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hangesbrattyapprentice · 9 months

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Chains in the Sand

Zeke has complex plans. His captive opts for quick and simple.

Chp 1 here!

cw: allusion to canon-typical violence, injury, and death, angst, kidnapping, manipulation, yandere behaviour, zeke being messed up in general, mentions of miscarriage, suicidal thoughts, nudity, eventual smut.

Dark content in general. My dead dove radar is very skewed so I can't really tell how dark this is but please read at your own discretion and MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT!

I finally finished editing chaper 2!! This has taken me forever but I'm so excited it's seeing the light of day. Really hope I'm getting Zeke right. The man is funny and I'm german not.

Walking into the small pharmacy, Zeke stood out among the dust motes caught in the afternoon sun, his towering form commanding the cramped space, golden hair catching the dim light, almost glowing. He was a sight not easily forgotten, even when he was trying to be inconspicuous.

He sidled up to the counter, leaning on it casually. The surly, middle-aged pharmacist barely glanced up from his ledger. It was only when he noticed the Marleyan crest on Zeke's arm that his gaze finally travelled up to meet the infamous Beast Titan's eyes, round lenses flashing with reflected sunlight.

"Can I help you?" he asked, the words more a grumble than a polite inquiry.

"Ah, yes indeed. You see," Zeke began, producing a slip of paper from his pocket and sliding it over the counter. "I have a prescription to fill."

The pharmacist looked him up and down disdainfully as Zeke smiled cheerily, eyes crinkling. Then he looked back sceptically at the forged prescription that the chief warrior had just handed him.

"Antibiotics…painkillers…” he mumbled, reading off of the list, “What do you even need all this for? Don't you titan shifters just heal right back up? Can you even feel pain?" He added a muttered "abominations" under his breath.

Zeke had been prepared with a lie about his grandmother’s health, but it didn’t seem necessary. Not for this bore of a man.

"Can we feel pain?" Zeke repeated slowly, smile growing contemplative. "Let's find out."

He brought the edge of his nail to the back of his hand and drew a sharp line of blood along his skin. The pharmacist followed the movement with widening eyes.

A golden spark crackled along the broken skin of the hand he held up, momentarily accentuating the sharp-toothed grin lurking just beyond it.

The pharmacist whimpered in horror, hands coming up to shield his face.

"O-oops," Zeke chuckled, the spark disappearing. He examined his now flawless hand with feigned surprise. "Look at that! No scar, but it stung like a bitch. Guess we feel pain after all. Now, about that prescription...”

His tone was as light as ever, but there was a new edge to it now, hinting at the power that lay beneath the jovial demeanour. The pharmacist, with trembling hands, filled the prescription without another word.

“Many thanks,” Zeke murmured, taking the bag from the pharmacist and heading towards the door. Just before he left, he turned back, a wide grin on his face. "You know, we may be abominations," he said, "but we do know how to take a joke, eh?"

As Zeke emerged from the stuffy confines of the pharmacy and re-immersed himself into the textured thoroughfare of one of Marley's more disadvantaged districts, he found himself drawn into a world that breathed life in ways entirely different from the neatly trimmed military headquarters that he was used to. Hell, even the internment zone wasn’t this shabby.

These streets wore their narratives openly, visible in the hardened grit underfoot and the scarred facades of the buildings that leaned into each other like old gossips determining a victim’s fate. Armband somewhat obscured by his satchel, he moved with an easy grace down the streets that would ostracise his kind most of all, and were all the same too caught up in their struggle to survive to notice another stranger. It was here, in the midst of this raw, indigent tapestry that Zeke had concealed his captive, the secret pawn that would launch his endgame.

The Warriors were unnerved, their confusion palpable. Reiner, especially, seemed to be teetering on the edge of distress, looking like he was just one more cryptic remark away from a meltdown. Zeke hoped the man would hold up for another few years. Having to deal with eager little Gabi now would be tedious. His team all questioned his decisions, his motives, wondering why he would go to such lengths to save this woman and, worse, keep it from General Magath. Their eyes searched for answers each time they glanced his way, looking like a bunch of toddlers trying to solve a puzzle. But the wheels of his mind had always turned in directions the others found inscrutable. He remained tight-lipped, confident in their loyalty even though he had no intentions of revealing his plans.

With the Paradis mission having failed so spectacularly, he didn’t see Marley renewing their efforts anytime soon. Zeke needed to personally open up negotiations with Paradis as soon as possible. Given his reputation, the Islanders weren’t likely to roll out the red carpet for him. She was his ticket – a valuable bargaining chip when the time came to convince Paradis of his ‘benevolent’ intentions. After all, what better way to gain their trust than to play the knight in shining armour to one of their own? It all fell together rather brilliantly.

