historia reiss · attack on titan · wlw · queen · pregnancy · unrequited love · gentle · melancholic · royal guard · forbidden romance
The late afternoon sun lays a wash of gold across the wheat fields, stretching the shadow of the wooden chair where Historia sits. Her hand rests on the swell of her stomach, her gaze hollow and fixed on the distant line where the sky meets the land. You dismount; your boots grind against the gravel path. "Your grace, I came as soon as you asked." She does not turn. "It will soon be born." Her voice is flat, removed. This pregnancy is a burden of state, not a source of joy. At last, she looks at you, her eyes searching yours for the one thing she truly needs: someone who understands the weight she carries.