The Marleyan ships had arrived, and thanks to Eren's Titan form, they had been captured, with prisoners taken. Hange had tried to convince them to cooperate, but they adamantly refused. Frustrated, Hange entered the tent where Levi and Mustang were waiting, her expression grim.
"It's useless," she sighed, running a hand through her disheveled hair. "They say they won't talk, no matter what we do."
Levi scoffed, his steel-grey eyes narrowing with a cold, ruthless intensity. "That's ridiculous," he said, his voice low and filled with a quiet menace. "We'll just have to beat them until they open their mouths. It's the only language they understand."
Hange shook her head, her expression filled with a weary resignation. "They say we can kill them if we want, but they still won't talk. They're prepared to die for their cause, it seems."
Aaron leaned back in his chair, his emerald eyes glinting with a sudden, predatory light. "Maybe they just need a little taste of torture," he said, his voice low and filled with a dark, unsettling intensity. "Something to loosen their tongues and make them realize the error of their ways."
He stood up, his tall, muscular form unfolding with a fluid grace that belied the danger that lurked beneath the surface. Hange's eyes widened, her expression filled with a sudden, amused disbelief.
"Don't tell me you're going through that phase too," she said, her voice tinged with a hint of exasperation. "You know, the one where you try to act all cool and edgy, like you're some kind of unbeatable badass."
Aaron's brow furrowed, his expression filled with a sudden, confused indignation. "What are you talking about?" he asked, his voice low and filled with a quiet defensiveness.
Hange let out a soft, amused chuckle, her eyes twinkling with a sudden, mischievous light. "You know, like Eren the other day, when he was talking to himself and saying 'Tatakae' over and over again, like he was some kind of Protagonist of a fantasy book"
Levi nodded, his lips twitching with a hint of a smirk. "You're definitely in that phase," he said, his voice flat and matter-of-fact. "Trying to act all tough and intimidating, like you're the biggest, baddest thing on the battlefield."
Aaron's face flushed a deep, embarrassed red, his eyes flashing with a sudden, indignant anger. "And what am I supposed to say?" he snapped, his voice low and filled with a quiet, defensive fury. "I'm about to torture someone, for fuck's sake. I can't exactly go in there with a smile and a song, can I?"
Levi shrugged, his expression filled with a cool, unruffled nonchalance. "At least use your normal voice," he said, his voice flat and unapologetic. "Not that fake, deep growl you've been putting on lately. It's embarrassing."
Aaron's eyes widened, his expression filled with a sudden, outraged disbelief. "My voice is naturally deep!" he shouted, his words echoing through the tent with a force that made Hange wince. "I'm not putting on anything, you tiny, cleaning-obsessed freak!"
With that, he stormed out of the tent, his long, dark coat billowing behind him as he stalked across the sun-drenched sand. The sun was at its zenith, beating down upon the earth with a merciless, unrelenting heat that made the air shimmer and dance with a hazy, dreamlike quality.
Aaron made his way to the tent where the captain of the Marleyan ship was being held, his hands bound tightly behind his back and his face a mask of defiant, unyielding rage. As Aaron entered, the captain's eyes narrowed, his lips twisting into a small, mocking smile.
"So, it's come to torture, has it?" he said, his voice low and filled with a quiet, taunting edge. "You can beat me all you want, but I won't talk. I'd rather die than betray my country and my people."
Aaron sat down in front of him, his movements slow and deliberate, his emerald eyes fixed upon the captain's face with an unwavering intensity. "First, let's have a little chat," he said, his voice low and filled with a quiet, unsettling calm. "Maybe you could give me some useful information, make this whole process a little easier on yourself."
The captain's response was swift and vicious, a glob of spit that struck Aaron's face with a wet, sickening sound. Aaron wiped it away with a slow, deliberate motion, his expression never changing, his eyes never leaving the captain's face.
Then, with a sudden, explosive burst of movement, he lashed out, his fist connecting with the captain's nose with a sickening crunch. The captain's head snapped back, his eyes widening with a sudden, shocked pain as blood began to pour from his shattered nose.
The captain's mind raced, his thoughts a jumbled, panicked mess. The force behind that punch, the sheer, brutal power of it... it was like being hit with a hammer, like having a steel bar slammed into his face. This man, this Aaron Mustang... he was no ordinary soldier, no mere interrogator. He was something else entirely, something dark and dangerous and utterly without mercy.
Aaron grabbed the captain by the hair, yanking his head back with a sudden, vicious force that made the man cry out in pain. He leaned in close, his emerald eyes boring into the captain's with a cold, unflinching intensity.
"Do you know how easy it is to tear off a finger?" he asked, his voice low and filled with a quiet, unsettling calm. "To snap the bone and rip the flesh, to leave nothing but a bloody, mangled stump?"
To the captain's horror, Aaron reached up and grabbed his own left index finger, twisting it with a sudden, sickening force. There was a loud, wet pop, and then the finger came away in his hand, a bloody, twitching mess of torn flesh and shattered bone.
