a/n: Long time, no see! Slow progress is better than none, I suppose. Forewarning that this one is unabashedly self-indulgent. Seriously. I mean, I guess everything I write is self-indulgent in the sense that I write whatever's rotting my brain at any given moment in hopes of relieving said rot. Today, it's gratuitously angsty and insufferably romantic Erehisu. To be honest, the following chapters are no different... but I will not apologize for who I am!

"Majesty."

The sun was peeking over the horizon and bathing the district in gold, early winter air biting at her bare fingertips as Eren extended a gloved, beckoning hand. His dark voice carried gentle yet sharp as the weight of winter's breath through lips that failed to fend off a smile as persistent as he was stubborn to flatten it. A smile that failed, on the other hand, in meeting eyes ravaged by nightmares enough for a village. It was like looking into the eyes of a half-mangled animal on the cusp of death, silently begging for savior or mercy. Half-alive as his smile, those eyes; she could hardly stand to look at them.

Still, no matter the stirrings inside her stomach or twisting of her heart at the sight of him, she would sooner squeeze his hand through the pain than be rid of it at the cost of his company. Would not have preferred a royal crown nor insignia of glory to that half-alive smile she loathed so much because, despite her best efforts, she couldn't manage to loathe such a smile at all. It followed the circadian rhythm of a shooting star; damn her to an eternity in the Paths if she didn't savor its fleeting presence, too.

"Protector." Historia offered a curtsy and, having anticipated it, savored the irritated scowl coloring his face in response. "Keeping your Queen waiting as long as you have should be a capital offense. I trust you have your reasons."

"That I do," he guided her into the carriage and shut the door as she found her seat across his own. "We'll have all the time in the world to discuss it, for once." And he threw in his next statement with an endearing side-eye: "I really wish you'd stop doing that."

Historia giggled and Eren offered a curt nod to the coachman in silent protest. So confident, she thought, yet so much like a humiliated child. Then she heard a whistle and whinny shortly thereafter, and a light gallop carried them down the cobblestone streets of Stohess.

"How did you manage to arrange this secret meeting, anyway?" Historia's voice rose over the sound of rickety wooden wheels on stone. "Don't tell me you asked nicely."

"Being the Queen's protector has its benefits," Eren grinned, then fished through his pocket and displayed a coin between his index and middle finger. "What the government doesn't know won't hurt them. We're not breaking any of their asinine rules, anyway." Historia watched him wiggle his gloved fingers as evidence. "Not technically."

There was, in the back of her mind, the smallest hope that he'd bend them anyway. Pretend to forget his gloves just the same, that they might get to recall what it was to know someone, deeply, intrinsically, unbearably, just by touching them. Feeling him fill up every pore until they were indistinguishable, carrying traces of the other in every laugh, in every sigh, in every mindless tuck of the hair and nervous squeeze of the hand.

These small hopes of hers were little more than inane musings, she knew better than anyone, but reason rarely trumped desire.

"It's amazing what a little money can buy you," she mused. Then, lowering her voice to a near whisper, she leaned forward. "Have you no shame? The coachman is committing a crime, mind you, and one the MPs will not take kindly to should they discover it. This young man could lose his station, or worse."

"Shame? Not a bit, I fear," was his blithe response. "Besides, there's not much the MPs take kindly to and, in fairness, far more trivial matters have been met with harsher punishment. If it comes down to it, I'll be sure to take the fall." And with a smug grin, he added, "Have you no faith?"

Historia scoffed. "Faith is for the feeble-minded. Though, I suppose you're right, but..." she wrung her hands as if cleansing herself of their crime, "…even still."

"Don't worry yourself over this," his eyes softened, catching the restlessness coursing through her veins. "We've doing nothing wrong. Since when was it a crime to spend some time with a friend, for gods sake?"

