The late afternoon sun streamed through the windows of Commander Erwin's office, casting long shadows across the polished wooden desk. A single envelope lay on its surface, innocuous yet somehow heavy with significance. Erwin reached for it with his remaining arm, his blue eyes studying the neat handwriting on its surface.
"What is this?" he asked, though the tone of his voice suggested he already knew the answer.
Aaron stood at attention, his posture military-perfect despite the informality of their relationship. "My resignation, Commander," he said, his voice steady but tinged with respect.
Erwin's fingers tapped thoughtfully against the envelope. "I have my suspicions, but I'd like to hear it from you. Why are you resigning?"
"Her Majesty has offered me a different opportunity," Aaron replied, a hint of warmth creeping into his voice at the mention of Historia.
The corner of Erwin's mouth twitched upward. "And there's nothing I can do to change your mind? What if I had Levi make you breakfast?"
Aaron couldn't suppress a small chuckle. "I'm sorry, Commander. My decision is final."
Erwin rose from his chair, his imposing figure casting a long shadow in the late afternoon light. "Losing you is equivalent to losing a hundred soldiers, Mustang. We're approaching the point of no return. Your departure now would be a significant blow to humanity's cause."
Aaron's emerald eyes met Erwin's steady gaze. "I apologize, Commander, but I believe I can do more good from my new position. And if possible..." he paused, choosing his words carefully, "I'd like to maintain the Survey Corps' support for future endeavors."
Erwin's eyebrows rose slightly, a knowing smile spreading across his face. "Future endeavors?" He was quiet for a moment, his tactical mind working through the implications. "It seems you don't have many ambitions, Mustang, but the ones you do have aim quite high. Very well, you'll have our support."
They clasped hands, a gesture of mutual respect and understanding. "It's a shame," Erwin said, his voice carrying a hint of genuine regret. "I really wanted you to be my successor."
Aaron snorted softly. "I think that would have been a disaster."
---
Two months had passed since Historia's coronation, and the changes within the walls were already evident. The orphanage she had established was thriving, providing shelter and hope to countless children, including those from the Underground City.
On a warm afternoon, Historia walked through the orphanage grounds, supervising the ongoing work. Armin, Jean, and Eren had been enlisted to help with various tasks, though they seemed more interested in conversation than labor.
"They're calling her the 'Livestock Goddess' now," Armin commented, wiping sweat from his brow.
Jean smirked, leaning on his shovel. "At this rate, everyone's going to forget about Eren and his heroic wall-plugging in Trost."
"That's not important," Eren said, his voice serious despite his friends' teasing. "Historia became queen to help those in need. That's what matters."
Historia approached the group, her presence commanding despite her small stature. "I see a lot of talking and not much working," she said, her voice stern but her eyes twinkling with amusement. "This needs to be finished before nightfall."
As they resumed their work, Eren fell into step beside Historia. "How are the hardening experiments going?" she asked, genuine concern in her voice.
"Making progress," Eren replied, his face set with determination. "But we need to hurry. Time isn't on our side."
Historia nodded thoughtfully. "And what about when you face Reiner and Bertholdt again? What will you do?"
Eren's expression darkened. "I'll have to kill them. There's no other way."
Historia was quiet for a moment, studying her friend's face. Then, with a hint of mischief in her voice, she changed the subject. "So, Eren, have you heard any news about Aaron lately?"
Eren looked up, surprise evident on his face. "Your fiancé? Shouldn't you know better than anyone?"
Historia laughed, the sound bright and clear. "Oh, I do. I just like hearing what others think about him. Did you know he's already making waves in his new position?"
"I heard," Eren said, a grin spreading across his face. "When's the wedding, by the way? The whole corps is taking bets on the date."
Historia's cheeks colored slightly. "We haven't set a date yet. There's still so much to do, and Aaron's been busy with his new role..."
---
The atmosphere in the Military Police headquarters shifted dramatically as Aaron Mustang strode through the doors. His green coat, bearing the royal insignia, seemed to command attention even before his reputation did. The sound of his boots on the polished floor echoed ominously through the hallway.