The captain's mind reeled, his eyes widening with a sudden, overwhelming panic as he watched the regenerative steam billowing from the stump of Aaron's finger, the flesh knitting itself back together with a speed and efficiency that was beyond anything he had ever seen.
"My finger will grow back," Aaron said, his voice low and filled with a quiet, unsettling intensity. "But yours? Well, that's a different story entirely."
The captain's courage broke, his defiance shattering like glass under the weight of Aaron's cold, merciless gaze. He begged for mercy, his voice high and panicked, his words a jumbled, incoherent mess of pleas and promises.
But Aaron was relentless, his hand darting out to seize the captain's finger, twisting it with a sudden, vicious force that made the man scream in agony. The bone snapped like a twig, the flesh tearing away with a wet, sickening sound that made the captain's stomach heave and roil with nausea.
Aaron's fist slammed into the captain's broken nose, shattering the bone into a thousand tiny, jagged pieces that tore at the flesh and sent fresh waves of agony coursing through the man's body. He grabbed another finger, his movements quick and precise, and with a sudden, wrenching motion, he tore the nail away, leaving nothing but a bloody, oozing mess of exposed flesh and raw, screaming nerve endings.
The captain's screams echoed through the tent, his voice high and ragged with pain and terror. Aaron leaned in close, his breath hot against the man's ear, his voice low and filled with a quiet, unsettling intensity.
"I think I'll go for your eye next," he said, his words dripping with a cold, merciless promise. "And then, maybe, I'll have to crush your balls and rip off your dick. Just to make sure you're paying attention, of course."
The captain's bladder let go, a hot, acrid stream of urine soaking through his pants and pooling on the ground beneath him. His mind was a whirling, panicked mess, his thoughts consumed by the sheer, overwhelming terror of what this man, this monster, might do to him.
"I'll talk!" he screamed, his voice high and desperate, his words tumbling out in a frantic, babbling rush. "I'll tell you anything you want to know, just please, please don't hurt me anymore!"
Aaron's fist slammed into the captain's liver, the blow driving the air from his lungs and sending fresh waves of agony coursing through his body. He grabbed the man by the hair, yanking his head back with a sudden, vicious force that made him cry out in pain.
"Start talking," he growled, his voice low and filled with a quiet, unsettling intensity.
The captain's eyes widened, his expression filled with a sudden, horrified recognition. "Who... who are you?" he whispered, his voice high and trembling with fear.
Aaron's lips twisted into a small, cruel smile, his emerald eyes glinting with a cold, predatory light. "I'm Aaron Mustang," he said, his voice low and filled with a quiet, unsettling calm.
The captain's mind reeled, his thoughts consumed by a sudden, overwhelming terror. This man... this was the one that Zeke had warned them about, the one that even Reiner and Bertolt, two of Marley's greatest warriors, spoke of with a mix of fear and grudging respect.
They called him the Unruly Stallion, a name that spoke of his wild, untamed nature, his fierce, unyielding spirit. And now, here he was, face to face with the man himself, the monster that had haunted his nightmares and filled his waking hours with a cold, creeping dread.
What horrors might this man inflict upon him, what torments might he devise to break his will and shatter his spirit? The captain's mind raced with possibilities, each more terrible than the last, until he thought he might go mad with fear and despair.
Just then, the tent flap opened, and Hange stepped inside, her expression grim but determined. "I'll take it from here, Mustang," she said, her voice low and filled with a quiet, steely resolve. "It seems you've already scared him enough to get him talking."
Aaron nodded, rising to his feet with a fluid, almost feline grace. He stepped outside, into the bright, searing heat of the midday sun, and stretched his arms above his head, his muscles rippling beneath the dark fabric of his shirt.
Levi appeared beside him, his steel-grey eyes fixed upon the horizon, his expression unreadable. "It seems like you were born to torture," he said, his voice flat and matter-of-fact.
Aaron shrugged, a small, wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "The secret is to make it look like you're enjoying it," he said, his voice low and filled with a quiet, unsettling intensity. "That's what really makes them panic, what breaks their will and shatters their resolve."
Levi scoffed, his lips twisting into a small, mocking smirk. "You're a sick bastard, you know that?" he said, his voice dripping with a dry, sardonic humor.
Aaron's smile widened, his emerald eyes glinting with a sudden, mischievous light. "Look who's talking," he said, his voice filled with a playful, teasing lilt. "Mister clean freak extraordinaire, the man who'd rather scrub a toilet than crack a joke."
Levi's eyes narrowed, his expression filling with a sudden, indignant fury. But before he could retort, Aaron was already walking away, his long, dark coat billowing behind him as he made his way towards the shore, his mind consumed by thoughts of the battles to come and the enemies that lurked just beyond the horizon.
....
The warm, golden sunlight streamed through the tall, arched windows of the palace, casting a soft, inviting glow over the elegant tea room where Historia and Nanaba sat, their faces alight with laughter and mirth.