Mila, Reiner had told him her name was. Scout and wife of Levi Ackerman. He shuddered at the thought of that man. That inhuman shadow that had almost singlehandedly cost them the battle and the entire Paradis mission. That savage who had stuffed a blade in his mouth and then asked him if he had no manners. The thought made him scoff indignantly. How uncouth.

What a stroke of luck, though, that his pretty little wife had fallen right into Zeke’s hands. Why any woman would agree to put up with such a gloomy man was beyond him but then again, she was full of mysteries, this Mila. Two days had passed since he had brought her to the shack at the border of this district, acquired with Yelena’s help. Each day since was punctuated with moments snatched away from his military duties, discreet visits, and an assortment of tasks that fell considerably outside the purview of his usual routines. Bathing her, treating her burns, feeding her, all while she hadn’t spoken more than a handful of words. She was rather like a doll. His pliant, taciturn, life-sized doll.

But rather than feeling inconvenienced, Zeke found himself drawn to his new role. He would never admit it if asked, but there was an almost perverse gratification to be derived from having someone so utterly helpless and dependent on you. The fact that it so happened to be this woman was just the cherry on top.

There was something beyond that. Something captivating about her demeanour, her acceptance of his ministrations coupled with an aloofness that bordered on indifference…

He had thought it would be different, thought that once the sedatives wore off, she would resist, fight, try to escape. Maybe he had even hoped for it a little. But she was nothing like the fiery rebel he had expected from Paradis.

No, she was different. Her rebellion was her silence, her refusal to grant him any insight into her thoughts. It left him feeling oddly…challenged.

He knew that her quiet submission likely stemmed from the belief that her comrades and her husband – not to forget their unborn progeny – were dead and that the war had been lost. The spark that he’d seen light up her eyes as she confronted the Cart was now reduced to dying embers, mirroring the loss she must feel deep within.

He was willing to bet that if she were to discover Levi's survival too soon, if she were to find out that her husband lived and her people still fought, the untimely revelation might just stoke her dwindling fire into a roaring blaze, one that could threaten to burn his plans to cinders. He might even be forced to extinguish her flame permanently.

Fortunately for him, that morsel of information was currently under his discretion, waiting for the right or, perhaps, wrong moment to be unveiled.

The fact that she did not remember him, didn’t associate his face with the monstrous Beast Titan who had wreaked havoc on her world, was another blessing in disguise. He was, to her, a benign caretaker, a distant figure who tended to her needs, his shifter alter-ego safely concealed behind the façade of humanity, albeit from an enemy camp.

Well, maybe “benign” was a stretch after how he’d had to leave her that first night. She was in no state to run away but he wasn’t going to take any chances. Hearing the clinking of the chain he would use to keep her restrained, her face had shown the first hint of a reaction. Panic painted thick across her features, she had tried to bolt right away, leaping up from her seat on the trunk. He had easily caught her by the ankle and dragged her, facedown, back over to him. She’d landed an impressive kick to his jaw, but the fight in her was nowhere near a match for him. He’d looped one end of the chain around her ankle and locked it tightly in place. The other end of the chain was secured around the ceramic stand of the sink, just long enough to allow her to move between mattress and bathroom but not reach the door. The impact from the fall couldn’t have been easy on her but she didn’t cry or even struggle after that, only falling back into her defeated resignation as he treated yet more scuffs on her skin.

The memory of the chain's cold weight in his hands and the look in Mila's eyes stirred a morbid excitement within him. He'd told her then, his tone laced with a gentle insistence that masked his true intent, "It’s for your own good, Liebchen. If anyone sees you, they will kill you. I'm your only chance at survival now. Trust me."

He hadn’t been lying, after all. Be it as a Paradisian spy, an Eldian escapee, or even just a helpless woman, she wouldn’t last a heartbeat in this city. Her wide eyes had borne into him, reflecting the flickering lamplight, brimming with the horrifying truth of his words.

Finally, some emotion.

With the day's fading light casting long shadows on the worn-out path, Zeke approached the shack, silently shaking his head at Yelena’s impeccable taste in real estate. He pushed open the door, the creaking hinge echoing that drawn-out anticipation that the room’s sole inhabitant provoked within him. He found her exactly where he’d left her – chained, curled up on the mattress, the dim light filtering through the crack in the door painting her in an ethereal glow.

The whole scene looked like something right out of a painting — 'Mila and the Mellow Lamp Light' — or something equally profound, he smirked sardonically to himself.

As he approached, her eyes flickered open, the barest hint of surprise registering on her pallid face before it was smoothed over with that familiar mask of stoic acceptance.

