𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐀 | 𝐋. 𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐍

𝐈𝐈.𝐈𝐗

❝𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝑰 𝒓𝒆𝒇𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒏 𝒐𝒃𝒋𝒆𝒄𝒕.❞
— 𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐎𝐍

꧁꧂

FOR THE THIRD TIME IN THE PAST TWO MONTHS, Eren once again found himself abducted.

Groaning quietly, the boy cracked open his eyelids to the glowing underground cavern he was currently imprisoned in, the blinding sky-blue crystal loudly echoing even the slightest of sounds. From time to time, the cold wind that snaked through the cavern elicited a shiver from his half-naked form, making the chains binding his arms behind him clatter. The cavern lacked the disgustingly humid stench all caverns seemed to have, but that didn't make it any more comforting. If anything, its vastness unsettled him, making dread coil tightly in his chest.

The sound of whispering echoed his way, and Eren's eyes flickered around until they found the source of the sound: a stout, dark-haired man with dark hair.

Rod Reiss—the man who'd schemed this all.

Rod paced around, mumbling incoherencies to no one in particular. The man—an unsuspecting nobleman residing in rural Wall Sina—was Historia's father. The first time he'd seen him, Eren had been bordering on consciousness, observing wordlessly as he'd pulled Historia to his chest. When Eren awakened again, he was gagged and restrained on a crystal structure that resembled the plank of a ship.

As Rod padded around, absorbed in his own dialogue, Eren wandered his own thoughts. The first time he'd awakened, Rod and Historia had pressed their hands to his back, and through some unknown power, they'd roused his father's memories—including the one where he'd slaughtered most of the Reiss family in the very same cavern he was in now.

He didn't want to think about that.

To entertain himself, Eren took advantage of his father's newly awakened memories and tried summoning one. It wasn't precisely easy—trying to nail one down was like trying to grab hold of water—but Eren was more than determined to tap in to his father's recollection. And many flowed by—trips around the Walls, dinner time with the family, even the night Mikasa was taken into the Jaeger household—but Eren never managed to fully visualize any of them.

Just when he was about to give up, a certain memory swirled from the back of his mind.

Eren's first instinct was to chew on his lip, but the rod forced between his teeth held his jaw in place. In this memory, Valen in no way resembled the hard-nosed soldier everyone in the Scout Regiment was familiar with—she was merely a sickly, fragile girl, pale and ailing. The smallest details didn't evade him. He saw the way she trembled, the way her body violently rocked back and forth as she fought through a neverending coughing fit.