trembling we share a kiss

They knew now. They were not alone – were never alone.

There were greater, more advanced civilizations over the horizon. So Paradis struck out tremulously hopeful. Like a child being introduced to a new school they approached their peers, innocent and hopeful.

When Historia allowed herself to think about it; how her people were stripped of their freedom and forced in shackles crafted of simple, effective ignorance (on the whim of a single person gifted too much power) she felt sick with helplessness.

Servants drifted in, lighting candles, and setting out refreshments on a low table before the settee. The last light of day poured into the queen's chambers; bathing all it touched in liquid gold. Larks trilled their last songs, and somewhere in the distance the queen heard the melancholic notes of a nightingale.

"Can we really blame them?" she asked her guest, hoping her brittle smile would be enough to fool him. Eren Jaeger sat with her. On the heels of another rebuked diplomatic endeavor. She faked a giggle. "How silly of me. Would I have wanted to forge trade deals with titans two years ago?"

"We didn't know anything back then," he allowed, leaving her little room to downplay her dashed hopes. He sipped at the freshly poured tea, unaffected by the heat. Another quirk of being a shifter, perhaps. Regenerating too fast to be inconvenienced by something as trivial as a first-degree burn.

"I just…." she sighed. Historia allowed the façade to fall. "I'm frustrated," she admitted.

"I know," Eren replied.

"Why won't they give us a chance?" she demanded, as if he had the power to change things. "It would be nice to deal honestly, without a mediator or any threats. Why won't they just…." Historia shook her head. "We're not some evil empire! Why can't they see? We're not… I just want us to have a chance."

"You know why."

"And Azumabito! Can we really trust that they have our best interest at heart?"

"We can't," Eren said without a thought. "I've made clear what I think about her third condition."

"You did," she breathed. "But… it's our best chance," she added. A precious ally when there were so very few to be found. "Isn't it?"

"Maybe," he said. Eren took another sip and Historia listlessly stirred her cup, dissolving the honey and trying not to lose hope. Then he said, "The titans were never the real monsters."

She looked at him.

"When we were kids, there was a gang of boys always after Armin for being a 'heretic'," he recounted. "Bullies who should have known better. Armin wondered what was beyond the walls and that was all they needed."

It struck a little too close and Historia set her cup down and hugged herself. She could still taste the foolish hope. How badly she had wanted to be accepted by those children, playing beyond her grandfather's fence. To join in their games and be a little less alone for a while. But good kids from hard working families did not mix with bastards. They hurled stones and insults. The sharp bitter hurt of their rejection stung most. Historia tried not to cry, not wanting them to know that their approval mattered to her.

"He never fought them…" Eren continued, his voice soft with the warmth of a rare memory entirely his own. "But he never ran away, either."

"Why?"

Eren shrugged. "Armin reasoned they admitted defeat by beating him instead of debating."

"That sounds like him," Historia said, smiling softly.

"Yeah," Eren said. He shifted his position then, leaning forward. Elbows braced on his knees; his teacup suspended in long fingers. "Always hoping for better. Problem is they didn't care. They were stealing his food. His family couldn't even send him out for a loaf of bread."

"Oh."

"So, this… them not wanting to hear what we have to say… it's just more of the same. Stakes are higher. That's all that's changed."

Historia sighed sadly and hugged herself a little tighter, her heart sick to know it.

"Never mattered if it was one or five," Eren continued. Historia looked at him again and found his dark brows furrowed and his mouth set in a grim line. She sensed the promise lurking beneath his words. "I fought them. I'll always fight them."

"At least," she hesitated a moment, setting her hands primly in her lap and trying to summon a brave smile. "At least Paradis won't have to fight. The threat of a Rumbling should be a strong enough deterrent."

"Maybe," Eren allowed. His voice tepid. His hand closed around her trembling fingertips. "I'll exhaust all other options first."

Historia had clasped hands as strong once. Skin as sun-kissed and warm as this hard, smooth hand. Slimmer.

What would Ymir think of all this? She had come from that empire across the sea. Ready and willing to drag Historia there to 'protect' her. Historia could laugh now at the sweet absurdity of Ymir's desperation. Guarding Historia's miserable life by handing her over to those who would have bred her like livestock. Ymir had changed her mind so suddenly. Why? That last, brief letter explained so little…

Why did you abandon me? After all your talk about living for ourselves…?

