By the Fireplace
As Historia steered her horse to make their way back to the cabin, she started reprimanding herself. Eren Jaeger, of all people. He has suffered enough. And he is suffering so much at the moment, the burden of responsibility bearing down on him, crushing his spirit. And here you are, wishing to add to his burden by revealing your heart. You really are the monster of monsters, aren’t you, Historia Reiss?
“Make yourself at home.” She held the door open for the titan shifter.
Her flat voice jolted him out of his pensiveness. “This is real nice,” he remarked, eyes sweeping the room, noting the blazing fire that she worked on the moment they got through the door, the rustic kitchen table, the comfy-looking couch, white curtains on the windows, the bedroom across the hall with a large wooden bed. A clean, homey cabin in the woods that smelled wonderful, a subtle mixture of pine and lavender reminding him of meadows in summer.
But the girl in the room made him tense, acutely self-conscious. When did this hyper awareness of her begin? Quit being so nervous! It’s only Historia. You’ve known her for years now.
It has been a great day so far. Armin was right about the fresh mountain air. It invigorated him, returned the color to his cheeks. Seeing the vast, seemingly infinite ocean made him melancholic and depressed, but there was something about the brilliant hues of this autumn landscape of rolling hills that comforted him.
They had groomed the horses diligently after riding each one. Then Historia asked him to help her with the field. It was a very well maintained horse paddock, the grass cut to the height that horses like to graze. She had divided the available area into two separate fields and used them in rotation.
“Mimics nature. Maintains the quality of the grazing,” she explained.
After eating the lunch she had packed, and a short nap under the sun, they went down on their hands and knees to look for acorns and other poisonous fruits and seeds, gathering them up to prevent the horses from eating them. It was fall and time for boundary maintenance. So they laid hedges and applied preservative to the wooden fences and field shelters.
They didn’t talk much. He asked a few meagre questions, learned that when she was away holding court at the royal palace, the orphanage staff came to look after the horses and vegetable garden. Although it was her country home, an inheritance from her father, Historia considered the area part of the orphanage, so the staff was free to avail of the produce and use the animals to teach the children horseback riding. Sometimes a group from the Military Police came up to lend a hand during off duty, the city-bred boys being the ones most eager to frolic someplace they considered rustic and novel.
She couldn’t help but watch Eren the entire time they worked, noticing the ripple of his back muscles under the shirt fabric, the strong, powerful thighs under the skin-tight breeches, the firm, tight ass shaped to perfection. She knew he was watching her, too. Now, in the cocoon of the cabin, she remembered just an hour ago when she tripped on a wayward rock and he had caught her, held her to him for a moment, and she felt the hardness of his body, the heat from it, the warmth of his hand on her fluttering belly. Stop it.
Eren followed her to the kitchen, intent on helping prepare supper. But she says, “No, you worked hard today. Let me cook for you.”
So he lets her, sensing that it was her way of saying sorry for the argument they had at the palace the last time he was there a week ago. “Let myself go?” she had snapped at him, pushing his hand away. “What do you mean by that? I am letting myself go. You’re the one blocking the memories, not me!” He had been waspish, himself. “Me blocking the memories? You’re the one that wraps a fortress around your mind!” he shot back, churlishly. And heart, he had wanted to add. “You’re afraid of what we’ll see so you’re deliberately blocking!” she had yelled at him, standing up abruptly, making it clear that day’s memory retrieval session was over. “Speak for yourself!” he had yelled back, turning on his heels and leaving the room in a huff.
At least we’re no longer yelling, he thought. What a difference a week makes.
While he waited at the cabin she asked him to look over her part of the Erwin Smith biography that’s been completed so far. Armin and Hange had written large chunks of the book already, and had asked everyone else to contribute their stories. Eren forced himself to concentrate, making notes on a separate sheet of paper. They could discuss this during supper. Or not. She’ll just have to read my notes.
“This is delicious,” he complimented the meal as they ate. He meant it. It really was. Historia had dismissed the servants for the duration of the weekend, knowing Eren was going to visit. She needed a hand to help her with the farm chores (something she liked to do as a break from wearing a crown on her head during the week) and he was willing and able.
“It’s very good,” Historia compliments the bottle of wine that Eren brought with him. It really was and she sounded sincere.
If only their conversation was just as nice. They ate mostly in silence, the bleakness of their joint cursed fate hanging over them like a dark cloud threatening to flood the island with poison rainfall.
What was there to talk about anymore, really? So far no one could come up with a viable solution to the Eldian Problem. For all their brain powers combined, no one could come up with an alternative to feeding Historia to her own children, and he having to feed himself when his time was up to someone else and cursing that person with a short and brutish life. What kind of a fucked up solution was that? They were back to square one, made a million times worse now that they knew for certain there was an outside world that hated them, wanted to exterminate them like vermin, like rats in a city sewer scrambling about biting people and spreading filth and rot and disease wherever they went.
