand crushing her lungs. She couldn't move. No matter how much her mind screamed at her to run, to climb out of the window, and run like her life depended on it, she did not.
But it was much worse than Rod.
No, worse than the short, mildly unattractive man — it was a taller, very attractive doctor who held the door open, and his eyes zeroed in on her. No, this was somehow worse.
"Eren…" she gasped. She closed the door, in a poor attempt to hide what she'd been doing. The journal was still clutched tightly in her. She'd been caught red-handed. What was he going to do about it?
He just stared at her, his eyes moving around the table to her hands and back to her face. His face was virtually unreadable, as usual. His eyes, though, were expressive. The problem? She still didn't know how to read them.
"W-what are you doing here?" She asked, moving the journal behind her back like a child who'd been caught doing something wrong.
"I was going to ask you the same question," he muttered, walking closer to her. "What's that behind your back?"
"What's…what…?" Pathetic.
"Behind your back, Mikasa. Don't take me for a fool. What are you doing in Rod Reiss' study?"
Goddess, why did he always turn up where she was?
"Why are you in here?" She turned the question back on him. Whatever she did, she'd have to hold her tongue.
"I saw you downstairs. I saw you slip into the hallway, so I followed you. You shouldn't be up here. Rod's just down the hall, if he walked in and saw you…"
His face twisted, and for the first time, she saw something akin to rage on his face. Mikasa did not comment.
She sighed, "I was invited by Rod's daughter, and I was asked to retrieve a journal from the study. I just came here to get it and give it to her, that's all."
For once, the lie didn't feel bitter against her tongue.
"Which daughter?" He demanded. "Why would she send you in here?"
"Frieda. And because she's busy being a hostess. I was going to leave it in her room, but now I realize, I don't actually know where her room is."
Eren just stared at her, his brows furrowed as he approached her. She stepped back with each step he took and her back was against he wall again. That didn't stop him.
For the first time, there was something like fear. And something else. Heat.
He only got closer, until his body was pressed up against hers and their lips were mere inches from here other. Her eyes fluttered closed as she knew what was next. And found that she didn't hate it. Even though she should. She should've kneed him in the groin, running out until he couldn't find her anymore.
Again, she didn't. She waited for their lips to meet. She could feel his breath on her lips. He wasn't a bad kisser; she'd enjoyed those kisses they shared during that first night.
And then he spun her around and grabbed the journal from her back, taking it from her, ripping it out of her hand. She hardly had time to react before he was five feet away, holding the journal. She recognized that look on his face: disapproval.
"Hey—!"
"I don't think it's a good idea to be caught stealing from Rod Reiss. Especially not the journal of his confessed crimes. Whatever it is, you need to stay out of this. Men like Rod do not get put in prison. On the contrary, this could be turned around on you."
She didn't know how to react to that. There was a part of her that wanted to grab the journal away from him and push him away, saying that he didn't need to get caught up in her life, and her safety was none of his business. And then, there was anger. Why did this have to happen when she finally had proof to end these murders right now? And then there was shock, realizing what he was saying. He knew. He fucking knew.
"I know you've read it. It's written all over your face."
She kept her mouth closed. She looked down, "Does that mean you have as well?"
"I have. And that's why I'm telling you, Mikasa, not to get involved. Go downstairs. Stay till the end, and then I will personally have you taken home in my personal coach. I will not have you put yourself in harm's way because you have some naive sense of justice."
She could've slapped him. She should've slapped him. For looking down on her and for talking to her like she was a child, because he certainly didn't see her as a child when he was asking for her time as payment for treating her mother.
"How dare you—!" she started, but Eren wasn't fazed. He shook his head.
"I told you that I'm involved now. Your mother needs you, and I won't see you hang from a noose. Go downstairs and stay there till the festivities end. Please."
She was going to protest, she was going to scream at him and tell him that he had no right to tell her what to do. She had her own life and her own will. Who was he? Just a client.
Is he, though? He's a little too involved in your life to be a proper client.
"And if I don't?" she asked.
"Then I'll carry you over my shoulder myself. Believe me, you don't want that. You don't want the embarrassment or scandal. Frankly, neither do I. But I will do as I must."
"Please," she tried, as a last resort. "His confession is in there. Frieda—"
"What?" Eren asked bluntly. "Do you think that the police will haul him away and we'll see him hanging at the end of a rope before the week's end? Please, I know you're aware of how the world works."
She opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to find a rebuttal, but ultimately she closed her mouth.
Because she'd been thinking it all night. This had been a terrible idea.
But…to the girls who'd been murdered.
"It's still worth it to me," she whispered. "Don't you think?"
Silence and the sound of a large grandfather clock ticking in the background.
"Yes. I do. Believe me, I do."
Historia was already downstairs, looking irritable when Mikasa rejoined her.
"Anything?"
Mikasa contemplated lying but decided against it. Historia was not the enemy, here. But she also didn't have proof. Eren just told her to stay out of it and let him handle things. He wasn't going to put her in harm's way and so on…
It pissed her off.
"There's a journal in your father's study. It's not a confession, but it's as close to one as you'll get. I couldn't sneak it out because someone walked by. But tell your sister to look there. Sorry, I can't be of more help."
Historia frowned by her brows shot up a moment later, "Well, that's more than I got. It'll have to do. Do you remember what it said?"
"Just the woman he had murdered 12 years ago. He said he'd cut her heart out. She moved to Liberio. She was married to a doctor—"
The world stopped.
"My brother wanted me to stay, help him run my father's practice. But I had no interest in doing that. I was always a little different."
"My mother was from Paradis…"
That invisible hand returned, squeezing the life out of her lungs once again.
No. No…
A clinking sound and a short, elderly woman with the thinnest lips called to attention everyone in the room. Mikasa stood against the wall with Historia. Her mind was racing, but she could still tell that the woman might've been considered a beauty in her younger years.
Next to her was a younger version of herself. A face she'd seen across the newspaper several times. A woman whose face betrayed no emotion. Prim and proper to the end.
Lara Tybur.
"Thank you all for joining us on his most special of occasions." The excitement in her voice didn't sound natural. "Tonight, I announce the impending nuptials of my most beloved daughter, Lara. I will not bore you with such a long speech, so let me introduce him. Some of you might recognize him as he is a respected doctor, and his father cured the plague that ravaged our town almost 30 years ago. Please come forward!"
The air rushed out of Mikasa's lungs.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to formally announce the engagement of my daughter, Lara Tybur, to Dr. Eren Jaeger!"
And, amidst the applause and shouts, Mikasa disappeared. Eren's instructions for her to wait till the end of the night be damned. She disappeared from the drawing room and into the night. The cold air stung her cheeks and her eyes as her vision clouded over.
Stupid, stupid!
Notes:
next update: july 13th
Chapter 6: the devil of paradis
Notes:
this chapter was brought to you by (very late) by my injured finger. i hope you enjoy! and thank you to ellie for betaing this!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
She forced her mind to go blank as the carriage rolled down the side of the mountain. Her face was buried in the fabric of her dress. She wanted to go home — no, she wanted to leave this goddess-damned city. She'd have to convince her mother to leave before the winter set in.
She couldn't stay here because there was no way to turn back time to the first night her eyes had locked onto his. She couldn't take back the past week. So, she would leave. She would start over. She would forget about her life here because there was nothing for her here.
She would apologize for it later. But she wouldn't stay here.
When she stepped out of the coach, the frigid air lashed her wet cheeks and stung her eyes. She'd been crying. Why was she crying?
She felt foolish — stupid, actually. She knew better.
Her body was heavy, as though she were dragging weights along the pavement and up the old stairs. The air still smelled of old piss and somehow, that all made it worse.
Stupid girl. Stupid, stupid girl. What did you think would happen? This isn't a children's book where a prince comes to take you away. You are a lady of the night. Men only want one thing from you. Never forget it.
The words were harsh but necessary. She would remember this forever. And she would never make the same mistake again.
She opened the door to find her mother sitting on the battered old sofa. She was lying on her back, her arm pulled over her back. Immediately, all thoughts of this humiliating evening left Mikasa as she hastened over to the woman.
At the sound of footsteps, her mother lifted her arm to see her daughter home, perhaps earlier than she'd anticipated.
"My dear? Why are you back so early?" The older woman moved to get up, but Mikasa stopped her, sinking to her knees.
"Don't get up. Are you feeling ill? Should I call a doctor?" Mikasa's throat closed up at the mention of the doctor. Dr. Jaeger is the last person Mikasa wanted to see right now. But this wasn't about her or her feelings.
She caught herself. She wasn't allowed to have feelings.
"No, no. I was waiting for you to come back. With everything going on, I wouldn't be able to rest until I knew you were safe at home."
Mikasa swallowed thickly. The memories from this morning came back to her and would haunt her nightmares as long as she lived, just as her father's corpse would.
Nothing is going to happen to me. I promise.
"I'm here now," she whispered instead. "See? I'm here. Nothing's happened to me. Please don't take on so much worry. That's my job."
She smiled, but she felt ill doing so. Her mother probably saw it, she always did. But she returned her smile, equally as shaky.
"My Mika. I…" She started, only to be cut off by a fit of coughing. And Mikasa knew there was blood before she saw it.
"Enough, come to bed, mama. No more talking. And I'm calling the doctor in the morning. I don't want to hear it." Mikasa heard her mother's voice in her own, the light chiding. It was bittersweet.
She pulled the covers over her mother's shivering body, blood covering her lips.
"I'm going to boil some hot water. Don't move," she warned. "Please, I need you to get better. Please."
She turned on her heel and left the room before her mother could protest.
As she lit the old stove and waited for the water to boil, she finally let her mind wander. They needed to make quick if they were going to leave before the winter settled into the city and over the nearby mountains. The cold would aggravate her condition more. They would travel south, where the winters were milder. Yes, it would be quite the journey but Mikasa could earn a little more to be comfortable traveling that far. She would figure out the rest. But now? They needed to leave.
And she wanted to forget about everything. She wanted to forget about the nobility and all of their issues. She wanted to get away from these murders. She wanted to be away from…him. And all of the memories of him. She would force herself to see him for the sake of her mother but no more than that.
A few weeks and she'd be done. She would leave it all behind. She would start a new life with her mother. They would be free, and her mother's cheeks would flush with life again.
Yes, she had to think about that. Only about that, nothing else.
She closed her eyes as her mind carried her off to a familiar field surrounded by flowery mountains and endless blue skies. She lay back. There was no pain. There was no disease. There was no heartbreak.
There was only peace.
Her mother's coughs and wheezes were no better in the morning. It was the crack of dawn when Mikasa was heating water again, muttering prayers to the goddess to provide her mother with some relief. She was starting to believe that her prayers were falling on deaf ears. They were society's most wretched, after all.
"I'm fine," her mother wheezed, before being hit with another fit of coughs. Mikasa could only sit and watch helplessly. She'd become used to this, watching her mother grow weaker with each turn of the season. There was no cure, and treatment was only available to the wealthy.
The old handkerchief was stained with deep red when there was a knock on the door. Mikasa's heart hammered as she slowly made her way to the door, knowing exactly who was on the other side.
There was a selfish part of her that didn't want to open the door, the part of her that wished be would just go away — leave her life as if their paths had never crossed.
The daughter in her turned the knob and opened the door, the thundering of her heart getting worse. She swallowed thickly as she forced her eyes up, looking right into those green eyes that had haunted her dreams all night long.
There are shadows under his eyes, the tiredness contrasting with the rest of his society gentleman exterior. But his eyes themselves were as intense as ever.
"I told you to wait last night." There was anger brewing in his tone and Mikasa had to fight the urge to scowl at him.
"I never—" she began but cut herself off because all of a sudden, her tongue felt heavy in her mouth.
I never said I'd wait. I never said I'd wait for you.
His eyes narrowed a little and Mikasa could only let out a sigh of frustration.
"I have an ill mother who needs me. I only went last night because of a friend, nothing more. Now, please, come in."
She sidestepped, allowing him into the flat against her better judgment. Now, she probably would owe him double but this had to end. She'd pay him double and earn it back during the next week.
He looked around, as though he'd never been here before. She closed the door and again, she leaned against it for a moment. This wasn't a conversation she was in the mood for.
Inhaling through her nose, she turned around to look at the young doctor. He'd turned back to look at her. There was irritation, oh yes there was, but there was something else.
There was always something else with Eren.
"I'm sorry," she finally said. "But my mother fell ill last night and had I come home any later, it would've been bad. So, please, can you please examine her?"
Maybe it was the exhaustion or some genuine kindness, but the previous tension in the atmosphere disappeared as his face softened.
"Yes, of course. Lead the way."
"Mikasa—" the older woman wheezed before looking up to see the young doctor following close behind her. Her coughs continued as her face went pale.
For the longest time, she said nothing. Eren stepped in front of her mother, smiling with a sort of warmth Mikasa hadn't seen in him.
Then again, she hadn't known him long enough to know the various sides of him. She convinced herself that she didn't care to — that he was just a client and he was no different from all the men that passed through the brothel each night.
"Good morning, Mrs. Ackerman. I hear that you're feeling ill?" He knelt in front of her.
Her mother just continued to stare at him, staring at him like she'd seen a ghost.
Mikasa's spine went rigid when the name dropped from her lips, "C-Carla?"
All the air left the room.
Eren's smile remained but there was a kind of sadness in his eyes. She'd seen that look too many times before — but this would be the first time she found herself actually caring about it.
"No," he responded. "She was my mother."
The world grew quiet and Mikasa heard a ringing in her ears. All of last night's memories came flooding back.
"Just the woman he had murdered 12 years ago. He said he'd cut her heart out. She moved to Liberio. She was married to a doctor—"
His mother's name was Carla. Carla had been her mother's friend. Eren's mother had been friends with hers.
Oh Goddess.
But Eren said she'd died of consumption. She was overthinking it, as usual. Eren was involved because his mother had died of consumption. No, Carla couldn't have been Rod Reiss's woman.
Perhaps, that's what Eren believes.
No, enough. No more thoughts about this.
"Was? Did she…?" Her mother's voice trailed off.
Eren didn't answer and Mikasa felt grateful that he didn't. She didn't know anything about this Carla but the look on the older woman's face told her enough. And perhaps, Eren was thinking the same thing. And even if he didn't, right now, he was her doctor.
"Please just rest. I'll give you something to ease your cough."
He sounded so gentle, so soothing. For a moment, Mikasa forgot who he was and she just watched as he handled her with care.
"You're not going to bleed me, are you?" Her mom asked between coughs. "I only feel weaker after those."
Eren snorted, "No. Do not worry about that, Mrs. Ackerman."
He got a bottle out, she wasn't sure what it was but he poured a little on the spoon. It must've been awful because her mother's face twisted in disgust at the taste. It was almost funny. Since her mother had become ill, she'd resorted to some childlike behaviors. Even so, she didn't complain once she swallowed the liquid.
"It's good for you," Eren said, sternly. "Bloodletting won't do anything, but rest and good nutrition will. I don't want to hear that you've been out of this bed or eating poorly. I'll be here once a week to check. And once a day, you'll need to go for walks. Clean air is good for lungs."
Mikasa closed her eyes. Clean air? In this goddess forsaken place? Right. Mikasa can't remember the last she has breathed clean air. It was simply the way of life when you were the lowest of the low. Even air was too expensive.
Her mother smiled, "Carla used to scold me when I was ill as well. I was never good at taking care of myself when I'm in poor health. I was always trying to keep busy and be strong. So I suppose the goddess blessed me with a daughter who refuses to let me do anything."
Eren laughed, "Oh, I learned it from her. I was quite the menace when I was a child. I'm sure half of her dizzy spells were caused by worry of me."
It was the ease with which he spoke to her that left Mikasa speechless. She had no place in the conversation but it had been years since she'd seen her mother so relaxed.
And, genuinely, Mikasa felt awful. As soon as she'd been old enough to, she took over her mother's responsibilities and burdens. She'd done with absolutely no complaints. But that sadness and wariness had become a permanent feature on her mother's face. Even when she smiled and laughed, there was always sadness.
This was the first time in years that she saw her communicating with someone with a relaxed look.
Her gut twisted because, soon, Eren would be wed to Lara Tybur and it would no longer be appropriate for him to be here like this. Not that it was anyway, this was breaching several unspoken rules.
But she couldn't bear to say anything. She watched the warmth and care with which he handled her mother.
And it revealed a tenderness in her heart that she could not afford to expose…
It took a while but finally, her mother had exhausted herself out enough to sleep. Eren and Mikasa floated away into the small main room, her mother's soft snores could be heard through the thin walls.
"What did you give her?" Mikasa finally asked, after a while of just standing together in silence.
"Cod liver oil."
Even Mikasa made a face, "And that does what exactly?"
Eren shrugged, "It's high in nutritional content, which is what patients with consumption require. The treatments she's been receiving have been abysmal. I'd say the night she caught a chill was the healthiest she might've been. This flat's air is not doing her favors."
Mikasa fought the urge to scowl. What choice did she have?
"I doubt she'll get fresh air around here. We'd have to leave the city."
Eren nodded thoughtfully, "Anything but inside air. It gets stale and the illness thrives in that sort of environment. Just make sure she rests, eats properly, and gets some fresh air. Within a few weeks, you should see some improvement."
The irritation disappeared at his words, "Do you think we'll see improvement before the winter sets in?"
"Possibly. As long as she stays consistent, there should be results."
"But. There's still no cure…" It wasn't a question and her voice fell into a hushed whisper.
"No. Not yet."
Another silence fell over them. She was looking at the old floorboards, showing signs of rot. Even the walls had signs of mold in the upper corners. She couldn't do anything about it, aside from leave.
Eren's eyes were on her, she could feel it. She could feel whenever a man was eyeing her. Normally, it was a look of unrestrained lust.
Not with Eren. And that was almost worse.
"Right," she mumbled, disappearing into the room. This time, Eren didn't follow her. She took a few coins out from the only drawer on her mother's side of the bed. She paused, staring at her mother's sleeping form. How peaceful she looked.
Soon, they would be out of here and she'd be just as peaceful when she was awake.
She returned with the coins and placed them into his hand. Silently, she was saying that she was breaking their agreement. She didn't look him in the eyes.
"This should be enough. If it costs more, I'll pay you next week," she promised. "But I think this is just enough, for this time and last…"
Eren's reaction is quick, "I don't want money. I already told you that my payment is your time. Nothing more, nothing less."
Her eyes closed. Yes, she knew. She knew that there was a value to her time. But things had changed as of last night.
"I don't think that your fiancée would appreciate being told that her soon-to-be husband is in the company of a whore on the northwestern side of the city. If you wish to spend time, you'll have to pay for it on nights that I'm working. Otherwise, I'll pay you like any patient would for your time and treatment."
Her voice shook as she said it. And there was an unexpected hint of bitterness. Again, she didn't look at him. She didn't want to. She swallowed all of her emotions. And if she looked at him, feelings would bubble to the surface that she was unwilling to deal with — feelings that she was trying her best to deny.
She was made to look like a fool. She refused to be a fool. Surely, she was deserving of the most basic of respect.
He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up at him. She was almost frightened by what she saw. Gone was the gentle, warm young man who had been entertaining her mother with conversation. This, Goddess, she didn't even want to think about what he looked like.
"No, I want your time. That was our deal. I don't need your money. I want to spend time with you. Coin means nothing to me. I'm doing this for you. For your mother. For—" he started to say, but cut himself off abruptly, closing his mouth, which was pressed into a tight line.
But he looked furious.
"Why?" Her voice was tight. "Why my time? Just take the money!"
"Because I want to spend time with you, is that so wrong?" He sounded desperate and she couldn't imagine why. It was as if he expected her just to read his mind. Instead, she was losing hers.
"Yes! Because you're my client and my mother's doctor! It's not right!"
Their voices were loud enough that they would be able to hear them a few flats down, but Mikasa didn't care. She was tired of all this. This strange man had wormed his way into every corner of her life and her mind.
And her heart.
She clenched her fists, "Please, just stop insisting on making this anything more than it is. You know what I am, what I do. And you're a client, about to marry into the Tybur family, and they are obsessed with appearances. Please, just spare me. Spare my mother. Don't make this harder on us!"
It was a plea. She wanted him to understand — needed him to understand. And there was a part of her that didn't want him to leave, but that was the idiot girl in her that she was trying to kill.
He clenched his jaw as he looked down at her. He said nothing for the longest time and she held firm. She was ready for a fight if she needed to have one. She was even ready to lose a client as well.
"Is that so?" His voice was low, hard, and it made Mikasa take a step back. She held firm.
"Yes. If you want to see me, come to the brothel. Otherwise, we can't be seen together. This isn't right, Eren! We're not—we've never been—we can't be—!" She didn't really know what to say to that because her chest hurt. She wished she could go back to over a week ago, no murders and no young surgeon who was messing with her mind and heart.
She felt so ill. She needed him to go. She was ready to push him out.
Please go. Please let me be. Please don't come back.
She was ready to hear him grab her or scream at her. She was ready to hear insults. She was even ready to be attacked.
What she didn't expect was to see him turn around and quietly walk to the door, throwing the coins on the table.
"Stay safe, Mikasa. There was another dead girl yesterday."
And he was gone, closing the door behind him. It was then she realized that there were tears falling down her cheeks. She was crying. Goddess, had he seen her tears?
Why are you crying, you stupid girl? He's nothing to you. He's not allowed to be. And you're not allowed to be anything to him. Just a warm body for a night.
