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Chapter Text

His hand gripped hers tightly as they fled down the cobblestone road and into the unknown night, his figure in front of her outlined by the yellow street lamps below and the silver moon above. Mikasa couldn't help but think how nice it was to be back in their natural position, the one they had assumed time and time again since the night they met: Eren in front of her, leading them both forward with gentle force, holding her arm or hand tightly enough that he knew she would never be left behind. She often thought about how much she wanted to be at his side, but it struck her now that maybe this is where she wanted to be most: right behind him, watching him move forward in the way he seemed born to do, with confidence she would never understand, their hands linked in a way that almost felt closer than a kiss (almost: up until a few minutes ago, she probably would have bet that it did feel closer, having nothing to base a comparison on, but now she knew better; her cheeks pinkened yet again at the thought).

" Mikasa, what am I to you?"

Time seemed to stand still as Mikasa gaped, her mind struggling to decide how to respond.

"This is your chance idiot, tell him! Tell him how much he means to you!" screamed one part of her brain.

"Don't you dare," warned the other, "we're on the brink of war, this is no time to complicate things by bringing romantic feelings into the mix."

"But he ASKED! This is the perfect time! When will you ever get another chance like this?"

"He probably asked thinking you'd answer with 'a brother' or something. He's just looking for clarification on whether the two of you are friends or family, nothing more, and if you tell him the truth he'll be shocked and taken aback and he'll become even more distant than he already has been lately. You can't risk it."

The two sides warred, her brain a battlefield, as Mikasa floundered like a fish: "You're…you're…" she stuttered, eyes dashing about to look everywhere but right at Eren. Her reasonable side was starting to win out; she couldn't tell him her true feelings. Not now, maybe not ever. Her conclusion must have reflected on her face, because when she finally met his eyes in that moment, she saw something in the deep blue-green. At first, recognition, as if he could already see her answer as plainly as if it were written out across her forehead. But then, something else, something dark and distant and heartbreakingly sad:

She saw—if only for a moment—a reflection of the way she felt when she contemplated living out her life without Eren ever knowing the true depths of her love; of never knowing what it would be like to feel him hold her in the way she wanted to be held by him and him alone.

She avoided thinking about it most of the time, lying to herself that what they had was enough. But on lonely nights when she couldn't sleep, it haunted her, taunted her, and she felt an emptiness in her gut so painful it made her marvel at the human body's ability to translate emotional hurt into physical. She would silently yet violently cry herself to sleep, delusionally and desperately wishing that Eren would magically appear and make the pain go away by telling her that he felt the same.

The look was fleeting, wiped away with a blank (and obviously forced) expression almost immediately, but not before Mikasa’s lightning-fast reflexes had caught it.

Part of her refused to believe it: could Eren really feel the same? Did he really feel that same longing, the kind that festered like an ulcer in your gut? The kind that could only ever be relieved by the other person confessing that they longed, too? There was no way. It must have been a trick of the moonlight, an apparition conjured by the part of her brain that had just lost the battle.

But no. Despite her mind's desperate attempts to rationalize and avoid, she knew what she saw. No matter how much she tried to avoid it, she would recognize that distinct brand of despair anywhere. And for some reason, it stopped her dead in her tracks—then changed her course altogether. She thought of all the nights she cried out silently for Eren to save her, to rescue her from this haunting ache, the same way he had saved her from those men the night they met. Throughout their years together, she had always hated seeing him in pain, had done her best to protect him. Now, here he was, in pain, and if she was right about what she saw, only she could deliver the cure. Only she could save him. And so, with a deep breath, she did.

"Eren….you're everything to me," she whispered. "You're my family, but you're…so much more. You're my strength, you're my savior…but…but even more than that, you're just…you're my person." Mikasa continued, her eyes trained on her feet, her feeble voice barely above a breeze. "When I see my future, I see you. You're…you're the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. Have a…have a family with…do you…do you understand what I'm saying?"

Mikasa forced herself to look up, to gauge Eren's reaction to her deepest, darkest confession. The look on his face was one of pure shock. Like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Oh god, he was disgusted with her. She had imagined that look. She had projected her own feelings onto him in a moment of desperation and now she had irrevocably damaged their friendship oh god oh god oh god.