In one of the back rooms, a group of veteran MPs had been enjoying an impromptu drinking session. The sharp crack of Aaron's entrance sent one of them scrambling to hide his bottle.
"I-it's Internal Affairs!" one stammered, his face pale.
Another veteran, his complexion ashen, added in a horrified whisper, "That's Aaron Mustang!"
Aaron surveyed the scene, his emerald eyes taking in every detail. Behind him, Nanaba, Neil, and Gus spread out to block the exits.
"Drinking on duty?" Aaron's voice was deceptively calm. "I thought the Military Police had higher standards than this."
One of the veterans, emboldened by alcohol and perhaps a lack of self-preservation instinct, stood up unsteadily. "Who do you think you are?" he slurred. "Just because you've got a fancy new title-"
He never finished his sentence. Aaron moved with lightning speed, his fist connecting with the man's solar plexus. As the veteran doubled over, Aaron's knee came up to meet his face. The crack of cartilage breaking echoed through the room.
"Anyone else want to question my authority?" Aaron asked, casually adjusting his coat as the veteran crumpled to the floor.
The remaining MPs raised their hands in surrender, their earlier bravado evaporating in the face of Aaron's cold efficiency.
"Nanaba, Neil, Gus," Aaron called out, his voice crisp with command. "Process them."
As his team moved to arrest the drunk MPs, Aaron stepped into the hallway, where Hitch waited with a satisfied smirk.
"Thanks for the tip," Aaron said, pulling out a small notebook to make some notes.
Hitch examined her nails with exaggerated casualness. "Don't forget, you owe me one now."
Aaron pulled out his pocket watch, checking the time. His eyes widened slightly. "Damn, it's late. Historia's going to kill me."
"Trouble in paradise?" Hitch teased.
Aaron shot her a look that would have terrified most people, but Hitch just grinned wider. "I promised I'd be home for dinner," he admitted.
"The mighty Untamed Stallion, brought to heel by a tiny queen," Hitch laughed. "Who would've thought?"
"Watch it, Dreyse," Aaron growled, but there was no real heat in his words. "I can still make your life difficult."
"Not if you want to keep getting good intel," she shot back.
As Aaron walked down the corridor, his coat billowing behind him, the newer recruits pressed themselves against the walls to let him pass. His reputation, it seemed, had only grown since taking on his new role.
"Sir!" one of the younger MPs called out, saluting nervously. "Is it true what they say? That you once took down thirty Titans in a single expedition?"
Aaron paused, looking at the young soldier. "Forty-seven," he corrected, then continued walking.
Behind him, he could hear the excited whispers of the recruits. His legend, it seemed, would only grow with time. But right now, all he could think about was getting home to Historia before she decided to exercise her royal authority to make his life difficult.
....
The afternoon sun cast long shadows over the orphanage's farmland as Eren and Historia walked among the working children. The sound of laughter and cheerful chatter filled the air, a stark contrast to the usual tension that pervaded their world.
"You know," Eren said, watching a group of children chase each other through the vegetable garden, "seeing you make these kids smile... it really makes you a wonderful person. Even though you claimed to be humanity's enemy back in that crystal cave."
Historia's cheeks flushed pink at his words. "That was... I got carried away in the moment," she admitted, tucking a strand of golden hair behind her ear.
Their conversation was interrupted by Mikasa, who suddenly appeared before them. Her dark eyes held a hint of something that looked suspiciously like jealousy as she reached for the supply crate Eren was carrying.
"You're exhausted from the experiments," she said firmly. "Let me carry this."
Eren's protest was immediate. "Come on, Mikasa! Stop treating me like some old man!"
The sound of hoofbeats drew their attention. Aaron Mustang rode up on his horse, Connie trotting alongside him on foot.
"Did I miss everything?" Aaron asked, surveying the nearly completed work around the farm.
Connie grinned up at him. "Pretty much. We're almost done here."
Aaron's face lit up with mock hope. "Then maybe I can sneak back to Trost and send a letter about some urgent business..."
"Mr. Mustang! Mr. Mustang!" a child's voice rang out across the yard.
