for now you are a part of me
Historia traced her fingers against the frosted glass, watching the delicate fractals softly melt away. The city aglow with golden gaslight and glittering snow beyond the panes. Below, people crowded the streets, drinking mulled wines and sweets and watching entertainers. Her birthday. A holiday now. Nearly three years into her reign and it still seemed an odd thing.
"Your escort is here, your Majesty."
Historia turned to Maria's voice and saw Eren standing next to the maid. In his military issued olive-drab formal coat. He had grown taller, filled out, clothing straining in places that had her pulse rising. He regarded her coolly, and Historia's warm smile faltered. Eren blinked then. Placed his fist over his heart and bent at the waist.
"Your Majesty."
Historia schooled her emotions and gracefully extended her hand to him. He bent as he drew her hand to his lips for the customary kiss and the warmth of his breath on her skin set her blood on fire.
"Eren Jaeger," she said tightly, trying to match his impassive tone. How could he play so coy after so long apart? Had things changed for him in the weeks away, working with the scouts? Had someone replaced her in his heart? "Have you been well?"
"Commander Hange keeps me busy," he replied. "And you, your Majesty? How have you been keeping?"
"Busy," she said with a little smile. It was the truth. She wanted to draw him into a private corner, just the two of them, and hear every detail of what he had seen and how their friends were fairing. She wanted to tell him how she had missed him, among other things.
But a pair of MPs flanked them, and things felt awkward and strange.
She sat at the center of the head table. The scouts seated away, beyond the council members and MPs and all through her dinner Historia consciously did not glance their way. By the fifth dance Eren still had not asked her, and she had worked herself into an anxious, self-conscious mess. She looked for him and saw him still seated, talking to some MP. Midway through the ninth he left the ballroom. Historia waited in agony for the song to ended and recused herself as the final notes played. She escaped out the same gilded door he went, rushing back through the east gallery with grand oil paintings of landscapes once thought lost to man. The music died to a faraway thrumming. Historia cast her gaze into darkened, unused rooms before finally finding her prize in a drawing room. Eren stood before one of the tall, frosted windows, staring out over the carousing people in the city below. Tall and square-shouldered, framed by the moonlight.
"They'll miss you," he said. "You should get back."
"Why are you out here?"
"I needed to get some air. Too stuffy in there."
Historia closed the distance between them and reached for the felted sleeve of his green coat. She tugged gently. "Eren?"
His head turned toward her, just a little, dark hair long and still concealing his eyes.
"Why haven't you asked me to dance?" she asked.
"You think I didn't want to?" Eren replied, fully looking at her and she saw a shimmer of tremulous, restrained emotion in those mercurial grey eyes.
"What else am I to think?"
Eren smiled sardonically. "You know what this is," he said, tone mirthless and bordering, almost, on anger. Eren pointed his thumb back in the direction of the ballroom. "Why they're making such a fuss in there."
"I know it's a bit ostentatious," Historia tried. "But that doesn't explain why you're avoiding me like I have the plague."
He looked back out the window. "Just staying out of the way."
Historia frowned. "I… I don't understand."
Eren chuffed a little laugh. "Come on. Every grasping councilman turned out for the hunt. Not that I blame them." He looked at her again, this time with a slow searing sweep of his grey eyes. It started from the top of her crown, passed the heart-shape of her corseted bust to the embroidered hem of the gown and back again. "That's quite a dress. You pick it out yourself?"
"Hey!" Blush seared her cheeks. So Eren had noticed, but for entirely the wrong reasons and she wanted to smack him. "It's not like that!"
"This isn't about choosing a prince consort?"
"No!"
Eren snorted. "From where I was sitting every guy in there eyed you the way Sasha looks at a rasher of bacon."
"I wouldn't know," Historia said primly, suddenly seeing the truth and it set her young heart at ease. "Maybe you should have asked me to dance instead of coming out here to pout."
"I'm not pouting," he said sullenly, folding his arms across his chest. But in the dim light she saw the heat bloom on his cheeks and his ears darkened a shade.
