Chapter Text
“Long day?” It was Eren’s voice at Historia’s side that pulled her back to the moment. To the current. Not to the seemingly endless death that came with the betrayal of their own kind. Not to the politics that came with being a young queen springing up out of nowhere, dragging out enough enemies from the shadows that it was hard for Eren to be allowed a moment away from her side for risk of her death could come swift and with no warning. Not to the thundering sound of doors shutting as she was finally left alone with her ‘guard’ in the throne room she settled in, the voices of complaints and begging and demands finally fading into a hush of background noise. Her sigh was long, starting out of her mouth and finishing from her nose.
“Long day.” She confirmed.
Here, with just the two of them, her voice dropped that bell toiling grace. It was no longer a comforting melody meant to try and unite the people behind the walls. It was just her voice; Historia, the once scout with the world shoved onto her shoulders without a break to be seen. Eren shuffled at her side, the tension in his body bleeding into concern masked only by his gaunt, shadowed cheeks and stern frown. Historia had to admit, in the years since she had taken the throne and they had advanced so much as a society, pushing beyond the walls to the coast and threatening to breach past that. They were advancing every day and it took a toll on the younger generation. No longer were they children, hoping to reclaim what was lost. Now they were all young adults, trying to expand and establish themselves in a world that seemed to have forgotten about them. Eren had changed. He hadn’t changed the most out of the scouts she had known, Jean won that award with how he shaped up into such a broad, scruffy man with a rumbling voice. But Eren was in a close second, with his height jumping up to allow him to lean down to speak to her. With a sharper, deep set jaw and hollowed eyes, he looked as though he didn’t eat enough. He hadn’t shaved that day either. A habit of his that had started only months prior to now. He would go days without shaving until it got scratchy enough he woke up early and shaved himself clean in the sink, bringing back a fresh face.
“You should retire early.” He said. Historia looked up at him and she could see the subtle clench of his mouth. It wasn’t a question. It was him urging her, all but coercing her to take the break she had been denying herself from all day. She wanted to argue and tell him she would be fine that she only had a few more hours until dinner anyways and she could find peace then.
She didn’t. She couldn’t argue that a break, even if a short one, didn’t sound wonderful to her ears. It was greedy, something a queen shouldn’t be, but Historia was still young and learning to be a good queen, so making one mistake in her eyes seemed like the perfect ‘learning opportunity’. When she rose the ruffles of her dress made a faint scraping sound. The fabric was stiff instead of silky and made gentle flapping sounds that masked her steps when she stepped down the steps from her throne. It wasn’t an extravagant dress, but it was more showy than the ones she had grown used to. It was colored peach with white ends and meant to showcase her as a woman.
“Lead me.” She ordered Eren. In case there were any stray ears or eyes lingering in the shadows. While Eren was her own personal guard. Someone she could trust with secretive missions that often kept him away from her for days. It was possibly why they grew so close so quickly. He was all she could trust in this strange land, and he, for whatever reasons of his own, didn’t want to leave her side. Ever since he had kissed her hand so long ago, when he looked up at her past her knuckles his eyes changed.
Something had changed.
His arm was offered and she could feel the heat of him through the long-sleeved shirt he wore. All dark clothes, fitted for his new physique with emphasis on the muscles he had worked for since his early days as a scout. What exactly he was now she couldn’t figure out. Neither could he. Leading through the royal housing brought unwanted eyes if they weren’t careful. However, having done this act before, they were able to maneuver through the back halls and along the dark, dimly lit walls. Their steps muffled sounds of distant voices and others passing through.
Historia’s room was spacious for one person, yet cramped for two. With Eren in there, he took up any free space she thought of having as he locked the door behind him. The bed was freshly made from the maids who freshened it up shortly after she left in the mornings. Nothing from the bare desk to the empty dresser was disturbed. Everything freshly dusted off and wiped clean with fresh flowers in the covered window. Historia settled at the end of the bed and Eren approached her.
When this portion of their relationship developed, and why, she couldn’t explain. Like his growth spurt, it appeared from nowhere. Perhaps it was a day of too much stress or both were missing people neither could speak off, but they shared in each others bodies for relief. They understood each other beyond the skin on skin contact and small words shared. They shared something deeper than that and understood when one needed the other. Historia wasn’t certain she could say this was a romantic relationship, for they weren’t exactly public with their intimacy nor could they ever be. They were separated by her title and his unspoken goals. This could be something temporary. Fleeting. But it was what they needed.
Eren was gentle when he unclipped and untied the back of her dress. He peeled it from her like a cocoon and she let it fall. The corset came next, followed by the remains of her softer undergarments. Articles of clothing dropped piece by piece and Eren touched exposed flesh with calloused fingertips. While most scouts had markings from the ODM, permanent scar-like marks along legs and arms, Historia hadn’t been in the service of using the gear long enough to develop them. Her skin was free of most scars and blemishes. Only small scrapes visible on the knees and freckles on her chest. Eren was the opposite. He himself didn't strip, he just admired the bare skin offered up to him instead and sighed through his nose.
When they were both bare, she brought her hands up to touch the marks at his hips, but his hands stilled her.
“A bath.” He directed her. She could only agree. While normally her handmaids would draw the bath in a connected, private room and scent it generously with oils and sometimes even petals (“For youth” they would say), it would be Eren tonight who drew it. Who guided her in there with his hand to her elbow, silently staging her to the edge of the round, wooden tub that he would fill with water. Hot water. Steaming water that reddened her skin when she finally settled into it. There wouldn’t be the endless oils or bubbles bought from markets in the upper-rings. There would just be her and him as his hands touched her shoulders in a gentle, rolling motion. It was meant to be a comforting touch. Something soft to steady her as the steam finally set her head to rolling as she reclined further into the heat. He never washed her hair. Just let her soak to loosen her up as he watched her reactions.
