After his birth, Eren will never sleep alone. Once eyes close, every slow breath that'll escape his lungs will be mirrored in his dream world. Every heart beat will be copied in another.
Eren won't dream. He'll tell you otherwise, but don't listen. When he sleeps, he'll be in another time. He'll invision a life he has had before.
This life was gifted to him before it was supposed to. He wasn't supposed to be alive until much, much later.
We gave him this early life because we thought he wouldn't be ready solely with the life he was supposed to have. He needed to see and experience a life so grotesque that he could handle almost anything else.
However, we've seen that it wasn't enough, that the early life wasn't enough to prepare him, it wasn't enough for what is to come. So, we gave him the gift of Vision, a gift able to perfectly replicate his earlier life down to the most miniscule detail.
Eren won't know any of this, for he'll be too naive for a long time. All he'll know is what his mother'll tell him; with sleeping, comes dreaming. For him, that's all he'll need to know.
And so, Eren dreams.
Eren dreams of Titans. He dreams of flying, fighting, of sorrow living in his bones. He dreams of pain and death and blood, so much blood. He dreams of failure and stained hands, of success and silent tears. He dreams of anger and bloodlust, of devotion and love. When Eren dreams, it's of freedom.
All of this that is, of course, far from where we are now. Now, he has just been born. All he dreams of now, is warmth and mothers and innocence.
He's a miracle.
That's what the doctors said. They said he shouldn't exist, that the fact he's alive is a sign, a gift from the gods.
Carla thinks he's beautiful, the most beautiful thing she's ever seen. Right now she's too exhausted to see straight, but she knows she'll never see a more wonderful sight.
With pale skin, still tinged with a sickly purple, and fine brown hair. With wide eyes, taking in the world. With pursed lips and a button nose.
And those eyes, god those eyes. Such an elegant mix of liquid gold and coral blue, swirled together with seafoam green in a dance for the ages.
"He's a miracle, our beautiful miracle." Carla looks to the side - at her husband who looks almost as exhausted as her, though you wouldn't be able to tell with the giant smile in the way - and laughs through a wall of tears.
"Yes, yes he is."
In another place and in another time, a healthy baby is sleeping in a blanket, wrapped in his fathers arms.
"Do you have a name?" He glances at his wife when he asks the question. She's smiling tiredly, but has a fire in her eyes that only wakefulness could accomplish.
"Yes. His name is Eren." She says his name fiercely, knowing with a mother's instinct that it's the perfect name.
"Eren Jeager." He tests it as it rolls off his tongue. Tilting his head to the side, he nods. Conviction lights up his eyes as he turns to her, still nodding, and smiles at her, eyes crinkling at the corners.
"Yes, I like it very much." Softly, he sets the baby in his baby tray and sits next to his wife.
Carla curled her hand around his and falls asleep. Not to long after, Grisha does too.