#threads of armor

Inspired by these head canons.

Sizzling.

          Reiner awoke gently. Sunbeams streaming through lazily-parted curtains. The aroma of bacon. A dull pain in his left temple. The empty pillow beside his smelled like a familiar perfume, but he couldn’t place it…

          Amber eyes blinked slowly. And Reiner groaned. The last thing he remembered was stumbling up the stairs to his apartment, his arm draped around… someone…

          He checked his phone. It was almost noon. He groaned again.

          Throwing the covers off, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. The strapping blond was naked, apart from a pair of forest green boxers. The interesting part was, he was able to remember that these were not the underwear he had gone out in. He distinctly remembered putting on black boxer-briefs with his dress pants. Interesting, he thought to himself.

          The scent of eggs now accompanied the bacon, and even his hunger was managing to penetrate the beginnings of a wicked hangover. Stumbling across the room, Reiner managed to slip through the door and into the living room, where he could see a petite blond figure moving slowly through the kitchen.

          Annie.

          [♜] The wedding was in two weeks. The kingdoms would be united in diplomatic bliss. Almost three hundred years of war and turmoil would end in the wake of this blessed matrimony. 

          There was just one problem – the betrothed despised one another.

          He was boisterous and extraverted. She was calculating and reserved. He enjoyed wresting with friends and getting his hands dirty. She had an affinity for reading and sharpening her tongue. Apart from their royal blood and golden hair, they simply had nothing in common. And they couldn’t stand each other. She didn’t laugh at his jokes. He didn’t respect her need for space.

          They would have to spend the rest of their lives together.

          Reiner grimaced as he inspected his reflection one last time. He was clad in military formal attire – a rich cobalt jacket trimmed with gold filigree. Pristinely white pants clung to his massive thighs as he paced, restless, dreading the evening. Brown leather boots clicked through the grandiose bed chambers. Perhaps he could just pretend to contract a deathly illness. Maybe he could just… not show up at all. He glanced at his reflection in the floor-length mirror one last time. No. He could not miss the evening, no matter how much he wished to avoid… a certain guest. It was the inauguration for the new officers of the kingdom’s royal navy, and it was a violation of decorum for the young prince to not attend.

          With a sigh of surrender, he emerged from his room into the hall and made an intentionally slow journey through the corridor and down a series of ostentatious marble stairs. Garlands of gold and azure were draped across the walls and bannisters. Sounds of contained merriment and faint orchestral harmonies lilted through the palace. Ushers escorted him through massive doors to the main ballroom, where dozens of royal family members and esteemed guests dined upon hors d’ourves and spun around in time to the light melodies. 

          God, Reiner was already bored.   

          Lifting a glass of champagne from a small table and raising it to his lips, the young prince stopped suddenly. His gaze lanced across the room to a single stunning figure standing amongst a group of young officers. Silken, pale-gold cloth clung to every curve, the back plunging low to reveal lithe muscles. A frown of plush pink lips. And eyes like ice. 

          [♜] It was utter chaos backstage. Shouting. Heels clacking. Vanity lights humming with their blinding wattage. The dull thrumming of music. Articles of clothing strewn about, flying through the air. The aroma of a dozen different colognes and perfumes wafting through the throngs of models and stylists and helpers and managers and god knows whoever else, all churning, all yelling, all rushing about –

          It was… chaos.

          And Reiner… lived for it.

          Five minutes to show time. He lifted his magnificently toned arms over his head as he wriggled into a white dress shirt. As a relatively new model, he wasn’t afforded the luxury of a changing team, so he just had to make do with the resources afforded to him. The thin white fabric clung quite obviously to his strapping form; the buttons strained against their respective holes. A single flex might cause the entire article to come apart at the seams. With a frown, Reiner delicately unfastened the shirt, one button at a time, so it hung open around his wide frame. Much better. He moved with careful grace as he slipped into his dress pants, only to notice that someone was now standing close by.

          “Bertholdt! Hey!” he said loudly, grinning as he recognized his associate. He and Reiner would be walking the runway, side-by-side, in matching ensembles, just as they always did. The boys hardly knew each other, but for their past three shows, designers had booked the boys as a pair; they enjoyed the contrast between Reiner’s brawny physique and Bertholdt’s lanky yet confident build. Not to mention the palpable chemistry between the two of them. But Reiner knew next to nothing about the towering brunet. Part of him really wanted to change that… after all, he admired Bertholdt, in a way. He was great at what he did.

