"Historia, I will do it! Let me be the father of your child!"

In front of me stood the man whose name the world didn't need to know. He was looking right at my eyes with the same amount of determination and worry. His parents were behind him and he didn't understand how unfair that was that I didn't have anyone to accompany me except for the servant upstairs.

I didn't know how he knew about what they decided I had to do. Of course there was no publication about how I should have continue the legacy of the Reiss family. Words surely spread fast, even in a remote area like this, where they said I could find peace.

The blond man in front of me was nothing like the boy who had often started at me from his fence. The blond man in front of me was nothing like the short boy who had often helped his dad carry the crates from the barn. He was nothing like the boy who had once given me an apple he had picked, who had run before I could have said thank you.

The blond man in front of me was tall—almost as tall as Jean, and his arms were muscular. I imagined that those arms were strong enough to make the horses obey him.

He said all the perfect promises a man could say that felt nothing to me. But how could I grant his request?

"Well, he seems like a good guy," she suddenly said. And it was almost terrifying to hear those words out of her mouth, just like a loud knock in my chest.

"That's not the point, Ymir. It's—"

"You will never choose one of our friends, right?"

But—

"This guy seems decent enough. Well, at least better than Eren, or Connie," she didn't give me a chance to defend myself.

I ignored her attempt to lighten up the mood. I shook my head.

"Ymir." A desperate call.

"Historia." A calm voice.

Hearing her voice saying my name always felt so right. It was so right that imagining someone else would say it as gentle a she always did brought tears to my eyes. "Ymir, don't—"

"Hey."

I finally looked at her.

"It's okay."

And this time, it broke my heart to see her smile.

"It's okay," she repeated, looking into my eyes with that smile.

The smile she was giving me wasn't her usual smirk. The smile she was giving me wasn't the grin she always gave me every time she made me blush. The smile she was giving me wasn't even the one she always gave me every time the anxiety struck me. The smile she was giving me was a sign of defeat, a sign of surrender.

And Ymir never surrendered.

Ymir would not give up on me.

"Hey," she stepped forward. "I'm not giving up on you."

I chuckled between my tears. She had definitely read my mind.

"Historia Reiss," she gently said. "Remember what I told you?"

I didn't want to play her riddles, but what was it that she was trying to tell me? I looked up to her instead.

"You have to live with pride," she repeated the words she had told me that day. "This is just what you have to do, as the queen, as Historia Reiss."

"I never want to live up to this name, Ymir."

"Hey. Don't break you promise. The last thing I want to see is exactly that."

"How do you think I should live with pride when I know that I will have to sleep with someone I don't love and bear his child? How do you think I should live with pride when I know that that person is not you, Ymir!" I almost yelled. I never said it out loud.

I expected her laugh, or even her arguments, but when I looked at her, all I could see was that same smile and her teary eyes as she said, "I'm sorry."

I started to panic. I didn't want her to leave.

"But you know you still might have to do that even if I hadn't gone." She looked away with the same smile.

No. No, no, no. Ymir, please don't go.

No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel bad, I wanted to say those cliched words, but instead, I said, "Maybe you should have done it when you had the chance."

Silence.

Is that convincing enough? I asked myself. She was always the one who lightened up the mood. She was always the one who would come with the attempts to bring a smile to my face.

Her eyes were wide with surprise. She stared at me in amazement. Then she chuckled. And it was enough to tame the storm inside my head.

She lifted her hand, as if she was going to stroke my hair, but she stopped an inch before she could touch my face. "Yes," she smiled a genuine smile for the first time today. "Maybe I should have."

But the tears ran down my face as I watched her and all of those what ifs playing in her eyes.

"I love you, Your Majesty. I'm not going anywhere."

With the trembling in my hands, a single tear escaped. I looked up to see the blond man with his hopeful eyes. And I said, "Yes."