"You are," Historia pressed, poking him. "Over nothing, might I add. And I did pick this dress! Because I hoped you would like it!"
"And why would you do a silly thing like that?"
She grinned. "It occur to you, idiot, that maybe my mind is already made up?"
Oh, his eyes. His eyes… All at once the jealous vitriol seemed to bleed out of him only to be replaced by something mellow and pure. A smile pulled at one corner of his mouth and his brows lifted and his whole stance softened again. His embarrassment only deepened.
"Sometimes I'm still just a stupid brat," he began, voice low and sheepish. He chuckled uneasily as he scratched the back of his head. He sighed. "The truth is… I have no right behaving like this. Not when we both know I'll be dead before twenty-four -"
"I don't care."
Eren reached for her, warm hands framing her face. He pulled her close, finally bringing his lips to hers, quieting her anxiety with a languid kiss.
He pressed his forehead to hers. Historia laid her hands against the lapels of his uniform, feeing his breathing beneath the layers of fabric.
On the heels of a shuddering breath, he said, "I'm running out of time."
Historia opened her eyes and started up into his face. She spoke gently. "So?"
"If the military knew how much I treasured you…." He trailed off, his thumb drawing slow lines on her cheek. "They'd tell me to set aside my feelings or write off my opinion entirely. Do you understand?"
Historia swallowed the lump in her throat and shook her head, shifting in his grasp just enough to slide her fingers into the hair feathering at the nape of his neck and pulled him down. Kissed him again. Deeper, more demanding. She coaxed his lips to part and turned their resignation into something torrid. Eren drew her tighter, closer and when she felt him, hard against her, it lit an ember in the pit of her stomach.
A shaky, poignant sigh escaped him. "Historia…"
"Why does he do this?" they heard Mikasa say and they quickly receded deeper into shadow and stilled. Both holding their breath as the footsteps drew closer, louder. "Always going off alone without a word? He should know better."
"It'll be alright," Armin said. Eren and Historia saw them, in the light of the doorway, looking into the drawing room, oblivious of the couple secreted in the dark. Their shadows stretching long across the creamy polished floor. "He's not going to get kidnapped or assassinated in the dead of winter. The bay is nearly impassable, and Marley is still caught in a war."
Their shadows slipped away and as their voices and steps receded, Eren sighed. "Do you see? I want you to be free to live your life," he decided. "Without having to worry about any of this."
"What good is this freedom if I can't have what I want?"
Eren shook his head, completely crestfallen. "Historia, please…"
"Fine," Historia said sharply, relenting for the moment. "Just… come to me, tonight. Okay?"
He smiled softly and nodded. "Okay."
Historia grinned. Kissed him once more and brushed her nose against his. "We're lucky the false king was such a pervert."
She found Eren in her chambers, as promised, having let himself in through the old passages. Eren crouched before the hearth, stoking the flames. His formal coat draped over the arm of the settee and his pristine white shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows. Firelight outlined the corded muscle of his arms.
"Eren."
Slowly he stood, turning to face her. He stared at her for what felt like an age. She could see nothing of his expression, only the silhouette of his body before the fire.
"Your Majesty," he finally said.
The queen laughed lightly at the ridiculous propriety and shook her head. "Please don't talk like that. Not when it's finally just the two of us."
"Historia," Eren said, in quite a different tone, low and warm with promise. He opened his arms, and Historia picked up the heavy white brocade of her skirts and rushed to him. He clasped her hand, spinning her into a twirl.
"This dress really is something," he said. The fabric flared out, silvery embroidered feathers catching the firelight. Historia giggled.
"You like it?"
"Yeah," Eren said, and the spinning stopped. He wrapped an arm round her waist, drawing her flush against him. He stared down at her, eyes so bright and adoring. "You sure like white," he remarked.
Historia blushed but did not look away. They had grown through so much and she could not help but smile up at him, brazenly. "I was hoping it would inspire a question."