Stop crying. Stop crying!
She lifted her hand to wipe her face. No more tears. No more crying.
Now was the time to consider escape. But his final words sent chills down her spine.
Stay safe, Mikasa. There was another dead girl yesterday.
Mikasa barely left her flat for days after that, except to walk with her mother. Historia had knocked on her door, she didn't answer. Armin came to check on her because he heard screaming. She refused to elaborate on it. Most of all, there were no words from Eren after that. There was peace. And there were no murders and it felt like maybe, maybe life was returning to normal.
It was wishful thinking, truly. Because as she walked around with her mother, she could hear the panicked whispers from every corner. Many women in the northwest didn't work in brothels, but they would occasionally turn a trick on the corner of the main streets for extra money. No one was safe. Mikasa had to lead her mother away to keep her from panicking. And she had to keep walking so that the bile wouldn't continue to rise in her throat.
And worse yet, Eren lingered in the back of her mind, as did the diary entries in Rod Reiss' diary. She didn't feel right, just leaving that to chance, but what could she possibly do?
When she returned to the brothel the following Sunday evening, she didn't bother staying downstairs to linger around to have a drink or talk to anyone. She didn't want to be here tonight but she desperately needed the money, so here she was.
No Rod Reiss, she would've heard his voice at some point.
She was on the balcony — one of the few rooms in the entire establishment that had one — and looked up at the sky. No stars. No moon. Just inky blackness. No light to reach for or hope for.
That seemed appropriate to life in this sewer.
No one came to talk to her, thankfully. She didn't feel like entertaining a conversation or having to send someone away. She didn't even know how she was going to play pretend with the group of men that were going to appear throughout the night. She would have to, but just the thought of it exhausted her to her very bones.
For the first thirty minutes, she was alone. She dragged her feet back into her room, sitting in front of her vanity, running the soft brush through her silky locks. She looked at her reflection and she wanted to cry.
Maybe her clients found her beautiful but there was a sickly pallor to her skin. The shadows under her eyes were so dark. She looked like a ghost. She felt like one.
Maybe she was. Maybe the killer had found her and this was her phantom haunting the brothel and would forevermore.
An appropriate end to such a sad, wretched life.
But as she breathed under her corset, she felt her lungs expand and it hurt. Was there more a feeling of being alive than feeling pain? After all, pain ended with death.
She felt ashamed for thinking such thoughts and she was about straighten up and hold her head high. She was better than this. She was so much more than this and she knew that.
Her mother's heart would break if she could hear her darling daughter's thoughts. Mikasa was breaking her own heart.
She had to be strong.
Just as she was about to stand up, the door opened up, slamming into the adjacent wall so loud that the room shook. She blinked, standing up and her heart stopped.
He looked like Eren. He had the same eyes and hair. He had the same stubble. But, he also didn't. His hair was loose, his eyes were bloodshot, and there was a stink of ale on him. Mikasa had to fight the urge to gag. His clothes were disheveled and he didn't look like the young man she'd known. He looked older. Much older. He wasn't angry, in fact, he looked half mad.
"Mikasa," he whispered. It was his voice. Mikasa couldn't even ask him to leave or what he was doing here because he took two long strides to grab her into his arms, burying his face into the crook of her neck.
"Mikasa, Mikasa, oh Mikasa…" he moaned into her neck, pressing her to him. He was drunk. And when she felt the tears on her skin, her will broke.
"Eren?"
"Mikasa," her name sounded like something holy, like he was invoking a goddess' name.
"What happened?"
For once, she wasn't playing out a fantasy for a client. She was genuinely concerned.
He sniffled, walking her backwards until the back of her knees hit the bed. Instead of him pushing her down to the bed and starting to undress, she brought him down with her and he almost falls on top of her but he stops himself, telling her that he wasn't as drunk as she previously thought.
"Can I have you for the night? Please, Mikasa. Please, please…"
She couldn't say no, she wasn't in the position to say no. And she didn't want to turn him away. He wouldn't survive a night on the streets like this. And she cared. She hated to admit it, but she cared so much.
"Let me stay," he pleaded. "I need you."
She was smarter than this but when it came to Eren, all sense flew out the window. She was a damned fool when it came to him. She thought about what to say to him that would assuage his panic but no words came to mind. She opened and closed her mouth several times but it was futile.
So she held him, and she didn't let go. Her mind cursed her. And down to her very bones, she knew this was wrong but she couldn't stop. She swore she would let go after tonight — but she knew that was a lie.
You stupid girl.
She was reliving their first night all over again. They were both naked under the covers and he was pressing soft kisses to her lips and skin.
"I never wanted you to think that I saw you as some whore to take advantage of," he whispered against her. "You are so much more than that to me. I just wanted to spend time with you, time I didn't have to pay for. I never wanted to come back here again, but if it's the only way I got to have you…" His voice was watery, like he was going to burst out into tears at any second.
She said nothing, just continued to thread her fingers through his hair. Her heart ached so badly. Her resolve from the past few days had crumbled at the sight of his tears. He needed her, so here she was. They didn't know each other, yet his tears caused her distress.
Just as seeing him bound to another woman had caused her distress. And yet, this would be all that they would ever have together. It couldn't go further and yet, they were pushing the limits of what was appropriate between whore and client.
"My mother died when I was ten and I lost my home that day too. My father threw himself into work and my brother and me were never that close and I was alone. I learned to live with that. When you live with a gaping wound, you stop feeling it. You forget that it's there. And then I saw you that day and you held me in your arms, even if I had to pay you to do it. I was home again. I had something beautiful again. And I clung to it. There's nothing more special, nothing more vital to my life than you right now."
He was babbling and Mikasa found that she was at a loss for words. Had anyone else said those words to her, she would've pushed them out and gotten them barred from the establishment.
But this was Eren. He'd always been strange.
"I want to keep you. All to myself. Be mine, please be mine. I'll give you the life that you deserve, I'll take you away. I'll take your mother away. I'll give you anything just, fuck, please don't throw me away. Let me have you. Say the words and I'm yours. Lara and I…it's not like that…she's not you. She'll never be you. Mikasa, please, I asked you to stay because…"
His voice trailed off as he started to cry softly again. But she hung onto every word.
"Because why?" She wanted to hear it, even if the explanation shattered her heart.
He never answered, "I'm just like him. Worse. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…"
He was babbling through his tears now. Mikasa wanted to say something but the words were stuck in her throat. She shifted under him but he held her close. He just kept kissing along her clavicle while he ran his fingers along every inch of skin. He was memorizing her.
"Eren…" she whispered, not knowing what she was trying to say.
"Say the word and I'm yours forever. I'm already yours. From the moment I saw you, I was yours. Please, I don't care about anything else. Be mine. Please…"
He's drunk, that was all.
"Shh," she soothed. "No more talking."
Her heart hammered and he pressed his ear against it.
"It beats with mine. See, Mikasa, that means something…"
Her head was spinning from his confessions, drunken confessions. She kept telling herself that it was an effect of the ale but people were their most authentic selves when they were drunk. It was easy to get dark secrets out of men because they tended to reveal so much. And Eren's lips were loose.
For all the fantasies she'd been forced to play through, love had never been one of them. Only Armin had ever told her he'd loved her and those feelings had simmered down as quickly as they had started.
And this too, will pass. Don't forget that.
"Let me stay. Let me have you. Let me keep you. Be mine forever. I'll take care of you."
Her heart was screaming at her to say yes, to give in to his promises but she wasn't that foolish. What would saying yes gain her? Just more problems and enmity with the Tyburs. She couldn't, even if he was being sincere. When he was sober, he would realize his words and disappear again.
That was her reality. She refused to be hurt by it.
She just hummed him a lullaby, hoping it would calm him down enough. Or maybe, it was to keep him from speaking and forcing her to dream of a better life as the wife of a Jaeger.
Wife. Don't be stupid. Stop being stupid.
She pressed her lips together, humming a tune and, slowly, she felt his muscles relax above her. His soft breaths came and went. She stared at the cracked ceiling as the moans and low buzz of chatter continued outside.
He was gone when she woke up. There was yet another pouch of gold coins. Her heart ached at being correct again when she found a quickly scribbled note next to it.
Mikasa —
I meant every word. Say yes to me and everything I have is yours. I'll wait. You know where to find me. I'll wait forever if I have to.
— EJ
The building was quiet as she slipped out. The sun had barely risen and the air was frosty. She shoved her hands into the old, worn out pockets and walked quickly. The killer was still out there, she would not be the third girl.
Even if she wasn't one of Rod Reiss' girls, there was no proof that she was safe from the killer. Even if it was starting to look that way.
She took a shortcut, unwilling to take any risks. It would be quite the walk anyway. And this time, she reached her flat without much fuss.
Eren's words were still echoing in her head and she clutched his note in her pocket. She was smarter than this so why was she melting at his words. He was promised to another woman so how could he be hers too? She was only a mistress when paid to be but she couldn't make an enemy out of Lara Tybur. She was quickly realizing that an unavailable man's love was worse than his lust. At least lust wanted nothing more than the satisfaction of carnal desire. Love had everything else attached to it. A wife might tolerate lust. But she would never tolerate this.
She knew that much.
She dragged her feet up the stairs, once again convinced that it would finally give out under her legs but it never did.
She sighed walked to her front door and picked up the newspaper. She glanced down at the front cover of the paper. And everything ceased to exist as she read the headline and what followed.
To the dearest of citizens of Mitras and all of Paradis Island —-
I see I have caused quite a stir. I have heard the funniest rumor that they are closer than ever to finding me and it tickles my insides like nothing else. No, they are nowhere close to finding me. And the police shan't catch me ever. The whores will continue to be cut up and their hearts will remain in my possession until they lock me up, which they will not. The first girl was a fighter; she struggled till I slashed her throat, squealing like a newborn piglet as she clung to life. The second one didn't even have time to squeal before she gave up. And it's with her blood that I am writing this letter. Ha. Ha. The next lady is already in my sights and so is another one, and then another. I will not stop, not until the message is clear and I am satisfied. Till those who deserve punishment are punished. Perhaps I will not just take the next one's heart. Perhaps, it will be her lungs next. Yes, I think so. None shall escape once my blade descends upon them. I will cut their hearts out. No amount of grief shall spare them. Because a whore is a whore. And they will pay. I dare you to find me. And any who shall find me will be met with my knife's edge. I wish you good luck. Catch me if you can.
Yours Truly
The Devil of Paradis
Notes:
next update: august 10th
thank you for reading!
Chapter 7: lungs
Notes:
here we are!!! and this is start of the last half of this story where things are finally going somewhere with eren and mikasa! thank you ellie for watching reading this over!
tw: mikasa does have sex with two men in this chapter but both scenes are vague and she disassociates due to her emotional state. so letting you know in advance. thank you for reading!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Mikasa's whole body shook as she read the note over and over. Bile rose in her throat steadily as her eyes read so fast that her vision started to blur. Her ears were ringing as she finally looked up. Her head spun as she grabbed the doorknob with a trembling hand.
After spending a lifetime in squalor, she'd become used to toeing the line between safety and danger, life and death. People were found dead in alleyways all the time, but the recent killings had always been different.
It was Rod Reiss. It had to be him. There was no doubt in her mind.
The world spun as she stumbled into the flat. For the first time, she smelled the rot of it all. She smelled the staleness and poison that lingered in the air. It was the same air that permeated the area. Mitras poisoned all that was good; she was convinced.
Perhaps I will not just take the next one's heart. Perhaps, it will be her lungs next.
It felt like there were icy-cold hands around her
The rickety old table in front of her was all that was keeping her from falling over. Strangely, it wasn't Rod Reiss' voice that she heard in her head when it played back in her head. It was deep and malicious. It was a demon, prowling the dark streets, hiding in alleys, and waiting to drag another unsuspecting woman down to hell with him.
She closed her eyes and saw an inky black figure prowling in the shadows, reaching its clawed hand out. The fingers feel like snakes as they slither around her neck, squeezing the life out of her.
No, no…no! It can't end like this. It can't…
"Mikasa? Mikasa!"
Her eyes shot open and only then did she realize that she had stopped breathing. Her mother stood in the doorway to the bedroom, leaning against the doorframe for support, concern painted over her delicate features.
Mikasa's heart was hammering so hard she grabbed her chest.
"Mama?" she gasped. "Why are you out of bed?"
"I heard you come in. My dear girl, what's wrong?" Despite her own ill health, she came running. She was winded easily, but she'd always seen Mikasa as the sweet, rosy baby in her arms. A baby — it broke Mikasa's heart to think about — she felt whom she'd failed to protect from the world's filth.
"Mama," she breathed. She wanted to weep, to break down in her mother's arms, if only to feel like a little girl whose mother's arms could chase away the nightmares. She kept her grip over sanity but she knew that she could no longer hide the truth.
She placed the newspaper on the table and motioned to it. Her mother frowned as she grabbed the crumpled paper. She watched the confusion on her mother's face morph from confusion to shock to abject horror. As she had, her mother read the note several times, not quite believing what she was reading.
"They were allowed to publish this?" Her voice was several octaves higher.
Mikasa took a few seconds to respond, counting her breaths before opening her mouth again.
"We have to leave, mama. I know you wanted to wait out the winter, but it's no longer safe. Please, mama. Please." She heard the little girl in her voice, the frightened child, begging her mother to protect her, to save her.
"Please," she whispered, one more time.
Her mother put the newspaper down and closed her eyes. For a moment, she thought her mother would ask to wait a little bit longer — that she still clung to the memories of her winter courtship with her father.
"I cannot stay where my child is in danger. I was a fool to ask you to wait out the winter. I can carry your father with me anywhere, but nothing matters more to me than you. Let me know when you wish to depart, sweet girl. We'll leave as soon as you desire."
She was overwhelmed enough to embrace her mother, but she held back her tears, despite the wave of relief crashing over her. They were finally leaving. They could settle in the countryside now and live the life they'd always dreamed of.
Thank you, Goddess. Thank you!
The next few days passed in a blur of work, preparations, and caring for her mother. During those days, Mikasa didn't sleep a wink. She didn't think about anything other than getting out of there as soon as possible. The winter winds were already picking up, and it was a constant source of both frustration and determination.
Her mother, on the other hand, had already begun gathering their possessions, the little that they had. As they couldn't carry much, it came as a small blessing that they had very few things in their name. There was a sadness that surrounded her, but she never voiced it out loud.
Mikasa knew, so she didn't ask.
She took more clients, arriving early in the evening and not leaving till almost noon, if only for a few stragglers. A gentleman wouldn't be caught dead in these parts while the sun was up, but still, there were always a few. Her mind drifted as the men escaped from their own realities with the help of her body. Just a little bit longer of this and then, no more.
Eren didn't come back. Not once. While thoughts of him lingered, they rarely came to the forefront. In a week, she would be gone, and he would find someone else to imprint on.
She pushed away the thought, which made her insides burn. She didn't want to think about him with someone else; the memory of him being engaged to another woman already hurt enough. She didn't want to dwell on why she was feeling like this. He was just a young man she'd met not so long ago. A strange man who'd come into her life and promised to fix everything — promised her the whole world. Why? She couldn't imagine.
She closed her eyes as she waited for the man to finish, the sounds of his grunts and pleasure sounding so distant that it was like it was happening elsewhere. She shouldn't be thinking about Eren when she was with other men.
But that was the only time she did think about him. And then she wondered how he'd be as a lover. Would he be gentle? Rough? Unsure? Overcompensating for something?
Yet, she never answered his note. He couldn't fix her problems. He already belonged to someone else, and all she'd ever be is a kept woman. Despite having been with countless married men, it was strictly transactional; emotional attachments were barred. She couldn't bring herself to become a mistress. And, again, she wasn't about to make an enemy out of Lara Tybur.
Any fantasy she entertained, she had to let it go. It didn't matter what Eren said. Neither of them could fight reality.
"You're good. Very good," the gentleman muttered to him as he pulled on his trousers, "My own wife is a dead fish in bed, but you, Goddess, you…" He said something else but Mikasa tuned it out, having heard it all before. She just smiled, a small upturn of her lips that made men go wild but never quite reached her eyes.
"And I look forward to seeing you again," she responded in a rehearsed, sultry voice.
He grinned and chuckled while leaving the money on the table. It wasn't till she heard the door close that she buried her face into the pillow, groaning into the pillow.
Just a few more nights of this and she'd have enough to disappear. She whispered prayers that it would be enough. And she prayed for her own strength as she allowed herself to hope for something better for herself…
The noon sun felt warm against Mikasa's face as she stepped out of Kiyomi's place.
"You don't have to keep staying late," Kiyomi told her. "You already have the job waiting for you."
Mikasa answered with her silence, giving her the tightest of smiles. She didn't want to remain in this life longer than necessary.
"I'll see you tonight," she mumbled, hiding her face in the high neck.
She kept her head low as she always did. During the day, no one knew who she was or what she was. She didn't get disgusted looks because everyone was too busy minding their own business and worrying about how to keep a roof over their heads.
There was a pouch of coins in her pocket and she clutched it as hard as she could. When she was home, she'd count it and add it to the saved money she kept under a loose floorboard.
They'd walk until they left the walls of the city and then once in the countryside, they could buy a cheap wagon and a horse and be on their way.
She just had to calculate the costs of everything. Her mother said she had a fair amount saved for the future so they could use that now.
She tried not to smile. She tried so hard not to get lost in those girlhood reveries of endless blue skies and clean mountain air, but it was coming so close to reality that she felt the desire to reach and grab it.
For so long, countless men used her to fulfill their fantasies, and now it was her turn.
She looked down, so no passerby would be able to see the ghost of a smile on her face. No one could know. She'd leave a note when they left but that was all.
She turned the corner of her street and paused as she looked up. There was a coach parked out front — a coach from the university. Which could've meant one of two things. And she quickly realized which one when she saw a flash of blonde hair.
"Mikasa!" Armin waved and even from this distance, she could see how his eyes lit up. As she approached, she could see the dark rings around his eyes and she smiled.
"Are you not sleeping…?" Were the first words out of her mouth and she regretted it instantly because she saw him deflate a little.
"Final exams are coming soon and I've been at my desk studying into the wee hours of the night. But I wanted to come and check on you and granddad. "
It was in what he didn't say that she found the answer to her question. It was in the worry and the way he searched her face and encroached upon her space to make sure she was there: he'd read the papers as well.
He just didn't say anything about it and Mikasa was grateful for that. She was going to miss Armin so much when she left. Perhaps she owed it to him to say goodbye — to let him know that she was leaving and why.
"I'm glad to see you," she said honestly. Suspiciously, the coach didn't leave and Mikasa immediately knew why.
He wasn't staying.
"I'm glad to see you well. But speaking of sleep, it doesn't look like you aren't getting muc either."
They walked up the rickety old stairs together in silence. The air between them was somber and Mikasa couldn't bring herself to say anything else. For the first time in days, she felt the exhaustion in her bones and she just wanted to collapse and sleep.
She couldn't. There was still much preparation left before leaving and she wasn't about to leave her ailing mother to handle packing up their flat and getting all of their affairs in order.
At the same time, she went back and forth about telling Armin because once he found out, it wouldn't be long before Eren learned of it as well.
That burning pain returned to her chest and she had to clutch her chest for a moment, silently telling her heart to remain steady. Eren wasn't allowed to be anything to her. And she wasn't allowed to be anything to him.
"Are you alright?"
She nodded, "Yes. I just need some sleep, is all." She smiled, a pathetic phantom of one, knowing that it was pointless. Armin knew her better than she knew herself most days.
It didn't escape her notice that he didn't stop in front of his grandfather's flat, instead walking beside her down to her own. She would've said something but she was dead on her feet. She just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep till the sun went down. She wanted to plan more in her dreams but she knew that once she stepped through the threshold, she'd forget all about that.
Armin was going to find out anyway and she didn't have the energy to lie to him. If he asked, she would tell him that she was leaving the city and that she would write once she was settled wherever she was.
Her hand shook as she turned the key and forced the old door open. She felt Armin's eyes at her back as they both walked in. From the outside, nothing looked different and Mikasa was grateful for that. It saved her an explanation for the time being.
"Mama," she called out. "I'm home! And Armin's here!"
She shrugged off her coat and Armin rushed to help her, "Here, let me…" She let him.
She didn't question anything, though she was sorely tempted to. Did he know something she didn't? She turned to him, staring right into his eyes and giving him that "out with it" look that he knew so well.
He opened his mouth but no sound came out because he looked over her shoulder and she heard quiet footsteps approaching them.
"Oh, Armin! I had no idea you were visiting. It's so nice to see you!"
Her mother's voice was hoarse and she sounded out of breath. And Armin, Goddess bless him, couldn't mask his true feelings. Not around them.
"Mrs…Ackerman…?" he whispered and Mikasa spun around on her heels. Her blood ran cold when she saw her mother's condition. She was no stranger to her mother's illness and how, at times, she looked like a ghost wandering the flat. But it was as if all blood had been drained from her body, as though she'd been subjected to blood letting by the world's most gluttonous leeches. And her lips were as pale as the rest of her. And, she realized with horror, there was a stain of red at the corner of her mouth.
"Oh don't—" she started before she covered her mouth as she was hit by another coughing fit.
"Mama! You should be in bed!" She grabbed her by the arm, gently, motioning her to follow her back to bed but she didn't move. Her breaths were labored as each cough came, sharper than the last.
Even Armin rushed forward, trying to get the older woman to sit down, but then he gasped.
