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The reflection before him in the broken shards of the looking glass felt like a lie. With the heavy, flowing indigo robes and adornments of silver and sapphire on his hands, Armin looked powerful and strong. His hair curled out slightly where his crown created a dent in his otherwise straight, golden hair. Silver accents had been dusted along his nose, jawline, and cheekbones, making him look sharper.
“You look magnificent, my prince,” his squire said softly.
“I don’t feel it,” Armin responded as he scowled at the fragmented person in the reflection. The person looking back at him was a fraud. A weakling who was no good in war and resorted to an arranged marriage to ease the tensions between lands for the sake of protecting his people.
“Maybe the prince isn’t as horrible as the rumors say,” his squire offered, though it was clear he didn’t believe his own words.
“Regardless of whether the prince is as cruel and violent as they say, I have to marry him, Jean. It doesn’t make a difference.”
It was silent as Armin continued to stare at himself in disgust.
“If he lays a finger on you, I’ll end his life. Even if it means my head goes on a spike.”
Armin frowned and turned away to look at Jean, his companion since they were young. While Armin did his studies, Jean had learned to fight with a variety of swords and bows until he’d become the most skilled combatant after the King himself. While Armin had always stumbled over himself, arms sore and weighed down by the swords he tried to wield, Jean grew taller and stronger. But he never held it against the prince. In exchange for protecting him, Armin taught Jean about the things he learned in his studies.
They were close friends, and the idea of losing him made Armin panic. He’d take a hundred beatings a day from a restless, spoiled prince so long as Jean stayed at his side.
“There are more cunning ways to retaliate against physical violence,” Armin said. “I can handle it myself. You simply have to stay at my side as you always have.”
Jean nodded, lowering his gaze. A few moments later, the sound of music in the streets and the cheers of people rose to Armin’s window. “I do believe your betrothed has arrived.”
Armin took a deep breath and sighed. “Let’s go then.”
They walked through the hallways, with Jean two steps behind him to his right, one hand on his sword hilt. Every step made Armin feel like he was wading into a raging river, willingly giving up his air supply until he would be carried away by merciless water and sink to the bottom somewhere never to be found again.
If he wanted more autonomy, then he should have been a better prince.
His father stood at the palace doors, looking back as Armin entered and was announced. He smiled, but it quickly faded when he saw the expression on his son’s face.
“I’ll remind you this arrangement is not the only way to solve things,” he said quietly as Armin stopped beside him.
“It’s the only one without bloodshed. If I can’t fight my own kingdom’s wars, why should I expect my people to?” He lifted his chin and nodded. “This is how it must be.”
The king pursed his lips but said nothing more. The palace doors opened.
“Queen Carla Jaeger of Maria, fourth of her name, Prince Eren Jaeger of Maria, Stormborn, Lord Commander of his Royal Army, second of his name,” the master of ceremonies announced.
Armin felt his breaths come to a halt as his eyes found the prince. His mother used to say that the gods had given up their best sapphires so they might be placed in his eyes. But looking at Eren, Armin believed that the gods had gathered their most perfect emerald and jade stones and gently sculpted his eyes. They had to have sculpted his sharp features and woven his glossy brown hair with their own hands.
The prince was beautiful. Breathtaking. Resplendent.
“A pleasure to meet you under amicable circumstances,” Queen Carla said with a soft, whispery, melodic voice. She was as beautiful as her son, though with a softer face and bigger eyes the color of topaz.
“King Erwin Smith of Sina, Lord Commander of his Royal Army, Breaker of Walls, third of his name. Prince Armin Arlert of Sina, Seaborn, first of his name.”
Armin fought back a grimace as he was announced and Prince Eren arched an eyebrow the tiniest amount. Armin had been a bastard before his mother married the King, an act of generosity and necessity rather than love, though the two had been close. Armin had been an infant when it happened, so it took time before he realized he wasn’t necessarily of royal blood by inheritance. He always felt it was part of why he was so weak, so horrible at following in his father’s steps.
“So you are Sina’s Peacemaker,” Prince Eren said. His voice was low, controlled, almost lazy.
“Is that what they call me in your land?” Armin responded, his voice much softer and uncertain as he looked at the floor before him.
“It’ll be yours too after our union.” Armin felt his cheeks burn at the prince’s words. “If it’s alright, I’d like to walk the grounds with you. Just the two of us.” When Armin’s eyes fluted to him, wide with surprise, Prince Eren tilted his head to one side, a boyish grin spreading on his face. “To get to know you. I’d like it if we weren’t strangers when we marry.”