The carriage was small enough that they'd both pretended not to notice the graze of their knees with each jostle, but it became an impossible task with the growing tension between them that quickly made way for awkward silence. Uncharacteristic as it felt, it was all but a regular occurrence these days and Eren, as if on cue, was redirecting his attention to the passing city through the window for reprieve.

"Commander Hange asked for me personally, for today's meeting," he grumbled. "There was much to discuss."

"Yet, I've heard nothing of it."

"The military police have arranged a meeting with all regiments and the Queen herself, come a week's time. It'll be a big day. One for the books."

"Why, then, are we in a carriage to gods know where at the crack ass of dawn? Do you plan on taking my place, Protector?"

"I've been advised to keep things confidential for now, but…" he ignored her quip, eyes scanning the streets still, "...there's something I need to show you. If I keep it from you any longer than I have, I think I'll go crazy."

"How noble of you," she muttered. "And this confidential business applies to even the ruler of the walls, does it?"

"For the time being." Lips curled, eyes piercing. "Yes."

Historia clicked her tongue in response, a hum to follow. Spectacularly, this was enough to reclaim Eren's gaze.

"What?"

"Well," she began, averting her eyes to the window in protest, "Eren Jaeger is not one to submit to the whims of anyone but himself, as long as I've known him. This must be quite the secret." Historia watched as they crossed the gates of Wall Sina into Rose, brows stitched together but unwilling to drop the subject. "In honestly, you're kind of a big shot these days. Bigger than the Queen, it would seem."

"Does that bother you?" That infernal smirk.

"No," she bit without pause, "you bother me."

"You're a terrible liar."

She glowered at him. "It bothers me that you spend all your time behind the scenes, keeping your secrets when you have people depending on you. Comrades who need and trust you, who miss you." The last part fell from her lips without thought, but she continued on despite the burn in her cheeks. "You're so much like a ghost lately, Eren. Where do you go?"

Eren's smirk faltered with every word, a heavy sigh fogging up the window as he turned his head. They both followed the passing buildings of the Calaneth district for a short while. Abandoned and decrepit. Eerily quiet. Historia would have liked to imagine a bustle in its place, the children running amok with little idea how to be afraid and the world at their fingertips, but the corpse-littered dirt paths curled around abandoned buildings in the shape of hopelessness, chasing away any such musings she might dare to indulge.

"Do you believe in fate?" Eren didn't look at her when he asked, eyes trained on nothing outside the window and mind surely elsewhere.

"I…" Historia blinked, submitting mid-sentence to his cryptic ramblings, "…believe we make our own fate. You know that better than anyone." She watched as his eyes fell to her feet, a slow blink to follow.

"I want to believe that," he said, "more than anything. Lately, I've been fighting against all odds to hold onto that belief."

"Eren." Historia's brows furrowed. "Where is this coming from? What did the military police say to you?"

Eren chuckled as if it'd caught him by surprise, shaking his head with a roll of his eyes. "You've never been the patient type, have you?"

Historia crossed her arms with a scoff, frowning at Eren's smug amusement. It was growing frustrating, his distance. She'd been more than patient with him, for months she had been, but there was only so much she could stand before the light his fire once offered burned out, leaving her shrouded in smoke.

The carriage creaked as it rounded a corner.

"Jean is painting my portrait."

Eren blinked, unresponsive. This wasn't pertinent information in the slightest and would almost certainly incriminate her intentions, but the look on his face wiped away any regret she'd had in saying it. Wiping that smug grin off his face became her life mission.

"I'm aware," he said flatly. "For the MPs."

"For the people," she corrected, "They say it'll be a 'symbol of hope for those who have risked their lives outside the walls, and for those who feel trapped within them'. A noble cause, I'd say."

"Yes, well," Eren waved a dismissive hand, "Jean is a capable artist, however derivative. I'm sure he'll do you justice."

Historia snorted. "And what would you know of his technical skill, or the arts for that matter? There's not a single creative bone in your body to judge him against."

