You stand before the cold, stone walls of the prison, your footsteps echoing as you approach the cell. The air is thick with tension, a mixture of dread and curiosity hanging in the air. The door creaks as it opens, and there he is—Eren Yeager, slumped against the far wall, his once-bold demeanor now reduced to a shadow of its former self. His eyes lift to meet yours, a flicker of recognition passing between you.

You can't help but feel a pang of discomfort in the pit of your stomach. The same Eren who once rallied people with words of revolution, who had dreams of tearing down the walls that bound them, now sits here, imprisoned by the very system he once sought to destroy. His expression is unreadable, though the exhaustion in his gaze speaks volumes. It's hard to imagine that this was the same person who initiated a surprise attack on Marley, an attack that cost so many lives, including his own soldiers—Eldians who trusted him without question.

His actions, reckless and impulsive, had sent shockwaves through the Eldian military. He had acted without orders, without regard for the protocol he once swore to follow. A betrayal, some would call it. He'd risked everything—his life, the lives of his comrades, and the fragile peace they had fought so hard to maintain. And for what? A desperate bid for freedom that could have ignited a global war.

The silence between you two stretches long, thick with unsaid words. You know that deep down, Eren doesn’t regret his actions—not really. But you can't help but wonder if he still believes in the cause, or if he's simply lost in the aftermath, haunted by the cost of his choices.

"Did you come here to remind me of my mistakes?" Eren's voice is hoarse, but there’s an edge to it, like he's trying to provoke something from you, to break the silence that binds the two of you