Chapter Text
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She looks cold.
No, she looks lonely.
No, she looks sad.
Heartless, broken-hearted, a mess.
They had used many names for her over the past few years, but this particular one had stuck around – had clung to her as if covered in thick honey, smoothed generously across her skin. One which she was afforded a bit of grace in not chanting aloud at speeches, yet whispered quietly in all the rooms that she filled, nonetheless.
A painted doll with pink lips and rosy cheeks, yet eyes which spoke of a frightening hollowness. Crystal blues that would stare back at you, devoid of any real emotion, with a forced smile meant to place townsfolk at ease but only ever left them feeling more unsettled and confused. Perhaps they were right to call her The Melancholic Queen, for that is how she felt while seated in the Royal Palace this gloomy afternoon.
And had she not earned the right to that part a little?
With all of the turmoil and loss, all of the swallowing down one’s wishes and grief to put forth the image of a worthy Queen – of a ruler. Had she not earned a few moments of relenting sadness? Had she not earned the right to grieve?
It had been a loss, truly. One that happened many years ago, yet the emptiness which the freckled girl had left her with remained just as heavy and just as thick. She could almost see her if she squinted her eyes, almost see the amused smirk that would claim those sarcastic lips, the eye roll. Why are you doing this? It’s what Ymir would say, sitting here while Historia listened to these noble shits ramble off about their concerns and requests for what they wanted from her.
Ah, Historia releases a soft sigh.
If only.
If only the brazen brunette was truly seated before her, how much all of this would be water under the bridge. Or– perhaps Ymir would only cause more problems, as the most recent issue of concern was Historia’s failure to take a husband; to produce a King.
Mostly, an heir. For that was the heart of all their concerns, her failure to produce any sort of heir or successor. Why does the monarch have to be carried through bloodline? She had innocently asked the question to a few of her advisors, drawing focus to the fact that many nations had begun to do things differently. But the looks with which she was met quickly stifled those questions, and the whispers for her need to settle soon resumed.
There were others who would openly welcome a chance to remove her from power. Those who had been whispering their concerns since Paradis and the world began to reclaim itself – to rebuild after the Rumbling. There were those who whispered of Historia’s knowledge and roll in it all, that she had known about Eren Yeager’s plans. Which–
She had.
Eren had told her of all the hell he wished to bring down upon this world, of his true intention of gaining access to all of the Founding Titan’s power through Zeke. She had wanted to stop him, pled for him to reconsider and switch to another plan – but then he had reminded her of that day in the cavern as Rod Reiss held out his hand, willing her to inject herself with the serum and devour Eren.
He had reminded her of how this all could have ended, years before. How she had made a decision to allow Eren to continue living, and that more than anything: she was a part of this now. She had set all of it into motion, and she had failed. Made the wrong choice, the very first time that she stood up for something of her own free will and it had led to this. The weight of that felt paralyzing. Torturous, even, as she remained silent and watched Eren’s cruelness play out.
Filled with a deep-seeded guilt and regret in wishing that she had found the courage to do something, Historia could hardly bare to meet the eyes of her old comrades. To meet the eyes of one in particular…
Mikasa.
Though she came clean quite some time ago to her broken-hearted friend, and Mikasa had rejected all notion of her being responsible, she still felt an immense amount of pain in thinking back to how quiet she had been. She still wished to go back in time, and scream from the rooftops of what Eren was considering. Would things have turned out any better? Unlikely. But perhaps she’d be able to sleep at night, to look herself in the eyes as she stands before her vanity in the early morning hours.
Perhaps she wouldn’t feel so worthless and lost.
And perhaps she wouldn’t have an island full of people who didn’t trust her. Well, not all of them felt that way – but there was enough.
Enough that her advisors had been fretting over her perception with the general public on a regular basis, and brought what was surely a foolish idea to the table during their afternoon briefing today…
A marriage.
“Antiva would be a strong ally.” Alfred, her Royal Advisor cautiously slid a dossier across the table, drawing her attention to a hand-written note. “Prince Arainai is known to be a kind and considerate man, Your Majesty.”
“What?” Historia’s face flinched, mind only now catching up to the words which her advisors had been rambling about. Lost in her thoughts, she’d been unaware of how they’d been discussing a marriage proposal received yesterday from the Nation of Antiva for her to marry their Prince.
“We’ve been thoroughly vetting the offer,” her Chief of Security chimed in, “there appears to be no foul motives, Your Grace.”
“W-Why in heavens would they suggest such a thing, then?” She stuttered as an uncomfortable tenseness filled her limbs.
“Paradis is very much an independent nation,” Alfred frowned, “it is unsurprising they wish to form a connection. Gain our support… be the first to enter into a long-standing alliance with the island. This would bode very well for us, you know – especially with their involvement in the Eastern Alliance Trade Organization. And,” his face softened while giving the young Queen a tiny smile, “perhaps he finds you charming.”