And then there was the pressure to dig up memories from the depths of their angry, anxious, desolate minds. No matter how long they held hands over the table, nothing came up. And the longer they continued, the more they seemed to end up accusing each other of mental obstruction.
We’re a hopeless pair of fools, Eren thought, unhappily. Tonight he’d do his hand-holding bit and then leave, but somehow plumb up the courage to ask her if he could hold her foot this time around, just so he could tell Armin he did try something different.
In the meantime, he’ll ask her to talk about the orphan children. Or her animal menagerie. He’ll ask her to describe the minute personalities of her stable. He’ll ask her about the latest in court fashion, and the trick in keeping a straight face. He’ll ask how it’s possible to sit on a throne without doubling up in manic laughter when the common folk asks her to adjudicate on their behalf regarding matters she was unfamiliar with…
But once they finished dessert and were seated with steaming cups of grog to warm up cold fingers on a fall evening, everything Eren listed in his head as possible conversation pieces were thrown out the window. In the warmth and cosiness of the cabin none of them felt right. With no one else around to start and keep the conversation flowing, he felt dumb and awkward. They stare at each other over the rims of their cups.
He senses that Historia wasn’t about to start chatting herself. She was no help at all, merely sat on the other end of the couch, eyeing him with an inscrutable look on her pretty face.
“Compliment her!” Connie had advised. “Not something asinine such as ‘I like your shoes’, but something specific and heartfelt. Everyone loves a sincere compliment! Maybe that will help her open up with old memories.”
So Eren searches his head for something to say. I loved the way your cute ass wriggled when you were fixing the fences…No, no, no, you horndog!
So he says, “I love the kind and gentle way you treat the horses…” He expected her to make a sassy comeback, to shoot down the compliment with an “As opposed to the ungentle and unkind way I treat non-horses” or something like that.
But she simply says, “Thank you.”
The ball was in her court but maddeningly she still wouldn’t talk. It dawned to him that she was deliberately resisting his attempts at conversation. She was waiting, impatiently, for him to come around to the real purpose of his visit to her country home.
Taking a deep breath, Eren decides to launch into his prepared speech. “I wanted to apologize for the argument we had the other day. You are my queen and I, a mere servant, had the audacity to snap at you, like a spoiled brat…” he trails off, feeling like a nitwit.
“You were indeed an idiot, but go on,” Historia prompts, her tone calm and even.
“That’s because…” Eren continues. Tell her the truth. Just say it. I was frustrated that all you’d let me do is hold your hand, when it’s clearly not working. Everyone’s so done with us unable to come up with new information. Why wouldn’t you let us try… something else? Do you find other parts of me that despicable? But a part of him holds back, and he says something generalised instead. “…I’m irked and angry about this whole Eldian Problem thing.”
She sighs. “I understand, Eren. I’m sorry, too, truly I am. I’m sorry for yelling at you during our last session. And I’m sorry for yelling at you in front of the palace guards.” The other day at the palace when Eren was trudging off, with his head down, she went around the other way and inadvertently bumped into him down the hall as she turned the corner. “Watch where you’re going!” she had shrilled, jumping back as if burned.
Eren keenly remembered that moment, recalled her pulling away as if he had a contagious disease. “You don’t like me much, do you, Historia?” he says, sadly.
Her response was quick and heartfelt. “No, oh no, Eren, don’t say that. You’re my dear friend and I care for you very much. I do, truly…”
“Didn’t know friends recoiled from each other as if they were lepers both,” he remarked, sardonically.
She shook her head. Tell him the truth. Just say it. It was my reaction that spooked me. I felt your hardness and heat and my body was burning after being numb for so long and…it was all I could do not to grind myself against you and beg you to take me right in front of…You are disgusting, Historia!
Lying through her teeth, she says, “I…was preoccupied with a lot of things: the tedious pageantry of my job, the meaningless pomp and circumstance, the mind-numbing rituals…” The hopelessness of our entire situation, of our guaranteed bleak future, she’d wanted to add in all honesty, but bit her tongue. Why depress further the already depressed?
He looks at her steadily. “I see,” sounding completely unconvinced.
Historia blushes like a schoolgirl caught in a lie.
“Once again, Eren, I’m sorry…” She feels pathetic but wills herself to return his gaze. “And I know you never liked me much because I could really be a cold-hearted bitch at times…” She notes his smirk. “But I want you to know that I really do appreciate your volunteering time with the kids at the orphanage the other day. They were ecstatic and it was all they could talk about all week. It meant so much to them, their titan shifter hero playing games and frolicking with them and just spending time with them. A bunch approached me to offer themselves as the inheritor of your titans…”
“And did you tell them being a shifter isn’t exactly all it’s chalked up to be?” Eren queries. “The Attack Titan, especially. I mean, it can’t even talk!”
Historia laughs and shakes her head. Ah, humour, thank heavens! He’s a good person, really. “No, I told them I shall consider it. But first they have to work hard at their education, the way you did at the military academy.”
Eren smirks. “That’s as good an answer as any.” He continues to look at her, appraising her.