"Well, well, Sleeping Beauty, we meet again," Zeke commented lightly, letting a smirk curl at his lips as he nudged her with the toe of his boot. "I hope you're hungry because I'm not just good looks and charm. I can cook, too. I’m a man of many talents, you could say."

The corner of her mouth twitched in what might have been a smile or a grimace in the making, it was hard to tell. Zeke chose to interpret it as the former.

Easing himself onto the floor next to her, he lit the room’s only lightbulb and unwrapped the food he had brought - a warm, fragrant chicken broth that his grandmother – not he himself – had prepared that day. It was humble fare, but nourishing – a small mercy for her stomach, no doubt still churned by medications and anxiety. He noted the packet of milk rusks he’d left her with, only half-eaten on the counter.

“You shouldn’t be skipping meals with the antibiotics you’re on,” he noted, eyeing her sideways.

The smell of the broth seemed to draw her out. Her eyes, weary yet startlingly vivid against her pallor, met his as she uncurled herself, propping up against the wall with noticeable effort. Her stare clearly conveyed that she couldn’t care less. Zeke chuckled in an attempt to distract himself from how he was holding his breath in wait of her every move. Somehow even in this pitiful state, she managed to portray grace.

“Get any sleep?” he asked as he held a spoonful of broth up to her lips and watched her for any signs of resistance. There were none. Just a small shake of her head and silent acquiescence as she parted her lips to accept the food. He hummed, noting to himself to try and get her to sleep before he left later that night.

There was that perverse satisfaction again, this time in the feel of her mouth closing around the spoon he held. As he spoon-fed her, the shack seemed to shrink around them, the space stretching thin and delicate as if one word too loud might shatter it.

Zeke found himself fascinated by his captive. It wasn't affection, nor empathy – Zeke didn't believe in such frivolities – but rather a gnawing dissatisfaction that he just couldn’t put his finger on. Zeke liked the feeling of power, of being in control. And with her, he had those things. He was her sole caretaker, her protector, the only one she could rely on in this derelict shack a world away from everything she knew.

And for her part, she gave him that power. Save for her…bumpy introduction to the chain, she did everything, let him do everything, without so much as a flinch. Her complete submission to him was dangerously heady.

And yet, there was something in the way she held his gaze, that silent challenge in her dark eyes, that kept him on edge and roused his blood.

Zeke was no stranger to the deceptive lure of emotions and how they could cloud judgement - hadn’t his own dear parents been prime examples? And yet, he found himself unable to resist the call of this particular siren. After all, he was a man before he was a Warrior, a human before he ever became a titan.

Was it the power he held over her, the knowledge that she was at his mercy, or was it her resilience, her defiance even in surrender that drew him in? These were questions he did not quite have the answers to. All he knew was that he needed her trust, needed her faith in him, however misplaced it might be, for his plan to come to fruition. And that meant playing this dangerous game, treading on the edge of dealings he couldn't quite decipher.

He watched her, spooning another mouthful of the warm liquid into her mouth, every little movement adding to the surreal tableau that was his existence ever since Paradis – since her.

A stray drop escaped the spoon, tracing a path down her chin, interrupting his thoughts. It was a harmless thing, but one that reverberated within him, jolted him to the core.

Abandoning the spoon in the bowl, he found himself reaching out, his thumb catching the errant drop. With a swift motion, he swiped it up, guiding it back to her lips.

Her response was almost instinctual, immediate. Tongue darting out to lick the droplet off of his skin before her lips closed around the pad of his thumb and sucked.

He couldn’t help it. He cupped her chin, fingers pressing into her plush skin, and when her big, dark eyes slid up to his face in question, she caught his heavy-lidded gaze locked on her lips.

There was that something again, in the way she held his gaze then. A flash of life in her eyes that caught him off guard. It was a fleeting moment that held a world of implications. It was an assertion of her spirit, an unspoken declaration that she was not entirely defeated.

He chuckled, swiping over her bottom lip, pulling it lightly as he withdrew his hand. He found himself debating his next move. The lingering sensation of her mouth around his thumb pulsated within him, an alluring beat that wouldn’t subside. The line between their roles blurred ever so slightly, making him waver between motive and desire.

Yet, for all the uncertainty, one thing remained clear. Zeke was prepared to push boundaries, to navigate the tumultuous currents of this game with her. But whether it was out of mere morbid fascination or bordering on a toxic obsession, he knew he would not act unless he had her complete trust. After all, the fate of all humankind hinged on this precarious connection.

“Careful, Liebchen,” he grinned crookedly, “I’ve been told I’m an acquired taste.”

Her lip curled. This time it was definitely a grimace and he couldn’t help but laugh.

She ate the rest of the broth with extra care, scowling at him every once in a while. When the container was empty – one of the two that he had brought her – he got up to prepare a bath.