"What?" Mikasa asked, her voice several octaves high.
Don't say it, Goddess, don't say it…
"Her veins," his voice quivered. And she looked at her mother's neck, watching them bulge with the force of each cough.
"I—" she started, "I'm—fine—" but each word was punctuated by another forceful cough. And this time, Mikasa's whole world collapsed when she hacked up so much blood, it stained the front of her dress. Her legs finally gave out as she fell forward. Thankfully, Armin caught her just in time.
"Mama!" Mikasa cried, rushing forward, but she was hardly conscious, her words so broken that it shattered her daughter's heart all the same.
"I'm happy—I got to—see you—again—" before she went limp in Armin's arms. And Mikasa's whole world collapsed.
"Mama?" She touched her mother's arm. "Mama, please, this isn't funny. Mama!"
She heard the familiar voice of a little girl who'd found her father's voice slumped over in an alleyway. She blinked and she was transported to that horrid time. That horrid red flower was blooming on his chest and his eyes were open, devoid of any light.
Even then, she knew.
Papa, please wake up! Papa, please, mama needs you home! I need you home. Come on, get up, get up!"
It was happening all over again.
Her eyes burned. No, no. Her mother was all she had left in the world. If this was the end, she didn't think she'd be able to go on. Icy hands grabbed at her lungs, squeezing so hard that breathing was painful.
"Mikasa—" Armin tried but Mikasa wasn't hearing him.
"Mama," she shook her, disregarding that she was in Armin's arms. She tried to pry her away from him. As if that would bring her back. No, she wasn't gone. She couldn't be. Not when they were headed towards a better life. She had to be alright, she just had to be!
It was as if the Goddess had heard her for the first time in her life because she watched as her mother's chest moved slightly, but it was a sign of life.
She wasn't gone. Not yet.
Armin grabbed her, struggling to stand up but seemed determined.
"We need to get her to the hospital. Come on! I have the coach waiting. We'll get the best of the best care."
Without hesitating, she followed Armin out of the flat and down the rickety stairs. There was nothing echoing in her head, like the cost or the fact that Eren worked in that hospital. Those thoughts would come to her later because right now, all she cared about was treating her mother. She wanted to chase off this damn ailment so that the two of them could live.
The coachman was flabbergasted at the scene but Armin barked at him, "Open the door. This woman needs a doctor. Come on!"
She sat on one side of the coach and Armin placed the small, frail woman next to her. She clutched her tightly to her chest.
"Drive!" Armin barked out and they hastened down the rundown streets as Mikasa leaned down and whispered dreams to her mother. She needed to live. She needed to see the life that was out there. A life where she wasn't ill.
You must get better, mama. Please?
She kept whispering, glancing up briefly at Armin. His face said it all. He'd heard every word she'd whispered…
She loathed hospitals.
The university's hospital was marginally better than the one in the slums but that wasn't saying much. The sound of coughing and wheezing permeated throughout the building. Whole rooms were full and the nurses were running around frantically.
Her mother was cradled against Armin's chest and Mikasa stayed close. She didn't want to leave her mother here. Not among the sickly and dying. Her mother's body had already been ravaged by illness, she would die in a place like this.
She wanted to protest, but the words were stuck to her throat. And Armin? Well, she'd never seen him so angry before.
"You there!" He yelled at a passing nurse, stepping in her path before she could run off. "Do you have an available bed?"
The woman looked dead on her feet, glancing between the young man and the fragile woman in his arms.
"It's hard to say—"
"Then who can say?" Armin demanded.
Mikasa's already frayed nerves couldn't take it anymore. She didn't care if the staff was overworked or if the building was overflowing with patients. She just cared about her mother.
"Jaeger. Where's Dr. Jaeger?" Her voice was rough, thick with tears that threatened to fall. "He's the one treating her. Find him. I don't care. Get Dr. Jaeger!"
Her voice rose with each word and she must've been frightening because the nurse nearly jumped and scrambled away.
"Wait—!" Armin called after her but she'd already rounded a corner and he turned to give her wary eyes.
"She's not coming back, you know."
"Then I'll go and find him myself, but I'm not leaving my mother out to rot away in our flat. Someone is going to treat her. And it better be Eren."
Her eyes lowered to her mother and the peace on her face seemed so deceptive. Because on the inside, disease ravaged her lungs, causing her to grow weaker and weaker with each turn of the season. There was only so much she could take and Mikasa needed her to live a long life.
She stood close and waited. She really didn't expect the nurse to come back. And, naturally, she didn't. So they started looking around the rooms, ignoring the passing nurses and stares they were getting. Mikasa led the way, determined to find a bed. And possibly throttle the nurse who just left them there.
Once again, she did not care if they were overworked or if this hospital was overcrowded. That was not her problem. But every room was full. There was not a single bed to spare. She felt those icy hands around her lungs again and this time, they refused to let her breathe. Her vision clouded with angry tears.
Was the Goddess even listening at all? Were her prayers flying up at nothing? Or did She simply not care?
She kept going, but every room was crowded. Goddess, there wasn't a plague. There was no war. Why were there so many patients?
"Armin?"
The hands disappeared at the sound of the voice she never thought she'd be so grateful to hear. She spun around and Eren's eyes widened at the sight of her. He eyed her before turning to Armin and seeing her mother, frail and pale in Armin's arms.
"Oh, no," he muttered as he rushed to help her. "What happened?"
"I don't know," Mikasa's eyes welled up. "I did everything you instructed, but when I came home, she looked so ill. I don't know what happened. Please, you must help her. Please, Eren…"
She dropped the honorifics. There was no point. He promised to offer her the world. And right now? Her world was her mother.
"She's all I have…"
What was that look on his face? Pain? Irritation? Stress? Something else? She wasn't sure but she had bigger things to worry about.
"Please…"
"We found her pale and coughing up blood. That was maybe an hour or so ago. We got here as fast as possible but…as you can see, no one's helped us yet." Armin's teeth were gritted but Eren moved, taking the woman in his arms. There was a look of tenderness on his face, a look she hadn't seen before.
"You!" His voice boomed to another nurse. "Is the room on the third floor ready? The one near the windows?"
She looked taken aback, "Yes but those are for our benefactors—"
"And now they're for my patient! Don't fucking stand there! Make sure it's ready because I'm bringing her up now!"
"But—"
He stared at the woman before and dread pooled in Mikasa's gut when she saw the rage flash across his face. It wasn't the face of a man and she felt the bile rise up her throat.
"Right…of course…" She scrambled towards the stairs and his face returned to normal. He held her mother close to his chest, as if he was cradling a baby.
"Follow me," he ordered, gruffly. And one look at her mother, she just couldn't hesitate. She let her legs carry her.
The soft winter sunlight streamed into the room. Eren ordered the windows to remain open throughout the day so that her mother could breathe in the clean air. This was the most affluent part of the city, so the air was cleaner and there was no stink of death or rot. Not coming from outside, in any case.
Eren spent ten minutes checking on her and she faded in and out of consciousness. Eren finally stood up, his face grave.
"We'll have to keep her here," he told her as he led the two of them out of the room. Private rooms were unusual, almost unheard of. The wealthy usually opted to rot in the comfort of their estates. But Eren, bless him, had kept that room especially for her.
"How long?" Mikasa whispered.
"I can't say," he responded. "If she shows signs of improvement, we might be able to release her. But the disease has progressed to such a stage…" He trailed off and stopped himself when he looked up at Mikasa. She saw her face reflected in his eyes. The devastation was etched all over it.
"No, please, no…"
Eren grabbed her hand as she repeated those words over and over, "I'll do everything in my ability to help her get better. Get a hold of yourself, Mikasa."
"Mikasa," Armin stood behind her, grabbing her shoulders and squeezing them. "It'll be alright. Eren's one of the best. She could not be in better hands."
She looked between the two men, unsure whether or not she believed them. So much had gone wrong in her young life that she couldn't believe that good things could happen anymore.
Eren assured. "Your mother's care will not be lacking in anything. I'll make sure of it. Armin is right. And please, keep it together. You'll have your mother again."
She didn't know what else to do but Eren walked back into the room and all Mikasa could do is bury her face into Armin's chest. He gently stroked her hair and pressed his face into the crown of her head.
"I'm here, Mikasa. I'm always here, you know that."
She did know that. She always knew that. For some reason, though, she'd never felt more alone. And she couldn't bring herself to find any comfort in his words. She just wept silently into his chest.
She was a ghost that evening when she stepped into Kiyomi's. She moved through the hallways like a disembodied spirit. She could feel all eyes on her but she didn't pay it any mind. She felt less and less human with every step. She needed something to get her mind off of it. And, unfortunately, it was coming to Kiyomi's establishment. Everyone who came here was looking for something, or running away from something.
Tonight, it was the latter.
And when Reiner Braun walked into her room, unshaven and smelling of beer, she knew he was seeking the same thing. There was no room for conversation. It was all about the feeling.
He'd been a regular for over two years now. He never had much to say, he just paid for her services after taking from her what he needed. He never revealed his thoughts, he never shared anything about his life. He wasted no time with silly little things like kisses and soft touches. He knew what he was here for and Mikasa gave it to him.
He had her on her knees, her dress rucked up to her waist. She felt him press against her and the whole world went numb as it always did. The room was full of the sound of slapping skin and his grunts. She felt it, she always did but she was usually able to escape to a fantasy of the mountain life that she'd always dreamed about.
Tonight, those skies were clouded and she felt it slipping further and further away from her. She no longer believed that things were going to get better. The Goddess had made it clear that she was never to leave this place.
It could've been hours, it could've been minutes, but the concept of time had escaped her, and she stopped caring. She thought she heard tears from behind her but she paid it no heed. She wasn't going to pretend like she cared enough to comfort him. He was getting what he paid for, nothing more.
When he finally finished, he pulled out without a word. Mikasa didn't move from her spot. She heard the sounds of coins being placed on her dresser before hearing shuffling and then the door opening and closing. For the longest time, she remained kneeling on the bed.
And then, she sobbed. She sobbed like she never had before. Her entire body ached from years of the abuse she'd endured and the heartbreak she'd kept to herself. She had been strong for far too long.
The Goddess didn't want her to leave, that's why she'd made her mother sicker. She was going to stay here and then die, whether as an old woman or murdered on the street by some deranged nobleman intent on killing women like her because of his lost, unrequited love.
She was frightened and she shook, her tears staining the sheets.
I meant every word. Say yes to me and everything I have is yours. I'll wait. You know where to find me. I'll wait forever if I have to.
His note remained on her nightstand and she read it over and over again. It was little comfort. He was engaged to be married, his lady was Lara Tybur. She didn't want to be the plaything of a wealthy man. She wanted to leave, but it was more than clear that she would never be allowed to.
She cried harder. She cried until she felt ill, till she had to run to the balcony and empty the contents of her stomach, which had already been empty. She wouldn't take his offer. No, she couldn't, it wasn't right.
And yet, she craved the comfort and solace she'd found only in his arms. Even with how unsettled he made her feel, his presence was soothing and warm in a way she hadn't felt since the day her father died.
And she was ashamed to admit this: she might always chase it.
She slumped against the railing. Her father was dead. Her mother was at death's door. Armin was bettering his life at university and he would leave her too. And Eren? He was to be married, no matter how much he desired her.
As always, she would be the one to remain where she was — forever left behind and chained to the miserable life she'd been born into…
She walked home in the dark. It was reckless, it was dangerous, and she swore she saw shadows shifting in every dark corner, but she kept her head down and kept walking. Kiyomi was otherwise too occupied to keep her from walking out.
The hospital wouldn't allow visitors at this hour, so she would just head home and crawl into bed. She hoped that when she rose, her mind would be clearer and the haze of misery and self-pity would clear up. For the time being, all she could do was walk the same dark road to an empty, cold flat that would never feel like home again.
When she opened the door, she expected to walk into a dark flat. No one would be around to greet her. She would've just shed her clothes and crawl into her bed and collapsed from the exhaustion.
She didn't expect to return to see a familiar figure sitting at the small table, fingering the small dents and scratches from years of use. She didn't expect him to look up at her, startled to see her home so early.
Yet, Dr. Eren Jaeger sat there as if he belonged there — as if he were a prominent fixture in her life that just refused to leave. Because he was. If this had been any other day, she might've told him to leave because it was highly inappropriate.
"Did you just walk here all alone?" He asked, standing up and rushing toward her. Even in the dimly lit room, his eyes roved around her face, checking her for any scratches or bruises. He must've read the morning paper as well. Maybe that's why he was here.
"Why are you here?" Her exhaustion had overcome her so thoroughly that it seeped into her voice. "How did you get in?"
Eren's hands were firmly on her arms, not enough to hurt her, but he was still squeezing her.
"Your mother wanted me to check on you," he answered, looking up into her eyes. "And I needed to make sure you were okay. I couldn't stand seeing you so distraught. I needed you to be fine…"
His voice was heavy and there was not a single ounce of insincerity in his voice or body language. She knew how to read men well enough now.
He cared. Or at least, she wanted him to care.
She couldn't help herself. She didn't want to be alone tonight. She never wanted to be alone ever again. She wanted his warmth.
Her hands were on his face and she pulled his lips down to hers.
The kisses had turned desperate and somehow, they ended up shedding their clothes and tangling in the sheets of the end she'd shared with her mother. Her tears mixed in with the sweat as his kisses left her mouth. He peppered every inch of skin he could reach with kisses, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. She pulled him closer as his mouth kissed down her jaw and neck, nibbling softly on the soft skin.
He didn't speak. Their bodies just ground up against each other's. This time felt different. It wasn't like the times he'd appeared drunk and distressed in the brothel. This time he was present, he was attentive. She felt like herself and warm. It wasn't at all like all those times with the other men. He was focused on her and her only.
She wanted more, she wanted him to kiss lower. She wanted to feel his lips and tongue all over her and she never wanted it to stop. She wanted — no, she needed him. If only for tonight, she just wanted to remember how to feel alive again.
"Eren," she panted as his lips trailed down her collarbone to her chest, leaving the softest kiss there before trailing down to her ribs. She thought he was going to go further, thought he might soothe that ache between her thighs that only he might be able to take care of.
All thoughts of propriety had gone out the window.
But no, he kissed back up her chest and placed a soft kiss over her heart, as he always did, before coming back up and kissing her on the lips. It was soft, tender, and…a word she dared not say. He kissed her a few more times before pulling away, smiling at her tenderly before moving hair out of her face.
"Eren," she tried to pull him closer, wanting to feel more of him but to her dismay, he shook his head.
"I can't do this with you. Not right now. Not while you're like this."
He was speaking to her so softly, it was almost a coo. His words caressed her in a way that even his hands couldn't, but it brought her no comfort. Fresh tears sprang from her eyes, sliding down her cheeks. She'd told herself a long time ago that she'd never let a client see her cry. She would never give them that sort of pleasure.
Again, it was different with Eren Jaeger.
He moved to wipe the tears away with the pad of his thumbs. His expression did not change.
"What do you want from me, then?" She hiccupped and it was an ugly sound.
He continued to caress her cheeks, not answering for a couple of moments. Each second the question remained unanswered was one off of her lifespan.
"You," he said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world but it was so vague and Mikasa was tired of it. She wanted answers and he was going to give it to her, damn it.
"That's not an answer," she grabbed his hands and pushed them away. "You won't fuck me and you won't do anything, but you say you want me. You don't get to come into my life and make a mess of it each time. I have feelings too. Yes, whores have feelings too. So give me answers or get out."
He flinched at the word but he his expression didn't change. Only his eyes gazed up into hers, "I won't make love to you like this. Only when you're ready. I won't take advantage of you. I just want to be close to you. I want to be near you all the time. You deserve to be held, to be cherished. I'm not one of those brutes you force yourself to service every night. I…" he stopped. It was like his tongue was suddenly made of lead but she needed to hear it, even if she didn't want to.
"What?" She whispered desperately. "You what?"
Another long stretch of silence and she wanted to die. She wanted to sink into the bed and perish. He needed to take her out of her misery.
"I love you. I really, really love you and I have since the moment I saw you that first time. I can't stop thinking about you and all I want is to give you the whole world and even that's not close to what you deserve."
He stroked her cheeks again, pulling her into a kiss. Now, she had a name for it but it didn't fill her up with the kind of joy that usually comes with this sort of confession. Love? What did this wealthy doctor from a prominent family know of love? What did she even know of love? Love didn't happen between people like them. It wasn't allowed to.
And yet…
"You can't," she whispered and it was the most heartbreaking sound in the world. "We can't…we shouldn't…"
He smiled so lovingly that she felt her resolve crumbling, "And why shouldn't we? Because of Lara? Let me tell you, Mikasa, it truly isn't what it looks like. We have an understanding. But that's all there is between us. It's to be a long engagement because her mother is ill. Lara doesn't wish to marry anyone. And I only want the woman who has my heart. The woman that I'm ready to give everything to. If only she would let me. I'm still waiting for her answer and I'm ready to wait forever if that's what it takes."
She didn't know what to say because her head started to spin. She knew that upperclass marriages lacked love and passion. It's what kept Kiyomi's establishment running and Mikasa's belly full. Men said sweet words all of the time.
She wanted to believe him, truly she did. But happiness didn't come to girls like her. She'd come so close and the rug had been pulled from underneath her. Breathing felt impossible. He brought her hand and placed it on his heart, "I never thought I'd feel something in here again. Not since my mother. You changed that. I want everything for and with you. I want to help your mother. I want to see you happy. I don't want to watch you destroy yourself every night because you have to. Let me take care of you Mika. This heart beats only for you and because of you."
Eren was either a flawless liar or he was absolutely sincere in everything he was saying. And Mikasa melted as tears fell.
"I'm frightened, Eren. I'm so, so scared of what's to come. There's a killer out there and I can't…I can't…" she hiccupped again, unable to finish the sentence. She didn't want to die, not before she had a chance to live.
And she realized, then and there, she wanted a life with him. And she wanted him all to herself. It was insanity and sheer stupidity at this point but she'd given up on keeping her senses.
"I won't let anything or anyone harm you," he said and he said it like he was whispering the most sacred of oaths on the altar of the Goddess herself. "Say yes to me, Mikasa, and I'll take you away from all this. When this is over, come away with me. You and your mother, we can start over. Lady Tybur is not long for this world, give me until then, and then…run away with me. Leave this life behind. Be with me. Be mine. Be my wife. Please, Mikasa, please."
She could see the bright green of his eyes showing in the moonlight. He was pleading, waiting for her answer. It was too good to be true. It had to be. Wealthy men didn't fall for women like her. It just wasn't done.
And yet, she believed every word of his promise. Was she a fool? Maybe.
She didn't answer his question with words. She just burried her face in his chest, counting each beat silently. It beat in rhythm with her own.
This heart beats only for you and because of you.
It was romantic nonsense but it was true. She knew it was. And that was the scariest part of it all. And worst of all? She believed him.
Notes:
next update: september 7th
next chapter will be from eren's pov!
Chapter 8: liar, liar
Notes:
a little late in the day but here it is! thank you ellie for reading this over and now without further ado! eren's pov!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The cover of fog and darkness normally worked in his favor. In the ungodly hours of the night, he was able to hide in pitch-black alleyways, waiting patiently for his next victim to walk by unsuspectingly before he fell upon her like a devil, before dragging her right into the abyss.
Tonight, Eren cursed this lack of visibility. Tonight was not a night to claim yet another victim; tonight was not another step closer to bloody revenge. No, tonight, he just needed only what she could give.
Eren’s cloak shielded most of his face, and his hat hid his eyes from view. He had to hide himself, but he could feel eyes trailing him from windows above as he passed several decrepit buildings. He silently cursed, as he often did. One small mistake and his cover would be blown.
A gentleman caught prowling in the streets of northeastern Mitras, cavorting with drunks and whores would stir up quite the scandal in polite society and it was not a headache Eren was willing to deal with — not with his plans.
Though it was the red-light district and every other door along the northernmost street was a brothel, this high-end establishment preferred to keep attention away from itself. Ironic for a whorehouse, especially a high-end one, to want to keep itself a little modest.
He curled his hand into a fist as he knocked on the door, being let into the establishment by a person unseen.
The smoke no longer caused his eyes to water, nor did he feel the need to gag when the smell of cheap liquor and cigars filled his nostrils. He ignored the laughter and moans around him, the light buzzing of chatter felt more like an irritating fly buzzing around his head.
“Oh, Doctor Jaeger…” a voice purred behind him, making the hairs on the back of his neck stick up. He’d come to hate that voice. She appeared in front of him, her hair in a neat bun and decked out in one of the gaudiest gowns he’d ever seen. Her perfume was strong and he had to fight the urge to gag.
“Mikasa. No others, Kiyomi,” his voice was tight, restraining from unleashing his rage on the older woman. There was a twinge of satisfaction on his face as she was about to open her mouth, no doubt to offer someone else but he held up a hand.
“Mikasa,” he repeated with finality. He almost smiled as he watched her deflate.
“Very well,” she sighed and Eren disregarded her completely after that, walking around her and making his way towards her door. Kiyomi knew better than to try him.
His nights belonged to Mikasa, alone. In her arms, he could forget everything. If anyone dared to encroach on that time, a knife would be dangled above their head.
He slowly turned the knob, opening the door and disappearing behind it, then locked it. There were to be no disturbances tonight.
