Armin POV
Whatever Eren had tried to achieve, when he invited General Ackerman to dance with him – his plan was going splendid so far.
"Kill him! Kill him and bring me his corpse!"
As soon as the king had screamed those words, the guards in the room stormed over to the young man, his face hidden behind the mask Armin had given him.
They raised their weapons, not a hint of any emotion detectable on their faces. They didn't care about the person they were supposed to kill. To them Eren was only the physical appearance of an ugly rumor. Nothing more.
He searched the room for Mikasa, having lost her out of sight when the general had pulled him out of the mess he had created earlier. But the dark-haired girl was nowhere to be seen. It was probably for the better. Mikasa had always been keen on protecting her brother from bullies and Armin was sure that she wouldn't hesitate to kill those men if it meant keeping him safe.
Armin could do nothing. If he tried to fight them, he would lose. He had never been one to hurt others, physically or emotionally. His only weapon was his mind, as Eren always told him. But...how was he supposed to help his friend?
Eren wasn't supposed to present himself like that, his pride dancing around his body like a protective layer. They had planned for him to stay hidden in the crowd. To wait until the King himself would have spotted him. Eren had assured them that he would recognize him instantly.
"I look like my mother.", he had said back in their room, sitting in the small alcove. Moonlight had shone on his face, creating some kind of ethereal atmosphere. "He hates me. But my mother only left because of me. Because of what he would have done to me. He misses her. In every dark-haired woman will he see her. That's why he will recognize what's left of her in me."
Armin hadn't fought him back then, but now he wished he had inquired further what he planned to do. Turning his head in all directions Armin looked for a way out of the situation, a way to help his friend without blowing their cover.
"Armin!"
He spun around. It was Sasha who had called out to him. Connie was running behind her, a worried and slightly angry look on his face.
"What is that suicidal bastard up to?", he shouted, not minding the nobles who were still too occupied with fleeing and screeching and being useless in general.
"Eren is..." He clawed his fingers in his scalp, the ruckus too much for his sensitive ears. "I don't even know what he is doing anymore!"
Sasha and Connie shared a concerned gaze and then looked over to the prince, who was fighting off the first guards who dared to attack him. Even from the distance Armin could see the strain on the smirk that Eren wore like arrogance was the sole substance he was made of.
"We have to help him!", Armin cried and was about to lunge forward when everything a shout tore every single noise in the room apart.
No.
It was no shout.
It was a shriek. So pained. So horrified. So full of anguish that Armin pressed his hands over his ears while Connie covered Sasha's with his own, his eyes wide at what he saw in the middle of the throne room.
And it was Eren, who was making those agonized sound.
He was bending over, hands pressed against his face. His crown shone eerily in the candlelight above them. The guards shrunk back with their weapons raised even higher. Only this time did they show the fear that had taken a hold on anyone left in the throne room after most of the nobles had left in a hurry.
Armin saw Grisha taking a step back, his mouth open in horror and his eyes directed at his son.
"That's...what is he...?", Connie rasped and put an arm around Sasha who was equally confused and scared.
They were all staring at the prince.
And the giant pair of wings on his back.
(So.....I just have to say: This story went a WHOLE other way than I had planned. I had abandoned the idea already but it kind of wrote itself so....yeah. I hope you're not disappointed by the turn of theme we made here.
Hope you enjoy it nevertheless!)