She spoke up, her voice a little louder and impossibly faster, the apology spilling out of her like vomit: "Oh God Eren I— I'm so sorry, I don't know why I said that I'm s-so sorry oh God I know you don't —feel the same way, I shouldn't have said anything and now I've made things uncomfortable can we p-please please please just forget this ever happened I'm so sorry for making you feel uncomfortable but God please just p-please don't stop being my family I don't want to lose you Eren ple—"

And then the world stopped because he was kissing her. Eren was kissing her. His hands were on her cheeks, pressing her face forward into his, his full lips warm against hers. Mikasa was so startled she couldn't move for a moment—it didn't feel possible, didn't feel real. But it was—his palms on her cheeks were real, his nose slightly bumping against hers was real, and then she was kissing him back, arms reaching around his neck to pull him closer.

After a few moments (or was it an eternity?) he pulled back, her face still in his hands; Mikasa almost worried she would burn his palms with how hard she was blushing. "Eren," she whispered breathlessly, "what was…what was th—" "Run away with me," he cut her off, words spoken with an urgency that perplexed her. She listened closely, mouth opening just slightly agape. "I don't have time to explain right now, but I need to leave Mikasa. Now. If I don't, terrible things will happen. I've seen it," (this only confused her further, brows furrowing as his hands dropped from her face). "War is coming, Mikasa. There is nothing I can do to stop it. But I don't want that," Eren continued, his voice becoming more clouded with emotion by the second, nearly breaking on the penultimate word. "I only have—" He stopped, forcing himself to take a deep breath before continuing in a slightly less frantic tone. "I only have four more years left. I don't want to spend them fighting. I want to spend them…with you," he finished, turquoise eyes looking up to bore into her soul. Mikasa let out a barely audible gasp. Her head spun from trying to keep up with the events of the last minute and a half. Eren had kissed her. Eren! And if that weren't dizzying enough, here he was babbling nonsense about seeing the future and needing to run away—surely she must be dreaming. But her mind was relieved of that notion when Eren took her hands in his, clasping large palms around small fists, surrounding her in every way as he implored her with his eyes. His skin was too hot for this to be a figment of nighttime imagination—her wrists sweat where his fingers clasp around them. "Mikasa please," he entreated, voice just above a whisper and cracked with longing, "Let's spend my final years in peace. Just the two of us."

An eternity passed (or was it just a few moments?) before Mikasa breathed her reply: "Okay."

That was about three minutes ago. The second she had agreed, Eren's face had split into a relieved smile, before immediately grabbing her hand and tugging her along with him down the hill. They weaved through the refugee tents, going the long way round to get back into the city so as not to be apprehended by their compatriots looking for them. Mikasa felt a tinge of guilt about this, about leaving without even saying goodbye, but more than anything she felt exhilarated. Energized. Alive.

And so, chasing that feeling the way she chased after Eren, Mikasa sprinted full speed into the unknown.

Chapter Text

"Eren! Eren wait, hold on a second," Mikasa giggled as she slowed their pace down, Eren's hand tugging at her while he tried to go faster. They'd put enough distance between them and their friends that they could afford to take a break for a few moments and plan out what exactly it was they were doing. 

"Where are we going?" she inquired, but her tone was lighthearted, still riding the high from the events of the past 10 minutes or so. 

"The train station," Eren answered, slightly out of breath from all the running. "From what I saw in my father's memories, it should be in this direction." 

"How exactly are we going to buy train tickets?" Mikasa questioned, a note of playful incredulity in her voice. Eren waved the hand not holding hers in front of his face, shirking away her concern. 

"I've still got the Azumabito's pocket change on me from earlier! That should be enough to get us two train tickets." 

"Okay, that's good," Mikasa replied, "but how much would you have after that?" 

"Uhhhhhh…" Eren trailed off, face scrunching up while he tried to work out the mental math. Mikasa spoke up to spare him the calculations; with Eren, this always ended with him muttering under his breath that math was "stupid" and "who needs numbers anyways."

"It probably would only be enough to pay for food for a week at the most, much less lodging and other necessities." 

Eren frowned. "Well, we don't have much of a choice, do we? It's not like we can go back to the Azumabito estate." 

The corners of Mikasa's mouth turned up. "Who says we can't?"

Mikasa wasn't sure what possessed her to suggest this, much less believe they could actually pull it off. But something about this night had her feeling invincible. It was as if the knowledge that Eren returned her affection had ballooned in her chest, making her float with confidence.

They were currently crouched in the bushes on the edge of the Azumabito property. From their position, Mikasa could see the parlor they had all been in earlier when she first realized Eren was missing. It seemed that only Kiyomi remained in the room with a few of her staff.

"Are you sure about this?" Eren whispered, looking between her and the house with unease. 

"Absolutely," answered Mikasa. "I just have to channel my inner ninja." She gave him a quick wink and dashed forward through the darkness, leaving a bewildered Eren behind in the shadows.

