Chapter Text
“Pick a card, any card.”
It was late afternoon. There was the smell of wet rags and gunpowder and Eren looked less than amused. One might even say he looked irritated. He sat with his back to the wall of the alley he and his brother had hid themselves away in. Zeke’s smutty, blackened fingers were wrapped around fanned out cards. He sat with a stuffed monkey in his lap. It was missing an eye. ‘Mumkey Junior’, Zeke called him.
“I don’t believe in magic so just quit it already. It’s stupid, Zeke.” The older boy grumbled, snapping his eyes towards the opening of the alley. It had been months now since the Marleyan occupation had begun. Something told Zeke that Eren wished he could’ve joined the Paradisian forces and fought alongside their father. He hadn’t been old enough at the time, and now that he finally was, their country was already undergoing ‘peace’ talks.
Was it even peace if their country had to become a Marleyan territory to achieve it? Eren said that sometimes.
Zeke frowned down at his cards, the red backs of them facing upwards. “All you have to do is pick a card. Why do you have to be so mean?”
A tank slowly passed them, caterpillar track grinding against the cracked cobblestoned street. Eren watched it for all of a moment. Then, his eyes fell upon Zeke. Pouting Zeke, miserable Zeke, with his cards and his unwashed face. The teen scowled. Muttered, “Stop being such a fucking baby. Fine, here. I’m picking, see?” And that seemed to brighten the younger boy right up. Well. Maybe he’d gotten a bit good at manipulating his brother. He tried not to look too self-satisfied as Eren plucked at the middle card.
“Alright! Now, don’t show me, and don’t tell me. Remember your card.”
Zeke shifted the fanned cards into a deck. Cut them in half. Bombers flew overhead. “Think those are Paradisian or Marleyan?” He wondered out loud. Eren glanced up to check. Zeke snuck a peek at the bottom card of the left half of his cut deck. Seven of hearts. He raised his eyes in time to meet Eren’s. “Paradisian. You can tell based on the build of it. It’s sleek. Marley’s got clunkier ones, and they’re usually brown or black.” Zeke nodded like that was absolutely fascinating. Gestured for the older boy to slip his card on the top of his bottom stack of cards.
So. Eren relinquished his card. Zeke sandwiched it. Turned the cards to face him, fanning them out. He could feel Eren watching him. The teen was annoyed, but vaguely curious. Zeke adored magic tricks. There was little else to do but practice, and it helped distract him from how hungry he was. They hadn’t eaten in days. He wet his chapped lips as his eyes fell upon the seven of hearts. And right next to it,
“Is this your card? The king of hearts?”
Eren narrowed his eyes sharply.
“I guess magic is real, huh?”
He couldn’t help but rub it in. Eren somehow looked even more annoyed, if that were even possible at this point, and refused to dignify that with a response. Zeke grinned (perhaps smugly) as the boy looked away from him. “Hm.” Eren crossed his arms over his chest. He returned to watching the street. Zeke decided not to push his luck by asking for Eren to participate in another card trick.
It was as he began shuffling his cards that a blonde head popped into their alley. A face as dirty as Zeke or Eren’s, with bright eyes and thin lips. Armin. He was breathless, blurting, “That man is back, giving out bread on Olivehill Boulevard. Come on!”
Fresh bread. How long had it been since they’d had anything fresh? Sometimes a nice man came to town to give it freely. Zeke’s stomach growled. He stood immediately, shoving his card deck into the pocket of his ratty trousers. Grabbed for Mumkey Junior and tucked him beneath his arm. He took one step forward, only to be immediately jerked back by his wrist. Eren had stood as well. Towered over him. His grip was tight.
“We’re not charity cases.” He spat.
Zeke winced. He’d forgotten. They weren’t supposed to accept people’s pity. It was beneath them.
But.
“I’m hungry.” Zeke whined in complaint, struggling to wrench his wrist free. Armin sighed, watching the pair. “Don’t think of it as charity, Eren. Think of it as… A way to survive. I have to accept handouts too. And so does everybody else. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
Eren scowled. Released his younger brother’s wrist, muttering, “Well I still won’t eat anything. You guys can do whatever you want.” Like with the card trick, Zeke didn’t push the boy to relent any further, knowing there were lines in the sand for Eren that were not to be crossed. Still. He wished he’d eat- the stale, mold infested food the teen ate so viciously would undoubtedly lead to illness.
The stranger giving out free food was Marleyan. It was clear in his accent, in the peculiar shape of his nose, eyes, and cheeks.