Aaron's face fell. "Damn it," he muttered, just as Historia turned around, dropping the box she was holding.
"You," she said, her blue eyes narrowing. "You promised you'd help at the farm today."
Aaron dismounted smoothly, clearing his throat. "My apologies. I got caught up cleaning out some barracks. You know, dealing with drunk soldiers."
"Oh, I know," Historia said, her voice dry. "It's in the papers every day - 'Mustang Delivers Another Beating to Military Police.'"
Connie snickered. "Have you heard what they're calling you now? The Queen's Lap Dog."
Aaron sighed heavily. "Try maintaining order across all three walls with just four people," he grumbled. "It's not exactly easy."
"Speaking of which," Connie turned to Jean, "why didn't you join? You were part of Mustang's squad too."
Jean scoffed, crossing his arms. "Yeah, and I couldn't stand another day under his command."
"I'm still your superior, you know," Aaron reminded him, a dangerous glint in his eye.
"It's different now!" Jean protested.
Historia stepped in before the argument could escalate. "We'll have more squadrons soon enough, when the 105th Training Corps graduates."
"Rookies," Aaron muttered, "but it's better than nothing."
Historia poked him in the chest. "You don't get to complain when you showed up this late to help."
A sly smile spread across Aaron's face. "I'll make it up to you later."
Historia pretended to consider this, then nodded. "Deal."
In one smooth motion, Aaron lifted Historia onto his horse before mounting behind her. "We'll be taking our leave," he announced to the others, then spurred his horse into a gallop.
The ride to the castle was quick, the wind whipping through their hair as they rode. When they arrived, Aaron helped Historia down with exaggerated formality.
"My Queen," he said, bowing with a flourish.
Historia curtseyed in response. "Such a gentleman."
As they entered the palace, Aaron stretched his tired muscles. The guards snapped to attention as they passed, their faces a mixture of awe and fear.
"I'm going to check on Rosy," Aaron said, his voice softening at the mention of his sister.
The walk to Rosy's chambers was familiar now, his boots echoing off the marble floors. When he entered, he found his sister propped up in bed, surrounded by books and drawing materials.
"Big brother!" Rosy's face lit up at his entrance. Despite her illness, her emerald eyes - so like his own - sparkled with life.
"Hey, squirt," Aaron said, settling into the chair beside her bed. "How are you feeling today?"
"Better!" Rosy said enthusiastically. "The doctors say I might be able to take a short walk in the gardens tomorrow."
Aaron's heart swelled with hope. The palace doctors had been working wonders, far beyond what he could have afforded in the Underground.
"That's great news," he said, ruffling her hair. "Want to hear about my day?"
Rosy nodded eagerly, setting aside her drawing. "Did you catch any bad guys?"
Aaron chuckled. "Well, I had to teach some Military Police officers a lesson about drinking on duty..."
He spent the next half hour regaling her with carefully edited versions of his day's activities, making her laugh with his descriptions of the terrified MPs and Hitch's sass.
"And Historia?" Rosy asked, a knowing smile on her face. "Did you see her today?"
"I was supposed to help at the orphanage," Aaron admitted sheepishly. "I was a little late."
Rosy shook her head in mock disappointment. "You shouldn't keep your queen waiting, brother."
"Speaking of which," Aaron said, standing up, "I should go join her for dinner. Get some rest, okay?"
He kissed her forehead before leaving, his heart lighter after spending time with his sister.
The dining room was warm and inviting, the table set for two. Historia was already seated, looking over some papers.
"Wedding plans?" Aaron asked, taking his seat.
Historia nodded. "We need to set a date soon, or the nobles will start getting restless."
"They're always restless," Aaron pointed out, reaching for a piece of bread.
Before Historia could respond, a messenger burst into the room, holding a sealed letter. Aaron read it quickly, his expression darkening.
"I'm sorry," he said, standing up. "There's an illegal weapons sale happening right now. I have to go."
Historia's face fell. "Now? But we haven't even started eating..."
Aaron leaned down to kiss her softly. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."
After he left, Historia pushed her plate away with a sigh. "He's even busier than I am these days," she muttered to herself.