She sat at her vanity, his beauty ran the comb through her hair, gazing at her own reflection. The corseted white nightgown hugged her torso; it looked almost uncomfortable. His fingers ached to rip the laces loose. She looked miserable. Just as she had the night he first saw her. She was the prettiest creature with the dullest eyes.
It gave him so much satisfaction when her eyes met his in the mirror, and those eyes lit up like the night sky.
She turned around, and a small smile graced her lips.
“Eren, you’re here…”
Of course, he was here. She'd never been a part of his plans. She was the one thing he never factored into all this. But he didn't deny himself the high he felt whenever he beheld her face. He could never stay away from her. He needed her.
He loved her.
He crossed the room in a few strides, scooping her up in his arms and hastening towards the bed. He was in no mood to talk beyond the two words that left his mouth.
“My love…”
He clung to her as if she was the only thing keeping him tethered to the world, because, most days she was.
The world was cold but Mikasa was warm. He was in the embrace of an angel — a blessing he didn't deserve but so desperately clung to.
They were both bare, illuminated only by candlelight. She was sitting up as he laid in her lap, her delicate fingers threading through his hair. His eyelids grew heavy but there was no desire to sleep.
He memorized every part of her body, every little groove and imperfection. His fingers absentmindedly stroked the small dusting of freckles on her left hip.
"Beautiful," Eren muttered. "Sometimes, I find it hard to believe that you're real." And mine. But he didn't say that. Those words were heavy on his tongue but he refused to unburden himself. No, not yet.
But soon.
"These are my favorite," he declared, leaning in to kiss the soft skin. Is this what heaven feels like?
It's as close to it as he'd ever get; he wasn't ever seeing heaven.
"I thought you liked my heart?" Mikasa whispered but she sounded so unsure. He had to keep himself from smiling wryly.
Oh, my dear, if only you knew…
"All of you is my favorite."
The way heat pooled in her cheeks was absolutely adorable. He wondered if she was aware of that but he reached up and stroked the soft skin. He never realized how tense his muscles were until he touched her, and he felt himself relax. She made him feel human again and he couldn't quite explain why.
He buried his face into her stomach. She continued to stroke his hair, not saying anything. She spoke with her eyes.
She'd given herself over to him, and slowly, he was learning to read her eyes. He could tell when her smile reached her eyes and when it didn't. He could tell when she retreated into her own mind and during those times, he'd always draw her back to him. There shouldn't be any secrets between them.
Well, except…
"If you could be anywhere else now, where would it be?" He shifted his position so that he could look at her clearly. "Tell me, I won't judge. I've wanted to see the whole world since I was a boy."
With raised eyebrows, she just stared at him for a couple of moments as if she was trying to understand what he was asking. He didn't repeat himself, why would he? She heard him loud and clear.
My poor love, have you ever considered it?
"I suppose I've always fantasized about living in the mountains with no one else around for miles and miles. Just somewhere to lead a peaceful existence."
There was a dreamy look in her eyes, and he could tell she was envisioning it. In all honesty, that did sound nice. Maybe once he'd achieved his mission, he would find her a nice plot of land in the country and build an estate on it. She could come and go as she pleased. Or maybe something simpler? A large cottage, yes, that would do it.
He smiled up at her. He'd come to Paradis with one goal in mind, but those plans had significantly derailed when he'd laid eyes on this vision of beauty. Suddenly, it wasn't just about getting his revenge. It wasn't about his mother anymore. She started to factor into his plans — her safety, her happiness, her life, all of it.
"No one's ever asked me that before," she told him, truthfully. "In fact, most people leave here only remembering my name so that they can ask for me when they come back." She pursed her lips. "And I was alright with that. But now you're asking and that's the first time I've really shared that with anyone."
Despite the anger and offense on her behalf, the part of him that was winning out for once was the part that was touched — honored, even. He reached for her face again, cupping her jaw and bringing her face down to kiss her. He felt her heart beat rapidly at the contact, the same way his did.
"I'm grateful, my love. You can tell me anything, you know that, don't you? I want to know everything about you, even the parts you don't deem important. So tell me everything."
She was hesitant at first. But slowly, he was able to draw things out of her with soft caresses and words of encouragement.
Her father's family was from the countryside, and they'd fallen in love one day at the market. They ran off and got married, and Mikasa followed less than a year later. Theirs had been a happy existence for the first decade, until tragedy struck and her father was found murdered in an alleyway. And things had been rolling downhill since then.
He leaned in, placing a soft kiss over her heart, as he'd done so many times over. His own blood boiled, screamed, and howled. This was a life she'd settled on because she wanted to survive long enough to experience some of the beauty life had to offer.
This won't do. The whole world should be at your feet, kissing the earth beneath your steps, and feel blessed if your shadow so much as touches them. This isn't the life for you, my beloved angel. I'm going to give it all to you. Not too long now and we'll be happy.
He watched as her eyelids grew heavy, as her body slumped against the headboard. On all the nights they spent together, she held him, but tonight, he gathered her into his arms, brushing his lips against her hair. It was paradise, perhaps paradise that he didn't deserve after everything he'd done.
It needed to be done. To slay a devil, you must become one.
But in the arms of this devil, lay an unsuspecting angel. And unsuspecting, she would stay.
It was better that way.
He closed his own eyes, and it was one of those rare times he'd found himself being carried off into a slumber. And for once, he didn't open his eyes to find himself a ten-year-old boy, looming over his beloved mother's corpse.
Normally, he was gone by morning. The cover of darkness was easier to disappear under. He always promised to return to her with the coming of the night.
Not this morning nor the morning before. He wanted to say goodbye. He wanted to watch as her eyelids fluttered open. There was that moment between sleep and wakefulness that he enjoyed. She was so sweet, so precious, something he wanted to keep protected forever.
He sat on the bed, stroking her hair. She was the happiest when she slept, in a dreamworld she'd created for herself. He could only hope that he was present there as well.
He'd have to be gone soon. He had to get back to his house before being picked up by the coaches to go to the Tybur Estate. He bristled at the thought. What he wouldn't give to spend to forget that he'd temporarily bound himself to that family. He would have to force a smile as Mrs. Tybur prattled on about wedding plans and a guest list he couldn't give less of a shit about.
He'd much rather be alone, planning his next move or spending it with Mikasa in the markets, consequences be damned. But he wasn't allowed to be stupid or carefree. It was risky being here, it would throw a whole wrench in his plans. For now, his love had to be the sacrifice.
But he could steal a few moments, couldn't he? Of course, he could. The moments before sunrise still counted — his nights belonged to her, just as his heart did.
She began to stir and he took in that sweet face she made as she rose and stretched.
"Good morning, my sweetheart," he whispered, leaning over to kiss her soft mouth.
"You're still here…" she said, voice still heavy with sleep.
"I wanted to stay till you woke up. I like watching you sleep."
She rubbed her eyes and yawned. She nodded but once she was a little more awake, she was looking at him again, a hopeful sparkle that he loved appeared in her eye.
"Will you be at the hospital today?"
He paused for a moment before saying, "I'll be delayed. Lady Tybur wants to have lunch, but I'll try to make it quick."
Her face fell and he cursed himself. This was the hard part, especially for someone like Mikasa. Her eyes told him everything her lips wouldn't. He wasn't a fool, even though he often acted like one. He'd tried to explain this whole arrangement with Lara Tybur as best he could without revealing what he truly was or what he was after.
"I'll be thinking about you the whole time. It's just something I have to do, love. And, please, you need to get some sleep. You don't have to linger at the hospital."
She shook her head, "I've slept plenty. I want to see my mother."
The shadows under her eyes proved otherwise. But he also knew Mikasa wouldn't have peace until she saw her mother so he refrained from speaking on it. He wasn't heartless.
"Still, get some rest before you go," he instructed gently.
She nodded and with that, he leaned in to kiss her lips softly. He wondered if anyone had ever kissed her like that and something burned within him to think about it. He wasn't blind or stupid. He knew exactly where he was and what she had to do to survive. All too often, he thought about burning this place down with everyone inside so she didn't have to come back here, so that she never had to endure the touch of another. Yes, he might've done that if he hadn't had his purpose.
He leaned back, standing up, his eyes lingering on her for a brief moment. And before leaving, he looked over at her.
"I'll see you, love. Please, get some rest…"
She gave no response but unless he was seeing things, he saw a ghost of a smile on her lips.
Eren had perfected the art of pretense. A few friendly smiles here and there, waving to the neighbors, and asking about their health. He'd repeat this every day. He was just a doctor, son of Paradis' most beloved doctor, Grisha Jaeger.
"Hello!" He was in the process of unlocking his door when the daughter of one of the wealthier merchants called out to him from behind.
"Hello, Louise. How are you, how's your mother?"
The girl was fifteen but she bounced around like she was half her age. She was still so bright-eyed. Life hadn't touched her yet.
"Good. And getting better each day. Only thanks to you, of course."
His forced smile remained plastered to his face, "It's also her determination. Glad to hear it. I'll be seeing you around, then?"
And not soon, I hope.
She looked a little deflated but nodded, "Yes, of course, when mother is well, you must come for dinner."
"I'd like that."
Liar, liar.
And without a second glance, he disappeared into the dark house. And once inside, he allowed himself to exhale. He needed a moment. The house was dark, gloomy, and solitary. It wasn't unlike his childhood mansion. The day his mother died, all the cheer left with her. His father, his older half-brother Zeke, and Eren had just co-existed together with very few words exchanged. It was what he'd gotten used to, so it was comfortable.
It'll change when I leave this place with Mikasa.
He walked through the empty halls. It was still early enough in the morning that he wouldn't be expecting the Tyburs' coach for hours. He had hours to think, to scheme, to rearrange things should his plans go sideways.
They won't. Stay the course.
He loosened his tie as he made his way through the lonely house. He rarely spent time in the main house; no, he went straight for the door that led right into his basement. He lit a candle and descended the creaky stairwell. Aside from Mikasa's arms or his mother's grave, this was his sanctuary and where all of his secrets were held. He had a few hours to think, to remind himself why he was doing all of this.
He plopped down on the chair, placing the candle in the corner. He proceeded to unlock the two drawers. The top drawer had two diaries in it. He placed a hand on his mother's diary, running his fingers along the surface. She'd loved to write the most mundane things but it was tangible proof that Carla Jaeger had once lived. It was all Eren had left of the woman and it was his most cherished possession.
This is for you, ma. This is all for you.
He flipped to an entry from his mother's final days.
I feel as though I am being watched. Eren keeps insisting that he be allowed outside for some fresh air but I have the butler or Zeke watch him as he's playing in the back. I've tried to keep my beloved Grisha from leaving, but he cannot run the hospital from home. I am frightened. I thought I left this fear behind when I left Paradis, but has he found me? Am I being paranoid? I should've known that I couldn't keep the past buried forever.
He remembered those final days, how her health began to fail her, how she stopped eating, and how finally she had to be put on bed rest while it was determined that she was dying of consumption. And on the final day, she couldn't even speak. When she finally passed and they had her heart embalmed, there were lesions on her heart. For years, Eren had believed that consumption had taken his mother from him. She'd gone from a vibrant woman, the very sun of which the entire Jaeger family revolved around, to a pale husk who'd wasted away on a bed on a cold winter morning. And for years, Eren felt like a phantom in his own home.
That was until he found her diary.
It's not a disease. He found me. Rod found me.
That was the day Eren learned that arsenic mimicked the signs of consumption.
And from that day, he started plotting. He'd been sixteen years old and decided which path in life he'd wanted to take. It was the first time in years his father had acknowledged him, pleased that he'd finally come to his senses and decided to follow the Jaeger way.
"Your mother would've been proud," he'd told him over supper, the smallest of smiles gracing his face in years.
Eren couldn't even enjoy it. No, he had one goal in mind. He'd study and train, complete his exams, and go to Paradis. His father was beloved on that island, having rid the island of the scourge of plague. He'd worm his way into the upper ranks of society on name alone and the generous graces of the Tyburs. It had been quicker than he'd thought but an engagement to the wealthiest woman on Paradis was a small price to pay to gain access to the Reiss family — specifically Rod.
And the fool had a diary as well, he hid nothing because he was as close to a king as this island would get.
And crumbled next to her final diary was another page.
— she will pay. She thought she could get away from me. She thought she could belong to anyone else. Yes, I'll cut her heart out and devour it. No one walks away from Rod Reiss and lives. Carla, you will regret the day you ever ran from me. You were my darling and mine alone.
Eren gritted his teeth as he read those lines over and over again. He remembered when Rod first laid eyes on him and how his already pasty face lost its color. He recognized him, yes. He relished it as he smiled politely and shook his hand. The man looked as though he was choking on his own tongue when he spoke. That's how he came up with his plan.
I will cut her heart out.
So that's exactly what Eren did. Rod never stopped frequenting the brothels and instead of one, he frequented four. He picked women who least resembled his mother. And he liked younger women. He kept one old flame, Alma, over the years. That woman was willing to do anything for him and had even birthed a bastard daughter whom he kept hidden from his actual family. But there were three other women: Lena, Sabine, and Clara. He'd cut them down in order of how much he frequented them. Lena was the prettiest, he supposed. Rod had a weakness for pretty young women. Sabine was as well. It had been such a shame but he took great pleasure in ripping their still beating hearts out of their chest cavities. He could imagine the look on Rod's face and he would relish it.
Originally, his final intended victim was going to be the bastard girl, Historia. Yes, he'd had something creative planned for her. But when he saw her show up to the engagement party arm in arm with his beloved, he'd disposed of those plans. If she was dear to Mikasa, no harm would come to her. So four would have to do and it was enough.
The other diary belonged to Rod. Yes, he'd finally snatched the damn thing on the night of the engagement party, after he'd sent Mikasa away. There was a part of him that felt pleased because he knew that the seed of suspicion was planted in Mikasa's head. And the best part, Rod could tear his estate apart to find the diary but he would never find it.
It's a little disappointing. He's not exciting prey. And neither were the whores who shared his bed with.
He opened the bottom drawer. Inside were three jars and to anyone else, it might've sent anyone running from the room.
Here, in the dark of his basement, he just sat back and looked at the two perfectly healthy hearts and another older heart, covered in lesions. The first two, the healthier, preserved hearts, were labeled. The first was labeled Lena. She was a little special. His first kill and his step towards his ultimate goal. He remembered how she'd fought him. She'd tried to bite him through his gloves but thankfully, she couldn't break skin. It was sloppy work and his hand shook as he slashed her throat.
When he crashed from the high — he wobbled his way into the brothel. He wasn't sure what he was looking for; he needed something. Then he found her, sitting there, looking right at him. Without thinking, he'd reached for her. He knew nothing about her, but all he knew was that in her arms, he was human again.
She was the most beautiful thing in his world.
His father had done the same thing. Now, Eren understood and he was ready to do anything and everything to keep history from repeating itself. He'd traded in his soul for as much.
Two more to go: Clara and Alma. He was growing impatient, though he knew that if he rushed this, he would get sloppy. For the sake of his plan, he had to take it slow and look over his shoulder at every second. He had to be careful. Fortune rewards those who are patient.
He'd never been good at patience and he found his scowl deepening as he looked at the jars. When his job was done, he could finally bury his mother's heart on Paradis' soil and put her to rest. When he got her killer, her spirit could be free. He was biding his time till then.
Just two more kills before he could spring the final trap. Two more kills till he could lay his mother to rest. Two more kills before he could end this sham of an engagement and start a life with his beloved Mikasa.
Just two more kills. Just a little more time. Then freedom would follow.
The coach was waiting for him exactly at noon. He'd freshened up and had a change of clothes. He kept a neutral expression as he climbed in. He felt each of the cobblestones as they made their way down the street. He allowed himself to scowl a little bit. He was in no mood to see the Tyburs today.
The city carried on, as if there was nothing. It had been a while since the last victim had been discovered and Eren knew this would happen. They thought it had finally stopped, that they could breathe again and there was no doubt that Rod was cautiously exhaling as well. Now would be the time to strike.
Soon. Very, very soon.
Thirty minutes later, he was led through the glass doors of the Tybur Estate. At the top of the stairs stood Lara Tybur, his intended. Her face was unreadable and Eren supposed that to any other man, she would be an ideal of beauty. He understood as much. If he squinted, she did look a bit like his Mikasa.
Eren climbed the stairs, his eyes on Lara. He felt nothing when he saw her. He didn't feel like the luckiest man alive, as many gentlemen had told him over brandy and cigars. He couldn't care less about this woman. What did she offer him? Easy access to high society. She simply thought she was helping him get a start and build a circle around himself. His role was to keep her mother happy and play along so that she would stop nagging her to get married or introduce her to potential grooms. She had no interest in marriage — or men for that matter. In truth, her connections were the key to his achieving what he needed to. A little bit of status never hurt anyone.
"I'm surprised you were able to make it at all," she commented as they walked arm in arm. The estate was huge and lunch would be served on one of the obscenely large balconies.
"I said I would. Not like I can refuse your mother," he responded, gruffly.
"Then you may want to be a little more discreet. If you're keeping a girl in the northwestern district, you should take care not to be seen with her so publicly. Especially when half the younger men in my circle were deflowered by her."
Eren clenched his fists. Lara didn't look upset or even annoyed, she was giving a warning but he hated the implication that was dripping from every word. Mikasa was too well known in the upper circles because she was young as were most of her clients. And most young men before marriage didn't know how to keep their mouths shut. The thought of them talking about his beloved girl like that filled his stomach with acid and he had the urge to disembowel each and every one of them.
He kept his anger at bay, choosing to let it go for the time being. He couldn't react or make a scene.
"Fine, I'll be more discreet. But never speak on her again. Keep her out of your mouth and I'll keep her out of your sights."
Yet again, Lara's face gave nothing away. She was just the perfect high society woman. No outward emotion and quiet dignity. A desirable bride for any man who did not care for a wife outside of what she could bring to him.
He was never such a man. He didn't want such a cold block of ice for a bride. This was just the game he had to roll with for the time-being.
The older woman was delighted to see him.
"Doctor Jaeger, so pleased you could join us!" There were only four of them present, him being the only man. Willy had better things to do apparently, but his wife, Helene, was there and seated dutifully next to Lady Tybur. She smiled politely but there was nothing in her eyes. Eren wasn't completely heartless so he felt some sympathy for her but this was the life she was born into and there was nothing he could do for her. And, frankly, he had no interest in doing so either. She was the wealthy wife of the current Lord Tybur, denied the title of Lady Tybur by a domineering mother-in-law that seemed to prefer a son-in-law to her daughter-in-law.
"Of course, my lady," he smiled politely. "Are you well?"
"Mother has been having spells of weakness," Lara answered plainly. "She refuses to slow down or let Helene here take over her duties. She insists on being a busybody as ever."
Lady Tybur waved her daughter off, "A little weakness in old age is nothing to get so worked up about. Besides, my energy has returned now that my soon-to-be son-in-law is present. I'm so happy you found time away from the hospital to come see me today, my dear. I imagine it's a nice break from all those ill and dreary patients."
Eren's smile stayed plastered on his face but he felt the corner of his mouth twitch. Lady Tybur was a typical aristocrat that didn't regard the working class or lower class at all. They weren't people to her, just insects that she was forced to co-exist with.
Those dreary, ill patients have more life than one of these luncheons, I will tell you right now.
"Mother!" Lara scolded but again, she was waved off.
"It's alright. It's a nice to break my routine a little," he said. "I wish to do my father proud."
That seemed to satisfy her a lot, "Oh Doctor Jaeger, he was quite the man. I wish he'd stayed on Paradis. A lot of good he would've done us. Why did I tell you about the time I came down with a fever and he…" She launched into a tale that Eren had heard before. She told this story to anyone who'd listen and he had to pretend to be fascinated by it every time.
It was a fever and she claimed that she was on the brink of death and Grisha had whisked her from the jaws of death at the last possible moment. It was over-dramatic and overblown but Eren couldn't complain because it helped his cause.
Because he'd learned one thing early on: Lady Tybur's younger sister was Lady Reiss. He'd learned this days before the engagement party, when he was informed that the celebrations would be on the Reiss Estate. Things couldn't have fallen into place any better.
It was as if the Goddess herself wanted Rod Reiss gone and was handing him every opportunity. If She couldn't do the devil's deed herself, she'd work with one to get it done. Truly, the man was deplorable.
"Oh, how I wish I'd known he'd died. I'm sorry to hear it. The Goddess wanted him in heaven, I suppose."
Everyone lowered their heads in respect and it was all so over-dramatic. Grisha Jaeger was a wonderful doctor, accomplished and lived to serve but he'd been a terrible father to both him and Zeke. He'd never say that out loud because one did not have to be a good family man to earn prestige around here. It was all about the status and his deeds. It wouldn't matter anyway.
"Your brother will be attending your wedding, yes?" Lady Tybur asked, excitedly. "I hear he's running your father's hospital and practice now!"
"I sent him a letter," he lied. "He wouldn't miss it, though he's in his own newlywed bliss."
"Oh, that's right, he's recently wed himself! What was her name again?"
"Pieck," he answered. His brother was almost a sworn bachelor until Pieck Finger had crossed his path at a charity event. He wouldn't stop talking about her for weeks after and when Eren had had enough, he told him to propose because he wouldn't be the only man interested. She was a catch, after all.
"Ah, yes, yes. Congratulations to him. She is invited as well! Both Lady Jaegers should get to know each other," her eyes fell on Lara and Eren internally flinched at the thought of Lara becoming the next Lady Jaeger.