Eren seethed at the realization, hovering just behind Zeke. They stood in the crowd. The man was middle aged. A dusting of golden stubble with long hair that caught the light just right, glinting. A tan hat and pressed grey suit. A strangely familiar face. He stood by a yellow roadster, freshly painted. It looked out of place surrounded by grubby orphans and the rubble of blown to hell buildings. The man was carrying a basket. The bread inside of it was indeed fresh. So fresh that Zeke could smell it. Could see steam rising, as if it had just been removed from the oven. He reached down to grasp at Eren’s hand and quickly cut through bodies. Most of them were already munching upon their freely given loaves. The man’s eyes flashed from each of their faces, seemingly searching for something. Maybe he was making sure everyone had been given something to eat.
“Excuse me, sir, could we have some too?” Zeke beamed up at the basket, releasing his brother’s hand. The Marleyan stranger grinned with perfect white teeth. There was something frighteningly clean about him, and Zeke was sure if he moved closer to get a whiff of him he would smell lemon pledge and bleach. “Of course. There’s just enough left for you boys…” He plucked a small loaf free. Palm sized, and easy enough for Zeke to reach out and grab. He took a bite and hummed appreciatively. It was still warm. The man reached out to pat the top of his head, only to have his hand slapped at by Eren.
The older boy looked like he would gouge his eyes out. Had a plan for it and only needed an object sharp enough to manage the deed. “Don’t touch him.” He hissed, and the Marleyan just chuckled like it was adorable rather than the prelude to a death threat. “And how about you? Would you like some bread?”
“Eating something a Marleyan touched is bound to make me sick. Do you enjoy rounding up all the devil bloods and feeding them like stray dogs? Does it make you feel good about yourself?”
Zeke nudged him with his elbow. Hard.
Eren gritted his teeth.
“Well…” The man tossed the last loaf to Armin, who thanked him quietly. The boy's hair was tousled, but he seemed to shy away from it. “I don’t see any devil bloods, only children.” He smiled then. “Well not you. You’re a man, aren’t you? You’ve got to be stronger than the rest. You’ve got to set an example. Right?”
At this, Eren paused. He seemed startled by the observation. Thrown for a loop and unable to come up with anything to say in response. “I… Y-Yeah. I guess.” He stuttered, and again, the man chuckled. Zeke finished his bread. His mouth was littered with crumbs, and though he’d just eaten his stomach growled. He blushed in embarrassment as he hugged his stuffed monkey tighter. Eren frowned, peering down at him. “What, was that not enough?”
The crowd was dispersing. Armin lingered. Then, he rushed off, probably back to his house. His was still standing at the end of the block, surrounded by fallen homes. Sometimes Eren and Zeke slept there on stormy nights. “If you need more, I’m feeling generous. How about it? Or are you afraid it’ll make you sick?” He teased, and Eren’s cheeks matched Zeke’s own. A faint pink. The older boy glared at the ground. “I won’t eat anything you have to offer. I don’t need it, okay? Because I’m… A man.” He seemed to hesitate on that, as though the concept was fresh and new. He’d never considered it before. “But…” He reached down to intertwine his fingers with Zeke’s. “Can my brother have some?”
“Of course. I live relatively close. If you don’t mind a few minutes of a drive.” The stranger popped the back door of his roadster open and smiled.
Friendly and impeccably clean.
It struck Zeke why the man had looked so familiar when he saw his unshelled estate.
Willy Tybur, the Prince of Marley. Before the war the Tyburs had been known to vacation in Paradis. The island had a big tourism industry, and they were perhaps one of the richest patrons. Zeke tried not to gawk. “You’re a Tybur. More than that.” He breathed, wide eyes flashing around as he and his brother stood near the entryway. The large doors had shut behind them. Willy removed his hat and tossed it towards a scuttling by maid. She kept her eyes down, refusing to meet the gazes of the children. She gripped at the hat and disappeared down a dark corridor.
“Well, I suppose so. Is that surprising? Our countries are in the middle of peace talks, you know. I have to be on standby, because one day soon I’ll be put in charge of this island. You’re looking at the viceroy of Paradis.” Willy crouched down to Zeke’s eye level. “And everyone will be the same under my rule. No devil bloods. No Marleyans. We’ll all be equal. It’ll be my first decree. It sounds good, doesn’t it?”
Zeke nodded in agreement, hugging Mumkey Junior. Was that really true? He wanted it to be. Willy cast his eyes towards Eren, shoving his hand in the pocket of his suit. He revealed a gold piece and flipped it upwards. Eren caught it. Regarded it with a furrowed brow. Well. It had looked like a gold piece, but upon further inspection the outside material was closer to some kind of tin or foil. “A treat. In Marley we call them Schocks.”