          “I swear I will… make sure… that you die in the most excruciating way possible…”

          His tempest eyes. The fathomless hatred. And Reiner, with guilt and self-loathing lancing through him, piercing and wrenching with the same ferocity as Eren’s titanic fangs.

          He was biting him. Rending him in half. Blood in torrents. Bertholdt screaming, screaming…

          Reiner gasped. Eren was going to swallow him. Drown him. And there was deep, incalculable remorse on Reiner’s face, etched into his expression as if into stone…

          “Forgive me…” he choked. There was a roar that shook through Reiner, electrocuting through him, rattling his ribs… And then blackness.

            Reiner jolted awake. At first, it was just peaceful shadow. The crackling of flame on a sconce outside his cell. The dancing fire cast haunting shadows through the bars and across his chained form, giving Reiner a particularly broken look. Amber eyes opened further, and his body began to register other sensations. A dull throbbing at the base of his skull. Soreness at his wrists and ankles, where the weight of the shackles had long since taken their toll. And he just… felt… weak… so utterly frail, amidst this metal and thick stone and not a single sunbeam to replenish his hungry flesh, no sun for days, perhaps even weeks…

          It was then that a cold realization hit him in the form of a pair of unforgiving aquamarine eyes. Humanity’s Last Hope, himself, was sitting on the other side of the bars, staring down at Reiner. All the blond could do was blink slowly. How long had it been since their last encounter? How long had it been since the prolific clash between Hunter and Armor? How long…

          “Eren,” he said, his voice little more than a rasp. A smile splintered across his face, cracking through his mask. “Eren…” he said again, shame drenching the name of his comrade, his friend…

          “Do you still hate me?”

          [ ♖ ] Another long day, another measly meal. Reiner grimaced as a cadet with kitchen duty ladled a sad, runny, poor excuse for stew into his bowl. “Carrot soup again?” he lamented. “When are we gonna get some meat in our food?” The cadet gave him an apologetic look. “Sorry…” she said genuinely. “The cooks say that the officers are appealing to Sina for more funding, so it might be a couple of weeks before we get another shipment in.” Reiner frowned, but nodded in reluctant understanding. It was going to be hard for him to maintain his physique when all he got to eat was a bunch of lousy vegetables swimming in a thin broth. But there was no other way. Man, he missed home…

          “Want some bread?” His reverie was shattered by the question from his server. “Oh… yeah,” came his distant reply as he held out his plate, watching as she handed him half a baguette. At least the bread was cheap. He thanked her, took a tankard of water from the end of the line, and turned toward the mess hall. His comrades all sat in small groups, dining and talking amongst one another at the long tables. At first, Reiner moved toward Bertholdt, who always sat quietly and inconspicuously at the end of the bench, but then, the blond spotted Connie sitting alone.

          The strapping male grinned, and turned, moving toward his smaller friend. “Hey!” he bellowed, collapsing onto the bench across from Connie. They rarely talked, but Reiner found himself growing closer and closer to the boy every day. He cracked hilarious jokes and was always brimming with unwavering determination. And… Reiner admired that. “That was pretty great today, the way you swooped in front of Jean and stole his kills. Three times! It was classic.” The blond grinned. “You’re getting pretty good, y’know?”

          "I need to see him." Reiner's voice was hoarse from screaming. 

          "Not a chance, freak," the guard snarled. 

          "I need to see him," he insisted again, barely above a raspy whisper.

           "Shut the hell up!" snapped the second guard, though they were both starting to falter. You could see it in the way their knuckles whitened on the grips of their shiny rifles. 

          For a long moment, they stared at one another. Reiner on the ground. The guards in the doorway of the metal bars. Motionless. But there was savagery in those amber eyes. Even the fires glimmering on the sconces seemed to dim as Reiner narrowed his gaze. The cell grew still.

          “If you’ve hurt him…” he said in a lethal whisper.

          “You’ll what?” sneered the Military Police officer as he slammed the butt of his gun into the side of Reiner’s head. He crumpled, wriggling against the bonds of his straightjacket as he fell to his side. Just as the soldiers turned to leave, Reiner began to roar.