Historia leaned back in her chair, her delicate porcelain teacup cradled in her hands as she regaled Nanaba with tales of Aaron's more embarrassing moments. "And then there was the time he tried to act all cool and suave in front of the new recruits," she said, her voice filled with a fond, teasing lilt.
Nanaba's eyes widened, her lips curving into a small, mischievous smile. "Oh, this I have to hear," she said, leaning forward eagerly. "What did he do?"
Historia giggled, her blue eyes sparkling with amusement. "He tried to do this fancy spin with his blades, like he was some kind of dashing hero from a storybook. But he misjudged the distance and ended up tripping over his own feet and face-planting right in front of everyone."
Nanaba burst out laughing, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as she tried to stifle her giggles. "Oh my god, I can just picture it," she said, her voice breathless with mirth. "The great and powerful Aaron Mustang, laid low by his own ego."
Historia nodded, her smile widening. "He was so embarrassed, he couldn't look anyone in the eye for a week afterwards. But of course, being Aaron, he just played it off like it was all part of his plan, like he meant to do it all along."
Nanaba shook her head, her expression filled with a fond, exasperated affection. "That's our Aaron," she said, her voice warm with familiarity. "Always trying to be the big, bad hero, even when he's falling flat on his face."
Just then, the door to the tea room swung open, and the Marquis strode in, his face set in a mask of false cordiality and barely-concealed disdain. He bowed low before Historia, his movements stiff and formal, his eyes never leaving her face.
"Your Majesty," he said, his voice dripping with insincere flattery. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important."
Historia's smile faded, her expression growing cool and distant. "Marquis," she said, her voice polite but firm. "What brings you here today? I don't recall having any scheduled meetings with you."
The Marquis straightened, his eyes flashing with a hint of annoyance. "I simply wished to express my concerns about the current state of the kingdom," he said, his voice filled with a false, saccharine sweetness. "It seems that things have been... shall we say, less than stable lately."
Historia's brow furrowed, her lips pressing together in a thin, tight line. "And what exactly do you mean by that, Marquis?" she asked, her voice low and filled with a quiet, steely resolve.
The Marquis's smile widened, his eyes glinting with a sudden, malicious light. "Well, it's no secret that the people are growing restless, Your Majesty. They whisper of corruption and mismanagement, of a queen who is more concerned with her own pleasures than the needs of her subjects."
Historia's eyes flashed with anger, her hand tightening around the handle of her teacup. "How dare you," she said, her voice low and filled with a quiet, seething fury. "I have done everything in my power to serve my people, to build a better future for all of us. And yet you come here, into my home, and accuse me of neglect and self-indulgence?"
The Marquis's smile only widened, his expression filled with a smug, self-satisfied triumph. "I meant no offense, Your Majesty," he said, his voice dripping with false sincerity. "I simply wished to offer my assistance, to help guide you in these troubled times. After all, it's clear that you and your... associates have been struggling to maintain order and stability."
Nanaba's eyes narrowed, her expression growing hard and cold. "Watch your tongue, Marquis," she said, her voice low and filled with a quiet, deadly intensity. "You forget yourself, and to whom you speak."
The Marquis's gaze flicked to Nanaba, his expression filled with a sudden, wary unease. "Ah, yes," he said, his voice filled with a false, forced joviality. "The loyal watchdog, always at her mistress's side. Tell me, how does it feel to be nothing more than a glorified bodyguard, a mere servant to a queen who can barely keep her own kingdom in check?"
Nanaba's hand twitched towards the blade at her hip, her eyes flashing with a sudden, murderous rage. But before she could act, Historia's voice cut through the tension like a knife, her tone low and filled with a quiet, unyielding authority.
"Enough," she said, her gaze fixed upon the Marquis with a cold, unwavering intensity. "You overstep your bounds, Marquis. I will not tolerate such disrespect and insolence in my presence."
The Marquis's expression faltered, his eyes widening with a sudden, fearful realization. He took a step back, his hands coming up in a gesture of placation and surrender.
"Forgive me, Your Majesty," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "I meant no offense. I simply wished to express my concerns, to offer my support in these difficult times."
Nanaba scoffed, her expression filled with a cold, contemptuous disgust. "Support?" she said, her voice dripping with scorn. "Is that what you call it, Marquis? Barging in here uninvited, insulting our queen and questioning her leadership? You're lucky Captain Mustang isn't here to hear your treasonous words."
The Marquis's face paled, his eyes widening with a sudden, sickening dread. "Captain Mustang?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I... I meant no disrespect to him, or to the Queen. I simply..."
"You simply thought you could take advantage of his absence," Nanaba said, her voice low and filled with a quiet, deadly intensity. "Thought you could come here and throw your weight around, try to intimidate and bully your way into power. But let me make one thing very clear, Marquis. I am not just a bodyguard or a servant. I am a member of the Queen's inner circle, a trusted advisor and confidant. And I have the authority to execute you where you stand, should I deem it necessary for the safety and security of the realm."
The Marquis's face drained of color, his eyes widening with a sudden, overwhelming terror. He took another step back, his hands trembling at his sides, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps.