When her eyes opened in a haze and her cheeks were a deep scarlet did he finally pull her out from there and let the water drain. She was unsteady when he guided her towards the bed, settling her in a similar spot from where she first set to be undressed.
“Lay back.” He ordered her. Ordered. But in this room, between the two of them, they were no longer the queen and her personal guard.
They were Historia and Eren fighting for a mutual release.
Historia did as he said, letting her body fall back and letting her legs part. Being the queen, she was well groomed. Taken to the bath every other day to be cleaned, sometimes daily should they see fit, and she was cared for in ways she had never thought of. Shaved so carefully over most parts of her body by her personal handmaid. Eren was cleaned in a similar fashion, though on a less frequent bases. Often he washed twice a week and groomed himself, so patches of hair dappled over parts of his body in thin strips. Historia parted her legs to expose her cunt to him like an offering. He didn’t immediately take it. No, instead he went in a way she must not have expected despite how he always did it; he rolled her over. He nudged at her hip with his hand until she was on her stomach and resting her cheek on crossed arms as she looked back at him with an almost playful look.
No, he instead focused first on the closest part of her to him; her feet. It was a habit he had started when she first complained of her feet hurting the first time she wore heels. His hands were skilled, thumbs tracing the arch of her foot and digging in with just enough strength to work the knots and aches out. Her gasp was rewarding and he angled the pads of his thumbs to draw out more of those sounds. Eren focused on the left foot first, massaging just at the base of the toes and along the length until he was at the heel. Historia’s body briefly arched off the bedding and she sighed when he moved to the other foot.
When he was done drawing deep, harsh lines with his thumbs down to the rounded heel, he kissed the top of her foot at the base of the leg and drew himself up.
His hands worked on her right leg. Fingers rolling the muscles and squeezing. Eren kissed where he massaged, moving up the calf to the thigh where she shivered and arched more before he switched suddenly to the other leg. Her legs were both sore, they usually were after a long day of constantly moving or sitting. They were stiff and melted slowly under his touch as he worked through the different muscles there Then he was upon her back. She no longer held the muscles she had as a scout. Her back was smooth and dipped like a carved out valley, lined by only a few dots of freckles above her ass. Eren’s fingers traced them briefly before he set to work here. Like an artist with a canvas, he painted his fingertips along her spine and dipped like a brush gathering paint. He didn’t have to use as much pressure here. There were knots and tension to work out, but here he would take his time. He shaped her back like a clay maker, digging with enough pressure to drag out a lengthier moan that dragged into something softer. Shakier. He dug the heels of his palms in and she moaned, loud enough to echo in the room. Only after a pause and the silence settled did he speak again.
“Your front.” He said, another order. She shifted and rolled with his guidance, hands dropping to trace the muscles along the length of her spine until she rolled onto it.
“Eren.” She said his name so sweetly before he could even put his hands on her front. Fingertips skimmed her ribs and he stared. Uncertainly. Like they were still navigating this entire relationship. As though neither knew what to call one another or exactly how to approach it. There had been slip-ups prior. Wrong names muttered, or fantasies lived out for one another. Forbidden topics that weren’t spoken about. They understood each other beyond that. Beyond any jealousy for past lovers or thoughts they could entertain. He tried another touch, then instead pulled his hands back to hold her hips and guide down further and further.
He kissed her before her legs were thrown over his shoulders and he would finally dip his head to kiss at her exposed cunt. In the treatment, post the heat and all of Eren’s touches, she was wet. Sticking when he parted her with two fingers to eye the freshly shaved cunt. Her handmaids must have gotten to her just the previous day, for there was barely any stubble when he dragged his thumb between her parted lips to trace her hole and edge onto the clit. He watched how she clenched on nothing and threw her head back into the thick comforter of the bedding. Her eyes closed and one hand tangled into his lengthy hair and tugged. His eyes closed too.
Both lost themselves in each other and someone else simultaneously. Eren’s tongue moved in familiar patterns, tracing from her pulsing, exposed clit to the hole he dipped just the tip into. He could taste her. Lapping in lazy, slow strokes that had her legs shaking over his shoulders. He’s done this enough to know just what she would want, what she could handle.
One leg twisted and tried to pull him closer and his free hand came up to grip at the thigh tight enough to almost bruise. But he would never leave marks on her. Not the queen; not Historia.
When she reached her peak it was messy. It always was. Her hips rose off the bed and he had to bring one hand under her ass to keep her lifted up while the other worked two fingers into her, opening her up. Just as the third started to press in his tongue swirled just right over her clit and she fell apart with a muffle scram into the pillow she was gripping. Every inch of her lit up with spasms and twitches until she slumped, Eren pulling back to lazily lick her juices from her. Only on the first sign of a whimper did he pull back and let her rest.
“Eren.” She said his name with a little clarity and a cracked tone. “Stay.”
“I will.” He always did when she asked. He was hard against the bed when he moved up and when she eyed him he thought she would try to reach for him. He didn’t let her, just curled aside her like a blanket and slipped the blanket between them to keep his arousal off of her.
“Sleep.” Another order. She did, only after she reached for his arm to pull it around her and settled into his side, completely.