His hand curled around the back of her neck, holding her still. Though Eren tried to keep his emotions close, his eyes could hide nothing, and Historia could see the conflict between duty and devotion. She did not know what to say, what sweet words might sooth him.
Eren traced his thumb over her lips in a strange, sensuous caress before bending to her. Eased her lips apart beneath his own with a serous sigh and kissed her in earnest. Passionate, carnal… Eren tugged impatiently at the laces of her corset as she stripped him naked, the familiar buttons popping open beneath her numbed fingers. Historia pressed her lips to taut sun-kissed skin, flesh firm and sculpted and she smiled when he shivered and sighed beneath her touch.
The gown dropped in a whisper, leaving Historia exposed and Eren pulled her close. Kept her warm, skin to skin. His hard hands molded to the curve of her ass, lifting her to meet his lips. Pressure perfect, her head rolled back with a sigh and when Eren's blunt teeth grazed the soft curve of her throat, Historia whimpered.
Eren swept her up, bridal style. Laid her out on the duvet. Drank in her form as if he had never seen her naked before descending on her like a man starved. She blushed and gripped the pillow as he nuzzled between her thighs, breath so warm, licking and nibbling at her like some delicacy. Worked at her with tongue and teeth and fingers as she raked his scalp and her voice grew reedy. When she arched, hips bucking with primal need, Eren chuckled and complied, slowly crawling up her quivering body, leaving searing kisses in his wake until he came to cover her. Historia wrapped her arms around him as he sank between her thighs, pressing deep and filling her. They kissed and moaned in turns as he moved, hips rolling patiently, relishing the warm sliding of skin, tension rising ever slowly to a delicious breaking point. When her moaning became weak and desperate, Eren reached between them, giving her a touch more friction and suddenly, suddenly the pleasure broke and flooded. Her toes curled and she choked on his name and when it receded again Historia felt boneless beneath him.
Calm followed, so warm-hearted and breathless and in that relaxed intimacy he kept the evening long. Holding her close, long fingers tracing along the soft trench of her spine. Eren spoke low and gentle, recounting the doings of her old corp. Armin's crystal gazing and Jean's dogged determination to get Mikasa to notice him. Connie visiting his mother and hoping. Told her about the work on the railroad that summer and all the gripping about the work. Shared his disgust, again, with a treaty that tethered them to a sin, a role, none of them wanted. How he had missed her, thought about her, worried for her.
Historia listened, her fingers tracing patterns over the firm plains of his chest. His heart beating a soothing percussion.
"I meant it, Eren," she said.
"Hm?"
"What I said earlier. About choosing you."
Eren remained quiet, his hand closing around her wrist with a sigh. "The queen married to a shifter? They'll blow a gasket."
Historia wriggled, loosening his grip enough to prop herself on top of him. "Just… stop it! I don't care about your term limit or what anyone has to say. I love you."
"I…," Eren began, stroking her hair with reverent tenderness. "I want everything with you. I do. But -"
"But what, Eren?"
"You know what they want for you," Eren reasoned. Historia bit her lip, unable to refute the point. "Having as many children as possible in the time you have left… they'd never trust me again if… if…."
"Then… we'll keep this secret," she tried. She did not want to think about the politics or the end of his term, blinking rapid to fight the threatening tears. "Until you think it's safe enough to be in the open."
"And if it never is?"
She traced the outline of his handsome face, brushing the dark strands away from his forehead. She swallowed away the tightness in her throat. "We have done everything they've ever asked of us, Eren," she said and when he did not argue that point, she leaned in, sliding against him and pressed her lips to his in another slow caress. He groaned softly in the back of his throat. "Even if it's just in secret – at least we can have each other. Right?"
Eren let out a breath and smiled tenderly. "Right," he said.
Historia sealed his promise with another kiss before draping herself atop him once more. Eren's arms tightened, so warm and secure around her. He pulled his fingers through her hair, loosening the plaits with soothing strokes. She was on the edge of sleep when Eren whispered against her hair.
"I love someone inside the walls."