“Very well,” Armin said, knowing that his face most likely gave away how uncertain and flustered he felt.
“With your leave, King Erwin,” the prince said with a slight bow, his fist over his heart.
“Of course.”
As the prince stepped forward, so did his squire. A relief to Armin because he didn’t want to leave Jean behind. The prince’s squire had a paler complexion, angled eyes, and short hair the color of the night sky.
“Stay with my mother, Mikasa,” Eren said.
“My prince?” the squire responded.
Armin’s eyebrows went up. The squire was a girl. “No, let her come. I’d like to bring Jean with me as well.”
The prince narrowed his eyes only slightly before nodding. “Very well. Come on then, Mikasa. Just be sure to stay far enough to give us some semblance of privacy.”
“My prince.” That time it was Jean. He spoke softly, uncertainly.
“It’s alright. You’ll be close enough to defend me, won’t you?”
“At a moment’s notice,” Jean promised.
The four of them left the palace and Armin led the way to his favorite trail. Whether he was riding his horse or walking as he read, it was a path he knew by heart. Jean and Mikasa fell back, allowing for some privacy, but Armin could still hear their footsteps.
“Your squire is a girl,” Armin said, being the first to break the silence.
Prince Eren removed his crown and shook out his hair. It reached below his shoulders, though the front pieces had been tied back with a hairpin. “She’s the strongest warrior we have. She’s my second in command. When I become king, she’ll be my hand.”
“You respect her,” Armin noted with a hint of surprise.
Emerald eyes flickered to him, a hint of disappointment and frustration in them. “Of course I do. We practically grew up together. Trained together. Aren’t you attached to your squire? He seems quite loyal.” The prince looked over his shoulder and laughed. “And with the look he’s giving me, I must say I’m not sure I should even glance at you.”
“He’s protective,” Armin said. “We’ve heard rumors….” A tired sigh fell from the prince’s lips, his shoulders dropping slightly. “Though you’re nothing like they claim,” Armin added hastily. “Though it makes me question how the rumors sprouted.”
Prince Eren cleared his throat and stopped walking to look at Armin. “If you believe that I’m as ruthless, cruel, and vicious as they say, then why did you send an offer of marriage?”
“To end the war you’ve been waging against the lands we’ve united. I don’t have the skills to lead an army; what kind of prince would I be if I sat on my throne while my people died on the battlefield for the lands I’m supposed to protect and help prosper?”
The prince hummed, and Armin noticed he smelled like cinnamon and cloves. “So you settled for marrying a monster.”
“Are you?” Armin asked, unable to tear his eyes away from Prince Eren’s despite the fact that he felt like that gaze saw right through him. Those ethereal irises had split him open to find every single secret and insecurity and they were scouring for more. “Are you a monster, Prince Eren?”
“I’d rather you come to a conclusion on that yourself. And please, call me Eren. If you are to be my husband in the end, I’d hate for you to be used to formalities.”
Armin frowned, eyebrows pinching together. “If? Do you not accept my offer?”
The boyish grin was back. Eren reached up to pull something from his hair. His hair fell forward, framing his face as he held it out. Slowly, Armin lifted his hand to take it. “I’d love nothing more than to have The Gentle Prince for a spouse. Especially since you have proven to be far better than the rumors about you. But if you were to take me for a husband, I would like to know it’s because you wanted to, not out of obligation.” Armin’s gaze flitted down to the hairpin before he looked back up questioningly. “A peace offering. Regardless of your decision, I’ll take my troops out of your lands.”
“Oh.” That was far too easy. It was so confusing. The war between their people had gone on for so long, had been violent and ruthless. Was Armin supposed to believe that he’d solved it simply because the prince had taken a liking to him?
“If we don’t unite our lands through marriage, then I would like to discuss a trade agreement as well. And any prisoners you might have from my troops should be returned,” Eren added.
“Ah. That’s more reasonable,” Armin said.
Eren burst into laughter, loud and unabashed. “I didn’t want this to become a political meeting. But you started looking suspicious, so I assure you it’s not as easy as I might have made it sound. My apologies.” Armin waved the apology away and began walking again. “So tell me,” Eren said as they followed the winding path toward the sea, “What rumors have you heard of me?”
As the path below them went from dirt to sand and they eventually settled in the sand near the shore, Armin told Eren a rumour he’d heard, and Eren would give it context.