They fall into silence, Historia not knowing how long it would stretch on for or if he meant to excuse himself soon. Maybe he’d forgotten about her promise? “Come play with the children at the orphanage,” she’d requested, as a part of the truce between them. “What’ll I get in return?” he’d asked, half-jokingly. She herself was astounded by her answer: “A kiss from the queen.”
Back inside the cabin, she was jolted out of her reverie by the sound of his voice. Out of the blue, finally he demands, “Now give me what you promised.” An order. He hadn’t forgotten. Not for a second. She didn’t know whether to be disappointed or overjoyed.
Historia takes a deep breath, leans in and gives him a quick, chaste kiss on the lips. Just a peck, really. Even then she could feel her heart beating frantically in her chest. So much for trying to feign grudging acquiescence. It felt so awkward she wanted to flee the cabin.
Eren was not amused. Far from it. It was a wee little kiss, light as a butterfly on a delicate petal, but he felt the warmth and softness of her lips over his and a spark, no, a massive electric jolt spread throughout his body. Not memories but rather, a realisation came. He recognised he may be doomed to an early death but he shouldn’t put his life on hold because of it. Instead, he will choose to love, love with every ounce of strength in his body. No more moping, despairing, sulking. He will love whilst shaking his fist at the universe and daring it to stop him from living life to the fullest. That he only had a few years left to live meant he should use that short period to think and act and prevent the same thing from happening to someone he loved.
Someone he loved. Here she was, exquisite golden goddess, looking mortified but gazing up at him with dilated pupils, desire written all over her flawless face.
He gave her a keen, measuring look. “That’s it? I let your dozens of children climb all over me for an entire day and this is my reward?”
“I…” Historia was flustered. What were you supposed to say to that?
“Kiss me like you mean it.”
The toasty fire, the fragrance of tea and dried flowers, the sun setting the sky ablaze in warm tangerine tones, the trilling, musical sound of crickets awaiting nightfall, the demanding tone in Eren’s voice.
Something broke inside Historia. Her dormant body was now on fire.
She moved over to his side of the sofa and holding either side of his face with both hands she tilted his lips to meet hers. She felt Eren put both hands on her shoulders as he pulled her to him, feeling her body yield to him, his lips pressing onto hers while one hand moved to the small of her back drawing her towards him. The other hand buried in her hair to hold her gently as he let the kiss deepen. Moaning softly, she opened her mouth as his tongue darted inside, exploring, searching, claiming.
Historia was panting, feeling shivers of desire through her veins. They were exploring each other’s mouths almost brutally now, teeth bruising lips, tongues dancing and battling as they sought to taste each other. She could sense the depths of his desire for her in the forceful onslaught of his lips. Historia moaned and whimpered as Eren claimed her mouth again and again. She responded with passion, kissing him back hard as his teeth bruised her swollen lips. Her nipples ached as she unconsciously rubbed herself against him. She felt weak and shaken to the core as a sudden surge of longing welled up within her.
Eren pulled her onto his lap so that her legs straddled him. She felt her clitoris tingle and swell, her pussy lubricate her inner walls, the smell of her arousal now strong and fragrant. Her riding pants were thin enough so that she felt her bottom nestled directly on top of his straining cock. She wriggled and moved against him so that his cock nestled between her pussy lips, their tight-fitting clothes the only thing separating them. She felt his shaft jerk and strain from her movements.
Historia felt him pull on her hair, drawing her head back to expose the long curve of her neck. Eren began kissing and biting on the tender flesh as she closed her eyes and sighed with pleasure.
With one arm wrapped around his shoulder, Historia reaches with the other hand to pull down his breeches, wanting to free his straining cock. But Eren grabs her wrist and holds it still.
“Do not think for a moment that you can get what you want so easily,” he growls at her. “First you need to be punished for torturing me all this time.”
Historia felt the panic rise. Punishment? Her torturing him? Wasn’t it the other way around? All the years she had known him she saw how strong he could be when fired up. She didn’t want any punishment. The weeks leading up to tonight were hellish enough, her pussy wet from thinking, dreaming, fantasizing about him. No amount of self-pleasure could alleviate the need she felt to have him take her and thrust into her until she begged for mercy.
Please just take me, Eren Jaeger. Do with me what you want. You asked and I said yes. Don’t make me change my mind.
She wraps her legs tightly around his hips, locking her ankles on the small of his back as Eren lifted her off the couch. Feeling her back against the wall, his mouth captures hers once again in a brutal, insistent kiss. Historia was mindless with need as she bucks against him, feeling his warm, strong hands squeeze her bottom. Squeeze and release, squeeze and release, in a maddening rhythm. Then he pins her in place and in one swift motion she feels a hand on her neck, a fist push against the soft underside of her jaw.
She blacks out.
Thank you so much for reading! Please take a moment to share a thought or two in the comment section below. Your comments give me life and are a real source of encouragement. xoxo, hana
Next – Chapter 3: Pleasure and Pain
Vogel, Colin (2003). Complete Horse Care Manual (2nd ed.). London: Dorling Kindersley.