As she ducked around corners and edged along walls, she  smiled to herself, thinking back to a conversation she and Armin had shortly after the island had accepted their first envoy from Hizuru.

"Mikasa!" Armin's bright voice rang out through the hallway as he chased after her. She was heading to the mess hall for lunch, rather than joining the more formal meal the queen was providing for the Azumabito; frankly, after their arrival last week and the shocking knowledge that she was their long-lost heir, she needed some time to herself without any random Hizurans fussing around about her.

She turned to face him with a smile, his contagious positive energy infecting her facial muscles. "I'm so glad I caught up with you. Are you heading to the mess hall?" Armin asked, his breath slightly huffy after sprinting to catch her. Mikasa gave him a small nod. Armin's face scrunched slightly in confusion. "But weren't you invited to join Historia and the higher ups for all their meals with the Azumabito while they're here?" 

Mikasa sighed. "Yes, I was, but I'm getting a little tired of all the creepy adoring stares and insistence that I'm some sort of lost princess." 

Armin gave her a sympathetic smile. "Yeah, I can understand how that might get a little old. But even so, hasn't it been great hearing about the outside world?" he asked, his eyes shining just like they did when they read his grandpa's book as children. "Everything I've been reading about Hizuru sounds so fascinating! They're an island, just like we are, but smaller, so their culture has a lot of elements that center around the sea," he continued, his voice almost reverential when speaking the last word. 

Mikasa couldn't help but smile listening to Armin go on about her newfound culture. Even if she didn't particularly care too much about it, she was thrilled to see Armin so fascinated, always eager to soak up any knowledge he could about the world outside the walls.

They arrived at the mess hall and Armin opened the door for her, ever the gentleman. "I actually just finished reading this book about some of their history last night and wanted to show you something that reminded me of you," he continued as they grabbed trays and proceeded down the lunch line. Mikasa raised an eyebrow as she grabbed an apple. 

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" 

"Good!" reassured Armin as he rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "I promise. Here, let me show you."

They found seats at a table near the windows, Armin encouraging Mikasa to sit beside him on the bench rather than across from him so she could see properly. He pulled a book out of his bag and excitedly flipped to a bookmarked page. 

"So Hizuru had these warriors called samurai, and that reminded me of you a bit, but they were more of a social class than just pure warriors. What really reminded me of you was this," Armin pointed at an illustration on the page of a person clad in all black, including a hood over their head and fabric that covered their entire face except their eyes. They appeared to have a blade strapped behind their back. 

"Ninjas," he said emphatically, as Mikasa peered at the picture in front of her. "It means 'one who is invisible.' They were elite warriors who specialized in infiltration and espionage, and later as bodyguards. They existed for around 500 years before fading into obscurity about 200 years ago, then becoming somewhat mythical folk characters in the past century or so. It reminded me of how stealthy you are—remember that time back in the cadet corps that you and Annie snuck up on those brigands and dropped down on them from the trees? And you've basically been Eren's bodyguard since we were kids."

Armin sighed wistfully, turning the page. "It may seem a little silly, but it reminded me of you. And I thought you'd like to know that your fierceness as a fighter isn't necessarily all from your father's Ackerman blood—your mother comes from a culture with legendary warriors, too."

Mikasa turned to him, tears threatening to form in her eyes at Armin's thoughtfulness. Her mother had indeed been a fighter, until the very end. "Thank you for sharing this with me, Armin." 

"You're more than welcome, Mikasa."

Mikasa kneeled down behind the shrubs where she had left Eren, setting their trunks on the ground. She'd had a couple close calls, but ultimately had succeeded in sneaking in and out undetected with their bags.

She turned to Eren, sporting a very self-satisfied smile. "See! I told you we could do it." Eren just shook his head, grinning. "Besides," continued Mikasa, "we couldn't leave without this." 

She opened her bag and pulled out a well-worn, burgundy lump—the scarf. Mikasa unfolded it from its careful bundle, reaching up to place it in its rightful spot when a tan hand stopped her. A barely audible gasp escaped her mouth, gunmetal grey eyes locking with gleaming turquoise. Without a word, Eren took the scarf from Mikasa's hands and wrapped it around her neck. 

"There," said Mikasa, fighting a tear, " now we can leave."

And so leave they did, hurrying away in the direction of the train station and freedom.

In a barren land removed from space and time, a little girl clothed in rags trembled with rage. This was not how things were supposed to go.