Eren made an attempt to echo him, tongue twisting and screwing around the word, “Scho-schaw-shah-”
Willy smiled lazily. “Practice a bit, you’ll get it eventually.”
The teen blushed darkly. Nodded, frowning as he stuffed the coin in his pocket. “Now… I know I said there’d be food. But would you mind terribly if you washed first? The water’s hot, and it’d only take a moment. It’s just I’d rather you not track dirt about. Please forgive me for being rude.”
Zeke’s eyes glittered at the very idea. Rude? To offer a bath? It was something he missed about life before the war. He hadn’t washed in weeks, and the last time he had, it had been in the lake. In contrast, Eren hesitated.
He said, “Fine.”
He said, “Fine, but then my little brother eats.”
“Of course. And does your little brother have a name? And how about his monkey?” Willy titled his head, eyes settling upon the stuffed animal. The long limbs, the missing eye. The loose stitching around its neck, stuffing bulging out the side of it.
“I’m Zeke. And he’s Mumkey Junior. And his name,” Zeke gestured to his brother, peering up at the older boy with a megawatt smile. ‘Admiration’ was an understatement. “Is Eren Jaeger. The best big brother in the whole wide world!”
“Eren Jaeger.” Willy said it experimentally. “I like it.”
“So what do you think of this place?” Zeke was busy building a little man out of the foam from his bubble bath. He set it on the foundation of his jutting knee. Eren sat across from him in the tub, drumming his fingers on the outer edge to it. The bathtub was so large it could probably fit at least two more people. Zeke was tempted to swim about but didn’t, knowing it would annoy his older brother. “It’s nice.”
“’Nice’.” Zeke mocked, rolling his eyes.
“It’s nothing like home. It’s too big, and wide, and I hate the smell. It’s like citrus.” Leave it to Eren to find issues with a literal manor. Well, that was just his brother. Zeke gave up on constructing the foamman and set the back of his head against the tiled wall. “I like it. I wish we could stay.” Outside the tub, their rags masquerading as clothing sat. His monkey sat on the countertop, staring up at the ceiling lifelessly. The wallpaper was a strange green and reminded Zeke of the sea. Warm lighting came from overhead. ‘Electricity’, he remembered it was called. They hadn’t had any in his childhood home. “I wish we could stay forever. It’s safe here, and the roof doesn’t leak and I can’t hear bombs or anything. My mom could have a room. And your mom. And dad too. We could be one big family.”
Eren glared, throwing a ceramic soap dish at him. It missed. Hit the wall near his head hard enough to crack into sharp fragments. Zeke flinched. He wondered if Eren had missed on purpose. It was hard to tell, but the intent was more than enough to terrify him.
“Well we can’t so just shut up!”
Zeke’s face screwed up. His eyes misted. Eren groaned as the tears began to fall. The older ran a hand through his damp hair and wracked his brain for an idea. Moved to sit with his back against the same wall as Zeke’s. He tossed an arm around the smaller and set his cheek on the top of his head. “…Stop crying, Mumkey.”
“I hate when you call me that. I’m not a monkey.” He blubbered, sniffling.
“You’ve definitely got ears like one, though. They’re massive.”
“They’re not!”
Eren raised his head, hand sneaking behind Zeke’s right ear. He hummed thoughtfully, revealing a gold coin tucked between his pointer and middle finger. He grinned toothily. “So big I can hide shit behind them. Hope Tybur’s got bananas.”
Zeke laughed as Eren drew away and back towards his end of the tub. He tossed the coin towards him and the younger caught it. Well. Magic was something Eren had believed in, once upon a time. He’d taught Zeke a trick or two, but those days were gone and he’d probably forgotten the majority of the ones he used to know. Unraveling the coin, Zeke discovered the chocolate within. He popped the schock in his mouth and chewed as Eren shut his eyes wearily. Getting angry took energy, and that wasn’t something he had an abundance of.
Zeke would convince him to eat something. Definitely.
Zeke actually wasn’t very fond of bananas, so he was glad there were none at dinner. One of Willy’s servants had given him a nice robe to wear. He wasn’t sure what the material was, but he liked the feel of it against his skin. Their clothes were being washed, apparently. Eren didn’t seem terribly happy about it. He sat at the dining table with his arms crossed, unimpressed and impatient. Zeke sat next to him, pigging out. He stuffed himself with mashed potatoes. Meat. Soup. Bread.
He’d heard there would be pie too. He’d have to leave room for it.
Eren ate nothing.
“Well aren’t you hungry?” Willy sat across from them, elbows on the table, fingers knit and chin sitting on the bridge of them. He watched Eren, something dangerously close to a pout tugging at his lips. It looked strange on a grown man. “I don’t believe in charity. It’s for the weak.” Eren explained. Zeke broke open a lobster tail. “It’s really tasty, big brother. And hot, too.” He pointed out. Eren just shook his head and frowned.
