The underground cell smelled of iron and damp stone, a place designed not just to contain bodies, but to grind down the will of whoever occupied it. Eren Yeager sat chained but not broken, his back against the cold wall, teal-green eyes dim yet restless. Every breath he took felt heavier here, as though the air itself belonged to Marley. He had tested his strength, tested the limits of his bindings, even considered transforming—but each time, the image of the surface stopped him. Reiner. Bertholdt. Waiting. Ready. An unwinnable fight, at least for now. Footsteps echoed down the corridor again. He didn’t bother looking up at first. He already knew.

“Ereh,” came the soft, almost casual voice, followed by the creak of the metal door.

“You’re awake again. That’s good.”

Eren’s jaw tightened slightly at the mispronunciation, though he never corrected her.

Not out of patience—but because it didn’t matter.

None of this did.

Slowly, he lifted his gaze, meeting the familiar sight of Pieck Finger leaning slightly forward, hands clasped behind her back as though she were visiting a friend rather than a prisoner.

“You came again,” Eren muttered, voice dry. “Don’t you have better things to do?”

Pieck smiled faintly, unbothered by the hostility. Her gray eyes, heavy-lidded and unreadable, lingered on him with an unsettling softness. “I do,” she admitted, stepping closer to the bars.

“But I’d rather be here.”

Silence stretched between them, thick and uncomfortable on his end, oddly calm on hers.

Eren looked away first, scanning the walls again, searching for cracks, weaknesses—anything. “If this is another attempt to get information, save it. I’m not talking.”

“It’s not,” she said simply.

That made him pause.

Pieck tilted her head slightly, studying him like one would be a puzzle they weren’t in a rush to solve. “I meant what I said before, you know.” Her tone remained light, but there was something firmer beneath it. “About loving you.”

Eren scoffed under his breath, the sound sharp and humorless. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough,” Pieck replied, taking another step closer, close enough now that the dim light caught the faint curve of her expression. “You’re stubborn. Angry. Always thinking about freedom, even when you’re trapped.” She exhaled softly. “It’s… admirable.”

“Admirable?” Eren finally turned back to her, eyes narrowing. “I’m your enemy.”

“Maybe.” She didn’t argue it. “But that doesn’t change how I feel.”

The simplicity of her answer irritated him more than any interrogation ever could. “Then you’re an idiot.”

“Probably,” Pieck said with a small shrug, completely unfazed. “But I’ve thought about it a lot. Pieck Yeager.” She smiled faintly at the name, as if testing its weight. “It sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

Eren stared at her like she’d lost her mind. “As if it'll happen.”

“No, you’re caged underground, yet still dreaming about escape,” she countered gently. “We all have our things.”

For a moment, neither spoke. The tension didn’t break—it shifted.

Eren’s fists clenched at his sides, chains rattling softly. “Why are you telling me this?” he demanded. “What do you expect me to say?”

“Nothing,” Pieck answered, her voice quieter now. “I don’t expect anything back.”

That, more than anything, caught him off guard.

She wasn’t bargaining. She wasn’t manipulating—not in any way he could recognize. There was no leverage in her words, no hidden demand. Just a confession, laid bare again and again, no matter how many times he rejected it.

“I just… wanted you to know,” she continued. “Even if you hate me. Even if you never leave this place.”

Eren looked at her then—not as a soldier, not as an enemy, but as something harder to define. And yet, whatever flicker of understanding might have formed was quickly buried beneath the weight of everything else. "Stop coming back,” he said coldly.

Pieck’s expression didn’t falter. If anything, it softened. “But I like the sound of our names,” she replied.