Chapter Text

The wheels of the train beat a steady and loud click-clack rhythm. The windows of their compartment rattled in turn, shaken by the constant clash of metal on metal. The passengers adjacent to them were shouting and singing, seemingly celebrating some event or another. But Eren Yeager registered none of this. Because Mikasa Ackerman was currently laying on his shoulder, sleeping soundly, tiny snores coming from her open mouth.

Even now, he could scarcely believe it; that this was real, rather than yet another agonizingly hopeful dream. But his dreams could never replicate so well the soft sighs sneaking from her lips, the warmth of her body radiating through the fabric of his suit jacket as her head lay snugly against him. He focused on the paper ticket in his hand, trying and failing to ground himself in the moment, the letters spelling out "VERN, SVETZLUND" blurring together as he lost himself in the subdued scent of her perfume.

"It's our best option as far as places to go," Eren explained after purchasing two tickets to Svetzlund, his hand reaching for Mikasa's instinctively as soon as he had placed the paper tickets in the pocket of his suit jacket. "I know about it from my father's memories of attending school as a child. Basically, when the Eldian empire was still waging war across the world, this was the one place they couldn't conquer. It's surrounded by mountains, the tallest in the world, and even with titans they were too difficult to pass. So when Marley eventually rebelled against Eldia, Svetzlund stayed neutral. They essentially played both sides, selling weapons and other resources to both Marley and Eldia. To this day, it's the only country on earth that doesn't have Eldian internment zones. Well, the only country besides Paradis and Hizuru, I suppose. Not that they're necessarily accepting of Eldians; it's basically a don't ask, don't tell situation for the few Eldians who live there."

"If they're the only place that doesn't discriminate against Eldians, why don't more Eldians live there?" Mikasa asked, her eyes wide as she soaked up the interesting information.

Eren's face hardened, his voice following suit when he opened his mouth to answer. "Because it's basically impossible to escape an internment zone. You know what they did to my dad's sister, and she was only a child. And that was Marley—most other countries treat Eldians even worse, if they let them live at all."

Eren watched as Mikasa's face fell more with each of his words. He needed to rein himself in—now wasn't the time to get worked up over the mistreatment of their people. "It doesn't matter though," Eren said, shaking his head and trying to lighten his expression to at least neutral rather than actively scowling. "The point is, this is our best bet. Because not only do they tolerate Eldians, they've kept their policy of neutrality in the modern era. Whenever countries across the continent fight, like Marley has been with the Mid-East Alliance for several years now, they never get involved. They're consistently neutral—they have no formal allies or enemies. So on the very small chance that our true identities were discovered, we wouldn't have to worry about the Svetz government handing us over to Marley or anything like that." Eren looked up at Mikasa, flashing her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. It seemed to work, because she was now mirroring his expression. God, her smile…it was like if the moon could blind you in all its silver sleekness.

"Okay," Mikasa said, holding Eren's eyes. "I trust you."

Eren let out a tired sigh, stifling the sound as best he could to avoid waking Mikasa. His body longed to join her in slumber, exhaustion from the riveting day they'd had creeping in. But his mind was going too fast to allow sleep to come. Because while part of his brain was doing backflips about his proximity to Mikasa right now, the other half was fretting over how on earth he was going to explain everything to her when she eventually woke up. How could he explain something he still didn't entirely understand himself?

Eren took a deep breath and closed his eyes, concentrating on slowing the buzz of anxious thoughts fluttering within. This was something he had extensive experience with—he'd spent the past four years staving off full blown panic attacks ever since he'd kissed Historia's hand and learned his accursed future. Whenever the weight of what would be began to overwhelm him, he had no choice but to learn to block it out and keep moving forward; it wasn't as if he could confide in anyone about it, and if he dwelt on it too long he'd go madder than he already was. And so with mindful skill, he exiled his concerns to the back of his consciousness, telling himself he'd probably be able to think better after a good night's sleep anyway.

Eren exhaled, feeling Mikasa's hair flutter beneath the release of his breath. He clung to the bliss of that feeling as he followed her into slumber.

When Eren opened his eyes to the early morning sun and its intrusive rays, Mikasa was already awake, watching him with a small smile on her face; she had always been the early riser of the two.

"Good morning," she said with a slight grin in her voice, the same tone she used when they were little and he played dolls with her (not that anybody else would ever know about that), a tone she hadn't had the occasion to use in so long.

"I got us breakfast. They were handing out these strange breads to passengers one car over."

Eren smiled back at her as he took the baked good from her hand. "They're called croissants," he informed her.

"Cruh-sahnz?" Mikasa parroted curiously.

"Close enough," Eren chuckled, biting into his bread. God, how refreshing it was to hear her voice take on a happy, inquisitive tone rather than her typical stoic façade.

