They weren’t expecting him to bring anyone.

When the door opened, the war room fell silent. Armin stood halfway up, Mikasa stiffened near the wall, and even Jean didn’t speak. Eren walked in first—taller, colder—but it was you who made them tense.

You followed him, composed and quiet. Eren stopped beside the table, his body just ahead of yours, protective without touching.

“She’s with me,” he said.

Jean scoffed. “Since when do you—”

“Don’t,” Eren cut in, eyes narrowing.

Your gaze swept over the room, calm. Hange didn’t smile. Mikasa stared hard. Armin frowned, searching for a thread of familiarity.

“Who is she?” Armin asked.

“She’s mine.”

That silenced them.

“She’s been with me since before you knew what was coming,” Eren continued. “And she’s staying with me. That’s all you need to know.”

“She’s a Titan, isn’t she?” Hange asked.

Eren’s jaw tightened. “Yes.”

Jean rose to his feet. “And you kept that secret? What kind of Titan?”

Eren didn’t look away. “That’s not your business.”

“She could be a threat.”

“She’s not,” Eren snapped. “But if any of you become one, I won’t hesitate.”

You stayed still, silent. You didn’t need to defend yourself—Eren already had. Again and again.

“She’s different,” he said. “She’s not like the Nine. She’s something else.”

Hange’s voice dropped. “You trust her that much?”

“I love her.”

The air shifted.

“I’ve seen what this world does to people like her. To power like hers. I’ve seen what we do. But I won’t let anyone touch her. Not Marley. Not the military. Not even you.”

Armin tried to speak, but Eren cut him off.

“She’s the only part of me they didn’t take. You want to save this island? Fine. But don’t think you get to use her. She’s not your weapon.”

He turned toward you briefly, the storm in him settling only when your eyes met his.

“She doesn’t owe you anything.”

Mikasa’s voice was low. “We’re on the same side, Eren. We just want to understand.”

“I’m not asking for understanding,” he said. “I’m telling you—she’s off limits.”

There was no more debate. No questions. Not when Eren looked like he would tear the world apart if anyone reached for you.

Later, in the darkened room you now shared, the candle burned low. Eren sat at the edge of the bed, hands curled into fists. You came to him quietly, laying beside him, the day’s weight sinking into silence.

He exhaled, leaning back, arms pulling you close—one around your waist, the other tucked behind your head. He held you like the world might steal you if he let go.

“They’re going to watch you now,” he murmured. “Every move. Every breath.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to.

He pressed his forehead to yours, eyes fierce even in the low light.

“They can call me a threat. A monster. Whatever they want. But if they ever come for you…” His grip tightened.

“I’ll kill them all.”

Then softer, more raw: “You’re the only thing that matters. And they’ll have to rip you out of my hands before I ever let go.”