"I'm creative in useful ways," he bites back, irritation blooming underneath his feigned indifference. "Though, if throwing paint on a canvas is what it takes to steal you away from your duties these days maybe I'll take it up. You've spent more and more time with that horse-face despite being just as busy."

Historia's lip twitched with satisfaction. "Does that bother you?"

Eren huffed, eyes flicking from side to side as they watched the world pass by through the glass. Historia noted the way he propped an arm against the pane and pressed gloved fingers to his lips. The way he brushed the surface of them as if brushing away the words threatening to spill out.

Historia tapped her fingers against her hand, wishing she had gloves of her own to shield against the chill in the air. "In any case, they'd better compensate him well for his efforts," she surrendered, "and for this so called hope they claim he'll capture in my face, of all things."

A twisted expression crossed his face then, like he wanted to say something with furrowed brows and lips parted to that end, but after a moment's time he let his face soften and words hang in the air instead. Turned toward the window with that annoying look on his face all the while and Historia failed to curb the overwhelming urge to kick at his foot in response.

Eren's head whipped back incredulously. "Hey—"

"If you have something you want to say to me, say it," she commanded. "I am still your Queen." It was a pathetic attempt. Before it had even left her mouth, she'd settled on the bitter truth that there was no getting out of him what he wasn't willing and ready to give. Nevertheless, it felt good to tell him off.

An amused grin crossed his lips and he chuckled, something warm and irritating all the same. "Will I be tried for treason if I don't?"

She straightened her back. "For concealment," she said, a growing smile at the sight of his, "a fitting sentence for someone as secretive as you."

The carriage halted to a stop before she could shake an answer out of him, and only then did she recall being taken away from Stohess in the first place.

Distracted, she stole a glance out of the window to see that some time along the way they had left the outer most wall and entered forbidden lands, the sun having found its peak in clear blue skies and shining down on a vast field of impossibly tall trees.

"Is this…?" Historia leaned forward as if to confirm it was true. To believe her own eyes did not deceive her. A chill breeze spilled into their small space as the door clicked open, starling Historia into looking his way. A hand stretched towards her from outside the carriage.

"So, it's true," she grabbed his hand, her feet planting onto soft grass and skin kissed by the glow of the sun. "Hange's suspicions."

It was more a statement than a question. One neither of them needed to affirm.

"Yes," he said anyway, offering little more than that. Just: yes. As if clearing out the titans was a casual endeavor. Just another day. As if they hadn't been fighting for this, killing and dying for this, their whole lives.

Historia was incredulous as she marveled at the sight of it. The sound of nothing but a gentle breeze brushing through the trees and light footsteps in soft grass, not heavy ones. Not ones that shook the ground with each step, that brought with them a dread that lingered even within the safety of the walls.

This was it. This was everything they'd been fighting for. It was here and now and it didn't feel real, but with Eren by her side it felt so much like a dream she didn't want to wake up from.

"Do the others know?"

"Once we meet with the military police and discuss our next steps, they'll hold a ceremony," he said, "to confirm it publicly."

Historia cocked a brow. "Holding secret meetings without me, now?"

Eren grinned. "More like classified."

"Or sneaky."

"Cautious. As amazing as the news is, we predict a lot of people will not take kindly to what we discovered in that basement."

"What?" Historia blinked. "Are we sure we're ready to disclose that publicly?"

Eren looked ahead then. "That'll be up to you."

Historia scoffed, looking ahead just the same. "Why does no one tell me anything?"

"It's just a precaution. We needed to be sure the titans were really gone, before…" he trailed off as if catching himself.

"Before…?"

Eren sighed with a small laugh, gaze following the trail of clouds hanging from the sky. "I should've listened to Hange."

"Why?" Historia cautioned. "What did Hange say?"

"To avoid you like the plague." He chanced a look her way again, the sun spilling through his hair in streaks of gold, eyes practically emerald against the white backdrop of snow surrounding them. "I've never been good at keeping things from you, H."