They ate in companionable silence, both transfixed by the luscious green mountain sides on the other side of the window. Eren would have been happy to pass the rest of the ride simply sitting next to Mikasa and gawking at the natural wonders beyond the walls, but he knew the moment was too good to last. And just as he expected, Mikasa eventually broke the quiet air of their compartment, her voice timid but determined.

"Eren?" she spoke, and his body tensed in preparation. "Um…so last night you said that you'd uh…explain what you meant…what exactly is going on…"

Eren closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. "Uhhh yeah. Yeah I did."

He turned in his seat to face her, bracing himself for the coming conversation. "Just…it's…kinda hard to explain, so just…bear with me until I get through it all."

And so he told her.

He told her how when he kissed Historia's hand at the medal ceremony four years ago, his world split open. The past and the present and the future collided in him all at once, and the force of it shook his brain so hard he never recovered. That through the Attack Titan's ability to transmit memories forwards and backwards, he had seen what would happen eventually, once they had ventured beyond the sea. What he would do. And it was hell. It was burning and agony and destruction on a scale the human mind could not comprehend. That it terrified him to his core, that he swore to himself in that moment after the shock and awe wore off that he would find a way to avoid it, would find a way to save the island without lighting the world on fire. But that no matter how hard he tried, how far he looked, the glimpses of the future that he had seen always came to pass exactly as he had seen them.

Until now.

Until that glorious moment on the hill when she saved not only him but the whole world.

"I still have no idea why it didn't play out like all my other visions. In my future memory, when I asked you that question, you just told me I was family. And that was the end of the conversation," Eren explained, his eyes on his lap where his hands lay restless, bending his fingers back and forth.

"I've tried harder than I can put into words to change how my visions played out and nothing ever changed. I guess the difference is…you, Mikasa," he said, finally raising his head to look her in the eye. Her steel gray gaze was wide, an unreadable expression across her face.

"You always have been stronger than me…I guess that applies to strength of will, too," Eren joked, trying to lighten the mood, his head dropping back down to avoid her eyes. Now that he had explained everything, he was scared of her reaction. What would she think? Would she be mad he hadn't told her and Armin about all of this? Would she be disgusted by the Rumbling, by what he was going to do? Would she even believe all of this insane talk about visions and powers? He felt like a crazy person explaining it, he could only imagine how it sounded to outside ears.

After a few minutes of silence, his anxiety over what Mikasa's reaction actually was outweighed his fear of it, and Eren looked up at her, bracing himself for the worst. Her eyes were brimming with tears, her nose scrunched up trying to hold them in, her lips rolled in on each other so that they disappeared as she held in a sob. Oh god, she hated him. She was so appalled at him and what he planned to carry out that she was crying oh god oh god oh god—

Eren's imploding train of thought stopped in its tracks when Mikasa lunged forward and wrapped her arms around him, her gentle warmth encompassing him like a cozy blanket.

"Oh, Eren," she whispered, her head behind his as their necks slotted together so she could hold him as close as possible. "I'm so sorry. I am so, so sorry."

And in that moment, in Mikasa's arms, after years of holding his mind together behind a wall taller than Maria, Eren let himself crumble like its gates.

He cried into her shoulder, tears drenching her suit jacket as they flowed faster and harder. He wept the way he had wanted to ever since he saw those cursed visions, the way he used to weep when he was 15 and so full of passionate anger he sometimes felt that he would burst at the seams. Eren had always been someone who wore his emotions on his sleeve; the past four years of holding his feelings in behind a false façade had felt antithetical to his nature. Mikasa's presence, all-encompassing and beyond comforting, gave him permission to return to his truest self.

After several solid minutes of crying, Mikasa gave Eren a tight squeeze and pulled back so she could see his face (though she never let her hands leave his back). "Why didn't you tell us?" she implored, her words soft but strong.

"Well, at first I didn't tell you because I didn't know how," Eren replied, his voice ragged and choked from crying. "I couldn't even comprehend it all myself at first, not just because of how strange it was but because of how much I saw."

"Once I'd at least somewhat processed things, I figured I should…test what I saw? I guess?" he continued, sniffling as he tried to recover from his sobbing spell.

"I figured that if the stuff I saw didn't come to pass, that it was just some scary vision of one possible future, then it wasn't that big a deal and I could just wait until things weren't quite so crazy to talk to you guys. But if things did happen exactly as I saw them…I knew I didn't want you guys anywhere near any of that. None of you deserved to be complicit in what was going to happen…the atrocities I was going to commit…" Eren trailed off, a distant look in his eye. Eventually he seemed to remember that he had been speaking and continued with his explanation: "The more time passed, the more things continued to happen exactly as I'd seen them…the more I knew I needed to keep you guys as far away from that as possible."