"Historia."

The young queen lifted her eyes and found the shifter staring at her. She blinked away the tears that had formed and her cheeks grew warm, embarrassed to be caught wallowing in self-pity. Eren sat quiet, watching her, eyes cool as morning fog.

Then he leaned in. Eren's lips met hers with a sudden shock, teeth clicking inelegantly. He smelled of vetiver; earthy and fresh. A revitalizing rain after an arid spell. His firm lips tasted of black tea and she accepted how parched and alone she still felt and just as she began to fall into it, to open and begin taking from him, Eren pulled away. Historia's teary eyes fluttered open, and she found Eren staring down at her, his lower lip glistening. She let out a shaky breath.

"Eren," she exhaled. "What…?"

His eyes were clouded with some profound emotion. It could not be easy for him. The weight of a kingdom's safety on his shoulders and the pressure to puzzle out what others had learned over years of intense training and guidance. Without a veil of ignorance to pierce and sifting through memories, not his own, numerous as grains of sand…

"Did… did you see anything?"

Eren blinked and looked away a moment, colour flooding his cheeks. "No," he confessed. He set the empty teacup down on the low table. "Sorry."

"Oh," she breathed. Historia blushed and looked down at her fingers a moment, tangled within his larger hand, trying to gather her thoughts. "Then, why…?

Eren scratched just behind his ear a moment. "I just wanted to," he confessed.

Her heart fluttered in her chest like a caged bird. "Really?"

"Yeah. Wanted to make a memory of my own again," Eren replied. He cocked his head to the side, dark hair catching candlelight, gleaming lustrous. He looked her in the eyes. "And… I trust you."

"Oh."

"Would you mind?" he asked. "If I did that again?"

Historia grinned and nodded, blinking away her tears.

Eren gripped the collar of her creamy blouse and tugged her forward, closer until she could feel the warmth radiating between them. A little tentative this time. More mindful. Dark lashes and grey soft as moth wings, fluttering closed. Lips brushing hers. Historia closed her eyes and sighed, opening to him.

They were children when Shiganshina fell. Children, even, when they enlisted into the 104th. Managed to graduate in the top ten of their corps and got thrown into real combat at the tender age of fifteen before they even picked their regiment.

Like with all else, be it swordplay, or Titan behavior, or ODM gear, they learned this together.

Losing one's virginity was not unlike flying at the end of a wire. The lightheaded, stomach flipping euphoria. Limbs awkward and inexperienced. Fingers numb. Heart hammering inside her chest like the frantic beat of unnerved wings.

Historia approached Eren's body with nervous determination. Like climbing a tree for the first time to reach a ripe red apple. Understanding the crude mechanics of what she wanted and uncertain of where to put her hands to better reach her prize.

What Eren lacked in finesse he made up for in sincerity. He kissed with an ardent edge, teeth grazing virgin skin. Hard, inexperienced hands roaming her body in a clumsy rush of passionate discovery, leading, irrevocably to the sudden stinging jolt of him inside her. So full and close and over before she could savor it all.

"I'm sorry," Eren said. Still atop her and still sheathed, so hot and heavy and panting. "I wanted, I needed, I didn't mean…"

"Cut it out," she said.

Eren shifted, placing his weight on his elbows, her head framed between his hands. He gazed down at her, his sea-gray eyes a storm of emotion beneath heavy lids. He looked lost. Overwhelmed. "Huh?"

"Stop whining and just…." Historia bit her lip and arched beneath him. Felt the length of him still so hard where she remained slick and wanting. With the slide of their skin his pretty eyes slipped closed on a shuddering sigh. "Just try again, Eren."

Slowly, he opened his eyes. Stared at her, dazed and blinking, a moment more before swallowing and nodding dumbly. Eren buried his face in the crook of her neck and rolled his hips. Sliding to a sweet shock. A promise of ecstasy.

"Oh," Historia sighed. He breathed deeply and continued. Moaning softly. Nice and steady. Each thrust slicker, warmer than the last. Tension mounting to a tipping point. She twisted her fingers in his dark hair. "Yes, Eren,… Just. Oh. Just like that…"