THE BASTARD, eren yeager

𝐱𝐯𝐢𝐢, a desperate prayer

author's note: thank you so much for 2.8k views!!! ahh and tysm for the votes & comments(i read and i appreciate them all! <3) i hope y'all like this fic and i promise it's not abandoned I've just been incredibly busy lately :(

THE BASTARD
chapter seventeen

When [Name] woke up that morning she thought it would be a pleasant day, if not simply a busy day.

Ymir had slammed into her bedroom in the morning only to find Zeke flipping through [Name]'s bookcase and profusely apologized. In the end, Zeke only chastised her once, for even he understood that he hadn't visited his wife's chambers in nearly a year.

He left and [Name] hadn't heard a single word from him, until she returned to her room from Mass in the afternoon, and she saw an enormous assortment of white roses set on her table.

Well, at least he'd learned she hated red roses.

She let out a breath and picked up the note attached to the bottom.

'To my wife, may you gaze upon them and feel only bliss.'

[Name] huffed and flipped the note down on her nightstand.

Ymir laughed and ran over to look at the flowers. "Who knew all you had to do was spread your legs, to have him wrapped around your finger?"

"That's easy for you to say." She mumbled under her breath as she reached for the white roses. "Can you go get Christa I need her to sew some more things onto my evening dress for Gabi's celebration?"

"Why don't you ask me to do it?" Ymir asked.

"Because whenever you sew something it comes undone within the hour, now go!" she huffed, and Ymir reluctantly left the room. Leaving [Name] alone with the vase of flowers.

She frowned and went to go pick a rose up, but that's when she felt the sting of thorns cut through her fingers.

"My god," she hissed as the blood began to trickle down her fingers and onto the white petals. She cursed under her breath when it dripped down onto her dress, staining the pale blue fabric.

She fumbled around searching for some rag to wrap her hand in when her door slammed open behind her.

"Ymir–" She began but quickly closed her mouth when she saw her husband slam the door shut so roughly that her entire wall shook.

He could've sworn he was just going to speak to her, he wasn't going to lay a finger on her, on his wife again. But he felt his mind go dizzy with rage when he finally laid eyes on her.

Her soft hair was pinned up and away from her face, with a silver headpiece on top. She was wearing those pearls–those fucking pearls–were laced around her neck.