Mikasa's face fell further as she listened, her heartbreak for him evident on her face. Eren hated to see it—he wasn't worth her empathy. He mentally resolved in that moment that he would spend the rest of his short life doing his utmost to make sure he was never the reason for her sadness ever again.

Eren drew in a deep breath as she pulled her right hand away from his back to caress his face. He closed his eyes and leaned into her palm; her hands had always had a way of grounding him (though in the past it was usually in the form of grabbing his arm to keep him from a fight; he much preferred this version).

Eren opened his eyes again when Mikasa started to speak: "We could all tell something was wrong," she stated, her hand falling away from his face, which followed suit upon hearing her words; he had hoped he'd hidden it well enough not to cause concern.

"We assumed it was all the pressure you felt as the bearer of the Founding Titan. Armin and I were worried about you, but we didn't know how to approach you about it…God I wish we had." Mikasa's voice cracked, tears beginning to flow despite her pressing her fingers against the corners of her eyes in an attempt to trap them at the source. "Eren I'm so sorry, you needed us and we weren't there for you, I—"

"Hey! Hey hey hey, stop that right now," Eren rushed in a gentle tone, his hands coming up to cup her face. "You have nothing to apologize for, Mikasa. Nothing. Even if you or Armin or the commander or anyone else had tried to talk to me about it, I wouldn't have told you. Like I said, I wanted you all as far away from my actions as possible. This was my burden to bear."

Mikasa gazed at him with a melancholic longing as Eren wiped the last of her tears away with his thumbs, his palms still cradling her cheeks.

"But Eren," she whispered, her eyes shining, "I want to shoulder your burdens with you. That's all I've ever wanted. To be by your side and share everything with you."

"You've had so much responsibility and regret hanging over you for so long, and you think you deserve the full weight of it, but you don't. We've all done bad things. Anything more that you've done than me or anyone else in the Scouts was solely because you were forced to do it because you were the only one with your power. I have just as much blood on my hands as you." As Mikasa said this, she reached up and placed her hands over his, squeezing his fingers with her own.

"Let me shoulder the burden of your sins with you, Eren. Because they're mine too."

Eren stared at Mikasa in awe. What on earth he had done to deserve this kind soul, this beautiful angel who was so devoted to him that she would follow him even to the depths of hell, he would never know. She had saved him in so many ways—physically, emotionally, mentally—and countless times. In a moment of appreciation so deep it overwhelmed him, he crushed her to his chest, squeezing her tight, as if she might evaporate from his grasp if he wasn't holding onto her with all his might. She squeezed him right back.

"I don't deserve you," Eren mouthed into her raven tresses, so soft even Mikasa's Ackerman ears didn't hear it. They sat there for endless minutes, enveloped in each other's arms, relishing the closeness after the last four years of creeping separation both literal and figurative.

For the first time since the wall fell, the word "home" came to Eren's mind.

They spent the remaining hours of their journey taking in the sights together. The higher they climbed in altitude, the more Eren could feel all the last of his worries slipping away, as if the mountain air was too thin to bear the weight of such concerns.

Just as the sun was sliding behind the forested peaks, the train pulled into the station, its aching wheels screeching in relief as they slowed to a stop. The duo shared an excited glance at each other before grabbing their luggage and disembarking.

And so, with a lightness in his step he had not possessed in nine years, Eren led Mikasa by the hand off of the train and on to their new life together.

Chapter Text

By the time Eren and Mikasa managed to find an inn without a "no vacancy" sign in the window, darkness had fallen upon the quaint town of Vern. Walking up to the last place to stay in town with their fingers crossed, Eren opened the creaky wooden door for Mikasa to find a kindly-looking elderly woman sitting behind the front desk.

"Hello there," she smiled, her crows feet deepening with the friendly gesture. "How can I help you?"

"Hi, do you have any rooms available?"  Eren spoke up as he approached the desk, Mikasa following and standing shyly behind him.

"Indeed we do! We have a few single bed rooms unoccupied. I'll put you two in the one with the best fireplace," the woman responded, giving them a wink.

"Thank you, that's very kind of you," Eren replied before realizing that would leave them one bed short. "Wait, actually—"

"And let me just say, you two are adorable. You remind me of when my husband and I escaped out here to elope, as well," she continued, cutting Eren off. Which was just as well because upon hearing the words "husband" and "elope" in reference to Mikasa and himself, his brain short-circuited.