The rain was falling in sheets by the time Aaron reached the meeting point. Nanaba and Neil were waiting in a dark alley, their faces grim.
"Thought the sale wasn't for weeks," Aaron said, dismounting.
Nanaba shook her head, rain dripping from her hair. "They must have sensed us watching. Moved it up. They didn't count on Gus being our double agent though."
She passed Aaron a rifle. At her signal, they burst from cover, weapons raised.
"Internal Affairs!" Aaron shouted over the rain. "Drop your weapons!"
One of the MPs cursed loudly. "Shit! It's Aaron Mustang!"
Before anyone could move, the weapons dealers opened fire. Gus shot first, taking down one of them with deadly accuracy.
Aaron dove behind some wooden crates, pulling Nanaba with him. "This is harder than killing Titans," he growled, returning fire and dropping another dealer.
A bullet caught him in the arm, making him hiss in pain. Neil's shot rang out, taking down the last dealer as Gus moved to arrest the corrupt MPs.
"You okay, Captain?" Nanaba asked, noticing the blood on his sleeve.
Aaron grimaced, pressing a hand to the wound. "Just a graze. Historia's going to kill me though."
The first light of dawn was still hours away as Aaron wrapped a clean bandage around his injured arm, the white cloth quickly showing spots of red where the bullet had grazed him. The wound stung, but he'd suffered far worse in his days with the Survey Corps.
"I need to head to Wall Rose," he announced to his team, who were still cleaning up from the weapons bust. "Hange's got some new guillotine design she wants me to look at in Trost."
Nanaba looked up from where she was cataloging the seized weapons, concern evident in her eyes. "Captain, you should rest. That wound needs time to heal."
"I'll go with you," Neil offered, already reaching for his gear.
Gus nodded eagerly. "Me too. You shouldn't be traveling alone when injured."
Aaron shook his head, a slight smile playing at his lips despite his exhaustion. "No. You all have work to do here. Those corrupt MPs aren't going to process themselves, and I need detailed reports on tonight's operation by tomorrow."
"But Captain-" Nanaba started to protest.
"That's an order," Aaron said, his voice firm but not unkind. "Besides, I have a few... personal matters to attend to on the way."
The tone of his voice made it clear that no further discussion was welcome. His team exchanged glances but knew better than to argue when Aaron used that tone.
Stepping out into the courtyard, Aaron let out a sharp whistle. The sound echoed through the pre-dawn darkness, and moments later, the thundering of hooves announced Lucky's arrival. The stallion's coat gleamed even in the dim light as he trotted up to his master.
As Aaron mounted, he felt every ache and pain from the long day's activities. His muscles protested, reminding him that he wasn't getting any younger. The thought made him pause, his mind drifting to Historia.
When was the last time they'd had a proper meal together? Or just sat and talked, without interruptions from duties or emergencies? Even their wedding plans kept getting postponed because of one crisis or another.
Lucky's steady gait carried them through the sleeping streets of Mitras, past the grand houses of nobles and the more modest homes of merchants. Aaron's thoughts continued to wander as they rode.
Historia was building something beautiful - orphanages, schools, programs to help the poor. But someone had to ensure that beauty could grow unmolested, had to deal with those who would oppose her vision. That someone was him.
The moon was high overhead when they reached their first destination - the elaborate mansion of Marquis Bartholomew, one of the more vocal opponents of Historia's reforms. The building rose like a dark mountain against the star-filled sky, its windows mostly dark except for a few flickering lights on the upper floors.
Aaron dismounted silently, patting Lucky's neck. "Wait here," he murmured to the horse. "This won't take long."
His ODM gear made barely a whisper as he shot the anchors up to the highest windows. The mechanisms had been modified for stealth work - no steam, minimal noise. Another of Hange's innovations that had proved invaluable in his new role.
The guards never saw him coming. The first one went down with a precise strike to the back of the neck - not enough to kill, just to incapacitate. The second guard managed to turn just as Aaron's boot connected with his solar plexus, driving the air from his lungs. A quick chop to the base of the skull ensured he wouldn't be raising any alarms.