"You... you can't," he said, his voice high and filled with a desperate, pleading fear. "That's... that's abuse of power, that's..."
"That's how Internal Affairs works, Marquis," a new voice said, cutting through the tension like a blade. The Marquis whirled around, his eyes widening as Neil stepped into the room, his face set in a cold, impassive mask.
"Director Neil," the Marquis said, his voice trembling with a sudden, desperate hope. "Surely you can see the madness of this, the... the injustice of it all. I am a loyal subject of the crown, a man of honor and integrity. I do not deserve to be threatened and bullied in this way."
Neil's expression never changed, his eyes fixed upon the Marquis with a cold, unwavering intensity. "You are a man who has forgotten his place, Marquis," he said, his voice low and filled with a quiet, unyielding authority. "A man who has let his own ambition and greed blind him to the true nature of power in this kingdom. And now, you will face the consequences of your actions."
The Marquis's face paled, his eyes widening with a sudden, sickening realization. He turned to Historia, his expression filled with a desperate, pleading terror.
"Your Majesty," he said, his voice high and filled with a frantic, babbling desperation. "Please, I beg of you. Have mercy on me, on my family. I never meant any harm, I swear it. I only wished to serve you, to help guide you in these troubled times."
Historia's expression remained cold and impassive, her blue eyes fixed upon the Marquis with a quiet, unwavering intensity. "You have done nothing to serve me, Marquis," she said, her voice low and filled with a quiet, seething anger. "You have only sought to serve yourself, to exploit the weakness and instability of our kingdom for your own gain. And now, you will pay the price for your treachery."
She turned to Neil, her expression softening slightly. "Escort the Marquis out, Director," she said, her voice filled with a quiet, unyielding authority. "I have no further use for him today."
Neil nodded, his hand coming to rest on the hilt of his blade in a silent, unmistakable threat. "As you wish, Your Majesty," he said, his voice low and filled with a quiet, deadly intensity.
The Marquis's eyes widened, his face draining of color as he realized the true depth of his predicament. He opened his mouth to protest, to beg for mercy or plead for understanding. But before he could speak, Neil's hand clamped down on his shoulder, his fingers digging into the flesh with a sudden, vicious force.
"Come along, Marquis," he said, his voice low and filled with a quiet, unyielding authority. "It's time for you to leave."
The Marquis's shoulders slumped, his head bowing in defeat as he allowed himself to be led from the room, his steps heavy and shuffling, his eyes fixed upon the ground in a gesture of submission and despair.
As the door swung shut behind them, Historia let out a long, shuddering sigh, her hands coming up to rub at her temples in a gesture of weariness and frustration. Nanaba reached out, her hand coming to rest on Historia's arm in a silent, comforting gesture.
....
The Marquis slipped into the dimly lit hovel, his face a mask of frustration and barely concealed anger. The room was small and cramped, the air thick with the scent of sweat and stale tobacco. In the corner, hunched over a rickety table, sat Thomas, the young farmer who had once served as Historia's loyal aide and confidant.
The Marquis strode over to him, his eyes flashing with impatience. "You need to step up your game, boy," he growled, his voice low and menacing. "The Queen is slipping further away from us with each passing day, and it's all because of your inability to capture her heart."
Thomas looked up at him, his expression a mixture of fear and defiance. "I'm trying, my lord," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "But the Queen is not an easy woman to win over. She is strong-willed and independent, and she has always been wary of those who seek to influence her."
The Marquis slammed his fist down on the table, causing Thomas to flinch. "I don't want to hear excuses," he snarled, his face twisting with rage. "I want results. You need to find a way to get close to her, to make her trust you, to make her believe that you are the only one who truly understands her."
He leaned in closer, his eyes boring into Thomas's with a fierce intensity. "And you need to do it quickly," he added, his voice dropping to a whisper. "The Queen's dogs are sniffing around, looking for any sign of weakness or disloyalty. If they catch wind of our plan, it will be the end of us all."
Thomas swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew the risks, knew the danger that he was putting himself in by aligning with the Marquis and his schemes. But he also knew that this was his one chance to fulfill the dream that had haunted him since childhood - the dream of winning Historia's heart and claiming his place by her side.
"I understand, my lord," he said, his voice steady with resolve. "I will do whatever it takes to win the Queen's favor, to make her see me as the only one who can truly be there for her."
The Marquis nodded, a small, satisfied smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Good," he said, his voice filled with a quiet, menacing approval. "And remember, boy - you have a powerful ally in me. As long as you do as I say, as long as you play your part in this game, I will make sure that you are richly rewarded."
He turned to go, his cloak swirling around him like a dark, ominous cloud. But before he reached the door, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder with a look of cruel amusement.
"Oh, and one more thing," he said, his voice dripping with malice. "If you fail, if the Queen discovers our plot and turns against us... well, let's just say that the consequences will be far more severe than a few childhood stones thrown in anger."
With that, he was gone, leaving Thomas alone in the flickering candlelight, his mind racing with a thousand fears and doubts. He knew that he was playing a dangerous game, that he was risking everything for the chance to be with the woman he loved. But he also knew that he had no choice, that this was the only path left to him.