          “Bertholdt!!” he shrieked. His eyes were unhinged, gleaming with enraged tears. He was writhing against those relentless sleeves. “BERTHOLDT!” he cried again.

          There was a commotion in the cell block as more guards came running. Distant shouts. But amongst it all, another voice could be heard – a faint yet hysterical scream from somewhere else within the prison. “Reiner?! REINER!!” It echoed off the stones. The blond went ballistic, screaming Bertholdt’s name, over and over, deranged, his red face streaming with tears and sweat…

          “Get him restrained!” an officer bellowed, and five soldiers came scampering into the cell, their arms laden with chains and shackles. Reiner twisted against them, breathless, thrashing around as he screeched for his friend, crying madly…

          “Gag him! Gag him!” someone ordered, and two soldiers braved the wrath of Reiner's teeth as they forced a thick coil of rope into his mouth. There was noise everywhere, a great din of shouting and crying… Reiner’s head was pounding, and he hissed over and over into the rope, like a corralled bull… He groaned and grunted against it, again, again,Bertholdt, Bertholdt – but it came like a muffled moan, a deep and disturbing sound…

          Two strikes from the butt of a rifle, and he was knocked cold.

          He dreamt of home. He dreamt of walls. He dreamt of Annie encased in crystal, garlanded in flowers, gleaming in the sunlight, as their village rejoiced over her sleeping form like an idol. He dreamt of Bertholdt, standing, his back to Reiner. "We're home," Bertholdt said. He turned, and his eye sockets were hollow, blood pouring slowly from them. He was smiling.

          When Reiner jolted awake, he felt as if the prison itself had collapsed upon him. He was still chained, but no longer gagged. His lips and throat were raw. His entire body throbbed in agony. Complete blackness swathed over him. He opened his eyes and felt cloth against his lashes. A blindfold. 

          "I know you can hear us," a methodical voice uttered calmly from the other side of the bars. Reiner recognized it as Commander Erwin's. He didn't move. 

          "I'll ask you again." The words seemed to spill across the stone floor. "Who do you serve outside the walls?"

          Reiner's grimace slowly turned to a smirk. "You went to Bertholdt first, didn't you?" he rasped, laughing, and wincing against the pain that followed. "Thought he was a weakling, huh? Thought he would spill his guts to you, huh?" Reiner laughed again, a dreadful choking sound. It was excruciating, but well-worth it. This small victory. They wouldn't have come to him if Bertholdt wasn't still alive. "He didn't crack," he wheezed, "So I sure as hell won't either."

          "Every armor has its weakness," came a second voice. Dry. Full of calculated disdain. This was Captain Levi.

          There was a soft clanking against the metal bars. He was tapping something against them, as if mocking Reiner. "You'll tell us what we want to know," said the Captain, his words fatally stoic. There was a pause. "Have Hanji will peel the skin from Fubar's arm. Slowly. Shoulder to wrist." 

          A third voice replied, "Sir!" It was higher-pitched, yet strong.

          "Armin?" Reiner whispered. Echoing footsteps served as his only reply. "Armin, no, don't do this..." he pleaded hoarsely. 

          Levi's voice came from the end of the hall. "I'll leave the door open," he said in a courteous tone. "We want you to hear your friend, after all." At last, the steps receded into nothingness. 

          And Reiner was left numb, lifeless, on the floor.

          *             *             *

          Keys clanking against metal bars. The door creaking open. Two shadows throwing Bertholdt into the cell and slammed the door shut. Reiner jolted awake just in time to see his dear friend crumple against the stone floor.

          “See you at the execution tomorrow,” the officer snarled as they both turned on heel and strode down the corridor. Nothing but echoing footsteps, and then, in a receding voice: “Do you think we can really leave those two alone together?” Scoffing laughter, followed by: “What the hell can they do? They’ve been underground for a week. They’ve been cut off from the sun for too long to transform. And even if they could, they’ve got four levels of stone to get through. Those two aren’t going anywhere.”

          Another slamming door, and at last, silence.

          Reiner wriggled against the straitjacket, hoisting himself around so that he could examine Bertholdt. He looked… broken. The shadows of the cell revealed little. But Reiner felt a rejoicing sob rising up in his throat. The brunet’s chest was rising and falling meekly.