Aaron moved through the dark corridors like a shadow, his footsteps silent on the plush carpets. He could hear voices coming from the Marquis's study - the man himself, apparently working late.
Perfect.
The door burst open with a crash that echoed through the mansion. The Marquis, a corpulent man in his fifties, nearly fell out of his chair in shock.
"W-who dares-" he started to bluster, reaching for a bell pull that would summon his guards.
Aaron's hand shot out, catching the Marquis's wrist in an iron grip. "Your guards are taking a little nap," he said, his voice deceptively casual. "I thought we should have a private chat."
Recognition dawned in the Marquis's piggy eyes, followed quickly by fear. "Mustang," he whispered, his face going pale. "The Queen's attack dog."
Aaron's smile didn't reach his eyes as he released the Marquis's wrist, only to grab him by the front of his expensive shirt. "I've been hearing some interesting rumors, Marquis," he said, lifting the heavier man partially out of his chair. "Rumors about your... reluctance to support your queen's initiatives."
"I-I don't know what you're talking about," the Marquis stammered, sweat beading on his forehead.
Aaron's fist connected with the man's jaw, not hard enough to break anything, but enough to make his point. "Don't lie to me," he growled. "I know about the meetings. The whispered conversations about how the queen is 'wasting resources' on orphans and the poor."
Another punch, this one to the gut. The Marquis doubled over, wheezing.
"Here's what's going to happen," Aaron continued, his voice still eerily calm. "You're going to start supporting your queen. Publicly. Enthusiastically. And you're going to start by making a very generous donation to her orphanages."
The Marquis, still gasping for breath, managed to look up at Aaron. "And if I refuse?"
Aaron's grip tightened, and he pulled the nobleman close enough that their faces were inches apart. "Then I'll have to pay you another visit. And next time, I won't be so gentle."
To emphasize his point, Aaron drove his fist into the ornate wooden desk beside them. The thick wood cracked under the impact.
"How... how much do you want me to donate?" the Marquis asked, his voice trembling.
"I think half your quarterly income would be a good start," Aaron said, releasing his grip on the man's shirt. "And I'll be watching to make sure you follow through."
The Marquis slumped in his chair, all resistance gone. "Yes, yes, of course. Whatever you say."
Aaron straightened his uniform, brushing off some imaginary dust. "I'm glad we understand each other. Oh, and Marquis?" He paused at the window he'd entered through. "If you ever speak against the queen again, our next conversation won't be nearly this pleasant."
With that, he launched himself out the window, his ODM gear carrying him silently back to where Lucky waited. As he mounted his horse, Aaron could see the first hints of dawn starting to color the eastern sky.
'Someone has to do the dirty work,' he thought as they galloped toward Trost. 'Someone has to be the monster so Historia can be the angel.'
The night's activities left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he pushed the feeling aside. This was his role now - the shadow that protected the light. The queen's enforcer, ensuring her vision for a better world could become reality.
Still, as the sun began to rise, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold, Aaron couldn't help but think of Historia. She would be waking soon, probably wondering if he'd made it back safely from the weapons bust. She had no idea about these nocturnal visits to recalcitrant nobles, and he intended to keep it that way.
Let her build her better world. He would make sure she had the foundation to build it on, even if that meant getting his hands dirty.
Lucky's hooves thundered against the road as they approached Wall Rose. Soon he would have to focus on whatever crazy invention Hange wanted to show him, but for now, Aaron allowed himself a moment of reflection.
He was tired, bone-deep tired. The kind of exhaustion that went beyond physical fatigue and settled into your soul. But when he thought of Historia's smile, of the children laughing in her orphanages, of his sister getting stronger every day in the palace... it made it all worth it.
The sun climbed higher in the sky, burning away the night's shadows. Aaron straightened in his saddle, pushing his dark thoughts aside. He had a role to play, appearances to maintain. The feared and respected head of Internal Affairs couldn't be seen looking weary or troubled.
As Trost's walls came into view, Aaron allowed himself a small, grim smile. Another night's work done, another obstacle to Historia's vision removed. The nobles would learn, one way or another, that opposing their queen had consequences.