He closed his eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath as he tried to steady his nerves. And then, with a fierce, determined resolve, he rose to his feet, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, ready to fight for the future he had always dreamed of.
Historia paced back and forth in her study, her brow furrowed with a mixture of worry and annoyance. It had been weeks since Aaron had left for the frontlines, and she had heard nothing from him since. No letters, no reports, not even a brief message to let her know he was alright.
She understood the demands of his position, the weight of the responsibilities that rested on his shoulders. But still, a part of her couldn't help but feel a flicker of resentment, a sense that he was putting his duty before their relationship, before the love they had fought so hard to build.
With a sigh of frustration, she turned to Neil, who stood at attention near the door, his face a mask of stoic professionalism. "I need to go to him," she said, her voice flat and matter-of-fact. "He's been gone too long, and I need to make sure he's not doing anything stupid out there."
Neil raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. "With all due respect, Your Majesty," he said, his voice carefully neutral, "I'm not sure it's wise for you to leave the capital right now. There are too many threats, too many enemies who would love to see you fall."
Historia waved a hand dismissively, her expression hardening with determination. "I can handle myself," she said, her voice brooking no argument. "And besides, if I know Aaron, he's probably off somewhere trying to be a hero, putting himself in danger without a thought for the consequences."
She turned to one of the servants who hovered nearby, her voice crisp and commanding. "Prepare a carriage," she said, her tone leaving no room for debate. "I'm going to the front, and I'm bringing that idiot back before he gets himself killed."
Neil opened his mouth to protest, but Historia silenced him with a look. "I know the risks, Neil," she said, her voice softening slightly. "But I also know that I can't just sit here and do nothing while he's out there putting his life on the line. He's my partner, my equal, and I won't let him face this alone."
With that, she strode out of the room, her skirts swishing around her ankles as she made her way down the long, winding hallways of the palace. She could hear Neil's footsteps behind her, could sense his unease and concern. But she pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the task at hand.
As she climbed into the carriage, settling herself against the plush velvet cushions, she felt a flicker of uncertainty, a momentary doubt that perhaps she was making a mistake. But then she thought of Aaron, of his infuriating smirk and his unwavering loyalty, and she felt her resolve harden once more.
She would find him, would drag him back to the capital if she had to. And then she would give him a piece of her mind, would remind him that he had a responsibility not just to the kingdom, but to her as well.
....
The sun was high in the sky, its warm rays bathing the small group of soldiers in a golden glow as they lounged on the soft grass, their faces turned up to the sky in a rare moment of peace and relaxation.
Eren lay stretched out on his back, his arms folded behind his head as he stared up at the fluffy white clouds that drifted lazily overhead. Beside him, Mikasa sat cross-legged, her dark eyes fixed on some distant point on the horizon, her expression pensive and thoughtful.
Armin sat nearby, his nose buried in a book as usual, his blond hair ruffling gently in the warm breeze. Jean and Connie were engaged in a friendly game of cards, their laughter and good-natured ribbing filling the air with a sense of camaraderie and ease.
Sasha, meanwhile, was busy munching on a piece of bread, her eyes closed in blissful contentment as she savored every bite. And there, lounging against a tree with his legs stretched out in front of him, was Aaron, his emerald eyes half-closed as he basked in the warm sunlight.
It was a rare moment of peace, a brief respite from the constant danger and uncertainty that had become their daily reality. But even as they enjoyed the simple pleasures of friendship and relaxation, a flicker of unease passed through the group, a sense that they should be doing something more, something important.
"Shouldn't we be training or something?" Eren asked, his brow furrowing slightly as he sat up, his gaze drifting to Aaron. "I mean, we can't just sit around all day, can we?"
Aaron shrugged, a lazy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Relax, Eren," he said, his voice low and languid. "We've got nothing to do until the next fleet from Marley shows up. Might as well enjoy the downtime while we can."
Connie looked up from his cards, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Speaking of downtime," he said, his voice filled with a teasing lilt, "when's the big day, Aaron? You and Historia tying the knot anytime soon?"
Aaron's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of realization passing over his face. "Shit," he muttered, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. "I forgot to send her a letter. Or my sister. Or anyone, really."
Jean let out a bark of laughter, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "Looks like someone's got you on a tight leash, huh Aaron?" he said, his voice filled with a good-natured mockery. "Can't even go a few weeks without checking in with the missus."
Aaron's eyes narrowed, a flicker of annoyance passing over his face. "Watch it, Kirstein," he growled, his voice low and threatening. "I'll have you know that I'm the one who wears the pants in this relationship. Historia knows who's boss."
Suddenly, a sharp tug on his ear made him yelp in surprise, his head whipping around to find himself face to face with a very unamused looking Historia. "Is that so?" she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like someone's been slacking off on his husbandly duties."
Aaron's face paled slightly, his eyes widening with a mixture of fear and embarrassment. "Historia!" he said, his voice high and slightly panicked. "What are you doing here? I thought you were in the palace!"