It was said Prince Eren was violent and ruthless, as close to a brute as a prince could be while still being respected. Eren pointed out that most people who weren’t from his land had only ever seen him in battle. He was a skilled warrior, and he did what he had to on the field to keep his men safe and bring as many of them back alive as he could.
In response to the rumors of his frequent visits to brothels, Eren explained that a few of the women were his friends, and he liked to visit to be sure none of the patrons were trying to pull anything. “Women aren’t exactly my preference for company in bed,” he said, allowing his boyish smile to turn into a smirk that made Armin blush.
As for the rumors of his temper, Eren admitted that he struggled to control his anger at times, especially when stressed or frustrated. “It’s unbecoming of a prince, I admit. But I’ve never hurt anyone. Mikasa usually steps in to reel me back before I can make impulsive decisions.”
“Well what about me?” Armin asked as the tide slowly pulled closer to them. “What rumors have you heard about me?”
Eren frowned. “They aren’t kind. But like I said, you’ve proven them wrong.” Armin nodded, waiting for him to continue. With a sigh, Eren turned his body toward him. “Before coming here, I expected you to be small and sickly. Fragile. I’d heard you were soft-hearted. Unworthy of the crown.”
Mostly things Armin already thought of himself. He lowered his head, his cheeks burning with embarrassment with his own legacy.
A gentle hand tilted his head back up by his chin. “Imagine my delight when instead I meet a young man with a wise, hardened look in eyes the color of the clearest sea. A prince who walks with grace, who cares so much about his kingdom he’d throw himself into a terrible marriage if he had to. Someone like that is a leader, a kind-hearted, smart man who deserves the title of The Gentle Prince that I’ve heard around the city.” Eren smiled, softer this time, like it was a secret. “The fact that you’ve got an angelic face is only another benefit.”
“O-oh,” Armin mumbled, feeling his face warm. He must be the color of a ruby, but he couldn’t look away. “Would you like to meet my squire?” he asked, if only to get the attention off of himself.
A soft little laugh made Eren’s shoulders shake. “Sure.”
He turned to where Mikasa and Jean sat further down the shore, conversing between themselves. “Jean, come on over,” he called. Eren lifted a hand and beckoned his squire over as well.
Both of them approached, sitting beside their respective princes. After some introductions, Armin felt his face return to its natural color. The sun began to set, so Armin stood and shook away most of the sand that had embedded itself into his robes and suggested they make their way back in time for dinner.
The feeling of dread that had followed Armin all morning and most of the afternoon had long since dissipated. He felt more comfortable around Eren now, enough to maintain conversation with him throughout dinner. He ignored his father’s curious glances and Queen Carla’s knowing smile.
After dinner, Armin excused himself to wash up and study before bed. Eren cleared his throat, and a gentle rosy color filled his cheeks, much to Armin’s surprise and delight. “Could I walk you to your room to bid you goodnight?” he asked quietly.
Armin smiled, trying to suppress it. “Yes.”
Jean followed since his room was connected to Armin’s off to one side. He kept his distance as they walked. Eren had pulled his hair up for dinner, so Armin had a perfect view of how his high cheekbones maintained their crimson hue and the side glances that accompanied a nervous lip bite. It was endearing to see especially from someone Armin knew was feared and respected throughout several lands.
“Go on inside, Jean, I’ll be there shortly,” Armin said as they reached the door. Jean nodded and walked in, leaving the door slightly open. Armin looked up at Eren and smiled. “Believe me when I say it has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Eren,” he whispered.
Eren smiled, letting out a soft, relieved sigh. “Likewise, Armin.” He hesitated, looking like he had more to say. Armin waited, only arching an eyebrow as he waited. “It might come as a surprise,” he said with a slight waver in his voice that surprised Armin, “but I should admit that I have no experience in courting or physical acts of affection with an intended.”
Armin’s face scrunched up in confusion. “I don’t…. Oh. Do you mean…?”
“I’ve never kissed anyone,” Eren said quietly. “But I’d very much like to steal a kiss before I go to my own room. And I’d like to spend tomorrow with you too. I’m hoping that by the end of the week, you’ll have made a decision on whether you’d really like to marry me or not.”
“Oh.” Armin suddenly felt very nervous and very aware of the aftertaste of dinner in his mouth as well as the dryness of his lips. “Uh- I’ve- That is-” Armin closed his eyes and shook his head. “I’d like that as well,” he said in a steadier voice. “Spending tomorrow with you and… the kiss. Though I’ve never experienced one either.”