And if that meant Aaron had to be the bogeyman they feared in the night, well... he'd accepted that role long ago.
The wind atop Wall Trost was bitter and biting, carrying with it the first flakes of winter snow. Aaron pulled his green coat tighter around himself as he climbed the final steps to the wall's summit, his boots crunching on the light dusting of white that had already accumulated.
Hange was waiting for him, practically bouncing with her characteristic enthusiasm despite the cold. Her glasses were slightly fogged from her excited breathing as she waved him over to what looked like a massive contraption mounted on the wall's edge.
"Aaron! You finally made it!" she called out, her voice carrying over the wind. "Come see my latest baby!"
The 'baby' in question was an impressive piece of engineering - a modified guillotine system that spanned nearly twenty feet of the wall's width. Its massive blade gleamed dully in the winter light, and complex mechanisms of gears and pulleys suggested it could be repositioned quickly.
"What do you think?" Hange asked, patting the machine's frame lovingly. "I've adjusted the angle of the blade to account for the typical upward momentum of approaching Titans. The counterweight system allows for rapid resetting, and these guide rails..." she continued on, diving deep into the technical specifications.
Aaron listened with half an ear, his tired mind struggling to keep up with Hange's rapid-fire explanation. He pulled out his notebook, dutifully jotting down what seemed like the important points.
"I'll prepare a full report for Her Majesty's review," he said when Hange finally paused for breath.
Hange's enthusiasm dimmed slightly as she studied his face. "Oh, come on, Aaron," she said, her voice softening. "You know Historia's not going to read some dry technical report. When did you get so... formal about everything?"
Before Aaron could respond, a familiar voice cut through the cold air. "He's gotten worse."
Aaron turned just in time to see Levi's boot connecting with his side, sending him stumbling sideways. Years of combat experience kept him from falling, but the kick still knocked some of the wind out of him.
"Captain," Aaron wheezed, straightening up. "Always a pleasure."
Levi's steel-grey eyes studied him with their usual intensity. "You look like shit, Mustang," he said bluntly. "When was the last time you actually slept?"
"I sleep," Aaron protested, though even he had to admit it sounded weak.
Levi's eyes narrowed. "That's not what I asked." He moved closer, his voice dropping so only Aaron could hear. "You've never done anything for yourself, have you? Joined the Survey Corps for your sister's sake. Now you're running yourself into the ground with Internal Affairs for Historia. When are you going to start living for yourself?"
The words hit harder than the kick had. Aaron opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again. What could he say? Levi wasn't wrong.
Hange, watching this exchange, leaned over to a nearby soldier and stage-whispered, "This is always entertaining. Levi may be shorter than Aaron, but he's still the only one who can properly scold him."
The soldier tried to suppress a laugh, turning it into an unconvincing cough when Levi shot him a glare.
"I'm doing what needs to be done," Aaron finally said, his voice firm despite his exhaustion. "The people I care about need-"
"Bullshit," Levi cut him off. "What they need is for you to be alive and functioning, not working yourself to death trying to be everything to everyone."
Snow continued to fall around them, the flakes getting heavier and more numerous. They clung to Aaron's dark hair and collected on his shoulders, as if nature itself was trying to weigh him down further.
"You know what your problem is, Mustang?" Levi continued, seemingly immune to the cold. "You're so busy trying to protect everyone else that you've forgotten how to protect yourself. You're no good to anyone if you burn yourself out."
Hange nodded sagely, her earlier excitement replaced by genuine concern. "He's right, you know. Even Historia's been worried about you. She sent me a letter asking if we could try to talk some sense into you."
Aaron's head snapped up at that. "Historia wrote to you about me?"
"Of course she did, you idiot," Levi said, exasperation clear in his voice. "She sees what you're doing to yourself, even if you don't."
The wind picked up, sending swirls of snow dancing between them. Aaron stared out over the wall, at the white landscape stretching towards the horizon. How long had it been since he'd just... stopped? Just taken a moment to breathe, to exist without thinking about the next task, the next mission, the next person he needed to protect?
"I don't know how to do anything else," he admitted quietly, the words nearly lost in the wind.