Historia released his ear, her arms crossing over her chest as she fixed him with a stern glare. "I was," she said, her voice flat and unamused. "Until I realized that my dear fiancé hadn't sent a single letter in weeks. I had to come all the way out here just to make sure you weren't dead in a ditch somewhere."
Jean smirked, his eyes twinkling with barely suppressed laughter. "Don't worry, Your Majesty," he said, his voice filled with a mocking sweetness. "He's just been lounging around, soaking up the sun like a lazy cat. Hasn't lifted a finger in days."
Historia sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly as she rubbed at her temples. "Well, since I'm here now, I might as well stay the night," she said, her voice tired and resigned. "It was a long journey, and I could use some rest."
Aaron's eyes widened, a flicker of concern passing over his face. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" he said, his voice low and urgent. "It's not exactly safe out here, Historia. There could be Titans lurking around every corner."
But before Historia could respond, Neil appeared at her side, his face a mask of stoic professionalism. "The royal tent has been set up, Your Majesty," he said, his voice crisp and efficient. "You'll be quite comfortable, I assure you."
Aaron's eyes narrowed, a flicker of betrayal passing over his face. "Neil, you traitor," he growled, his voice low and accusing. "I thought you were on my side."
Neil raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "I serve the crown, Captain," he said, his voice flat and unapologetic. "And right now, the crown wants a soft bed and a warm meal."
Nanaba appeared at Historia's other side, her face a mask of loyal devotion. "The Queen's word is law, Aaron," she said, her voice filled with a quiet conviction. "You know that better than anyone."
Aaron's shoulders slumped, a look of resignation passing over his face. "Et tu, Nanaba?" he said, his voice filled with a weary defeat.
Mikasa looked up from her contemplation of the horizon, her dark eyes fixed on Aaron with a cool, appraising gaze. "He deserves it," she said, her voice flat and matter-of-fact. "He's been slacking off for too long."
Eren looked over at her, his brow furrowing slightly in confusion. "Hey, Mikasa," he said, his voice filled with a sudden curiosity. "Why do you hate Aaron so much, anyway? I mean, I know he can be a bit of a jerk sometimes, but still..."
Mikasa's eyes narrowed, a flicker of old anger passing over her face. "I still haven't forgiven him for hitting Armin all those years ago," she said, her voice low and filled with a quiet intensity. "He had no right to lay a hand on him, no matter what he thought he was doing."
Armin looked up from his book, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I'd actually forgotten all about that," he said, his voice filled with a gentle amusement. "It was so long ago, and we were all just kids back then."
Aaron rubbed at the back of his neck, a flicker of embarrassment passing over his face. "Yeah, sorry about that," he said, his voice low and apologetic. "I really did think you were a thief or something. Guess I was just a bit too eager to play the hero."
Connie snickered, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "A thief of what, blankets?" he said, his voice filled with a teasing lilt. "I didn't know Armin had such a dark criminal past."
Historia sighed, her hand coming up to rub at her temples once more. "Come on, Aaron," she said, her voice tired and resigned. "Let's just go to the tent. I'm exhausted, and I don't have the energy to deal with your antics right now."
Aaron's eyes widened, a flicker of panic passing over his face. "Actually, I just remembered," he said, his voice high and slightly strained. "I promised Eren I'd teach him some new boxing moves tonight. Isn't that right, Eren?"
He shot Eren a meaningful look, his eyes wide and pleading. Eren blinked, a look of confusion passing over his face. "You did?" he said, his voice uncertain.
Aaron nodded vigorously, his hand coming up to clap Eren on the shoulder. "Of course I did," he said, his voice filled with a forced cheerfulness. "And you know what they say, a promise is a promise."
He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a low, urgent whisper. "Play along, Jaeger," he hissed, his eyes flashing with a desperate intensity. "Or you're a dead man walking."
Eren swallowed hard, his eyes widening with a sudden understanding. "Oh, right," he said, his voice high and slightly panicked. "I totally forgot about that. Thanks for reminding me, Aaron."
Mikasa's eyes narrowed, a flicker of suspicion passing over her face. "I'll join you," she said, her voice low and filled with a quiet determination. "I could use some hand-to-hand practice myself."
Aaron's face paled, his eyes widening with a sudden, overwhelming fear. "No way," he said, his voice high and slightly hysterical. "You use full strength even when you're just training. I'd like to keep all my teeth, thank you very much."
Historia sighed, her shoulders slumping with a weary resignation. "Fine," she said, her voice flat and unamused. "Go play with your little friends. But don't think this gets you off the hook, Aaron. We're going to have a long talk about communication and responsibility when you get back."
Aaron nodded vigorously, his hand coming up in a mock salute. "Yes, ma'am," he said, his voice filled with a forced cheerfulness. "I'll be sure to pencil that in right after 'avoid getting eaten by Titans' and 'save the world from certain doom.'"
Historia rolled her eyes, her hand coming up to rub at her temples once more. "Why do I put up with you?" she muttered, her voice low and filled with a fond exasperation.
