Attack on Titan: A Warrior of Devils

A Feeling of Freedom

Hello Drinor Here, If you like to become a patron and get access to these chapters earlier, head on over to Patreon and search 'Drinor.'

www.Patreon.com/Drinor

Chapter 9 (An Ackerman's Anger), and Chapter 10 (A Song for Winter) is already available for Patrons.

The LINK is in my Profile.

"If someone can be guilty because of what their ancestors did, then everyone in the world is guilty of something."

As Jaime settled comfortably onto the polished wooden chair, he couldn't help but be captivated by the heartwarming tableau unfolding before his eyes. The evening air was filled with an aura of contentment as the room buzzed with the delightful sounds of clinking cutlery and hearty laughter. Each face at the communal table was adorned with genuine smiles, a testament to the joyous camaraderie shared among friends and family. Amidst the harmonious symphony of conversation, Sasha stood out like a radiant sunbeam in a sky of clouds; she was even more cheerful than usual.

As Jaime basked in the delightful ambiance, an involuntary smile played across his lips, radiating a heartwarming sense of contentment. The sheer sight of every face adorned with sincere smiles filled his being with immense and profound joy as if a thousand suns had suddenly illuminated his soul. "Look, Arthur," Jaime whispered wistfully, his voice tinged with a melancholic undertone as his eyes grew dim with longing.

"I can make people smile. I-I really wish you were here," His gaze shifted downwards, a hint of sadness lingering in his eyes, and his hands gently came to rest on his lap. Slowly, almost hesitantly, his right hand ascended to caress the scar etched above his right eyebrow.

' "You know," young Arthur exclaimed with an air of innocence, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he gazed at Jaime, the hapless big bro attempting to conjure up a palatable meal amidst their dire circumstances. With a mischievous grin, Arthur mused aloud, "If only you knew how to cook, we could eat as good as the King," The pair's stomachs grumbled in unison, a testament to their meager rations consisting only of yesterday's captured rat. Undeterred by their limited resources, Jaime valiantly persevered, diligently coaxing a flickering flame into existence, eagerly trying to start a fire to cook the rat.

With a mischievous grin plastered across his face, the audacious young Jaime effortlessly dismissed the notion of the King's opulent feasts, exclaiming, "The King, nah, we could eat even better than him," As he spoke, his eyes twinkled mischievously, locking onto his little bro Arthur who gazed up at him with a mixture of awe and curiosity. The air filled with a chorus of chuckles as Arthur succumbed to the infectious amusement, reveling in the lighthearted banter. However, their moment of mirth was abruptly interrupted when Arthur's stomach let out a thunderous growl.

Leaning back against the rough, weathered stone wall, Arthur's stomach growled incessantly. The tattered remains of his clothes clung desperately to his emaciated frame, the black shirt adorned with deep scratches. It was a mere semblance of a garment, barely recognizable as a shirt at all. Jaime observed the distress etched upon his face; he selflessly pushed aside his own gnawing hunger. With determination in his eyes, Jaime swiftly rose to his feet, his tiny legs propelling him forward with unwavering speed.

"You know, you should try-" "I should try to think about something else. I know," Arthur interrupted Jaime's words with a loud pout; the sound of his growling belly echoed through the room. Arthur's worn-out pants hung loosely on his small frame. His unkempt nails, once neatly trimmed, had grown long and unruly, with several of them painfully broken. In their dire circumstances, the only available tool for grooming their nails was Jaime's small dagger, a precious possession that he always kept safely tucked away in his pocket, ready to fulfill their basic needs.