"Are you two looking to settle out here? Or just passing through for a honeymoon?" the woman asked, turning around to face the wall of numbered hooks behind her and lifting a dangling key from hook #36.

"Uh. We're um. We're looking to settle out here," Eren coughed out after clearing his throat, words jumbled just like his thoughts.

"Oh, how exciting. Welcome to Vern, then," she replied, turning around and sliding the key across the wooden counter. "Yanno, our normal rate is 30 geltz per night, but for you two lovebirds, I can make it 20."

Hearing him and Mikasa referred to as "lovebirds" just about fried the last of his remaining neurons. He was sure that if he were to look in a mirror right now, he would find the dopiest expression on his face. After a few moments too long of imagining the two of them holding hands and kissing and doing other silly cutesy couple stuff, Eren snapped out of his lovestruck haze enough to thank the innkeeper for her kindness and pay for the room. 

They found their room on the third floor at the farthest corner of the hallway, both sighing in relief when Eren unlocked the door for them and they were finally able to set their suitcases down. The room was simple but tidy, the old wooden furniture and handmade quilts giving it a cozy aura. A modest fireplace was situated in the center of the back wall; with how quickly the air went from tolerably chilly to uncomfortably frigid once the sun went down, they would certainly need it.

"I'll start the fire," Eren offered, crossing the room and kneeling down to strike a match from the nearby box before throwing it into the waiting pile of wood. A gentle flame licked around from underneath the bottom log, indicating the kindling had taken, and Eren stood up with his hands on his hips, gazing at the growing flickers with a satisfied expression.

He then turned around to look at Mikasa. He found her right where he'd left her, standing just inside the door, but her cheeks had turned bright fuchsia. Eren was confused for a moment until he followed her gaze and realized what she was staring at, his own face imitating hers as soon as it clicked for him.

Oh.

Right.

The bed.

The one bed.

Eren had been swooning so hard at the idea of someone perceiving him and Mikasa as a couple that the implications hadn't even dawned on him. Oh man. They had not shared a bed since their ages could still be described by one digit apiece.

He could still remember the fury he felt the day after Mikasa had turned 10, a few months after she had moved in with them. Carla had explained that Mikasa would be moving into the spare room next to Eren's, which had until that point been used as a hospital room on the occasion that a particularly sick patient of Grisha's needed close monitoring for an extended period of time. Eren had thrown a huge fit, pretending to be incensed on behalf of future patients of his father who would now surely die without being able to sleep in their house. Carla had responded that they would simply sleep on the couch in the main room. Eren had had no counter argument for this, and had thus stomped away muttering under his breath about the whole thing being unfair.

Those nights as nine-year-olds when they had shared the same bed felt like a lifetime ago; they were different people now. And as much as Eren reveled in Mikasa's closeness, he didn't want to make her uncomfortable.

"I'll, uh. I'll take the floor," Eren said, clearing his throat. Mikasa averted her eyes and mumbled something that sounded like "okay," her blush deepening by the second. God, she was so cute. Ugh, focus Eren, focus . Luckily the object of his distraction soon excused herself to the restroom to get ready for bed.

While Mikasa showered, Eren pulled two quilts from the small closet near the bathroom. Grabbing a pillow off the bed as he walked back towards the fireplace, he partially unfolded one of the quilts and laid it out in front of the hearth long ways, setting the pillow at one end and throwing the second quilt on top. Satisfied with his makeshift bed, he then set about opening his suitcase to rummage through his belongings, needing something to do with his hands to keep his mind from wandering to the fact that Mikasa was currently stripping just a few feet and a door away. Before the two of them ran away, it was easier to shove down the uninvited thoughts of Mikasa's jaw-dropping physical attributes. There were other, more important things to think about, and he was going to die without so much as kissing her anyways. But now? Now that she had taken his hand and left that cursed existence behind, just the two of them? There was no longer any reason that he couldn't pursue her physically. And that knowledge made the task he was once very adept at of pushing down all inappropriate thoughts regarding Mikasa nigh impossible.

A few minutes after Eren heard the water cut off, Mikasa emerged, clad in a pinstripe pajama set. Eren immediately averted his gaze to the floor, snatching his own night clothes from his open suitcase and stalking towards the bathroom for his own shower, shutting the door with a little too much force. He turned the water on, not bothering to try and make it hot—he needed the physiological effects of a cold shower with how much his mind wandered to Mikasa performing the same activity of cleanliness in the exact same space only moments ago, her naked body dripping under the rush of water from above. Eren shook his head like a wet dog, as if he could physically dislodge the thoughts from his brain. Finishing his shower as quickly as possible, he dressed and brushed his teeth (a process still somewhat foreign to him, as the people of Paradis had only just learned about it upon opening up their port to Hizuru) before heading back out into the room. He found Mikasa already in bed, quilts piled on top of her to ward off the cold. He smiled at her as he walked over to his pallet.

