"𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞."
A STORY IN WHICH, you've never had a choice, especially not when you were forced to marry the future king of marley, 𝘻𝘦𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘳.
things were difficult from the start, a foreign country a host...
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Eren knew he was going to kill Zeke the moment he stepped foot in that ballroom. There was no hesitation in his mind—Zeke needed to die.
But Eren didn't think he'd make it out alive. Now he sat in a damp, cold cell with the chill of winter seeping through the stone floors. His hands were shackled above his head, his fingers freezing at the tips, awaiting the death sentence that would surely come.
His eyes fell on his blood-soaked shirt, tears stinging his eyes.
Was the blood his own or his brother's?
A sudden pain shot through Eren's chest, and he wanted to slam his head against the wall. He wanted to forget everything that had happened. He wanted to tear all thoughts from his mind. He wanted to cease to exist.
Zeke had laid his hands on [Name] that night, leaving her battered in a way Eren had never seen before.
He was the brother who had taught Eren to speak German, his voice annoyed yet reassuring.
The one who had killed their father for a chance to sit on a golden throne.
The brother who had gifted Eren his first blade at the age of twelve—a beautiful weapon with a blue spinel at the hilt—because he knew Eren loved the sea more than anything else.
But he was the man had banished Eren's mother, leaving her to grow weak and rot away with an unknown illness.
And yet, when Eren was wracked with the summer fever, trembling and vomiting through a heatwave, Zeke had read a bible at his bedside.
But his brother would have killed [Name].
He was Eren's brother. They were bound by blood.
And Eren had driven a wooden blade through his heart.
A horrible scream tore out the back of his throat in an attempt to take it back, to turn the hourglass and save his brother.
But no. He wouldn't change anything—he couldn't. If Zeke lived, [Name] wouldn't. Tears fell from his eyes as he rocked himself back and forth.
Why hadn't they killed him in the ballroom? Why hadn't they beaten him to death right there and then? Then he could have held his brother one last time. They could have taken their last breaths together and stepped into hell hand-in-hand.
Surely that's where they were both headed—their hands drenched in blood. But why couldn't they have done it together?
Eren took a haphazard breath that made his bruised rib ache. When he tried to wipe his tears, the chains binding his arms above his head held him back. He sagged against the stone wall, cold and damp, listening to the steady drip of water in the dark cell.