The arrangement was that Zeke would be Lord Jaeger of Liberio while Eren would become Lord Jaeger of Mitras. Eren was giving into every demand. Because Lady Tybur would not make it to March. He didn't tell her this, of course. He continued to treat her, but her ailment was such with no known cure.
Eren cleared his throat, "Perhaps a spring wedding? Late April or early May? Before the weather gets too unbearably hot, of course."
"Oh yes! That gives us just enough time to prepare. Isn't that lovely, Lara? You'll be a pretty spring bride! Oh imagine the flowers. Helene, you have marvelous taste in dresses, tell me, who was that seamstress you were telling me about? She should do Lara's dress. And please, soft colors." She turned to Lara and narrowed her eyes, "And perhaps a lower neckline and short sleeves. This girl insists on looking like a governess every time I see her."
Lara rolled her eyes as she took another sip of tea. She'd long given up trying to convince her mother that she had her tastes and Helene had hers and that was that. She wouldn't hear it when it came to the actual wedding.
As the three women prattled on about the wedding that would never come, Eren looked out at the yard. The Tybur Estate was nice, even as the winter winds rolled in but the vision that Lady Tybur seemed to have for the wedding didn't match their surroundings. Whatever, they could plan everything and Eren would enact his own plans.
And the other plan which involved Mikasa as his bride, not Lara.
He would need to strike soon. There were still two more women to kill and winter was rolling in fast. He already knew when Clara worked and for how long. He knew which route she took. Tonight wasn't feasible, perhaps tomorrow. He took another sip of tea.
He was drawn back into the conversation as Lady Tybur was arguing with her daughter about the venue.
"No, no, darling. The wedding must be in the Church of the Goddess. It must be officiated by the pastor. What will society say if you marry on the lawn of the estate? Do we look like the goddess-less rabble to you?"
"I don't see the problem because the pastor will be the officiant and we'll be getting the Goddess' blessing anyway?"
"You're doing it in the house of the Holy Mother. I will hear nothing more of it, Lara. We will have the reception and party here, surrounded by peonies and tulips."
Eren shrugged, "If your mother wishes for this indulgence, we can give it to her, Lara. I don't see a problem."
Lara scowled at him and gave him a look of betrayal that said, 'You are supposed to be on my side about this.'
She was playing her part well because she was equally determined to not have this marriage happen. She was trying to appease her mother but she simply did not care for men or marriage in general. She was upper class enough to make that happen and she did not care for making the upper class tongues wag. She did, however, care deeply for her mother and wanted to appease her.
"I know it's old fashioned, darling," the words tasted sour. "But your mother really, really wants it. And, actually, Lara could walk arm in arm with Willy and Lord Reiss, seeing as he is her godfather, after all."
It would never happen but he wanted to see Rod shit himself when Lady Tybur told him that he would help Willy give her away.
"Finally, someone with good sense is marrying into this family!" She flashed him a grin and he kept that tight smile on his face. "Perhaps you weren't so long to wait, dear Lara. You've found yourself a proper young man at last."
Eren held back the overwhelming urge to snort. Winter would be terrible on the lady's joints and before the snow melted, Eren planned to be back in Liberio with Mikasa and, hopefully, her mother.
He stayed quiet for the rest of the luncheon as the women went from discussing the spring wedding to gossip and the latest scandal about some lord keeping a mistress in his home right under his wife's nose. He tuned it all out as he ate slowly.
He was no longer thinking about his plans or this farce of an engagement, his thoughts wandered to the hospital, where Mrs. Ackerman rested, where Mikasa would surely be. He wanted nothing more than to spend the afternoon with her, talking to her, hearing her voice, basking in her presence.
Yes, it would be better than spending his time among dull aristocrats, even if they were preparing to bind him to them for eternity…
It was three o'clock before he could excuse himself from the luncheon. There was nothing more freeing than walking outside those gates, waiting for a coach to take him back to the city. His belly was full and close to bursting. It took everything in him not to throw up off the side of the mountain.
He nearly kissed the cobblestones when the door opened for him. He nodded to the coachman, giving him some coin for his trouble.
"My home is close by, I won't be needing a ride. Have a good night," he said, turning on his feet and walking towards the entrance.
Just as he was about to walk inside, his eye caught something or someone in the shadows of the building and by the silky black hair, he already knew.
Instead of walking inside, he rounded the corner to find his love slumped over. Her head was bowed by he could see the teardrops falling onto the pavement. It had been ten hours since he'd seen her last but she looked so tired, as if it had been days and without a word, he cupped her face and lifted her chin up to face him.
Her tears angered him beyond reason.
"Eren! I'm sorry I didn't…" she tried to gather herself but he shook his head, catching her tears with the pads of his thumbs.
"Did someone hurt you?" He questioned urgently. "Did someone do something to you? Tell me now, Mikasa." And I swear they will not live to see the sunrise tomorrow.
She shook her head but tears started to fall, "No, I just needed a moment. I'm just frightened for my mother. She's all I have Eren, she's all I have…"
He wanted to tell her that she had him too, even if it wasn't to an official capacity yet. He was hers in heart and soul, soon body as well. He leaned in and brushed his mouth against hers.
"I will do everything I can for her, I promise," he whispered. "Everything and more. So don't cry, sweetheart. You know I can't stand your tears. I would do anything to make you happy. I will do everything to make you happy. Trust that I can. Please, my love."
He embraced her and she fell into his arms, clinging to him as if her very life depended on it. He kissed the top of her head. His angel, who shouldn't cry, kept on weeping and he allowed it. If only she knew, she might've run but she didn't. He would make her happy. She was his and he was hers. Once he reached his goal, nothing would stand in their way.
"Thank you," she sniffled, pulling away but he kept his arms securely around her.
He just pressed her hand against his heart, silently asking him to feel how it beat.
"This is for you, Mikasa. I will do anything for you." He meant every word, though he would never tell her how far he would be willing to go.
There were no limits when it came to the two women he loved more than anything in the world.
Notes:
next update: october 5th
the things i had to google for this chapter ❤😭
Chapter 9: more than life itself
Notes:
late i know but it's been a rough september and i'm exhausted. sorry about this chapter and all that. anyway, thank you to ellie for beta-ing! enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
His world was drenched in blood.
From the blood on his mother's lips as she slowly and painfully wasted away, from every surgery he'd performed. Many nights, he returned home, bearing the mess of his profession on his hands and clothing.
There was blood now, as he cut through the struggling girl's vocal chords, preventing her from crying out. It was astounding how it was the essence of life itself, and yet, to bleed was to suffer; to bleed too much was certain death.
His arms remained around her as she thrashed, clinging to life in vain. It wasn't long before the girl's body went limp.
"Please…" had been Clara's last words, and he felt a sort of pity for the poor woman. She'd done nothing to him. But neither had Sabine nor Lena. No, her only crime had been having Rod in her bed.
He's the source of all your suffering. I free you from having to take him into your bed again. Your suffering will be quick. It will end. Unlike mine…
He laid the woman's body gently on the ground and got to work. He only felt the pleasure of this deed when he saw Rod's pale face in his mind's eye — the look of absolute terror as Eren lurked ever closer to him. He wanted him to feel what his poor mother had felt every day. These poor women were worth the price he paid. And, in a way, it was a mercy. They would never again have to deal with the likes of Rod from beyond the grave.
He took the heart. He took the lungs. He left her still bleeding corpse here for any poor fool to find. The cover of fog and darkness had been his greatest ally as he slipped through the back alleys.
The night had allowed him to get away again — as if nature itself approved of his deeds. He scaled along shadows.
It did not matter. He needed no approval. He needed vengeance.
The soft winter sun streamed in through the curtains when Eren walked into Mrs. Ackerman's room the next afternoon. He'd bathed, and there was not a trace of the previous night's activities on him. He was the good Dr. Jaeger, son of the man who'd rid the island of the plague. He was a member of polite society.
A smile was plastered on his face as he moved to the window. There was a vase of fresh flowers on the side, probably from Armin. He'd been coming around in the early afternoons, from what he'd been told. He had classes and other matters to attend to during the latter part of he day.
"Would you like some light? Fresh air is good for your condition," he said softly. He wouldn't look at her. Her case was advanced; it was usually past the point of being able to do anything short of praying for a miracle. He knew it; Mrs. Ackerman probably did as well. Mikasa was the only one holding out hope. Eren couldn't stand to break her heart. The burden of the whole world was already on her shoulders. There was no need to add to it, not until he had to.
"That would be nice," her voice was significantly weakened. It hurt. Their interactions had been limited, but when he looked at her, he saw his own mother. In a way, this woman was the last piece of his mother. They'd been friends, and that friendship resided deep within her heart. Here was a woman who'd lost almost everyone she loved, save for the beloved daughter who visited every day without fail.
He sat next to her, "How are you feeling, Mrs. Ackerman?"
Her smile didn't reach her eyes, "Call me, Yuna, please. Mrs. Ackerman makes me feel so old.'
Even in her state, she was able to joke. Eren chuckled, "Of course, Yuna."
"Did Mikasa come today?"
"No, she doesn't come until three. We still have an hour before then."
She hummed, and the room went silent. It was a comfortable sort of silence. It was clear that the woman understood more than she let on, but she didn't say anything. And he was proven correct when she turned to him again.
"Mikasa isn't here, then. Look me in the eye and tell me what you refuse to tell her. I'm dying, aren't I?"
The question was a heavy one. When he looked at her, he saw his mother in her final days. Though unlike his mother, there wasn't the acceptance or sense of peace that Yuna Ackerman seems to have. He saw his mother, scared, coughing and whispering prayers to the goddess to spare her so that she may watch her son grow. Prayers that would never be heard. Mikasa's mother did not bother with prayers.
"We can try to prolong life with treatment—" he was cut off by her hand.
"That's not what I asked. Am I dying? You can be honest. You're not going to tell me something I haven't accepted a long time ago."
He pursed his lips before nodding his head. She was not wrong. Had it been him, he would've wanted the truth and not to be coddled into the grave.
"You are," he sighed. "Your condition has advanced. I do want to try to keep you alive for as long as I can. There are trials in Liberio for a cure," he explained. "I don't know if it can treat a case so advanced, but it is worth considering. So I wanted to ask you if you would consider it…"
A foolish question for a woman who had already accepted her fate.
Her smile was sad, forcing him to look over her head. It was a reality that had been heavy on his tongue, so there was some relief in finally being honest.
"I know. I knew when the doctor first told me I had the condition that I was going to die. It was still early, but I've lived in the slums my whole life. Consumption would've been a death sentence no matter what. For the sake of my girl, I kept myself quiet. She'd lost her father. She never fully recovered from that loss. I was all she had in the world. I wanted her to have some hope, even if it was false. I see now that it was foolish."
She continued to stare at him, "It's my fault that she continues to cut away pieces of herself. She dreams of leaving Mitras and settling in the countryside with me. She is hoping that the clean country air will heal me. But we both know…"
He wasn't aware of that, no. Mikasa had never said anything about it.
"She was trying to get out of Mitras?"
"Since she was a little girl. We were actually going to move to the countryside before my husband died. She's held onto it all this time. I knew I wasn't going to last the winter. That's why I wanted to stay here until the winter passed. I wanted to die here and be buried next to my husband. Then Mikasa could finally be free to live her life."
She wanted to leave. She wanted to get out of this life. She'd been planning for it, and she hadn't told him anything. Had he known, had she just told him…
His hands, which had been placed on his lap, curled into fists. This changed everything.
"Eren," she reached for his hands. Her hands were freezing against his warm ones. Her smile had vanished, replaced with a look of silent pleading. Even before the words left her mouth, he knew what she was going to say.
"I'm not blind. I see how you look at my girl. I see how much you do for her. Your father had that same look in his eye whenever he looked at your mother. You can't hide that, no matter how much you try."
He opened and closed his mouth multiple times, trying to form words. He didn't have the words for anything. He was slaughtering innocent women for revenge, the girl he loved had dreams of getting out of this hell and didn't tell him, the closest thing he'd had to someone motherly was wasting away before his eyes. And now, he had a feeling, she was getting to the point.
"She doesn't know it, but she has that same look in her eyes. She thinks I can't see how her eyes follow you around the room when you're around, but they do. I don't know what your history is, but I don't care. All I want is for my girl to find happiness. When I'm gone, she will be alone. Promise me," she grabbed onto his right hand with both of her trembling ones. "Promise me that you will take care of her. Promise me that you will love her. Please, promise me. I can think of no one better than Carla's boy for my girl. Please, promise me!"
For a moment, he forgot about his sham of an engagement, about the fact that he was prowling the redlight district at night and cutting out the hearts of women that had the misfortune of being paid to share Rod Reiss' bed. He forgot about his revenge.
"I promise you, Yuna. I will love her till I'm cold in my grave and long after that. I will take care of her. You have my word."
He didn't feel the need to mention that he'd already had plans to do that anyway. Once his work was done. Once his thirst was satisfied, he was going to take Mikasa back to Liberio, and he would build her a grand estate in the Marleyan countryside.
He couldn't deny a dying woman her wish, could he?
She looked relaxed, letting him go. The desperation was gone, the peace had returned. Eren's heart was beating erratically. There was no going back, though he didn't want to go back. He was hers. He would be hers his whole life long. And now, he had her mother's blessing.
"Thank you, Eren. Thank you."
He shook his hand, taking her hand in his.
"No. Thank you."
He left the hospital hours later. His heart was hammering and instead of heading to the Tybur's Estate as he usually did, he decided that he needed a drink. Or some coffee. Probably some coffee, because in any case, he was not going to sleep tonight.
Promise me.
How many promises had he made to dead and dying women? Two. And he would make one to a living, breathing woman that he would love her for all his days. He was going to visit her tonight, and he was going to tell her to leave everything. He would take care of her. He would have to find a way to keep the suspicions at bay. He wasn't too worried; if anything, his hands shook because he was giddy.
There was a coffee tavern at the edge of the northwestern district. It was in that area where the city seemed to blur between decency and filth. It was a safe enough place. No one came here and the lowlifes usually didn't cross the invisible boundary unless it was imperative to do so.
He sat at the counter.
"Are you gonna order something? If not, then leave," he looked up to see a woman with golden eyes and freckles dotting her cheeks and nose. She wasn't impressed, and she was probably used to all sorts of people blowing in and wasting her time.
"Just black coffee," he muttered. "Nothing else."
She left him alone, and he was left to his thoughts again. Alma was the only one left. Then, his actual revenge would be set into motion. His plans would have to be moved up, which was fine by him. The biggest issue now was Lady Tybur. She'd been going on and on about a spring wedding and had enthusiastically thrown herself into it. Her health was not deteriorating fast enough to his liking.
When Lara had come to him with this plan, there was the expectation that her mother would not last long, and this would give her a final good few months. He thought about expediting the process himself but something stopped him.
She hasn't done anything to warrant it. Don't go messing things up now.
He growled as the coffee was set down in front of him wordlessly. He could've sworn the lady was going to say something else but it seemed like she was saving the effort. Good, he didn't want snark right now. His head was already spinning with too much right now. Oh, the hole he'd dug himself into.
He'd planned for everything. Everything except Mikasa and now, all of his plans revolved around her and spending the remainder of their long lives together.
The coffee was scalding, searing his lips, tongue, and throat. Instead of saying anything, he continued to drink it as if it were liquid fire. His veins were alight. He needed this for whatever he was doing.
He hadn't heard the door open. He barely registered that someone was sitting next to him until he heard that voice and got a whiff of that delicate, sweet scent.
"The usual, Ymir."
Eren's head snapped up, turning to his left. She was sitting there. She wasn't looking. She didn't even seem to realize that he was sitting right there.
"Long time no see, Mika. And, sadly, no Historia either."
Mikasa didn't respond. She slumped. Her entire body language indicated that she hadn't slept.
"Right, the usual…"
The woman — Ymir — disappeared again before Eren made himself known.
"Mikasa?"
At his voice, she nearly jumped out of her chair. He saw it, then. The shadows under her eyes and the puffiness of her eyes. Her skin was somehow paler, sickly. How was that even possible? He'd seen her last night. What happened?
"Eren, what are you—? How did you—?"
"I didn't," he said. "I came here because I was on my way to see you, and I needed coffee. I didn't know you came here too." It was true. He didn't know her habits that well. He just knew her life as far as the brothel, the hospital, and her flat. He knew her past. But he didn't know much else, he realized. He'd decided long ago that it didn't matter, because he loved her. He'd known from the moment he'd met her.
But he still wanted to know her.
She seemed to relax and turned to him.
"How's my mother? I wasn't feeling well today. Please don't tell her."
"What's wrong? Are you—?" He reached to touch her forehead, but she moved away before he could. His hand fell limply to his side.
"Mikasa…?"
"Please, how is she?" Her voice was hoarse, with a quiet desperation.
"She was well today. A little sad that you didn't visit, but I'll let her know that you were held up."
She didn't comment. She just stared ahead, not even looking at him. He hated this. Something was very wrong. He was unsure of what to say for a few moments. He wanted to comfort her, but she would not allow it. He wanted to touch her, but she would not allow that either. Instead, he just sat there, finally deciding to get straight to the point. Clearly, he wouldn't find her at Kiyomi's tonight.
"Your mother told me that you two were planning to leave Mitras — that her illness delayed your departure."
Her hands, which had been fidgeting, suddenly stopped. She turned back to him, eyes wide.
"Did she? Goddess, she wasn't supposed to," she groaned. There was no anger, just pure exhaustion.
"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked softly.
"I'd made the plans a long time ago. Because of the killings, I moved everything up. Apparently, it only made my mother sicker, and now, who knows when we'll leave. Not before the winter ends, that's for sure."
Your mother won't be leaving. She just doesn't dare to tell you.
"You don't want to be here," he said, simply. "You want to leave everything behind. You want to stop working at Kiyomi's. You want to go where no one knows you and you can be free."
No answer.
"I can give all of that to you."
The ghost of a smile appeared on her face, as though he'd just said the most amusing thing ever. He failed to see what was so funny. He'd told her, over and over, that he was ready to give her everything. She'd let him in, so he thought. But no, she was still closed off. Worse yet, she would've left the city had it not been for her mother's condition. He would've never seen her again. He would've been denied her.
"I mean it. Stay with me, Mikasa. Leave your flat. Leave your job. If you insist on continuing to work, I can have you train under the nurses. Stay with me. I will take care of you. I'm ready to give you everything. I will be returning to Liberio, soon, and I want you to come with me."
Come with me. Be with me. Become my wife. Don't continue to languish in misery when you don't need to. No one wants that for you. Why do you insist on it?
Her jaw tightened as he waited for her answer.
"Mikasa, I can see you clear as day. And I will repeat myself, I love you. I've loved you from the moment I saw you. I know about your past and I don't care. My engagement is a sham and we are not planning to go through with the wedding. Once my time is done here, I will be leaving Paradis. Please, say yes. Just say yes, believe in me, and believe in my love. I can't watch you like this anymore."
You've come into my life and derailed my plans. And I don't care. I don't care about any of it. I must have you. And you love me. I know you do. Just say it. Say it! Say it!
She said nothing for the longest time. They were alright yesterday. Today, she was acting strangely. He was begging for her, pleading with her to open her heart to him.
"I've known too much grief in my life, Eren," she said quietly. "My family was going to leave this place and then my father was murdered. We tried again and my mother got sick. I had to start working at Kiyomi's because it was the only place that would pay me enough to afford to survive while paying my mother's expenses. I let them take pieces of me until now, there is nothing left. My mother is all I have left and I feel like she's fading away, too. I will never be allowed to leave. You need to understand that."
"That's not true," he whispered. "You are meant to leave. With me. Please."
He was pleading with her. He'd never pleaded for anything but he found himself practically on his knees, begging her to open her eyes. She would never see the darker parts of him nor did he want her to, but he was ready to love her. He was ready to give her all the happiness if it meant razing the earth.
"People who love me never last long. I've had men in the brothel tell me they love me, only to leave. I had Armin, and that was not meant to be. I've seen too much to believe in love and the pretty words that come with it. I can't do this, Eren. I cannot stake my life on the promises of a future that may never come. You're engaged to a Tybur, you will not be able to leave that arrangement. I cannot be your kept woman until you decide to leave her. I'm no fool."
She could've torn his heart out and stepped on it with her heel. It would've been less painful.
"You are a fool if you can't see that you don't need to keep suffering. I'm ready to give everything to you. I'm asking you to take that chance. My mother took that chance and those were the happiest years of my family's life. You're afraid to be happy."
Her hands were balled into fists. Her face was contorted into rage, but there were unshed tears in her eyes. "Don't seek me out. I'll come seek you out when I'm ready. Don't follow me, please."
"Mikasa—!"
She ran. She bolted. She blinked and she was gone.
He was still staring at her spot, long after she'd bolted out of there. He should've run after her. Why didn't he run after her? When he finally came to, he realized the whole tavern had gone quiet and everyone was staring at him.
Don't seek me out.
Don't follow me.
She'd whispered those words, but she might as well have screamed them. There was a sharp pain in his chest, but it wasn't coming from a source. And he realized quickly that his heart had been shattered.
She didn't say yes. She didn't want him. He'd been wrong. Her mother had been wrong.
She didn't say yes.
But…
She didn't say no. She said not to seek her out. She will come when she's ready. She isn't saying no. She's afraid. She's afraid to be happy because happiness doesn't last.
Fine, if she needed time, he would give it to her. Even as his lungs constricted and his head felt light because breathing without her felt like sin.
