Maybe all of Marley's propaganda is just that: bullshit. Maybe there's a history Reiner doesn't know, a truth buried to keep Marley's Eldian population compliant. They're living weapons, after all, essential components of Marley's military might. And weapons aren't supposed to question their wielders. Weapons aren't supposed to fight back.
Reiner is a weapon. He's been one since he was ten years old. Quartered his life for the chance of having a father; sacrificed his future to earn his mother's love. Even when he learned that Paradis wasn't full of devils—even when he might've thrown himself at their mercy, worked with his fellow Eldians instead of against them—he didn't rebel. His loyalty to his hometown goes too deep, his desire to return home the only thing carrying him through each day.
He doesn't know what's wrong or right anymore. So he stays the course, pushing himself forward in the only way he knows how. Brushing off attacks and barreling on as if he's wrapped in his Armor instead of clinging to his shredded identity, choking on guilt and self-hatred and an ocean of blood.
Marley valued Reiner's perseverance. At least he still has that, even if it's slowly killing him.
Eren doesn't ask for an apology, though. A small mercy. Even if Reiner could make himself say the words, they would be insufficient, meaningless. It's like he said: it wouldn't change anything. All the guilt, all the regret, all the wishful thinking—it doesn't change a damn thing.
Just do what you have to do. Just keep moving forward. It's all we can do.
Isn't that what he told Eren back when things were simpler?
So Reiner keeps moving forward. Watches as Eren raises his eyebrows, then rests his chin on a hand, an attempt at acting casual. There will be blood on Eren's cheek after that. Reiner hopes he can lick it off.
Annie would be disgusted with him for doing this. Bertolt's reaction would be more difficult to predict: displeased, certainly. But it's not as though Reiner never fucked around before. Civilians, mostly: island devils who invited him into their homes, their beds. A member of the Garrison once or twice before Reiner realized he didn't want anyone in Paradis' military to see him like that.
Yet here he is, sane as he can ever hope to be, staring across a table at Eren Jaeger. The keystone of Paradis' offense. The one person who could fight Reiner to a standstill even as a Titan. The one person born on Paradis that Reiner needs.
It's stupid. Reckless. Self-destructive, probably. Reiner should walk away. He should get up and walk away, retreat before he damns himself further.
Instead, he wets his lips, knowing that Eren is watching, his voice dropping an octave as he asks, "Then what are we doing sitting here?"
A challenge thrown between them. Another wall broken down.
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Reiner is a weapon. He's been one since he was ten years old. Quartered his life for the chance of having a father; sacrificed his future to earn his mother's love. Even when he learned that Paradis wasn't full of devils—even when he might've thrown himself at their mercy, worked with his fellow Eldians instead of against them—he didn't rebel. His loyalty to his hometown goes too deep, his desire to return home the only thing carrying him through each day.
He doesn't know what's wrong or right anymore. So he stays the course, pushing himself forward in the only way he knows how. Brushing off attacks and barreling on as if he's wrapped in his Armor instead of clinging to his shredded identity, choking on guilt and self-hatred and an ocean of blood.
Marley valued Reiner's perseverance. At least he still has that, even if it's slowly killing him.
Eren doesn't ask for an apology, though. A small mercy. Even if Reiner could make himself say the words, they would be insufficient, meaningless. It's like he said: it wouldn't change anything. All the guilt, all the regret, all the wishful thinking—it doesn't change a damn thing.
Just do what you have to do. Just keep moving forward. It's all we can do.
Isn't that what he told Eren back when things were simpler?
So Reiner keeps moving forward. Watches as Eren raises his eyebrows, then rests his chin on a hand, an attempt at acting casual. There will be blood on Eren's cheek after that. Reiner hopes he can lick it off.
Annie would be disgusted with him for doing this. Bertolt's reaction would be more difficult to predict: displeased, certainly. But it's not as though Reiner never fucked around before. Civilians, mostly: island devils who invited him into their homes, their beds. A member of the Garrison once or twice before Reiner realized he didn't want anyone in Paradis' military to see him like that.
Yet here he is, sane as he can ever hope to be, staring across a table at Eren Jaeger. The keystone of Paradis' offense. The one person who could fight Reiner to a standstill even as a Titan. The one person born on Paradis that Reiner needs.
It's stupid. Reckless. Self-destructive, probably. Reiner should walk away. He should get up and walk away, retreat before he damns himself further.
Instead, he wets his lips, knowing that Eren is watching, his voice dropping an octave as he asks, "Then what are we doing sitting here?"
A challenge thrown between them. Another wall broken down.