Willy was quiet, seemingly calculating. “…It doesn’t have to be charity. You could work for the meal.”
“Serve a Marleyan?” Eren scoffed.
“For a day. Long enough to earn it. Yes, why not? I cannot stand watching good men suffer, and you’re a good man, aren’t you Eren? Eat.”
Eren turned the offer over, and having caught this chink in the armor, Willy pushed a plate of sliced ham across the table and towards him. “Please. Nothing would make me happier. Or, saintlier. I suppose I just want to save my soul. I fear it may be a lost cause…” Willy laughed, as though he’d admitted to something embarrassing. “Won’t you afford me that? Surely a Paradisian understands what it’s like to be held responsible for the sins of his ancestors. Maybe I can never atone for what my people have done to yours, but allow me to try anyhow. This is a start. Isn’t it?”
It was as Zeke nudged him with his elbow that Eren sighed. He slumped forward, and slowly reached for a cut of ham. Zeke wondered what sort of work Eren would have to do. And what about him? He silently decided he’d help too, if it was possible. He didn’t want to mooch off his brother’s efforts to keep them fed. Eren took a bite of meat. Willy smiled. “Lovely. It’s good, isn’t it?”
Eren nodded begrudgingly. He became ravenous after that first bite, and like his brother, stuffed his face. They could not even feign having manners, and fattened themselves like pigs without a hint of shame. Luckily their host didn’t seem bothered by the display.
He sliced a pomegranate in half.
“Eat as much as you like.”
The bed they climbed into was massive. Despite the space, Zeke was as close to Eren as humanly possible. “He’s even letting us sleep here.” The younger whispered. He wore blue silk pajamas. He’d wondered why Willy Tybur even had them to begin with, but recalled that the man had many royal brothers and sisters, all of varying ages. They were likely all back in Marley. Safe and sound. “Do you think if we work for him for more than just today, he’ll let us stay after all?”
“We aren’t working for him. I am.”
Eren attempted to put space between them and inched closer to the edge of the bed. Zeke followed behind him to close the distance. He heard the older boy sigh.
“Stop it.”
“It’s scary, and cold too. I need you.”
“You always need me. You’re such a baby.”
“It’s your fault I’m like this. You’re always so warm. Eren, pleaseee. Can’t we cuddle?”
The boys were at an impasse. Eventually, Eren gave up in his quest to seek breathing room... Though it was likely because he couldn’t scoot any further away.
After eating so much Zeke fell right to sleep, limbs tangled around his brother. He dreamt of nothing, and that was the best he could hope for. Better than dreaming of war. He was so tired of waking up in cold sweats. Tired of having to pretend he was strong, because Eren expected him to be.
It felt like no time had passed at all when he snapped awake in the middle of the night. The bed was empty, but warm. He dimly wondered where his brother had disappeared to as he hugged Mumkey Junior closer to his chest. His eyes drifted towards the window. A moonless night. The stars looked so far away. Slipping out of bed with his stuffed monkey, he trudged towards the cracked door. Left the guest room. The corridor was dark. Walls lined with paintings of old kings and dead men. They seemed to watch Zeke.
He ground a clenched fist against his sleep crusted eyes. It seemed late at night, but there was no way to tell. There was a light at the end of the hall, oozing from beneath a shut door. He was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. He could hear voices. Louder, louder-
And then he heard nothing at all. The doorknob twisted, and he flinched like he’d been caught eavesdropping when it opened. Eren’s eyes fell upon him. They were bright. Enraged, but Eren was always passively angry about something. They were puffy besides. Red. Zeke noticed the buttons to his night shirt were done up wrong. It struck him as strange, and he felt like he should be frightened but he wasn’t sure why. Intuition told him something was amiss.
“We’re leaving.” Eren gritted it out.
“But it’s the middle of the night and our clothes-“ Zeke began, but was quickly silenced by Eren’s expression. It felt like he was being boiled alive by it. He said nothing else. As the older reached down for his hand, Willy approached him from behind. Eren was so much taller than Zeke that he blocked out all the light and the very scene just by standing in the doorway, but Willy was taller than even that, and Zeke needed only to crane his head back to see him. His long hair was in disarray and he held a lit cigarette between his fingers. His dress shirt was unbuttoned, and he smiled, as friendly as ever. “You two are always free to come back. I hope I’ve been a fair host.”
Zeke opened his mouth to speak. Shut it, because Eren was gripping so tightly at his hand that it hurt.