“Charming?!” Historia gulped and an embarrassed flush took over her face. Alfred was one of her most trusted and longest standing advisors, and he knew exactly how to fluster her. “I’ll consider it.” She mumbled while pushing the letter away. Though no part of her wished to entertain the thought, she would be a fool to ignore how beneficial this could be. It would go a long way in easing the people’s concerns if she were to produce an heir. Except, the very idea nearly triggered her gag reflex.
Mulling over the idea during a quiet dinner in her private chambers, Historia’s gaze landed upon the large bay window overlooking the inner courtyard and she found herself thinking back to one of the first times that she stepped foot in this place. Well, to be fair – it wasn’t quite the same courtyard that her and the other Scouts had crowded into prior to her coronation, as the Rumbling had destroyed a great deal of this land. Most of the Royal Palace had been trampled by the Colossal Titans as they marched towards the coast of Paradis, but they had done their best to rebuild.
It was often for her mind to wander towards such things, to replay events of the Rumbling over and over until a twisted anguish claimed her stomach and breathing felt like something she was hardly capable of. Consumed by her guilt, Historia felt as though she no longer deserved to be seated at the throne. Afterall, she and the Survey Corps had revealed the old King to be a false monarch, and she had won over the support of the townsfolk with her sincerity, bravery, and honesty.
Where were all of those?
Robbed from the qualities? …Or given freely?
A disheartened sigh falls from her lips as she drops the silver fork down upon her plate and leans back in her chair. Not much of an appetite when one was considering if they still stood for all of the very things – if she could still be called sincere, brave, or honest, after the Rumbling.
Why not allow someone new to rein?
The thought had entered her mind several times since that dreadful battle, though her advisors always managed to talk her out of it. In truth, even her friends argued that it would be best for Historia to remain in power – Armin, Connie, Jean… even Mikasa expressed her opinion that she should be Queen.
How did they all have so much faith in her? Even after knowing what she had kept from them; what she had kept from everyone! How could they still trust her?
Just one more thing which she felt so undeserving of.
With another sigh, she considers the marriage proposal from Antiva and wonders if it’s perhaps the right thing to do. If the Prince is as kind as they all say, would it be the worst thing to consider producing an heir?
Hit with the need for an evening stroll, she pushed her chair away from the table and made way for the courtyard. Slinking into some of the less crowded areas to quietly wander through the gardens in hope for a sudden moment of clarity to fall down from the heavens, giving her a direction on where she should go. A glance up towards the cloudy sky, she releases a somber chuckle as nothing so grandiose occurs. Of course, it would not.
“Historia?” A woman’s voice startles her, and she turns around to find Hitch Dreyse. “Shit,” Hitch looks unsure and slightly amused, “am I meant to call you, Your Majesty?”
“No.” Historia smiles while shaking her head, “Please do not. I have enough of that coming from my advisors, no need for old…” She paused, wondering how to refer to the young woman. Truthfully, they were hardly ever friends. Barely comrades – as they hadn’t even attended the same Cadet Corps together. She’d seen Hitch around Mithras quite a few times as she’d been part of the Military Police, but they hardly ever talked. “Acquaintances.” She settled on that word, and forced a slightly uncomfortable smile.
Hitch returned it with an awkward smile of her own, equally interested in getting on with her evening from the look upon her face. Though Historia suddenly found herself rather curious as to the reasoning behind Hitch being here, and her eyes lit up with excitement while asking, “Oh – is Armin home?”
“No, he hasn’t returned yet from the last Global Nations Assembly.” Hitch shook her head, “I’m here in his place attending a few briefings.”
“Ah,” Historia nodded, and felt her shoulders slump down. It would have been nice to speak with Armin and get his thoughts on all of this: if she should accept the marriage proposal or not. He had been the island’s Commander In-Chief for the past few years and worked closely with the Royal Office in issues of national security. Along with the fact that he was a trusted friend, Armin was one of the few voices which she always felt comfortable listening to.
“Did you need him for something?” Hitch asks, being one of the most senior officers in the military and probably wondering if she was needed to step in.
“Oh, no.” Historia shakes her head, “It was for a personal matter.”
With a nod, Hitch turns and is preparing to walk away when Historia suddenly finds herself calling out for the young woman to stay behind.
“I… could actually use your advice on something – if you have a moment?” She asks with a shaky voice, well aware that Hitch isn’t technically able to reject the Queen’s time, but wishes to ask nonetheless. When she receives a nod, the two women make their way over to a nearby bench and Historia is suddenly filled with a flutter of nerves. Thumbs absentmindedly fiddling with one another, it takes quite a few moments to gather her thoughts before she finally blurts out, “I’ve been asked to marry someone.”
Hitch’s eyes widen, caught off guard by the personal nature of this talk before giving Historia a strange look. “You mean, someone’s proposed to you?”
“Well, not quite.” She blushes and stares down at the ground. “It would be a political marriage, you see. Doesn’t feel as though it’s a proposal, in the true sense… but yes, I suppose it is.”
“I see.” Hitch nods, still unsure as to what she’s been asked.
“He is apparently a good man, and sounds as though he has good intentions.”
“You haven’t said yes.” Hitch remarks, picking up that’s where this conversation is going.