I'll give her time. Well, until I can no longer.
Ymir had returned, confused, but Eren didn't answer any of her questions. His heart was in too much pain. He needed her to say yes. That was all. And if her mother was correct, she wouldn't need too much time.
She wasn't going to say no. He wouldn't let her lie to herself.
Say yes to me. That's all. Just one word, sweetheart. Say it, say it.
Two days later, the air around Eren had become suffocating. He was sitting in the empty Tybur estate while his fiancée and her mother were off to the dressmaker, making plans for the elaborate — Eren just thought it was gaudy — wedding dress that Lady Tybur had drawn out. Lara had looked absolutely miserable, trailing after her mother.
Eren didn't try to save her. They were not friends. This was a mutual agreement and Lara had willingly gone along with it. So, she would have to suffer through whatever she needed to to keep the ruse going.
He sat in one of the many parlors. The logs in the fireplace were crackling. It was an overcast day and Eren just sat there, reading a book. He had no interest in the contents but it was a way to keep his mind off of everything else.
His heart was still pining after Mikasa; she'd gone completely silent. He respected her wishes but he was close to clawing at his own skin. He was ready to cut off pieces of himself and present it to her if it meant she would speak to him again but he forced himself to stay patient.
He would focus on his plans. Alma was next on his list, but she was a little harder to track. She was not young or green like the others. She was seasoned, a little smarter. She would be able to evade him without effort. No matter, he did like the chase. While Lena, Sabine, and Clara had been innocent in his eyes, unfortunate casualties in his pursuit of vengeance, Alma was not. She'd been Rod's lover for years. Not a reluctant bedmate that he paid for, but an actual lover. They had a child together, a child his age and she kept seeing him. She loved him, which was the worst part. How could anyone love him? Disgusting. Well, the world would soon be free of him. Eren would make sure that he would not be mourned.
The Goddess must've been listening to him, because the door opened and that booming voice echoed throughout the estate.
"WILLY? WHERE ARE YOU? I—" Rod Reiss stopped when he reached the parlot, only to see Eren sitting, one leg folded over the other. He watched those icy blue eyes go wide as he nearly choked on his own tongue.
"Lord Rod," Eren said, keeping his voice steady. "Lord Tybur stepped out. Official business in the city. He should be back soon. Why don't you come sit with me?"
It was the last thing Rod wanted, Eren knew. And he hoped so. He was the spitting image of his mother. Every time Rod looked at him, he hoped that he saw Carla's face. He wanted Rod to writhe in agony. He'd watched his mother languish, waste away as blood bloomed on her lips, the poison doing its work.
Eren wanted him to squirm.
"I'm quite content standing, thank you."
"Suit yourself," Eren shrugged, going back to his book. Rod was looking everywhere but at him. He could see his face turning red. He took out a handkerchief from his pocket and dab his face.
"Are you alright? I am a doctor, and you look feverish."
"I'm fine! Thank you! I just need to speak with Willy!" His voice was too loud, too angry, and too aggressive. Eren had to bite the corner of his mouth to keep himself from smirking in satisfaction. Oh, he was terrified.
Rod could not stand in a room with Eren for longer than five minutes, but now, he had no choice. He was not going to leave and come back, clearly. Whatever he needed from Willy Tybur was clearly too important. He was curious, though he would not ask. He didn't need to know everything. Noblemen had their share of scandals and secrets, nothing too damning. No, not quite like the murder of a beloved doctor's wife because he could not stand that she had run away rather rather than be with him.
No, he could not have that coming out, now could he? He would be reviled. Eren was well aware.
Rod could not stand still either because it took all of five minutes before he stomped over to the coffee table and grabbed the day's newspaper. The pinch of annoyance quickly disappeared as his eyes scanned the front page. All the color drained from his face as his jaw fell open.
Eren had to force himself not to cackle like a mad man. He could see the headline, clear as day from ten feet away.
A FOURTH VICTIM FOUND IN THE REDLIGHT DISTRICT! THOUGHT TO BE THE WORK OF THE DEVIL OF PARADIS
"No, no! Clara too!" He was muttering under his breath but Eren could read lips well enough to know what the old pig was saying. Yes, that's his third working girl.
"Yes, another girl. Took her lungs this time too. Horrible. What a waste."
Eren couldn't help it, the relish just oozed out into every word. Luckily, Rod was too petrified to catch onto it and no one else was here.
Rod stared at him in horror, the paper sliding from his fingers. His face was ghostly pale and he looked like he'd aged decades in mere seconds. He immediately spun on his heel. He nearly crashed into the butler. He was already winded.
"I must leave. Tell your lord to come see me when he can,"
He ran away so fast, it was comical. A man like him probably knew little of running, Eren imagined. He scurried away like a mouse.
The butler placed a cup of tea down in front of him. Eren was absolutely giddy — too giddy to eat or drink. Yes, he would enjoy taking Alma from him as well.
He was this much closer to avenging his mother. He would finally be able to put her to rest and that put him in a good mood.
Of course, he would prefer it if his mother had been here with him.
Run as fast as you can Rod, but I am much faster…
Sleep had been elusive since he was ten years old. Tonight was no different.
He sat in his lonely parlor, brandy in hand, as he stared at the opposite wall. Normally, he would be making his way to Mikasa's flat, wanting to spend as much time with her as humanly possible. Tonight would not be one of those nights. She'd asked him not to seek her out and that she would approach him when she was ready.
It had been two days, and he was steadily losing grip on whatever sanity he'd clung to all this time. He didn't have to respect her wishes; in fact, he was ready to disobey them. His chest constricted when he was away from her for too long. Everything hurt when he was away from her for too long.
Mikasa had too much going on, and he asked too much of her, but he was telling the truth. He was ready to abandon everything to be with her.
Except revenge.
Even for her, he couldn't give that up. The look on Rod's face had been too satisfying.
He took another sip of his drink as he replayed the exact moment Rod had picked up the newspaper. He hadn't known all the blood could drain from the head that quickly, but he'd enjoyed every moment of it.
He'd scurried away, possibly to hide in some forgotten corner of his estate with all of the other rats.
He'll never be safe. Not truly. Not from me.
He replayed it a few more times before he heard a soft knock at his door. His head was swimming a little, but not so much that he lost control over his movements. He moved towards the door. It was late, an ungodly hour of the night. Common sense and self-preservation would've told him not to go near the door.
His instincts, however, told him to open the door.
And his instincts proved correct.
Because the painful squeezing of his chest cavity ceased when he saw Mikasa standing at the threshold, bundled up in a worn-out coat, her hands shoved into the pockets as she stared up at him.
"I'm sorry, I—" she started, before cutting herself off. It was a minute before she spoke again, "I'm sorry if I woke you…"
Eren didn't say a word; instead, he swung the door open and ushered her inside. The air was frigid, and he motioned her inside, slamming the door shut.
"How did you find this place?" The question was soft. He didn't recall ever giving it to her. In fact, he knew he hadn't.
"I got your address from Armin. I was going to take more time because…" she spoke rapidly. "I don't know, Eren. I had a plan. I was going to leave the city once I'd saved enough. My mother and I were going to disappear into the countryside, away from all this. I had no other thought for my future. I trusted no one save for the few friends I had. Then you came into my life and in such a short time you…"
She trailed off. He could tell from the faint flush of her cheeks that she'd been drinking tonight, too. Somehow, that warmed his insides just a little bit.
"…you came into my life and everything was warm again. You were strange. You weren't like anyone else who stepped foot in the brothel. You did all these things for me. I started imagining and thinking of you everywhere. You're a client! I'm not supposed to think about you after you leave. And yet, you're everywhere and you ask for nothing. You confuse me."
Her confusion was endearing, and it filled him with so much sorrow. A girl like Mikasa should never know anything but love and care. She'd been used for so long. She was a flower that bloomed in this cesspit, never knowing how it felt to be cherished. Perhaps by her father. Perhaps by Armin. But never the way she was meant to.
To him, it was the easiest thing in the world to love her. How could he not?
"I should've come to you tonight," he confessed. "I was going to break my promise and come to you because I cannot be away from you for a moment."
She stood there, and he fought the urge to pull her in for an embrace. Her warmth was the only home he'd known in years and it hurt that it was continuously denied to him again and again. Even with her inhibitions lowered, she was still hesitant.
Say yes to me, sweet girl. Say yes to me, and we can both be happy. You just need to say yes.
"I still don't know. Everything is a mess. I was alone tonight and…I just needed you."
I just needed you.
I just needed you.
The words played in his head like the sweetest melody ever.
He stepped closer, no longer caring about her reservations being the only barrier keeping the two of them apart. It has been two days. And he knew that he never wanted to be away from her longer than a few seconds ever again.
"Then say yes. One word and I'm yours. Let me be yours. That is all I want. Just say the word. Say it Mikasa, say it."
There was so much in her stormy gray eyes. His sweet girl was terrified, still. But she needed him. She couldn't stay away because she needed him as desperately as he'd needed her.
And these past couple of days had been maddening beyond belief, even with the small victory of witnessing Rod's fear firsthand.
"Say yes to me. Don't be afraid." He pressed his forehead against hers.
The next several moments were the longest of his life. She looked up at him. So many emotions flashed in her eyes and he didn't have names for all of them.
Please…
"Yes," she said it so softly that he almost couldn't hear it. "Yes, Eren. Yes."
Overwhelmed, he crushed his lips against hers. She responded and they were both crying, he realized. Whose tears were whose, he didn't know. Nor did he care. From now on, they were one.
Mine. She's mine. She will always be mine. And I am hers. I will always be hers. Even when my flesh has rotted away and my bones turn to dust. Hers. Mine. Mine, mine, mine!
Notes:
next update: november 5th (yes I know I’ve changed it, life is very hectic)! and a month timeskip!
Chapter 10: a path forward
Notes:
hi all! i know this chapter is a few days late and i apologize for that. real life is busy and i already said on tumblr and twitter that i'd be pretty busy between now and the end of the year. so until new years, updates will be on wednesdays. after this chapter, we'll enter the final stretch.
and as a general reminder: don't like, don't read. thank you ellie for beta reading!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The chill had settled into Eren's bones, despite being on his second glass of cognac.
Winter had not come gently to Paradis. The polar winds were merciless, driving temperatures down dramatically, and blizzards pounded the island for weeks without mercy. Leaving the house most days proved impossible.
And yet, the atmosphere was anything but frigid. The Winter Solstice and New Year's celebrations were fast approaching, and life itself had wound down for the rest of the year. Eren, for his part, took no interest in partaking in the merrymaking.
The winter festivities stopped meaning anything to him when his mother died. Since then, he just watched stoically at his window as the world seemed to light up with a joy that he could never be a part of, not ever again. This time was no different.
The bitter liquid slithered down his throat, and he forced himself not to make a face. Melted snow from a rain gutter probably tasted better, but he wasn't here tonight because of the booze.
This gentleman's club was located at the heart of Mitras. Eren had no taste for such places — no desire to mingle with the nobility or gentry. He already tolerated that enough during the balls that he was forced to attend. From the corner of his eye, he could see the Grice heir, the Braun boy, and both of the Galliard brothers chatting animatedly. They were Lara's friends, and he had forced himself to tolerate them as well. There was nothing wrong with them, really. He just disliked most people, generally speaking.
He forced himself to take another sip when a lump in a fur coat and blonde hair hastened past the parlor's entrance. The ghost of a smile appeared on his face as he sat there in wait.
Quite brazen of Rod, really. The bloody coward could sneak his mistress from the red light district into a gentleman's club, crawling with society's most desirable, but that's where his courage ended.
Eren waited, and waited. He gave it ten minutes; perhaps that was generous. After the ten minutes had passed, he found himself floating out of the smoky parlor and towards the accommodations. He blended in here; no one would look twice at him.
The walls were thin, despite the establishment being high-end. His footsteps echoed as he made his way, turning corners before going down a hallway with a single door, the number 65 was painted in gold letters. He cautiously approached, his heart thumping loud enough that he could feel it in his ears.
"Alma, oh Alma…" Rod moaned in that melodramatic, self-pitying tone that pissed Eren off to no end. "You're truly the only one who understands me. Oh, what would I do without you, my dear?"
Eren leaned against the wall, folding his arms and listening carefully.
"Shhh," she soothed. "I'm here, my love. I'm always here."
A choked cry, and Eren had to refrain from rolling his eyes.
"I would be lost without you, my Alma. I feel as if I am seeing her ghost everywhere. I cannot escape her!"
Eren didn't have to question. He knew exactly who.
"She's dead. She can't hurt you anymore."
"I know! She is gone from this world, but I see her face everywhere. It does me no good that my sister-in-law's daughter is marrying her son!"
Eren clutched his arm even tighter, his nails digging into his skin through the layers of clothing.
There was an eerie silence followed by a, "What?"
There was a pause before Eren jumped from the sound of a sharp laugh. It was a sound so ugly that Eren wanted to step away, but he didn't. He forced himself to listen; he wanted to hear anything close to a confession. He wanted to hear it from Rod's own mouth. He already knew the bloody details.
"Oh, didn't you know? The good Doctor Eren Jaeger is the son of Doctor Grisha Jaeger. He was the man Carla ran off with all those years ago. I thought I was rid of her, and I'd never have to think of her before that man showed up. Everyone kisses the ground he walks on because his father cured this island of a plague once! Can you believe that?"
Alma said nothing as Rod raved and hollered. He really didn't think anyone could hear him. The buzz of chatter from the outside was distant, unbothered by the ravings of the island's nobility slowly descending into madness.
"And then! And then all of those girls wind up dead! Since his arrival, he knows something! I know he does! He has the look in his eyes!"
"A coincidence," Alma tried. "Many girls travel down that path. The northwest isn't exactly large. They could've been anyone."
There was a growl, "Oh, Alma. He specifically went after their hearts. And my girls. Why not go after other whores? There's no shortage of them in the city, why mine? And why like that?"
She was trying to calm him, but Eren smiled. Alma didn't seem to have an answer for him. Perhaps she could hear how he was slowly spiraling into madness, and there was nothing she could do about that. That was fine, however, because Rod was piecing it together, and he knew of no peace. Good. He would never allow the man peace, ever again.
"He hasn't struck in weeks, love. Perhaps, he's done."
A dry laugh, "Don't be naive, my love. I cannot lose you, too. From now on, we must meet here. No one understands me like you do. I have never loved another like I have you…"
Eren almost snorts at the lie. He'd read the diary entry. He wondered if that entry was even true. He thought about how many lies Rod might have told himself and others over the years. But there was a truth: Rod had murdered his mother and was haunted by her memory. He saw ghosts of her everywhere. He saw her every time Eren was in the same vicinity. He saw her in all the murders.
That's all he needed.
Eren walked away when Rod's tone took on a bored, uninterested tone, "How's the girl?" and Alma's nonchalant, uncaring voice just said, "Don't know. She comes and goes as she pleases."
Eren walked out of the building, and the winter winds lashed at his face. His hands were shoved in his pockets as he headed towards the hospital. Normally, he didn't work at night, but there was only one patient he'd be willing to take on such a shift for.
He grinned to himself. He had what he needed. It had nothing to do with his plans, but for his own satisfaction. If there was any hesitation left, and there wasn't, it had evaporated into the air. Rod felt no remorse. He just wanted to run, to avoid the consequences for what he'd done.
A whore is a whore.
He'd never forget those words, and his smile disappeared. He was so close. Alma was left. And then he'd go after Rod. And then he'd burn it all down.
Just a little more time. That was all he needed.
The hospital was silent as the grave when Eren walked into it. The light bulbs were dim, one of the few facilities on the island that had electricity. There were a few nurses on duty who were shocked to see him. He nodded curtly as he walked past them. Mrs. Ackerman would be asleep by now, but he still wanted to check up on her.
Her condition was deteriorating, as expected. The near-freezing temperatures had aggravated her condition even more. She was struggling to eat, and she was losing weight. She couldn't leave the bed for more than a few minutes at a time. It was a slow, painful death. It broke something inside of Eren that he couldn't do anything for her, aside from making her final days as comfortable as possible. He hadn't breathed a word to Mikasa, but he knew that deep down, she already knew. Her heart was not ready to accept what her mind probably already knew.
He expected to walk into a dark room. He would check on her vitals and sit for a while. While Mikasa had said yes to him, her accepting any sort of help from him was coming slowly. She was still working, which he hated, most nights wanting to burn Kiyomi's to the ground. She stayed in her flat half the week, which he didn't approve of either. Slowly, however, she'd been relying on him more. Slowly, she'd been dropping her guard around him.
So, he never pushed.
He walked up the familiar flights of stairs. As he walked, he planned. He just needed an opening. Rod suspected something, so he moved their meeting place to somewhere more open. It was brazen and almost so stupid. But they were hidden in plain sight, far away from any of the murders. He might've commended him, but it was stupid. Alma still lived in the northwestern district, and she still serviced other men. She still walked the same path. He needed a good night to go. And with the solstice fast approaching, those opportunities would grow fewer until after the New Year.
He weighed possible dates and times, weighing the good and bad, but when he stepped into Mrs. Ackerman's rooms, he saw Mikasa sitting. Actually, it was more like she was resting her head on the bed as her mother slept. He stood, frozen, for just a moment. Over the past couple of weeks, the older woman's condition had deteriorated, as expected with the progression of the illness. She wasn't going to get better. It was inevitable and clear to anyone. Yet, he watched as his beloved clung to the sliver of hope that her beloved mother would pull through.
It was difficult watching it. Eren wasn't completely devoid of a heart, quite the contrary, especially when it came to these two women. He hated waking her up. From the night he met her, he always left while she was sleeping because she looked the most angelic as she was sleeping. But a hospital was no place to sleep for the healthy.
Gently, he roused her with a hand on her shoulder. "Mikasa," he whispered. "Mikasa, my love, wake up."
She was a light sleeper, and it took little for her to stir and open her eyes. There were a few seconds of disorientation, where she blinked and looked around, her eyes landing on Eren. After a while, she seemed to remember where she was and she sat up.
"I know you told me no visitors after a certain time but…"
"I know," he muttered. "But you need your rest. I'm leaving as well. I just came to check on her…"
His eyes shifted to Mrs. Ackerman. She looked heartbreakingly pale and it was like watching his mother die all over again. He wasn't sure if this was worse because she wasn't poisoned. She was wasting away, clinging to life for as long as she could. Her face was so gaunt, she looked almost skeletal, despite her care. It was the nature of the disease.
"She had a coughing spell before I was about to leave. A doctor on duty was able to calm her down and get her to rest but I don't understand…"
Yes, you do.
"The cold aggravates the condition," a bit of a lie. "Until it warms up, I'm afraid…"
But she will not make it to the spring. She knows that she will not make it. And I'm going to have to watch you shatter before I can put you back together again. I am sorry.
"But she can improve, won't she? You said she would."
"I am doing everything, my love. She needs rest and to eat. Unfortunately, we cannot open the windows with such temperatures, but we are doing everything to ensure she is in no pain."
The answer seemed to placate her. For now. She was already under much stress.
"Come home with me," he said, squeezing her shoulder. "Your flat is far, and your mother would never forgive me if I forced you to return by yourself in such conditions."
The hesitation she'd previously had with him was no longer there. Over a few weeks, she'd learned to trust him, little by little. He needed her to. He could never hurt her. He would burn the world down and himself with it before he allowed anything to harm her.
She stood up, her legs wobbling, as she gazed down at her sleeping mother's form. There was a sadness, a resignation he'd learned to read in her eyes.
"I don't know what I'll do if something happens to her. It's so cold.. The world is so cold" She hugged herself, but she leaned into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, not caring who might walk by and see them.
"Come with me," he tried again. "I'll keep you warm. I will always keep you warm."
"I don't wish to be a burden—"
"No," he snapped. "Never call yourself that. I promised to give you everything and I will. I will do it happily. I have been patient, Mikasa. But I will never allow you to see yourself as a burden. I want to take care of you. You said yes to me. You're not a burden. You could never be a burden. So don't ever think of yourself as such."
He said it all in a whisper, but somewhere between the words, he'd crushed her against his chest. He could see his reflection in her eyes. Good. He wanted her to see him like this. He wanted to make sure that she understood that he meant every word. He would take care of her. He would take her away, as his father had taken his mother away. He would give her everything she was denied. He'd make her happy.
Just a little more time and nothing will stand in our way.
And, unlike before, she did not fight him. She did not resist. There was no discomfort.
She's mine. She's been mine.
"Come," he repeated. "Let's go home."
Once they were a distance away from the hospital, he picked her up, allowing her to doze off in his arms. It was then that the world didn't feel so cold.
Her sleeping form was beautiful. At some point at night, he rested his head on her chest. His ear pressed against her beating heart and for fifteen minutes, he counted the beats. The steady thumps soothed him.
It means you're alive.
He pressed a soft kiss against it before drifting off into a dreamless sleep. In the morning, he would have to visit the Tyburs. He dreaded it more and more. It took time away from his love.
There had been another snowstorm as they slept. Children were laughing and pushing each other into the snow. He watched from the window, something he'd done since he was a boy. He'd never lived life, just watched others doing it. He was too busy planning, missing his mother, and being angry.
Before Mikasa, he hadn't a clue as to what he was going to do with his future. Lara had never intended to marry him and it was the same for him. Perhaps, he would've gone back to Liberio and helped run his father's practice with his brother. Perhaps he'd have married a woman he was incapable of caring for.