A nervous, breathy laugh had Eren blushing again. Then he hesitantly placed a hand to the side of Armin’s face. He leaned down, his eyes locked on Armin’s mouth.
Impatience got the best of him, and Armin pushed himself up slightly onto the balls of his feet to press his lips against Eren’s. His lips were soft. He was smiling into it. His hand was gentle. The kiss was nowhere near as wild or reckless as the ones Armin would witness on the streets or between servants. It was simple and unpracticed, but it was wonderful because it was someone else and it was tender.
Eren pulled back, allowing their noses to continue brushing together lightly. “Goodnight, Armin. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he breathed out. He placed one more kiss on Armin’s cheek before he turned away and walked down the hallway.
With a smile that made his cheeks hurt, Armin slipped into his room.
“You like him,” Jean’s voice said from his own quarters. He walked through the small passageway that connected their rooms. “Quite a bit from the looks of it.”
“He’s nothing like I thought he’d be,” Armin whispered.
“Mikasa says he’d become more reserved lately because of all the rumors. She was surprised with how quickly he took to you.”
“Logic tells me he could easily be putting on an act. But I can feel it in my core; he’s genuine.” Armin removed his crown and began shedding the layers of cloth that draped over him with Jean’s help. “Maybe this arranged marriage won’t be as horrible as I thought.”
“I haven’t seen you smile this much in years,” Jean said with a soft smile. Armin didn’t know what to respond, so he only took a deep breath and tried to shake away the lingering giddiness in his bones.
Throughout the week, Armin only got closer to Eren. They took their meals together, along with Jean and Mikasa until they were laughing like old friends. They’d walk the path to the seashore, often with Jean and Mikasa staying behind until the third day when they deemed it unnecessary to follow. That evening on the beach, Armin and Eren spoke about harder things.
Eren told him about the day he lost his father, about his first day on the battlefield when he saw someone die right in front of him. Armin told Eren why his last name was different from his father’s, and how his being a bastard had left him feeling unworthy of the throne. They spoke about their dreams, things they still wanted to do like sail the ocean or learn to paint.
Alone on the beach, Eren took to stealing more than a few kisses, pressing them to the back of Armin’s hand or his cheek or his nose or in braver moments, right on his lips.
The day after that, they didn’t bother talking. They simply walked to the sea and Armin passed the time memorizing things about Eren’s face. He had a faint scar on his eyebrow, above the bridge of his nose. He had a single, tiny freckle just below his lower lip. His eyes held specks of gold when the setting sun hit them right. When he smirked, his smile pulled up to the left.
Armin was the one who kissed him first that evening. But he lingered, allowing his lips to part in a sigh against Eren’s.
Eren’s lips parted, allowing Armin to capture his lower one briefly. A sandy hand came up to his cheek, and Armin didn’t even mind the coarse texture of the grains. He tucked Eren’s hair behind his ear and curiously allowed his jaw to drop a little more, allowed his tongue to trace the shape of Eren’s lower lip.
A low, musical sigh that sounded like it was pulled from Eren’s chest had heat coursing through Armin’s veins. He cupped Eren’s face, desperate to pull him closer to explore his mouth. He had no idea what he was doing, driven more by instinct than rationality. He was far past the sense of embarrassment or the propriety that was expected of a prince.
With the way Eren followed him, the way his tongue pushed into his mouth, hot and foreign and reducing Armin to breathless whispers of his name, he figured Eren felt the same.
Eren pulled back with a soft laugh as he wiped at his own mouth with cloth from his robe. “There’s sand in my mouth somehow,” he said sheepishly.
Armin let out a breathy laugh, but he was fascinated with the way Eren’s lips had turned red. “Eren.”
“Armin,” Eren answered with a soft smile.
“Marry me.”
Eren’s eyes widened slightly. “You still have two days to make your decision,” he whispered.
Armin shook his head. “Make it two days of being promised to each other,” he said. He pulled one of the sapphire rings from his finger and held it out to Eren. “Say you’ll marry me, Eren. Only if you mean it, if you really want to.”
Eren took the ring which had been on Armin’s third finger but fit on his little finger. “Armin, I’ve wanted to marry you since I first laid eyes on you.” He squished Armin’s cheeks together before kissing him playfully. “I’d like for you to properly meet my mother. I’d like to take you to see my kingdom- it’ll be yours too. We have an archive I know you’d love.”
Armin smiled widely, knocking Eren back against the sand before leaning down for another kiss that set his veins on fire.