"Goodnight, Mikasa. Sweet dreams," Eren called, huddling down under his own blanket and turning to face the fire.

A few minutes passed, the silent air thick with something Eren couldn't quite name.

"Um, Eren?" Mikasa's voice came from the other direction, sounding timid and unsure.

"Yeah?" he replied, turning back around to look at her. She was propped up on one elbow at the side of the bed closest to the fire, facing towards him.

"You could, uh. Um. Sleep up here too if you wanted," Mikasa squeaked, looking at the bedsheets with utmost fascination as she diligently avoided his eyes.

Eren froze where he laid. Surely he didn't hear that correctly. "I'm sorry, what was that, Mikasa?" he replied, sitting up fully, as if his ears being slightly higher off the ground would help him hear her better.

She spoke up (if only by an infinitesimal margin), repeating her offer: "If you wanted to. You could. Um. Sleep in the bed too. With uh. With me." She trailed her gaze from the sheets to the pillow, intent on avoiding eye contact at any cost, her cheeks the color of cherries.

"Really?" Eren choked out, his head spinning a mile a minute at the thought.

"Mhmm," Mikasa murmured, nodding her head along in the affirmative, her lips rolling in on themselves in an outward expression of her nerves. Finally, she raised her head to look at him when she continued in a shy voice, "I mean, we used to do it all the time when we were kids. And I liked sleeping next to you on the train." This admittance made her already rosy cheeks an even brighter red, her brief, brave eye contact cut short as she looked away again.

Eren could hardly believe his ears. He shook his head violently to try and wake himself up in case he was dreaming this scenario. Unfortunately, Mikasa took that as shaking his head no. "O-or not, t-that's okay, I don't wanna make you uncomfortable or anythi—"

"No! No no no, I'd love to!" Eren quickly replied with wide eyes, reaching his hands out and shaking them as he spoke. "I was just…surprised. But yeah. I'd love to."

"Okay," came her breathless reply.

Eren grabbed his pillow and rose from his now unnecessary makeshift mattress. Mikasa started to scoot over to the far side of the bed to make room for him, but Eren quickly stopped her. "You stay on the side closest to the fire, I'll take the other side," he smiled at her. She smiled softly back in appreciation of his courtesy.

As Eren strode around to the far side of the bed, he shut his eyes and took a deep breath. His heart was beating so loud and so fast it drowned out almost everything else. The intimacy of the impending moment overwhelmed him. "Relax," he thought to himself. "Just pretend you're nine years old again and it's no big deal." 

This, unfortunately, backfired, as he recalled how even back then his heart would race when they climbed into bed every evening, though he didn't have a name for the feeling at the time.

He then thought of Mikasa just moments before. He was beyond grateful that she had been brave enough to speak up and offer this, but she was clearly anxious about it. If he let it show how nervous he was too, she might take it the wrong way and think he didn't want to share that space with her. He needed to get it together to ensure that he did not scare her off. It was this thought of being strong for Mikasa that finally enabled him to slow his rushing heart and calm his shaking hands.

Once Eren had crawled under the covers and made himself comfortable, Mikasa—still too embarrassed to look him in the eye—scooched closer to him. She turned her body away from the hearth's warmth and towards Eren's instead, laying her head on his shoulder. Eren, who felt his cheeks might catch on fire from how hard he was blushing, moved his arm up and laid it across her pillow so that Mikasa could rest more comfortably. Once she had snuggled her face into his side, he pulled his forearm and hand to wrap around her own smaller arm, then brought his other arm to join him. Mikasa's hand rested in the middle of his chest—he thanked God that he had managed to calm his heartbeat down or she would surely be freaking out right now upon feeling it under her hand and insisting that he needed a doctor.

Emboldened by her small steps towards intimacy, Eren pressed a featherlight kiss to Mikasa's forehead, thinking with a mental chuckle how grateful he was to have learned about teeth brushing now that he found his mouth so near to Mikasa's face. And he watched that face with pious reverence as she drifted to sleep in his arms, his thoughts consumed with how in love he was with this enigmatic angel.

Eren may not have known what was going on or how any of this managed to happen despite the prophesied future he had seen, but he knew he was not going to waste a second of it.