Fate and Hope
The birds started to sing. It was well before sunrise when Eren opened his eyes. They dozed off and then fell asleep once more after the early morning love-making.
He stood up, looking outside the window, taking in the rolling meadows. It was pleasantly quiet, tranquil. But he knew that work started early on a farm. Soon the rooster will crow. Soon the place will come alive with the sounds of bustling people and baying of farm animals.
His eyes drifted to Historia’s sleeping form. How relaxed and peaceful she looked. He marveled at her beauty. Beautiful on the outside, without a doubt. But what he loved most of all was her inner strength. She had a resilience to her, one that never failed to amaze him.
He padded soundlessly back to her, gently resting his head on her belly. She stirred, still asleep but entwining her fingers in his hair. Eren gazed at her face, ruminating.
It was frightening how much he cared for her. No other woman brought out this feeling of protectiveness. Was it a weakness, or a strength?
He didn’t know. All he knew was that he was willing to destroy the whole world, rewrite history, brutally rip up the entire fabric of the universe, if that’s what it took to keep her safe. He would willingly commit the greatest crime in the history of humankind, the most unimaginable evil, if that’s what it took to protect her.
And his child inside her.
I will protect you both with my life, he swore.
“I love you, Eren,” she had told him last night, before they fell asleep in each other’s arms.
“I love you, too, Historia,” he had replied. In this lifetime and far beyond.
Rays from the rising sun streamed through the window and on the queen’s face, highlighting the long, curling blonde lashes, making them glisten like spun gold. Her cheeks were rosy, the skin on her neck and shoulders all creamy and glowing. Beneath the blanket he could see the outline of her sweet breasts, the tiny waist he loved to circle his hands around, the feminine curve of her hips, the shapely legs and perfect pink toes. For long moments he gazed at her flat tummy that would soon swell with child.
Eren drank in her beauty and sighed. I will come back—tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, as long as it takes, my beloved queen—and make love to you again and again until we are certain you are pregnant with my child.
He ought to leave soon, but seeing her like that on the bed made him want to stay. He crawled back between the sheets and gathered her in his arms. Historia stirred, sighing in her sleep, burrowing her face into the crook of his neck.
Was it fate the brought them together? This child of sorrow maturing into the most exquisite young woman he’d ever met, and him, a boy born in love and growing up to love so much it hurt.
Historia murmured in his arms, a smile on her lips, as if she was having a nice dream. He buried his nose in her hair and inhaled her scent. Suddenly he remembered that time at the royal palace, when they had a meeting with the Azumabito clan. Historia was ecstatic having learned about Mikasa’s aristocratic background. She was smiling, delighted at their newfound similarity.
“You look happy,” Eren had noted. The queen replied in the affirmative, the smile on her face genuine.
That smile, Eren recalled. It was like a ray of sunshine filtering through the dark clouds on a gloomy day. The blue in those happy eyes was like a patch of sky, a clearness that brought hope of sunny weather on a rainy, cloudy afternoon. Historia had no idea how much strength he derived from that smile. He had been drawn to her then, more than ever, swearing in his heart that he will do everything to keep that smile on her face.
Splaying a large hand over her belly, he lets himself fantasise–for just a few moments–of what it would be like to be with Historia in another time and place. How pleasant it would be to love her in days of peace, days spent indulging in a variety of sexual delights, hours filled with tenderness and intimacy. Last night and just this morning he saw her sexual passions unleashed. He loved it. Imagine a lifetime of that.
Then he let himself fantasise even further. Would their child be a he or a she, or perhaps a they? Blonde like mum or brunette like dad? Green eyes or blue, or one of each? Will they be petite like mum or tall like dad? What would it feel like, to hear the baby says the words “Daddy” for the first time? The mere thought of it brought tears to his eyes.
Deeper into fantasyland he went. Would their child be a happy, energetic one, whip smart and full of curiosity? He imagined warm family dinners before a blazing fire in winter, of picnics held outdoors during summer and spring. Maybe the child could become friends with Jean and Mikasa’s kids, and they’d run around in the park, laughing and playing together, jumping up and down in a pile of leaves on a cool autumn day. Along with Connie’s kids, of course. And Armin’s, too, should he chose to have them. They’d be one big rambunctious group, a large, extended family full of happy children and doting parents.
How wonderful it would be to raise a family together, watching their children grow in a household brimming with affection and laughter.