"Then don't." She stopped in her tracks. "I know there's so much you're not telling me and I trust you have your reasons, but you've been hiding from me long enough. I'm more than just your Queen or fellow soldier, you know."

I'm your friend, she'd wanted to add, but the words fell short at the expression on his face, one of understanding and guilt. A silent affirmation. A silent plea to stop.

Then, without warning, the chill in her fingertips melted away within the warm embrace of his now bare hands. Taken aback, she instinctively tugged against his grip, though she didn't know why, but his hands squeezed tighter, naked and warm with eyes intense and pained and saying a million words he didn't dare say aloud. Drowning in worries and burdens she couldn't reach or decipher no matter how hard she'd tried.

"I want you to live a long life, Historia," and a breeze swept overgrown hair across his face in response, "to know what freedom tastes like. The real thing."

She shook her head. "Whatever is across that ocean can't be worse than what we've endured our entire lives. It's here, Eren. Your precious freedom. There's nothing left to do but enjoy it."

"If those bastards think…" Eren's jaw clenched and he looked like he wanted to say more, to say everything, but his eyes softened in lieu of his unfinished thought. Just as things were now; unfinished, unsaid, unknown. "I won't let them take that away from you. I promise you, Historia. I won't let them use you for anything."

"I know," she said easily, though she didn't understand exactly what he'd meant by that. Only that he would do just about anything to protect the people he holds close to his heart and that, at some stupidly insignificant point in time, he'd started to talk about her like she was one of them.

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes," she'd said without hesitation. It was like asking a child if he loved his mother.

Of course. More than anyone else. More than myself.

This seemed to have the opposite intended effect; his expression only grew more pained, his grip on her hands crushing, his voice more urgent.

"Forgive me, H. I don't deserve it in the slightest, but I think I might die if you don't. Just say you will, no matter what."

It was a ludicrous request, they both knew it, but there was nothing more dangerous than Eren Jaeger asking anything of her because she knew, in that moment, that there was nothing she could possibly deny so long as it was coming from him.

"I do," she whispered. "I always will."

Without another word, he brought her hand to his lips and pressed them softly against cold skin. There was that familiar look in his eyes and it was all he offered her in response. A look and a kiss, warm and desperate and pleading.

Then, her vision went white. Completely indecipherable at first, then picking up in clarity with every second she allowed herself to submit to the series of images flashing endlessly in her mind. She picked them apart with difficulty: there were the people in strange clothing. Places that shouldn't exist. Steam, so much steam, and titans, too. Larger and in more numbers than she'd ever seen. Marching, trampling the earth beneath their feet. Children screaming, begging, running. The scouts warring with creatures inside something like a carcass and Eren's head—

Somewhere in the midst, there was a man with glasses in that place she'd abandoned Krista Lenz for good. Frieda—gods, Frieda—fighting endless evils at once and Eren, always there, always in every horrible image, at that man's ear. That dark expression, the darkest she'd ever seen it, and his voice that, for the very first time, rattled her to her very core:

"This is the story that you started, isn't it?"

Historia ripped herself away with a yelp, collapsing to the ground in a futile attempt at finding the safety of reality between every dreadful image. Eren steadied her, followed her to the ground with words she couldn't possibly make out behind the residual noise muddying her thoughts.

Tears ran down her cheeks helplessly and she must have said something between sobs and gasps for air because he was responding in kind.

"Do what you will with this, H." Eren squeezed her shoulders and Historia stared back at him wordlessly, nausea building quickly in her chest. "You're free to choose. You're free."

Something about the way he'd said it felt less like a choice and more like an ultimatum, a thought that left an overbearing bitterness in her mouth and one useless, pestering question rattling in her mind for the days, weeks, and months to come:

Is this what freedom tastes like?

a/n: Star for you if you recognize the circadian rhythm line; it changed my brain chemistry the first time I heard it and I couldn't resist using it in a fic. Such poetry transcends mediums!