Now, there was a path forward. He wanted to live. He wanted to live with her. He wanted to have a family with her. He wanted to live a long, happy life with her and the many, many children they would have.
Not too much longer.
She stirred and her eyes searched until it landed on him.
"I have to visit the Tybur Estate this morning. I want you to stay here until I return. I will bring breakfast so no need to get up. In the meantime, I want you to relax."
He watched her, carefully.
There were dark rings around her eyes, and her skin was somehow paler than usual. Still, she smiled with that beautiful, tired smile that was only reserved for him. He walked over from the window, sitting down at the very edge.
He knew that the gentle lull that had fallen over the city would be over. And Mikasa's fragile peace would be shattered yet again. It was the only thing he was sorry for as he ran his fingers through her silky tresses.
"Stay," she whispered, leaning into his touch.
His heart was beating uncontrollably as his hand slid to her cheek, caressing the soft skin.
"You know that I can't. I've turned down the last three summons by Lady Tybur. If I miss another one, I'm afraid she'll tear down my door."
And then I'll have to get rid of her, too. And that would be an unnecessary complication.
Her face fell, and he hated it. She shouldn't be allowed to be unhappy, ever. But it couldn't be helped. He was so close. He loved Mikasa more than he'd loved anything, but he couldn't stop now — even for her. In fact, for their life together, he had to see it through.
"But you'll come back?"
She sounded so hopeful, so desperate. It made him so happy.
"I will always come back to you. And then, I shall spend the whole day with you. Whatever you wish for. You need only ask."
She seemed to think for a moment.
"I want to visit my mother and…" She trailed off, suddenly unsure of what she wanted to ask. "And I want to go to a bakery. My friend and her husband own it. I know it's public but…"
He took her hand, "No. No, just tell them that I am your mother's doctor and that we are discussing treatment. For now…"
Truth be told, he hated having to hide. He couldn't ruin it all now when he was so close.
It was worth it, however, to see her eyes light up.
She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. It was warmer, sweeter. He snaked his arm around her head to pull her closer. His lips moved against hers. She felt like the only real thing in the world.
The kiss went on for a minute longer before he reluctantly pulled away and asked her to rest. She'd earned it.
It was a risk, leaving her alone when the evidence of his revenge was right below his feet. He was not entirely a fool, though. He'd taken precautions. The cellar door was locked and the key dangled around his neck. There was a sliding bookcase built into the wall that hid the cellar. And for additional precaution, all the desk drawers were locked. He'd have to think of something else, but for now…
He made a face as he stepped outside — another day, another meeting where he had to force himself to tolerate that snobby woman.
Yes, today of all days. He cursed the name Tybur under his breath the whole carriage ride to the estate…
The estate was silent when he arrived. No one looked twice at him. He passed like a ghost past servants and other visitors.
It was more of a palace — no, a maze. He hated this place more than anything because he was expected to move in here once he and Lara were married. That sounded like a punishment. Lady Tybur wanted to see him, probably to question him about where he'd been or, goddess forbid, tell him that she knew about Mikasa and would demand that he get rid of her.
That was never going to happen. Once again, there were two things in this world that he was unwilling to give up: Mikasa and his revenge. Both were vital to his being, and he was not going to let some snooty noblewoman, a relic of a past no one cared about, take that away from him. He stopped walking for a few seconds to calm down. He was getting too worked up. Lady Tybur was too dazzled by him and his father to have him followed.
He reached the door. As he was about to knock, he was stopped by fast, distressed voices coming from inside. As usual, they thought they were being quiet. It seemed to be the season for that.
"You foolish girl…" Lady Tybur chastened.
"I'm no more a girl than you are!" Lady Reiss snapped. "He's gone to her, again. He promised me he would stop but…"
"It's the nature of men. You look away. At the end of the day, you are his wife. You are the mother of his heirs. You are who he returns to. So what if he keeps whores on the side?"
Eren stepped to the side. He could still hear them.
"He shames me, and that is all you can say, dear sister?"
"What I'm saying is that you are the only woman who matters." Lady Tybur's voice was low, and she was wheezing. She was bedridden, he could tell. Mrs. Ackerman was not the only woman who would probably not live to see the snow melt.
"Your dear late husband never strayed from you. You have no idea what I go through. You just sit there, high and mighty. And when it happens to your own daughter—"
The sound of hand meeting cheek was sharp. It might've made anyone else flinch.
"Do not speak about my daughter. You knew exactly how Rod was when you two wed. Instead of sobbing like a fool—"
"He's planning to leave the island! With his whore!"
The blood in Eren's veins turned to ice the moment the words left her mouth. He clutched the wood behind him, digging his nails into it. Leave the island?
"What?"
"I found tickets and notes in his study. I was looking for something and I saw it there. Oh, don't give me that look! It is set for the day after the New Year's celebrations! He's leaving me and taking her with him! He has not chosen me; he is leaving me and our children in disgrace! I ask for your help, sister!"
Eren's breathing completely stopped as silence filled the hallway. Rod was going to leave town. He was going to take off running. This wasn't good. This was really, really bad. He gritted his teeth.
"You are sure?"
"I would not come to you begging if it wasn't true. Please do something. Did you know he even got a bastard off of that woman? He has been seeing her for decades and still…." Her voice closed off. "Please, sister…"
Silence. An excruciatingly long silence that actually caused him pain.
"Let me handle it, then. In the meantime, say nothing. Do not act distressed. Be a dutiful wife, remind him of what you've given him, yes?"
Eren didn't stick around to hear the rest of it because the only thing that was playing in his head was the news that Rod intended to flee the island, Alma in tow. For a woman he didn't actually love, he seemed to be going to ridiculous lengths to protect her. Or perhaps, more likely, he was just trying to protect himself.
Whatever the reason, he had a couple of weeks to act. Part of him was frustrated by the condensed timeline. The other part was almost relieved that it would soon be over. He could start a life with Mikasa, away from all of this. He could finally live, and his mother's soul could rest easily.
That is what he told himself. Still, he could not, under any circumstances, allow Rod to leave the city. Otherwise, it would all be for nothing.
"Tell Lady Tybur I've been summoned elsewhere and that I will come again tomorrow," he mentioned to the butler, but he did not wait for his response. He was out the door in a heartbeat. All the way back to the city, the only thing he could do was plan when and how.
It didn't take long for a plan to form. He relaxed, but only a little.
He'd stopped to grab some pastries, but by the time he reached his home, the wind was howling and another storm was ready to pelt them. They would not be able to go to the hospital or bakery. He might be able to brave it, but he would not allow Mikasa to walk out into the cold.
He found her on his bed, reading through his old anatomy books from his schooldays. As he got closer, he realized she was reading about the lungs. Probably for her mother.
She looked up, light returning to those tired eyes of hers. She smiled.
"Eren…"
"There's a snowstorm. What do you say we spend the day inside, just the two of us? I can get the fireplace going, hm?"
He didn't even wait to hear her answer before he went to the fireplace in his room to start a fire. He could feel her eyes on his back as he did so. He'd left the pastries there. He wasn't very hungry, not considering what he just found out.
"How's Lady Tybur?" She questioned as he turned around. His face nearly fell at the question. Lady Tybur was one of the last people he wanted to talk about. He held his tongue.
"She was too ill to see me today. I'll go before a shift one of these days, it's fine. I think she prefers when I come to see her without being summoned. It makes her feel important."
He sat at the edge of the bed, watching her nibble at the pastry. She ate like a bird when she bothered to eat at all. He looked at their surroundings, and he pictured this being their forever.
"Stay with me, here, forever."
The words came out before he could take them back. She stopped eating, and her eyes went wide as the food slipped out of her hands.
"Eren—"
"No, please listen. I promised to give you forever, all you had to do was say the word. You have. So let me. Let me take care of you. Let me take all the burden off your shoulders. I don't want you returning to the flat. I don't want you returning to Kiyomi's establishment. I want you with me. I have been patient, sweet girl, but I am not patient enough to watch you work yourself to the bone. Leave it all."
Her answer was too quick: "I cannot just leave everything."
He grabbed her hands. Somehow, they were icy cold, and it was killing him. His mother's hands had been icy cold towards the end, and it terrified him.
"Mikasa, I can see it. I see how exhausted you are. I can see how burdened you are. Sleeping at your side, sitting with you now, and all of this peace is exactly what I want for both of us. You don't have to return to squalor."
He wondered if his father had to beg his mother. He wondered if Grisha Jaeger had ever begged for anything. Oh, what did it matter? He had a couple of weeks to get his final revenge, and then he would leave the island. He wanted Mikasa to come with him.
"But…" she trailed off.
"No. Mikasa, I've been thinking. Truthfully, I cannot stand the idea of you living in that flat. It's cold, it's damp, and you're all alone there right now. Don't tell me that you have Armin; he isn't around all the time. And I cannot stand the thought of you going to the brothel night after night. I'm terrified because there's a killer on the loose. And I hate the idea of other men touching you. I hate the thought of you being touched in any way that isn't reverent and loving. I've tried, Mikasa, I've tried not to say anything. But I hate it. You deserve to be loved and taken care of."
Something flashed across her face. And he realized it was hurt.
"Are you ashamed?" Her words were barely above a whisper. The hurt gave way to resignation, as if she'd been preparing for this very thing. He couldn't have that.
"No. Not of you. Not of anything. But I know you're unhappy. I've known you were unhappy from the moment I met you. I've loved you since I first laid eyes on you. I want you to be the happiest woman on earth. And I would be lying if I said that I did not want you all to myself. I want to be the only man you touch from today until we're both old and on our deathbeds."
Her silence was distressing. Her eyes fell to her lap as she toyed with the sheets. He was asking for a lot too fast, but he no longer had the time. He had too much to do, and he wanted to make sure that he would have Mikasa. He couldn't protect her from the grief she was about to experience, but he could give her a good life.
"My mother was in the same position as you, Mikasa. My father loved her desperately till his last breath. It is not shame. It is love. Just love. Believe me when I say that."
"But the Tyburs."
He was getting so tired of her bringing that up.
"As I've said many times before, Lara and I have no intention of marrying. It is a performance. She does not wish to marry, and my heart belongs to you. I am simply helping her while making her mother's final days peaceful. There is nothing more to it. Please stop bringing it up every time. You said yes, didn't you? Have faith in me."
It's not something you're used to. You haven't been able to rely on anyone in years, but you must now. Believe in me. Believe in us. Believe in the life we could build together. Run away with me. Leave this wretchedness behind.
He knew his words were meaningless without action, so he surged forward, pressing his lips against hers as his hands gripped her shoulders tightly. She went stiff for a second before her body relaxed, but she pulled away.
"I'm afraid," she admitted. "I'm afraid."
"Don't be," he whispered, bringing a hand to her cheek. "Let me love you. Let me prove that much to you."
His eyes searched desperately for her consent. If there was even a glimmer of hesitation, he would not continue; that would defeat the whole purpose of proving himself.
She slid her hand up, stroking his hand. Her hand was so cold, he hated it. He had to keep her warm; he had to make sure she was alright. Before his mind could spiral further, Mikasa moved in and pressed her lips against his. It was soft, sweet, like honey. It wasn't unlike kisses they'd shared over the last couple of weeks.
But it felt different.
He brought his other hand up, deepening the kiss and pulling her as close as physically possible. His hands slid down her body, grabbing her around the waist. She gasped at the suddenness of the movement and took the chance to explore her mouth with his tongue.
He would never get tired of this. He was going to show her exactly how this should feel.
He shifted their position, pushing her down gently as he hovered over her. Her own kisses were desperate, her hands sprawled across his back as her legs locked around his waist.
Yes, my beautiful girl, exactly like that.
She makes a noise when his lips leave hers to trail kisses down her neck. He kisses, sucks, and nibbles at her pulse point. He's never been so close to someone before, and he had no actual idea what he was doing. He just did what he felt was right. He knew the basics, and he would use that to show her just how much he loved her.
I love you. I love you. Forgive me for keeping you waiting. Forgive me for what I must hide from you. I love you.
Somewhere along his fevered kisses and desperate grabbing, their clothes disappeared. His mind was too addled. Mikasa didn't seem to mind, as lost in the passion as he was.
This was different. It had to be.
His lips trailed down to her breasts, and he stopped to worship them. He was not blind. He reached up with both hands, fondling the globes as he took turns kissing and sucking the stiffened peaks.
She was a quiet thing, so he had to look up at her reaction. Her eyes were closed, mouth was slightly parted. Soft gasps and breathless moans escaped her lips every time he managed to do something she enjoyed. He committed all of that to memory.
He moved down, kissing every inch of skin until he got lower and lower.
Before he continued, he looked up at her, hoping his desperation was conveyed properly.
Please.
A nod was all it took for him to break. He left an open-mouthed kiss on her mound before spreading her out a little more. She shivered as he exposed her to the drafty air.
He had no idea what he was doing, so it was pure instinct when he licked a stripe up her center, wrenching a barely restrained moan from her lips. And he was gone after that. She was so sweet, sweeter than he could've imagined. He'd dreamed of this, wanted to do this for so many nights, but held back. He licked and suckled at the little bud at the top, realizing that was exactly what she liked.
"Eren!"
His name sounded holy on her lips. And he worshipped her thoroughly.
At some point, her hands had tangled in his hair, pulling him as close as physically possible. And it was not close enough. His tongue and lips continued to work on her center. He was obsessed. He wondered how he'd gone all this time without it, but decided that it was worth it.
Her release came hard and fast. She might've been seeing stars, but he saw heaven. It would probably be the closest he'd ever get to it. He kept his mouth on her until he managed to lick every inch of her release up. Then he kissed his way up her body until he reached her lips, wanting her to taste herself on him.
This is the bare minimum of what you deserve.
They continued to kiss, slowly, as if they had all the time in the world. They kissed and kissed, making no attempt to go further. He wanted to, Goddess above, he wanted to, but something held him back.
Not yet.
She did not attempt either, choosing to return his kisses and embrace. She clung to him just as he clung to her. She needed him just as he needed her.
She loves me. She's mine.
He didn't know how long it had been. It was growing darker when they heard a pounding on his door. They were ripped back into reality, much to Eren's annoyance. He thought about ignoring it and focusing his attention on his love, but the knocking grew more insistent and louder.
"You should answer it," she whispered, sighing and straightening herself out. The sadness had returned, and he hated that. He was going to rip whoever was at the door's head off for that. He quickly put his clothes on, cursing as he struggled with his trousers. He growled as he stomped down the stairs.
Mikasa didn't stay put, but she stood by the stairs, just out of sight, but enough to see who it might be.
He cracked open the door, a scowl already etched on his face. The storm had stopped, and it was quiet. His scowl, however, dropped when he saw Armin standing outside with a serious and apologetic look on his face.
"Ar…min?" He opened the door wider, but stopped cold when he realized that Armin wasn't alone. In fact, all the blood drained from his face when he saw who was standing just behind him.
Shit.
Lara's voice was cool and neutral, "Hello, Eren. I know it's late, but some things need to be said without the ears of society eavesdropping. May we come in?"
Notes:
next update: the week of november 30th
Chapter 11: the tolling bells
Notes:
yes I know this is super late and I’ve been super busy. I apologize, really. anyway, this is the penultimate chapter. thank you EllieDoll for beta reading!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Mikasa's heartbeat kept time with the grandfather clock in the corner of the room. The minute hand was inching closer to the hour mark, and it felt like some sort of sick countdown.
There was a sour look to Eren's face when he shuffled out of the room, clumsily buttoning and tucking his shirt into his trousers. At first, Mikasa pressed her ears against the polished wood of the door. The voices were quiet, muttering rapidly.
All sense told her to stay in the room until his guests left and Eren returned to her. But, as it had been since the night she met Eren, all good sense abandoned her.
She moved quietly as she gripped the knob, slowly turning the handle to open the door. She thanked the goddess that the door did not creak. She could not say the same about the floorboards.
She moved on her tiptoes until she crouched by the staircase. There, she heard Eren's poorly concealed annoyance.
"May I know the reason for this unexpected visit?" Mikasa knew Eren well enough at this point to know there was something else brewing behind his agitation. Worry? Panic?
"I'm sorry, Eren, she found me, and I could not refuse. She insisted that it was urgent and asked me to come with her. I don't know what any of this is about. I'm sorry…"
Mikasa's heart dropped into her stomach because she'd recognize that voice anywhere.
Armin.
She had little time to panic about that because then, a woman's voice carried up the stairs.
"There is no need to hide up there like a little mouse. Come down, please."
Mikasa's legs wobbled as an eerie silence followed the voice. She'd been so quiet, like a mouse. How had she— who was she?
She didn't have to wait long because she heard Eren growl, "Lara."
Somehow, in the span of a few minutes, it got worse. Armin and Lara Tybur. Together. The last two people she wanted to see in this state.
Her heart was pounding so violently, she was frightened that it might cease altogether.
"I promise you, I only mean to talk. But I prefer to do it like adults, woman to woman. Please come down, I don't want to repeat myself."
"Lara," Eren's voice got lower and there was something dangerous about it. Like ice cold fingers running along her skin, she felt good flesh rise along her skin.
She didn't move. She refused to move a muscle.
"Maybe she will listen to you. Call her down. This will be a lot easier if you both cooperate."
Her words sounded like the world's mildest threat but her voice was hushed and neutral. Maybe that was more unsettling than an actual threat.
But when a Tybur orders you to do something, you listen. No exception.
"What is going on?" Armin's question was so quiet and it made her heart ache. Goddess, this was not how she wanted to tell her closest friend. She needed more time. She wanted more time.
There was no more time.
She stood up as she heard Eren clear his throat, "She is indisposed at the moment. It's late and she hasn't been feeling well. I've confined her to the upstairs until—"
She wanted to call out to him, to tell him no more lies, but that would make her a hypocrite. Instead, she let herself be known by the sound of her foot pressing down on the creaky stairs.
As she descended and drew closer, she could feel three pairs of eyes on her and she decided to focus on Lara. Somehow, the judgment of a stranger was easier to deal with.
Lara was a tall, slender woman. Her hair was pushed back into a neat bun, not a single strand out of place. The black of her gown made her look severe. Her face resembled carved marble and her eyes were the color of the darkest night.
In some lights, some might even say that she resembled Mikasa. In certain lights.
"My heart, you didn't need to come down."
She shook her head as she took her place next to Eren. She could feel Armin's eyes on her. She could imagine they were half the size of his head. The downstairs was drafty, which shouldn't have bothered her after a lifetime in a dingy little flat in the slums. But with the cold air, she felt the years worth of burden and wariness settle into her bones.
And in her ear, it was like the wind whispered: No more.
"No. It's fine, Eren. She's right. We're all adults here. We couldn't have kept this a secret forever."
Her voice fell into a hushed whisper as she bowed her head to the woman before her.
"What do you want to say to me, Lady Tybur?"
They sat in the parlor. Eren was next to her, their knees were touching. It was like he was guarding her from the two of them. She wanted to tell him that was unnecessary, knowing full well that he wouldn't listen to her. Eren Jaeger did as he pleased and only stopped if he pleased.
They sat in silence for several minutes. The silence was both comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time. They all looked at each other, waiting for one brave soul to open their mouth first.
For those first several minutes, none of them had a backbone.
But once that silence was broken, Mikasa wished it had stretched on forever.
"Were either of you ever going to tell me?" Armin's voice was barely above a whisper, but the hurt was undeniable. She hated this part the most.
"Oh, you know this young lady as well, I see."
Mikasa could cry. A lady is not exactly how most would refer to her. And there was no malice coming from Lara Tybur. Not that she could discern.
But she would take a lashing from her lover's fiancée over the hurt of her closest friend a hundred times over.
"Eventually," Eren answered. Finally, Mikasa looked over at him. She wanted to grab his hand but she didn't dare to. Now wasn't the time.
It was also the wrong answer.
"Eventually," Armin echoed. And then, it was like a dam had burst.
"It's new. We were going to say something but we were going to be low-key about it for the time being, at least till the winter passed, until…" she cut herself off when she met Lara's eyes.
It was like someone had carved out a block of ice or marble to make Lara because her face remained blank. Mikasa understood that more than anything. And despite Eren having said that their arrangement was only to appease her mother, Mikasa expected some anger.
No, it was worse when the world's thinnest smile appeared on her face. It didn't reach her eyes but there was no malice either.
"Yes, that's what I wanted to talk to you about."
She didn't wait for the questioning looks everyone shot her way.
"Eren, I've asked you repeatedly to be careful. I've asked that you be discreet with this young lady because the Tyburs have eyes everywhere. And their hands. That includes the ledgers and hospital records."
Her voice was steady, but the look in her eyes hardened as she looked at Eren. There was no hurt, just disappointment. It was as if she was scolding a child.
Eren frowned, "I have been careful."
"No, you haven't. Did you not think that my brother wouldn't review your accounts before we married? And do you think that he wouldn't share these concerns with my mother before coming to me? You've been careless!" Her voice rose.
Despite her anger, none of it was directed at Mikasa.
"I assume the miscellaneous expenses were from your…nocturnal activities," she glanced at Mikasa. "But the hospital private room is a little more difficult to hide."
There was a sharp, piercing ringing in Mikasa's ear as it all dawned on her. One did not cross the Tyburs. One did not make enemies of them unless you wanted to disappear from the face of the Earth.
"And what's worse? My Uncle Rod is the one who suggested that full audit."
Mikasa almost didn't hear him curse under his breath, followed by a growl like a rabid dog.