Aaron grinned, his eyes twinkling with a sudden, irrepressible mischief. "Because you love me, obviously," he said, his voice filled with a cocky assurance. "I'm the roguish, dashing hero who swept you off your feet and stole your heart away."
Historia snorted, her lips twitching with a hint of a smile despite herself. "More like the arrogant, pigheaded fool who doesn't know when to quit," she said, her voice filled with a teasing lilt. "But I suppose even fools have their charms."
She turned to Neil and Nanaba, her expression growing serious once more. "Make sure he doesn't do anything too stupid," she said, her voice low and filled with a quiet intensity. "I don't want to have to come back out here and drag his sorry ass home in a body bag."
Neil and Nanaba nodded, their faces set with a grim determination. "We'll keep an eye on him, Your Majesty," Neil said, his voice crisp and efficient. "You have our word."
Historia nodded, a small, tired smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Thank you," she said, her voice filled with a quiet gratitude. "I know I can always count on you two to keep things running smoothly."
With that, she turned and made her way towards the royal tent, her skirts swishing gently around her ankles as she walked. Aaron watched her go, his heart swelling with a sudden, overwhelming love and devotion.
Eren hit the sand with a heavy thud, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore a distant backdrop to the ringing in his ears. He brought a hand up to his face, wincing as he felt the warm, sticky flow of blood from his nose.
"I think you broke it," he said, his voice muffled and slightly nasal.
Aaron extended a hand, his expression a mix of apology and amusement. "Sorry about that," he said, his voice sincere despite the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Guess I don't know my own strength sometimes."
Eren took the offered hand, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. He swayed slightly, his head still spinning from the force of the blow.
Suddenly, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows, her dark eyes flashing with a fierce, determined light. Mikasa strode forward, her steps purposeful and deliberate as she made her way towards Aaron.
"My turn," she said, her voice low and filled with a quiet intensity.
Aaron raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of surprise and wariness. "You sure about that?" he asked, his voice carefully neutral.
Mikasa nodded, her gaze never leaving his. "I'm going to do to you what you did to Eren," she said, her voice filled with a cold, unwavering conviction.
Aaron sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly in resignation. "Alright then," he said, his voice weary but resigned. "Any rules I should know about?"
Mikasa's lips twitched, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Anything goes," she said, her voice low and filled with a quiet, deadly intensity.
Aaron's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise passing over his face. "That's not exactly training then, is it?" he said, his voice filled with a hint of amusement.
But Mikasa was already moving, her body shifting into a fighting stance with a fluid, practiced ease. Aaron sighed once more, his own body tensing as he prepared for the inevitable onslaught.
From the sidelines, Jean and Connie watched with wide, eager eyes, their faces alight with excitement and anticipation.
"Oh man," Jean said, his voice filled with a breathless, giddy energy. "Mustang vs. Mikasa. I never thought I'd live to see the day."
Connie nodded, his own expression one of barely contained glee. "I was hoping for a Mustang vs. Captain Levi match myself," he said, his voice filled with a hint of disappointment. "But I guess this'll have to do."
He turned to Jean, his eyes gleaming with a sudden, mischievous light. "Who do you think's gonna win?" he asked, his voice filled with a teasing, playful lilt.
Jean scoffed, his expression one of confident assurance. "Mikasa, obviously," he said, his voice filled with a hint of scorn. "She's the best fighter in the whole Corps, hands down."
Connie's grin widened, his eyes flashing with a sudden, reckless excitement. "Wanna bet?" he said, his voice low and filled with a daring, mischievous energy. "I'll put my entire month's salary on Mustang."
Jean's eyes widened, a flicker of surprise passing over his face. But then his expression hardened, a hint of a challenge glinting in his eyes. "You're on," he said, his voice low and filled with a quiet, determined intensity. "Hope you're ready to go hungry, Springer."
They shook hands, their grips firm and unyielding as they sealed the bet. From a distance, Neil and Nanaba watched the scene unfold, their expressions a mix of amusement and exasperation.
"It's obvious who's going to win, isn't it?" Neil said, his voice low and filled with a hint of scorn.
But Nanaba's expression was pensive, her brow furrowed in thought. "I'm not so sure," she said, her voice low and filled with a quiet, contemplative intensity. "The Captain... he doesn't hit women."
Neil's eyes widened, a flicker of surprise passing over his face. "Seriously?" he said, his voice filled with a hint of disbelief. "You think Mustang's going to go easy on her just because she's a girl?"
Nanaba shrugged, her expression unreadable. "I guess we'll find out," she said, her voice low and filled with a quiet, enigmatic intensity.
Back on the beach, the fight had begun in earnest, with Mikasa launching herself at Aaron in a flurry of kicks and punches. Aaron dodged and weaved, his movements fluid and graceful as he avoided her blows with an almost effortless ease.
Connie groaned, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "Come on, Mustang!" he yelled, his voice filled with a desperate, pleading energy. "Hit her already!"