Willy Tybur had sent them off with enough food for a week. It was tempting to share with the other children in their town, but Eren had made it clear that he and Zeke came first.
‘It’s just you and me. Everybody else should be an afterthought. Got it?’
Eren didn’t believe in charity after all, and he’d worked for what they were rationing. When asked what he’d done to earn it, he simply said he’d entertained Willy with a magic trick. Somehow Zeke knew it to be a lie. He pretended to be naïve anyway. He didn’t want to give his brother a headache, as he often did when he asked too many questions.
Well no matter how much they rationed, how little they ate, they eventually ran out of food and it was back to square one. It was raining today. Zeke and Eren sat together under the slanting roof of an old bank. The interior of it was full of shrapnel and rats that scurried wetly. Though the war had definitively ended, few fathers and brothers had returned. There were generous Marleyan soldiers, occasionally. With their schocks and their bread baskets. Zeke wasn’t allowed to ask those men for food.
“I’d like you to buy me a rabbit, Eren.”
“To eat?”
“No, no. I want to pull it out of a hat. I’ll be a great magician, and you’ll finally have to look up to me.”
“Fat chance. I’ll always do the opposite, Mumkey.”
Zeke scowled, using his stuffed monkey to smack his brother’s shoulder. The older boy grinned, reaching for the younger and tugging him into his lap. Zeke’s back connected with Eren’s chest. Their damp shirts stuck to each other as wet fingers snaked under his armpits. He couldn’t stop the laughter from bubbling out of him as he was tickled. “St-stop! I’m not a monkey!”
“I’m sorry dad never told you, but you were abandoned by baboons on our doorstep one fateful night. Tragic.”
“Liar!”
The boys settled down. Eren rested his hands behind him, staring up at the leaky roof hanging overhead. Zeke remained in his lap, noting how lanky he was getting. Maybe one day soon he’d be too old to sit in the boy’s lap. Too old for tickles. Maybe he already was. Or would things always be like this? He relaxed against his brother and tried to picture the future. Undoubtedly, Eren would be there. Zeke needed him to be. But besides that… What would Paradis look like?
“Guys!”
Armin’s voice. He was sprinting through the downpour, wearing a yellow rain slicker and black rubber boots. His face was wet, pretty blonde fringe sticking to his forehead. “That man’s back!”
‘That man’.
While Marleyan soldiers could be generous, none of them were ever as giving as Willy Tybur. Eren stiffened. Zeke tried not to think about how hungry he was. “We’re not interested.” Eren called over the rain. Armin stood in the middle of the road, his slicker bright against the morbid grey backdrop. All those ruined buildings. Thunder cracked the sky. Zeke thought he could hear Armin sighing, but with how heavy the rain was getting there was no way he had.
“Is this about the charity thing? I’ve already told you Eren-!”
“I don’t care about that. I don’t want anything from him.”
Armin paused. He studied Eren. The way the feral boy clenched his jaw, the way he glared. Then he said, voice level and controlled, “You have to ask yourself if death is better.” He took a few steps closer to the demolished bank. A few people passed him in their raincoats, likely off to Olivehill Boulevard. “You have to ask yourself if pride can be eaten.” Armin met Eren’s gaze. Then, he looked away and laughed sheepishly. “Did that sound cool, or what? I’ll… I’ll grab you some bread if I can, okay?”
His smile slipped. Eyes dimmed. He ran, a yellow blur in the rain.
Eren shoved Zeke off his lap and the younger boy grunted as his butt met the hard concrete of the step they’d claimed as theirs. It seemed his mood had soured, though Zeke wasn’t sure why. “…If we can hang on a little longer, dad will be back.” He decided to say. “He’ll be back and we won’t have to worry about scary stuff like pride and death.”
“Stop it.”
Even so, Zeke continued, feverish and speaking quickly, “And then we can go home. And things can be like they used to be.”
“Zeke.”
“We can be happy.”
His cheek stung, throbbed. It had happened so fast that he hadn’t even registered what had happened until moments later; Eren had slapped him. His eyes welled with tears. The older boy refused to look at him. He was staring off towards the end of the street. “...Let's see if there's anything left.” Was all he said before standing. He thrusted a hand out for Zeke to take. The younger accepted it, swiping at his tears with the wet sleeve to his button up shirt. He sniffled and nodded, not daring to speak.
They walked together.
Willy Tybur’s car shined even on dreary days. His suit was soaked through, and his hat was tilted so low it was hard to see his eyes. But Zeke could feel them. The way they rolled over him and then his older brother as they approached hand in hand.
Eren would tell Zeke much later in life that Armin had been right: pride couldn’t be eaten.