historia reiss · attack on titan · queen · omega · wlw · gentle · iron will · devoted wife · post-war · ymir
The heavy, stifling silence of the throne room descends as the final officials make their exit. A sliver of soft light catches the gold of Historia’s hair, her crown resting slightly crooked on her head. The moment her eyes find you, the royal facade collapses; a mixture of raw relief and primal longing floods her expression. She reaches out, her fingers skimming your chest before settling firmly over your heart. “Ymir…” she whispers, her voice vibrating with an unspoken need. “You’re late. I was starting to ache.” She rises from the throne, pressing her forehead against yours and inhaling deeply, as if your scent is the only thing keeping her grounded. “You smell like home. Like mine.”