Levi's expression softened slightly - or as much as Levi's expression ever softened. "Then learn," he said simply. "You're not in the Underground anymore, Mustang. You don't have to carry everything on your shoulders alone."
"And you're not just some street thug anymore either," Hange added, coming to stand beside them. "You've got people who care about you, who want to help. Let them."
Aaron ran a hand through his snow-dusted hair, feeling the weight of their words settle over him. "It's not that simple," he protested, but even to his own ears, it sounded weak.
"Actually, it is that simple," Levi said. "You're just making it complicated because you're an idiot."
Despite himself, Aaron felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Your pep talks need work, Captain."
"Tch," Levi scoffed, but there was almost a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Just stop being so stubborn and take care of yourself. Or I'll have to keep kicking sense into you."
"And nobody wants that," Hange added cheerfully. "Well, except me. It's quite entertaining to watch."
The snow was falling in earnest now, creating a white curtain that seemed to isolate them from the rest of the world. In this moment, they weren't the Queen's enforcer, humanity's strongest soldier, and the Survey Corps' mad scientist. They were just three people who had seen too much, done too much, and somehow managed to survive it all.
"I'll try," Aaron said finally, his voice quiet but sincere. "To do better. To find some balance."
"Good," Levi nodded. "Now, about this ridiculous guillotine..."
As they turned their attention back to Hange's invention, Aaron felt something shift inside him. It wasn't a dramatic change, but maybe... maybe it was a start. A recognition that being strong didn't always mean carrying everything alone.
The snow continued to fall, covering the world in white, as if offering a clean slate. Perhaps it was time to learn how to write a new story - one where he wasn't just the protector, the enforcer, the one who sacrificed everything for others.
Perhaps it was time to learn how to live for himself too.
But first, he had to survive Hange's detailed explanation of her latest modifications to the Titan-killing guillotine. As she launched into another enthusiastic description of the gear ratios and blade angles, Aaron caught Levi's eye and saw his own resigned amusement reflected there.
Some things, at least, would never change.
The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the orphanage's farmland, painting the fields in shades of gold and amber. Historia stood among the rows of vegetables, absently pulling weeds as her mind wandered to her frustratingly absent fiancé.
"Stupid Aaron," she muttered, yanking a particularly stubborn weed with more force than necessary. "Always running around, trying to fix everything by himself."
A group of children ran past, their laughter carrying on the warm breeze. Historia's expression softened as she watched them play, but her irritation quickly returned as she thought about Aaron missing another day at the farm.
"'I have to check Hange's new invention,'" she mimicked his deep voice, tossing another weed into her basket. "'I have to investigate corrupt officials.' 'I have to maintain order in the walls.' Stupid, stubborn man."
As she worked her way down the row, she became increasingly aware of eyes on her. It wasn't an unusual sensation - as queen, she was used to being watched. But this felt different, more personal somehow.
Looking up, she caught a farm worker quickly averting his gaze. He'd been doing that all day, she realized. Watching her when he thought she wasn't looking, with an expression she couldn't quite read.
Historia straightened up, brushing dirt from her simple work dress. She'd had enough of being observed like some curiosity.
"You," she called out, her voice carrying the authority she'd learned to wield as queen. "Why do you keep staring at me?"
The farm worker jumped, nearly dropping the tools he was carrying. He was a young man, perhaps a few years older than Historia, with sandy hair and weather-worn features that suggested a life spent working outdoors.
"I-I'm sorry, Your Majesty," he stammered, bowing awkwardly. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
Historia crossed her arms, studying him more closely. There was something vaguely familiar about him, though she couldn't quite place it.
"That's not what I asked," she said, her voice firm but not unkind. "Why were you watching me?"
The man shifted uncomfortably, his eyes fixed on the ground. "I... I knew you. Before. When we were children."
Historia's eyes widened slightly. "What?"
"On the farm where you grew up," he continued, his voice growing steadier. "I was one of the kids who... who used to throw rocks at you."
The memory hit Historia like a physical blow. She remembered those days - the loneliness, the cruelty of the other children, the sting of stones against her skin.