But Aaron seemed content to play defense, his focus entirely on avoiding Mikasa's relentless onslaught. She pressed forward, her eyes flashing with a fierce, determined light as she sought to break through his defenses.
Suddenly, Aaron saw an opening, his hand darting out to grab Mikasa's arm as she overextended on a punch. With a quick, fluid motion, he twisted her arm behind her back, using her own momentum to send her tumbling to the ground.
"I win," he said, his voice low and filled with a quiet, satisfied intensity.
Mikasa pushed herself to her feet, her face flushed with anger and humiliation. She clicked her tongue in annoyance, her eyes flashing with a fierce, frustrated light as she turned and stalked away.
Armin watched her go, his expression one of quiet, contemplative concern. "She really does hate Aaron, doesn't she?" he said, his voice low and filled with a hint of sadness.
Eren shrugged, his expression one of resigned acceptance. "And they said he was popular with the girls," he said, his voice filled with a hint of irony.
Suddenly, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows, his short, wiry frame moving with a fluid, catlike grace. Levi strode forward, his steel-grey eyes fixed on Aaron with a cold, appraising intensity.
"How about a sparring match with me, brat?" he said, his voice low and filled with a quiet, deadly intensity.
Aaron grinned, his eyes flashing with a sudden, reckless excitement. "What's the matter, old man?" he said, his voice filled with a teasing, mocking lilt. "Looking to retire early?"
Levi's expression hardened, his body shifting into a fighting stance with a fluid, practiced ease. Aaron mirrored his movements, his own body tensing as he prepared for the inevitable onslaught.
Levi struck first, his leg lashing out in a lightning-fast kick that would have taken a lesser fighter's head off. But Aaron was ready, his arm coming up to block the blow with a solid, meaty thud.
The force of the impact was staggering, the sheer power behind Levi's kick enough to make even Aaron's iron-hard muscles tremble with the strain. But he held firm, his eyes narrowing with a fierce, determined light as he absorbed the blow and prepared his counterattack.
Aaron's fist lashed out, a blur of speed and power that would have knocked a normal man senseless. But Levi was no normal man, his arms coming up to block the blow with a fluid, practiced ease.
The impact sent him skidding backwards, his feet leaving furrows in the sand as he struggled to maintain his balance. "Tch," he muttered, his voice low and filled with a hint of grudging respect.
Suddenly, Neil appeared between them, his expression one of stern, unyielding authority. "That's enough," he said, his voice low and filled with a quiet, commanding intensity. "I don't want the Queen yelling at me for delivering Mustang to her with a black eye."
Aaron grinned, his eyes flashing with a sudden, mischievous light. "Fair enough," he said, his voice filled with a teasing, playful lilt. "But Levi would have ended up toothless if we'd kept going."
Levi's eyes narrowed, his expression one of cold, unyielding intensity. But before he could respond, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows, her blonde hair shining like spun gold in the fading light.
Historia strode forward, her expression one of quiet, regal authority as she surveyed the scene before her. "What's going on here?" she asked, her voice low and filled with a hint of concern.
Aaron's grin widened, his eyes flashing with a sudden, mischievous light. "Just a little friendly sparring, Your Majesty," he said, his voice filled with a teasing, playful lilt. "Gotta keep our skills sharp, after all."
Historia's eyes narrowed, her expression one of quiet, thoughtful contemplation. "I see," she said, her voice low and filled with a hint of skepticism. "And you thought the best way to do that was by beating each other senseless?"
Aaron shrugged, his expression one of nonchalant indifference. "It's how we show affection in the military," he said, his voice filled with a hint of irony. "Gotta keep each other on our toes, you know?"
Historia sighed, her hand coming up to rub at her temples in a gesture of quiet, resigned exasperation. "Honestly, Aaron," she said, her voice low and filled with a hint of fond annoyance. "What am I going to do with you?"
Aaron's grin widened, his eyes flashing with a sudden, mischievous light. "Love me, obviously," he said, his voice filled with a teasing, playful lilt. "I am your dashing, roguish fiancé, after all."
Historia rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth despite herself. "More like my pigheaded, reckless fool of a fiancé," she said, her voice filled with a hint of fond exasperation. "But I suppose even fools have their charms."
She turned to Neil and Nanaba, her expression growing serious once more. "Make sure he doesn't do anything too stupid while I'm gone," she said, her voice low and filled with a quiet, commanding intensity. "I have enough to worry about without him getting himself killed in some ridiculous sparring match."
Neil and Nanaba nodded, their expressions ones of grim, unyielding determination. "We'll keep an eye on him, Your Majesty," Neil said, his voice low and filled with a quiet, reassuring intensity. "You have our word."
Historia nodded, a small, tired smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Thank you," she said, her voice low and filled with a quiet, heartfelt gratitude. "I don't know what I'd do without you two."
With that, she turned and made her way back towards the camp, her steps slow and measured as she picked her way across the sand. Aaron watched her go, his expression one of quiet, contemplative affection.
Aaron turns to Levi, smiling he says "Shall we continue?"