"So what have you come here for, Lara? To tell me to cease contact with Mikasa, to ask her to leave? Because I assure you it will not happen. I have done everything you asked as part of our deal but I will not give her up." He grabbed her hand, squeezing it to the point of pain. Mikasa did not even flinch.
Her mind was racing with thoughts. What would happen now? What would Lara do? Their arrangement was not built on love, so why did she care? When Lara's gaze fell on her, her gaze softened. It was tender, almost pitying. She hated being pitied.
"No, I'm not cruel. I covered for you — for both of you. I said that I recently hired a secretary whose mother is gravely ill — oh, don't give me that look, of course I know. I told them that you were kind enough to do me this kindness, to help a friend in need."
It was too much. All Mikasa heard was secretary, gravely ill, and Lara Tybur covering up their relationship. For what reason exactly?
"You did…what?" Mikasa realized too late that she had said her thoughts aloud because everyone was looking at her. Armin was still lost, still hurt. Eren was dumbfounded and Mikasa? Confusion wasn't a good enough word for what she was thinking.
She smiled. Though it did not quite reach her eyes, there was no hint of malice. Mikasa knew how to read people well enough; one had to in order to work in a brothel. It all came with the job.
"I've come here to offer you a place as my secretary. Yes, it's sudden. No, we do not know each other. But it need not stay that way. I've needed one anyway, and this seems like the best opportunity."
Mikasa's jaw dropped open, not quite comprehending what Lara was saying. Of all the scenarios she'd imagined this might've gone, kindness and employment was not a part of any of them.
She turned to Eren, his expression mirrored hers. But his shock wore off before hers did. He stood up.
"What exactly are you playing at? Jokes aren't your strong suit."
The barely restrained anger snapped Mikasa out of her shock. She'd seen Eren angry, but not like this. Even Armin seemed taken aback by this.
"Who said I was joking?" Lara asked, unfazed. "I am completely serious. I am offering your lover employment, a better life, and I'm saving you from the wrath of my family because, believe me, it was not easy covering up your lies."
"Why?" Mikasa whispered before Eren could. "Why help me?"
Nothing had ever been free in her life. Even the air she breathed had come at a cost, and her mother was paying the price. Eren had come into her life like a storm, loved her for no reason in the world, and since then, nothing has made sense.
Now his fiancée was offering her a job without anything in return. Or so it seemed.
"Because Eren loves you. And a madman is going around killing women of your…profession." There it was, the hesitance to name what she was. "Consider it a kindness. I ask for nothing in return except that you say yes and cooperate. And there is something else…"
They waited. Everyone waited.
"My mother's taken a turn for the worse this last week. She will likely not make it to the New Year. I will be leaving for Liberio a week after the celebrations conclude. I intend to start over there. There will be nothing left for me here. I understand Eren wishes to return to Liberio. I understand that you wish to leave the city. And," she turns to Armin, smiling. "I hear that you've secured a position at the Eldian Embassy in Liberio as of a few days ago. My heartiest congratulations."
The room was spinning. Mikasa bit her tongue so hard, she tasted something metallic in her mouth. So many she wasn't the only one keeping secrets.
Armin, at least, looked surprised as well, "But how did you—?"
"There are records of it. Once again, congratulations."
Nothing made sense. Lara Tybur was being too nice for a woman who was technically being scorned at this very moment. Yes, she knew that this wasn't real but the engagement very much was. The conclusion could only be marriage.
"And how do you expect to do that?" Eren questioned. "Your brother will not let you leave the city, let alone the island, without his permission. He won't let you step out of that house without a husband. So are you just buttering us all up to tell us that we must go through with the wedding before your mother dies? Is that it?"
Lara's silence was the worst part because it confirmed everything.
"No." Eren's voice was calm, but dangerously so. "We had a deal, Lara. I won't. I'm not doing that to myself, to Mikasa, or to you."
Lara held her hand up, "I already talked my mother down. I don't know about Willy but once my mother passes from this world, I'll break off the engagement myself."
"No one will want to marry you then."
"No husband? How awful." She managed to keep her expression deadpan. It dawned on her that Lara Tybur really didn't want to be shackled by marriage and Eren really was her only way out.
"Lara—"
Mikasa stood up, having had enough of being in the background of all this.
"I want to know what you get out of this. No one is so kind. Everyone is looking for something. Eren, maybe, is an exception because he loves me. You're never at the mercy of your feelings. So I want to know. What are you getting out of this?"
The silence was so much worse because Lara took her sweet time answering it.
"Truly, because despite him not sharing the sentiment, I do care for Eren. He helped me when he didn't need to. I didn't think it was possible for that man to love, but you've done it. You must be something special and I wish to help you. Yes, most in my circle would not agree, but I have never been one of them. I know that you don't wish to live your life like this. So I am giving you a chance to start over. Also, there is a killer targeting women like you. You keep Eren rather compliant in this scheme between us. So, this is me telling you to leave."
Somehow, even with so many words, that did not answer her question. It still boiled down to the goodness of her heart. Mikasa, despite everything, still did not believe in the inherent kindness of strangers. Especially not nobility. Everyone was out for something in this world.
"And whatever you make now, I will pay double."
The throbbing in her head became worse. "You're telling me you're doing this to be kind?"
"Is that so hard to believe?" There was a sadness on her face. "I don't do much for appearances, you know. Otherwise, I would not be here. Nothing I do is for show. Let me show you. Please accept my offer."
Yes. The word lingered on her tongue for too long.
No, you fool. Think, she could use this chance to humiliate you. Even if she doesn't care, this whole thing is a mark of shame on her. They're not like you. They never will be.
"Allow me some time to consider it. Please? I'm not saying no," her voice was weak, exhausted.
Lara didn't react, but she nodded, "It's an important decision. Of course, give yourself time to consider. I will await your answer. Send me your response through Eren."
There was still the air of her rank hanging over them. Eren was from wealth, Lara was from nobility, and Armin and Mikasa were from the slums. Saying no to her was almost impossible. No one turned nobility down.
"And I will not ask you to appear with me publicly while we're on the island. I know you've…worked with men in my circle. I would rather spare you the humiliation and them the scandal."
Bile had started to rise in her throat. Despite everything, there was a kind of embarrassment. Outside of Kiyomi's, she didn't want to think about it.
"I won't intrude any further this evening. I do ask that you two continue to be discreet. Especially you, Eren. I've saved you this time, but don't think my mother will not find a way to make sure you don't go astray. She had half a mind to have you followed. I talked her down. For now."
His lips curved into a grimace, "I didn't realize your mother cared so much."
"She prizes nothing above reputation and the family's honor. Now, she suspects you. I'm trying to save you, you needn't show me your irritation. I could've done anything else but I chose to care. I'm returning the favor. So please. Now, if you'll excuse me, I will take my leave. Mr. Arlert, are you coming?"
"Lara," Eren said, stopping her. "I'll do whatever I have to…to keep Mikasa from harm."
"I will not harm her. I have no desire to. Mr. Arlert, are you coming?"
For some reason, Mikasa expected Armin to stay to have a word with the two of them. They deserved it.
Instead, he followed Lara out of the parlor. Mikasa followed.
"Armin, wait!"
He only paused for a brief second to say, "I need time, Mikasa. Give me that much, at least."
Her throat closed as the house grew silent with the closing of the door. She didn't even hear Eren's footsteps approaching from behind her. His hands were cold and she almost moved away. But she didn't.
"We should—"
"—I'm not tired," she whispered. "You can go back to bed. Just…give me a little bit."
He didn't withdraw; if anything, he moved closer and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in the crook of her neck, softly kissing the skin. She didn't react. She hardly felt it.
"People are going to find out," she whispered. "They'll ruin us."
"Hey," Eren's voice hardened as he spun her around. He looked her right in the eye. In the dark, his green eyes resembled those of a demon. He pulled her closer.
"After all this time, you still don't trust me to keep you safe so I'll show you. If they come after you, we run away. We take your mother and we leave this island. Forget everything and everyone, we'll go where they can't find us. I won't give you up. I won't let anyone hurt you. I love you. I love you. Do you understand that? I love you. And I want you to let me love you."
She had let him. And in doing so, she probably damned them both. And for everything, she didn't push him away when his lips crashed down on hers. She didn't resist when he lifted her up and carried her up the stairs. She didn't say anything when he placed her on the bed and showered her face and neck with feverish kisses. If anything, she gave in and melted against his attentions.
When it came to Eren, she knew that she would always give in.
When she woke up the next morning, she immediately got dressed and left before Eren was up. She didn't leave a note or anything. She wanted to see her mother. She needed to see her. Her entire head was still swimming from the night before. The pangs of hunger nearly had her on her knees halfway there. She willed herself to drag her feet.
The hospital was different in the early morning light. It was quiet. Most of the patients were asleep. The nurses were few and far between. The doctors were around but paid her no mind.
Mikasa made her way to her mother's room. Her mother used to be an early riser, now, her health did not permit her to so much as leave the bed. Her heart sank when she saw how pale and gaunt the woman's beautiful face had become. Her lips were slowly losing their color and the darkness under eyes was prominent.
There wasn't a lot that could make Mikasa cry in this life, she'd known too much heartbreak. It had made her numb. But her mother…it was different. She was all the family she had left. Well, not the only, but that didn't matter.
Her mother slept, undisturbed by Mikasa's presence. She sat there in silence.
"Mama, I'm scared," she confessed so softly that she almost didn't hear herself. "I'm terrified. I need you. Please get better."
As she looked at her mother's worn face, she heard the sound of distant bells tolling.
When her mother did wake up, she gave her a heartbreakingly weak smile.
"My girl. My beautiful girl," her voice was barely above that of a whisper. She looked as though she were in pain. And she still smiled through it.
Mikasa grabbed her hands; they were so cold. She'd been so cold lately.
Because she won't be long for this world. You know it. She knows it. Eren knows it.
But Mikasa refused to accept that. Her mother would live many more years.
"I've been offered a job with double the pay. I'm finally going to leave Kiyomi's like you said." She felt stupid for wording it that way. It could still very well be a trap, even with Eren's promises.
"That's wonderful," she smiled. "You'll finally be able to leave all this behind. What is it?"
"Lara, Lady Tybur has offered me a job as her secretary. She came to me last night and offered. I told her I would think about it but…"
Her mother squeezed her hand, "But what?"
How to explain that she was Eren's fiancée and that Mikasa was in bed with an unavailable man? Her mother liked him so much.
"I don't know. She knows everything about my past. I've even…serviced some in her circle. And yet, she wants me to be her secretary. She does not see women like me — like us — as stains. Rather, she wants to help. Out of the goodness of her heart. Isn't that strange? But it happened. Oh, mama. I don't know. I'm scared…"
She didn't divulge the extent of her fears. She never would. Her mother was already worried about her.
"I think you should take it. Send her a letter and say you will take it. Lara Tybur is known for her generosity. This will be good. You can better yourself. You can finally give yourself the life I've always wanted for you."
There was a heaviness that settled over them. There was something about how she said it, something so final and resigned about it. Deep down, Mikasa knew what it was, but she couldn't bring herself to believe it. No, there was hope. There had to be.
"Mama…" she muttered. "You'll come with me. We'll get you better care elsewhere."
The fragile peace broke momentarily as her mother's eyes were full of grief. As if telling her what her lips could not. A look that, if Mikasa truly dwelt on it long enough, would shatter her splintered heart into dust.
"My darling girl…"
No, no.
"You will make it through this, mama. Please. For me. Please, I have asked for nothing else. Please, mama, please," she whispered, as if willing something could magically make it happen.
"I want you to promise me something. Please, I will only know peace if you promise me this one thing."
The tears fell as Mikasa gripped her mother's hands tightly.
"Anything."
"Be happy. Always be happy. I want you to know nothing else from now on. Don't let it slip from your fingers because you think it cannot be achieved. Be happy, my girl. Be happy. That is my wish for you."
The words felt so final.
"I will," she said. "I will, mama. But you have to try, you must try."
Her mother didn't reply, but she squeezed her hand and smiled. There were no more words, as her mother grew weaker as the days progressed. She had to preserve her strength, and the heartbreaking reality was slowly dawning on her.
She's dying. She's been dying. She's always known.
She grabbed her mother's hand and kissed the clammy skin, pressing it to her cheek.
She had to be strong. She had to be brave. She had to…she had to be happy.
It's possibly your mother's dying wish.
She did not want to dwell on that.
The Church of Ymir was empty this early in the morning. And that was peaceful.
This far from the slums, no one knew her. She could not be judged by the cruel eyes of the priests. She could kneel at the altar and pray like anyone else. Today? Today, she needed the Mother Goddess more than anything.
In the stained glass, there was a picture of the Goddess herself. Her three daughters, from whom all Eldians were descended, stood around her. There was a similar statue at the altar. She kneeled against the stone floor. She closed her eyes, clasping her hands in front of her.
"You've taken a lot from me. My father. My childhood. My joy. What else are you going to take from me, Mother? How much more am I supposed to take before you decide it's enough?"
She paused. Her whole body was racked with tremors. She didn't know if her prayers would be heard. She had prayed bitterly many times, and her prayers had gone largely unanswered. There was a rage, under which bottomless grief seemed to dwell.
Overhead, the bells tolled again.
"And yet, I have come to you again. Give my mother her peace. End her suffering. Don't take her like this. She deserves so much better. And if you do, I…I'll do everything. I will take Lara up on her offer. I will open my heart to Eren as I've wanted to. I will come to your altar every day until the day they put me into the ground. Just please, give my mother her peace and take away her suffering. I will never again ask for anything."
Her voice shook as she said the words. Tears were cascading down her face, landing on the altar as she lay herself down like a willing sacrifice — a very willing lamb to the slaughter. Perhaps it was an act of desperation, a final act of offering herself up for the sake of her mother. She had nothing else to give. She'd wanted so much more out of life. She wanted to live in the country with her mother, where nothing could ever hurt them again. And then she realized that over the last several weeks that her fantasy had shifted. Eren was there. Just as he'd promised that he would always be.
Let me love you.
She wanted to be loved. And she wanted to love him. She wanted to remember what happiness felt like.
She lay there for what felt like hours, waiting for a sign that her prayers had been received or that the Goddess had agreed.
There was a candle on either side of the altar. As a final plea left her lips, she watched as the twin flames flickered….
When Eren rose, it was late morning. The winter was always hard on his body; he felt like an old man. But more than himself, he realized that Mikasa was not in bed beside him. And it only made the feeling of being alone that much worse.
He nearly tore the house down looking for her before he noticed that her coat was gone. And then he knew where she'd go. She hardly went anywhere else these days, except to see her mother. He understood. Perhaps, now, she was beginning to realize that there was no saving the woman. And Eren, despite the desire crawling beneath his skin, knew she needed to do this for herself.
And he would be there to hold her when it all collapsed. He would help her rebuild that home, he swore that he would.
No, he had something else to take care of this morning. Something that came up last night.
He left the house and wandered into the wintry paradise the city had become. It wasn't so hard to track Lara down once he'd learned her habits.
She was alone, a foolish choice, but the girl was stubborn to a fault. She was snug in a coat and when people recognized her, they bowed their heads before moving on. She was on her way to somewhere, the Church of the Goddess, maybe, or to her private offices. She was the only one who wanted to work during these times, go figure.
He blocked her path and she nearly jumped back when she saw him. Apparently, she was shocked to see him. Which would've been fair under any other circumstance but he didn't play when it came to Mikasa.
"Goddess, Eren! I thought you were—!"
"What are you playing at, Lara?" His voice was hard. He bit back from releasing all of the rage from his body. "Mikasa isn't here, and we're in the vicinity of a church, so tell me, what exactly are you are playing at?"
Her brows perked up, "Is this what all this drama is about? I don't mince my words. I spoke very plainly last night. It is a kindness I'm doing for someone who desperately needs it."
She walked around him but Eren grabbed her sleeve and pulled her back, "Is that really it? You must know how this looks. Mikasa isn't a fool. And neither am I. Because I swear to the Goddess that if you are planning to humiliate her, it will not end well for you. For any of you."
His voice was hard and icy, like his anger. It was true that, in the time that they've been working together, he'd developed somewhat of a fondness for the young woman. But no one came before Mikasa in his life. And for her, he'd threaten his own brother. His fiancée was no exception.
There was relief when Lara had the decency to look hurt by the accusations.
"Your threats wound me. And your accusations offend me. I have no ulterior motive. It is a kindness. I've learned things about her. She's had to do it all alone. I'm giving her extra security because I'm not just offering her a job, I'm offering her a fresh start and friendship. And security beyond just what you can give her."
His grip grew tighter.
"And what is that supposed to mean? You think I won't be able to?"
She rolled her eyes, "I'm sure you will be able to. But you've seen what happened to her because of her father's death and her mother's illness. Relying on the kindness of a lover is a gamble."
"And trusting the kindness of said lover's fiancée is much better, right?" He asked bitterly.
"All I'm saying is that I'm trying to help both of you. I have no ill intentions with your lover. I won't humiliate her, because in doing so I will humiliate both of us as well. I'm keeping a scandal off of everyone. We both knew that we weren't going to marry, but allow me to do this for both of you. And if I break this and prove to be false, you can sacrifice me at the altar of the Goddess."
Though he could hear the jest in the last part, he narrowed his eyes.
Oh, I will. If you hurt her, I'll offer your heart to the Goddess herself.
"So, you have a few days to consider my offer. You'll be able to start over without shame or the need to hide. And if you don't, it will be a shame. So think about that girl you claim to love and what might be in her best interests. And if you want a written contract, legal and binding, I will be happy to draw one up. You can read it all the way through in my presence for all I care, but I will not have you question me like I'm some spiteful lady of society."
She shook her hand away and walked away from him, the stoicism giving way to a scowl.
"Fine," he said. "But I want it in writing. I will not play games with Mikasa's safety."
She stopped and glanced back, "So you've said."
He was left there as she disappeared around the corner. The world moved around him. That didn't stop him from thinking as he started making calculations in his head.
If Lara was serious about her offer, he had a very small window to operate under. If she proved to be false, that would be an even smaller window. Either way, he had less than two weeks to fulfill his purpose.
He wandered back to his home, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he started planning how the rest of this would go. He couldn't leave without fulfilling his revenge. He couldn't leave without laying his mother's heart to rest in the place of her birth. So little time to do everything.
He closed the door behind him, not expecting Mikasa to be home. The house was quiet and freezing. The way it had been since before Mikasa was staying over almost every night. She was his home, not this empty box. As he shrugged off his coat, he heard eager footsteps rushing towards him.
He could barely process that Mikasa's arms were around him. He looked down. Her eyes and lips were red, her cheeks and nose were red. She'd been crying. Why had she been crying?
Did it finally happen?
"Mikasa…?"
"Welcome home, Eren."
Welcome home.
Home.
He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in the crown of her head. She smelled faintly of incense and something floral. He wasn't sure what changed between last night and this morning. But he welcomed it. While she had been open to his affections, there had been a lingering distance. That was gone now.
He was finally allowed to be hers.
And it only strengthened his resolve.
Tonight. It has to be tonight.
The wind lashed his face as he blended into the shadows. The cold was nearly unbearable and he forced his hands into his pockets. He waited, quietly wondering how long he might have to stay out here before hypothermia got him.
He shook those thoughts from his head. He couldn't think like that, not when he was so close. He could've prayed for luck, but he didn't.
He never prayed for anything in his whole life and he wasn't about to start.
He looked around. Even in the dark, the snow was the only thing visible. It covered up the rot, disguising the whole area in something so pure and untouched.
And here was the last woman who would have to die because of Rod Reiss. Part of him was a little sad, he would miss the thrill of it all. But enough was enough. Even after this, there was still one last thing to do.
He closed his eyes, cleared his mind of everything but the image of his mother's sickbed and her desperately clinging to life. He could see her wasting away to nothing. He watched his family shatter all over again and felt the flames ignite in his blood. He gripped the knife so tight, the thin skin around his knuckles tore.
He heard the footsteps, it could be anyone but he'd spent a good week shadowing her. He knew what Alma Lenz's footsteps sounded like. The pitter-patter of a mouse trying to scurry away.
Out of all of the women who'd lay with Rod, this would be the one he would truly relish. The woman was fucking awful. She would not be so missed — except by Rod.
She was a feisty one. He'd struggled when he grabbed her, covering her mouth and gritting his teeth as hers sunk into the hide of his gloves. Oh how she fought.
"No! No! Please I have a daughter!"
Yes, one you couldn't give two shits about. I wonder if she'll even bother shedding tears for you. I know that pig you call a lover just might.
"Please I'll do anything! Let me go and I won't tell anyone! You can have another one! Please spare me!"
Hm, cut from the same cloth.
She struggled up until the moment he slashed her throat and her blood cascaded to the ground — a gruesome waterfall dying the white in red. She struggled right until the life abandoned her body. It was like watching a pig to the slaughter. None of the others had clung to life quite like she had.
He worked quickly, cutting her torso open and ripping the organ out. It was no longer beating. Eren was almost shocked she had one. No matter. He had to go.
But not before he let out a fraction of his rage and took his blade to the woman's face. She would be unrecognizable but he didn't care. He'd shown her mercy if anything. She'd had a quick death. It was a kindness compared to what Rod had done to his mother.
He fled and as he weaved through shadows, a genuine smile appeared on his face. A smile that had only been reserved for Mikasa until now.
The final act begins. And then, it'll all be over.
Notes:
see you New Year’s Eve ❤️
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