“Wait.”

He looked down at her, unsure for a second if she’d really spoken or if he had imagined it. But at her insistent stare, he slowly lowered himself onto the edge of the mattress by her feet.

“Could…” she staggered, seeming to lose her nerve as soon as she’d gotten the word out. He turned to face her fully, waiting patiently for her to continue.

“Could you tell me what happened…please?”

“What would you like to know? Do you not remember what happened to you?”

“Not me.” She shook her head, voice wavering. “The others.”

“The scouts?” He asked, eyebrows raised, and she nodded.

He had been waiting for this, yearning even, patiently. Finally this doll would talk to him. Finally, he could break her fully before mending her, reshaping her into something more suited to him. His puppet.

The mask of sincerity he donned was well-worn. It made his eyes widen slightly, the blue of his irises slashing through the defences of his victims.

“They’re gone, Mila.” His pulse raced in anticipation but he made sure to portray calmness, only mirroring her faint frown before twisting the dagger. “They were decimated.”

She shook her head again slowly, murmuring, “surely…not everyone. What about Levi?”

Zeke frowned in mock consternation. “Who?”

“Levi!” she gritted out, “the Captain of the Survey Corps. The one who murders titans like they’re ants. You must know. And the Commander, what about him? Where are they?”

His frown turned sympathetic, eyes softening. “Ah…he was your husband, wasn’t he?”

She remained scowling at him, breathing hard after her outburst.

“Berthold and Reiner…they told me about the battle. Your Commander led a suicide charge that killed everyone. And the Ackerm- Levi,” he corrected when the fire in her eyes blazed hotter, “fought bravely, but he couldn’t defeat the Beast Titan. I am sorry, Mila…”

“No…” she shook her head again in denial. “No…no. They’re lying.”

“They’re not ly-”

“Were you there?” She hissed at him, challenging, “did you see it?”

“Ah, well…” Zeke scratched the top of his ear, biting his lip to hold back a treacherous smile.

“Then you don’t know,” she growled, but it was more plea than accusation. He could clearly see how pitifully she was holding on to her last thread of hope. And he gleefully snipped it.

“Mila.” He looked her right in the eyes, drawing her wavering gaze until it finally settled on him.

So close, he chanted to himself as he watched for the change in her features that he knew would come. She’s so close.

“They’re all dead.”

The tiny wrinkles between her brows faded away as her eyes glossed over. Her chest heaved with shallow breaths. Zeke calculatedly reached out towards her, then paused and placed his hand on the mattress near her foot instead. He sighed, somewhat dramatically.

He watched as the hope drained from her eyes, replaced by a despair so profound it made him shudder. There was something intoxicating about the power he held, something so darkly satisfying about watching her grapple with his words. It didn’t take long for the tears to tip over her dark lashes and roll down her cheeks, the lines of her beautiful face twisting into a thing of desolation. Her body moved as if to hug her knees to her chest, but the attempt to bend her injured arm instantly made her flinch. She settled for hiding her face in her right hand instead, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. His cock jolted almost viciously at the sight.

He made sure to wait a suitable amount of time before casually patting the mattress and getting up again to draw her a bath.

She stopped him again.

“Why am I here?” Voice thick and broken, her hand fisted into the hem of his trousers to hold him back. “Why didn’t they just kill me?” She wailed softly, and he could see it in her dewy eyes that she wished they had. She wished for death like she hadn’t even two days ago when he’d lifted her out of that trunk. Left to her devices, she might even have granted herself that reprieve. But he had different plans for her.

Zeke sat down again, disentangling her hand from his clothes and holding it in his instead. His thumbs rubbed soothing circles on her skin as he drank in the pain pouring from her being.

“Because,” he explained simply, “I told them not to.”

That seemed to give her pause. Her gaze dropped to his hands softly caressing hers and she pulled away abruptly.

“Why?” she asked curtly.

Zeke raised his hands, palms out, in a gesture of capitulation. “I want to send you home, Mila.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“Home?”

“Yes.” Mila’s face was a portrait of confusion, and he wondered how to explain Paradis to her in a single sentence. He settled for, “inside the walls.”

“You mean the home where you people have been sending titans to slaughter everyone? That home?”

“Ah,” he gave her a sheepish grin, hand coming up to scratch at his ear again, “that’s the one.”

Even though she looked murderous, her lips twisted into a grin of her own as she chuckled hollowly. It devolved into a full fledged, throaty laugh and Zeke was so caught up in the grim, maniacal beauty of the sound that he failed to notice her fist close around the forgotten spoon until it was too late.

Comments, thoughts, and feedback are all greatly appreciated! ^^

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