"I see," she said, her voice carefully neutral.
The man finally looked up, his face etched with genuine remorse. "I've regretted it every day since. When I heard about this place, about what you were doing for orphaned children... I came to work here. As a way to make amends, I suppose."
Historia was quiet for a long moment, processing this unexpected confession. "What's your name?" she asked finally.
"Thomas," he replied. "Thomas Weber."
A small smile curved Historia's lips. "Well, Thomas Weber, I hope you're better at farming than you were at throwing rocks."
Thomas's eyes widened in surprise, then he let out a startled laugh. "I am, Your Majesty. Much better."
The sound of approaching hoofbeats drew their attention. Lucky's distinctive gait was unmistakable, as was his rider's tall figure silhouetted against the setting sun.
Aaron dismounted smoothly, but Historia's trained eye caught the slight stiffness in his movements. Her gaze immediately zeroed in on the bandage visible beneath his rolled-up sleeve.
"What happened?" she demanded, closing the distance between them in quick strides.
"Just a scratch," Aaron said dismissively, but his attempt at casualness was ruined by his slight wince as Historia grabbed his arm to examine the bandage.
"A scratch?" Historia's voice rose slightly. "This is a bullet wound, isn't it? What happened to 'checking Hange's invention'?"
Aaron had the grace to look sheepish. "There was a small situation with some weapons dealers that needed handling first..."
"Small situation?" Historia's blue eyes flashed dangerously. "Aaron Mustang, I swear-"
"I'll make it up to you," Aaron interrupted quickly. "I promise I'll spend all day tomorrow helping at the farm. No interruptions, no emergencies, just me and whatever tasks you need done."
Historia narrowed her eyes, studying his face for any sign of deception. "You mean it? All day?"
"All day," Aaron confirmed, raising his uninjured hand in a solemn gesture. "Queen's honor."
Despite her best efforts, Historia felt her anger melting away. It was hard to stay mad at Aaron when he looked at her like that, his emerald eyes sincere and warm.
Movement in her peripheral vision reminded her of Thomas's presence. The farm worker was trying to make himself inconspicuous, clearly uncomfortable with witnessing this personal moment between the queen and her fiancé.
Aaron's attention shifted to Thomas, his expression changing subtly. The warmth in his eyes cooled, replaced by the calculating look that had made him such an effective enforcer.
"And you are?" Aaron asked, his voice deceptively casual.
Thomas swallowed hard, clearly recognizing Aaron. "T-Thomas Weber, sir. I work here at the farm."
"Aaron Mustang," Thomas added quickly, "I've heard a lot about you lately. They say you're cleaning up corruption in all three walls."
A small, dangerous smile played at the corners of Aaron's mouth. "Do they now?"
Historia, sensing the tension, stepped in. "Thomas is an old acquaintance," she explained, emphasizing the word 'old' with a meaningful look at Aaron. "He's been doing good work here at the farm."
Aaron's expression didn't change, but something in his stance relaxed slightly. "Is that so?" he said, his voice losing some of its edge.
Thomas nodded vigorously. "Yes, sir. Just trying to do my part to support Her Majesty's vision."
"A worthy goal," Aaron said, but his eyes held a clear warning. "I'm sure you'll continue to serve faithfully."
"Of course, sir," Thomas said quickly. "If you'll excuse me, I should get back to work."
As Thomas hurried away, Historia elbowed Aaron in the ribs. "Stop terrorizing my farm workers," she scolded.
"I didn't do anything," Aaron protested, but his slight smirk suggested otherwise.
Historia shook her head fondly. "You didn't have to. Your reputation does it for you these days."
Aaron's expression sobered slightly. "Is that a bad thing?"
Historia reached up to cup his cheek, her touch gentle. "No," she said softly. "You do what needs to be done to protect our people. Just... don't forget to take care of yourself too, okay?"
Aaron leaned into her touch, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "I'll try," he promised. "Starting with tomorrow. A full day of honest farm work might be just what I need."
"Good," Historia said firmly. "Because I have a lot of tasks saved up for you, and don't think that injury will get you out of them."