“I have not.” Historia confirms. “And I don’t know if I should.”
Hitch stares at her for a few moments before clearing her throat, “I can’t tell you what to do, you know.”
“I know.” Historia blushes again, since that had been what she was hoping for – but, of course, it wasn’t something that even Armin would have done. He’d have said the very same, only decorated in a few more words of ‘only you know what the right thing is to do.’ “My advisors say it would put the people of Paradis at ease, if I were to have a husband and child.”
“It probably would.” Hitch shrugs her shoulders before rolling her eyes, “Which is bullshit, by the way.”
A dry laugh escapes Historia’s throat because, under normal circumstances, she would agree. But this isn’t simply because she’s an unwed woman at the head of the throne – there’s a lot more at play.
You knew!
You knew and you didn’t say anything.
“Do you want my two cents?” Hitch asks, and Historia’s eyes widen while eagerly nodding her head. She’ll take anyone’s advice in this moment, desperate to have the decision removed from her hands. All faith in her ability to make the right choice had disappeared the moment Eren confided in her; the moment she’d realized how piss poor her choice had been to let him live. She had almost helped to bring down the world, how could she be trusted with anything? Her own life and the way she chose to live it, included.
Hitch continued after a hesitant pause, “I’d ask myself if there was someone left in this world whom I wished to marry, more than the current proposal.” Her face tensed as she cast her eyes down to the ground and voice lowered to a mere whisper while forcing out the rest of the words, “For me, there isn’t… so I’d probably say yes.”
Historia’s stomach dropped and her heart raced into action, pulse soaring as an image of Ymir’s freckled face flashed before her eyes. It felt as though Hitch’s words had pierced right through her, driving at the heart of the issue and why Historia felt so indifferent about the entire ordeal–
There was no one else whom she’d ever wish to marry.
Just as the solemn face seated beside her, Historia had lost the one person in life she’d ever felt something for. It wasn’t as though an argument had lingered too long and they no longer found themselves in each other’s life; as though an issue had wedged them apart and all it took was a flight across the sea to run into her arms with cries of apologies. No, none of those things were on the table for the two… Ymir was gone. Forever gone.
And no one would ever replace her.
“I see.” Historia mumbles while quickly wiping away a fallen tear, failing to notice her companion doing the very same on account of how consumed she was in her own grief. Perhaps Hitch was correct – why not accept the Prince’s proposal? It wasn’t as though she expected to find another one waiting. Certainly not one from a lover, a real lover.
No, that ship had sailed.
“Though I’m notorious for giving shit advice.” Hitch forced a smile, desperate to fall back into laughs and sarcasm – to steer clear from the accidental vulnerability which they had stumbled into.
“This was incredibly helpful.” Historia offers a forced smile of her own, though she truly means the words. Nodding towards the young woman before they both turn and head off in different directions, she finds herself craving a bit more of the night’s cool air and ends up leaving the gardens to wander around the nearby streets of Mitras.
It’s a quiet night and the air contains a certain degree of mist, which to some may feel eerie and grim. To Historia, it feels as though she’s cloaked in a layer of privacy – afforded more anonymity than she would usually be given while walking through the town’s streets. At this hour, Alfred and the other advisors would be furious with her for failing to alert security; though it was rare for someone to plan an attack, she’d been travelling with a few armed guards ever since the rebuilding of this island.
How freeing it felt to leave all of that behind. Perhaps she should be frightened, but all which this moment gave to her was a sense of tranquility. She was alone, the mask could be dropped. She wasn’t a Queen.
She was simply a woman.
Truly– it felt as though she was a girl, never having left the mind-rattling, constant second guessing of a young cadet and blossoming into someone who knew what she wished to stand for. With a slight frown, she considers how that may be a bit unfair: there were, at times, when she’d felt confident and strong. Foolish to have felt so, now looking back at how horrendous her decisions had been! But, yes – she had been there, felt as though she earned the right to call herself a Queen.
It had been robbed, by one of her closest friends… and the weight of that was still hard to grapple with. But if she had been there before–
Maybe, just maybe, she could get there again.
Another sigh, she pulls back from her thoughts and glances around to notice she’s walked towards one of her favourite teashops: Madame’s Tea Emporium and Baked Goods. It was too late to pop in for a snack, as all of the lights were off minus the small one placed above the door. She continued walking, yet came to a halt as the side-door to the shop pushed open, revealing Madame Esmé, herself, along with a man that appeared to be delivering a new batch of tea. The woman’s eyes rose to meet Historia’s and widened upon recognition, waving her hand to fondly call out, “It’s awfully late, Your Majesty! Lovely to see you, as always. Would you care for me to open the shop?”
“Oh, no! Not at all.” Historia blushed while shaking her head and slowly walking over to join them. She wasn’t particularly in the mood to speak with strangers, and found herself already formulating some sort of way to excuse herself as Madame Esmé began to introduce her to the delivery man, though her heart nearly stopped in shock as he turned around to face her and took off his hat.
“Captain Levi?”