Eren was certain Historia was going to make a great mother. Despite her painful upbringing, she had it in her to overcome the extreme trauma of it. Watching her interact with the children at the orphanage, it delighted him the way she spent not just time with the naughtily adorable smaller kids but also the moody, angry, bigger ones. In fact, she went out of her way to be a patient mentor to them, teaching them some of the emotional and social skills which a childhood of neglect left them without.
More than anyone, Historia knew what it was like to face the bottomless, harrowing, agonizing pit of being unwanted and abandoned. And now she was doing all she can to keep other children from facing the same trauma alone.
One time he expressed his admiration for her, and she looked at him and said, “Do you remember that time you told me you liked the new, brutally frank Historia and not the old, artificially sweet Krista? I’ve never forgotten those words. When Ymir left me I thought I couldn’t bring myself to care about anything anymore. But you reached out to me. I’m here now, being who I am and becoming what I want to be, because of you.”
That ordinary conversation they had years ago remained vivid in her memory. Historia was grateful to him, and he to her. It was mutual gratitude borne out of mutual respect.
Ah, he loved her. How he loved her. She was lovely and fearless and kind and, during the rare times when she bared to you her soul, fiercely vulnerable. Something about her touched the core of his being.
All the things they could create together, the projects they could plan and build and finish together. All the inside jokes they could lob at each other, the gentle teasing, the vast resources of smiles and laughter.
If only there was such a future for them.
The thought of a family with Historia filled him with the deepest, wildest of joys. But the thought of leaving her and their child at the end of his titan shifter’s lifespan filled him with the deepest, most profound of sorrows.
With his beloved in his arms, Eren had fallen into a deep reverie. Joy mingling with grief, a happiness so brief and ephemeral it was like the blink of an eye in the infinite stretch of history. Joy was but the beginning of sorrow, wasn’t it? For the likes of him, as it were. Such was his fate. A fate he had created for himself.
He sighed, the pale morning light casting graceful masculine shadows on his knitted brows.
Stop ruminating, he reprimanded himself. Put things in perspective, he intoned within. Never let your grief of a lost future for yourself distract you from the impossible task that needs to get done, the mission you alone can fulfill. You may not live long, but your child shall. If you have the guts to carry through with your master plan, that is. Fight, Eren, fight.
He must not let the fact that he and Historia couldn’t grow old together bring him down. What truly mattered was something else.
What mattered most, what he needed to hold onto the most, was the deep understanding they felt for each other, including the understanding of the harsh truth that sometimes, in order to create good one had to do the most unspeakable of evils. Sometimes, in order to build one had to destroy. She understood that, and it helped him.
Helped him strengthen his resolve to become the Devil himself, so that Historia and their child, his angels on earth, could have a life of freedom. Not just the royal family, but also their precious chosen family: their 104th friends and Scouting Regiment colleagues.
He and Historia would have to come up with a lie to tell the MPs about the paternity of the baby. If they find out he’s the father, they might hold Historia hostage and use her as a bargaining chip to manipulate him and control his behaviour. That was totally unacceptable.
He’d also have to lie to his beloved friends. What he planned to do required unimaginable amounts of disinformation, deceit, cruel manipulations.
He was going to become the epitome of evil.
He didn’t want his precious friends to grapple with the moral quandaries such an act would bring. He didn’t want their conscience to suffer. He didn’t want them to grieve for him. Being hated was better, because it made saying goodbye easier.
Eren had taken it upon himself to bear the burden alone. But not really. This darling woman in his arms, the queen, had chosen to bear the burden with him. It was all he needed.
He got up and dressed. Leaning over her to cup her cheek in his hand, he bent his head to brush her lips with a kiss. Very softly he closed the door behind him.
There’s plenty of work to be done, he thought, as his mind went through the steps he needed to take to carry out his master plan all the way to its ruthless end.
That’s it for this story. Thank you so much for reading! Please please please take a moment to say hi in the comment section below. It’s so lonely and discouraging to find out I haven’t got any readers. Your comments are the only way I know my stories are getting read. Even just one sentence from you will give me the encouragement I need to keep on writing. Feel free to use a pseudonym and dummy email address. Please say something—anything at all—just to let me know you’ve finished reading! Comments do mean the world to me. THANKS in advance! xoxo, hana
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For a longer, more nuanced Eren x Historia love story / erehisu fanfiction, read my 7-chapter piece, The Storyteller (Warning: NSFW. Contains depictions of non-consent / reluctance as well as pregnant sex)