At night, inside the royal mansion.
Historia and Mikasa walked through the garden after dinner.
"So you're getting married... Mikasa, do you already have a date?"
"Yes, Eren and I are only one month apart in our birthdays. We plan to register our marriage next March, when we both turn sixteen."
"Congratulations." Historia took Mikasa's hand. "Mikasa and Eren have known each other since childhood, right? The two of you have a very good relationship."
"Eren only has eight years left," Mikasa said softly. "No matter what happens during those eight years, I want to spend them with him, so... I won't back down."
"I envy you a little." Historia pursed her lips, remembering her engagement with Gale, which had never truly led anywhere. "That's wonderful."
"Your wedding still doesn't have a date?" Mikasa blinked in curiosity.
"No. Being a queen and facing a critical situation, it's not appropriate for me to get married at all." Historia smiled sweetly and said, "I suppose I'll get married when there's no longer any risk of war."
"At least the two of you still have a long life ahead of you. It won't be too late to marry a few years from now," Mikasa said, remembering that Eren's life would not be very long.
"I understand that very well…" Historia knew about the hardships faced by the inheritors of Titan powers.
"You still have plenty of time." Mikasa somewhat understood Historia's feelings and added, "But you can speed things up. No one and nothing would stand in the way of you or Gale. Both of you have given so much to our nation."
"Mikasa, you'll soon be a married woman, yet you're surprisingly innocent." Historia caressed Mikasa's cheek.
"What do you mean? Weren't we talking about you?" Mikasa's lips pouted slightly as Historia touched them.
"Let's not talk about that. Speaking of which, Mikasa, you're getting married soon and you still don't know how to dress yourself. That's not feminine at all. Come to my room, I'll help you get ready."
Historia led Mikasa to her room and made her sit in front of the mirror.
The bright lights illuminated Mikasa's face, making her a little nervous.
She had never paid much attention to her appearance; she simply wore the first thing she found.
Besides, military training required uniforms.
Historia opened her wardrobe, revealing a dazzling variety of dresses, from elaborate gowns to simple dresses.
Being a queen was not easy; hairstyles, clothing, etiquette, expressions—every detail had to be perfect.
On another battlefield, she was an experienced warrior.
After a quick glance, she selected several dresses that matched Mikasa's style.
However, these clothes had been tailor-made for her figure; she was a petite girl, and the sizes were not entirely suitable for Mikasa, who had received military training. They were too small.
So she began taking apart the outfits, eventually choosing a short-sleeved wool blouse and a cream-colored midi skirt that did not even reach Mikasa's knees.
Originally a long skirt, it became a short skirt on Mikasa.
A simple short-sleeved blouse and a midi skirt: a youthful outfit.
Mikasa was already beautiful, and overly elaborate clothing would only overshadow her.
"What do you think?" Historia asked, placing her hand on Mikasa's shoulder.
Mikasa blushed slightly as she looked at herself in the mirror.
Now she truly looked like a young woman.
Historia, an expert in image management, had carefully dressed her, giving her a pure and innocent appearance, with a soft ponytail falling down her back: the embodiment of first love.
Mikasa touched her delicate embroidered hat, stood up, adjusted her skirt, and looked left and right, feeling as though she no longer recognized herself.
"Mikasa, you're a natural beauty."
Afterward, Historia led the elegant Mikasa in front of Eren, who was speaking with Gale.
Eren was completely stunned.
"How do I look, Eren?" Mikasa asked sweetly while playing with her skirt. "It doesn't suit me, right? I'll change back into my usual clothes."
Eren stood there in shock, not knowing what to say.
Historia kicked Eren in the shin, and he finally reacted.
"You look beautiful, Mikasa!"
"Really?" Mikasa looked into Eren's eyes, her face flushed like the evening sunset.
Eren, however, did not dare look at her directly. His throat went dry as he frantically scratched his head.
"Hey, do you two really look like you're about to get married?" Historia could not take it anymore and shouted, "Do you even know how babies are born?"
"What are you talking about?!" Eren stammered with a confused expression. "Well, that kind of thing, of course I know! It's just that... it's just that…"
"Stop, stop, stop!" Historia raised her hand. "Don't tell me those things, seriously. If you want to investigate how babies are born, do it yourselves. I'm leaving."
"Historia, your clothes…" Mikasa reached out her hand.
"They're yours. You finally have a few days off, so when you go out, don't wear those outdated pants and jacket." Historia waved her hand and left without looking back.
Mikasa hesitated for a moment before saying, "I think I should return the clothes. This outfit must be very expensive."
"Wait, Mikasa." Eren grabbed Mikasa's wrist, his expression serious. "Let's go for a walk first. There's something I want to tell you."
"What?" Mikasa tilted her head expressionlessly.
Eren placed a hand on his chest and took a deep breath. "Damn it, that was too much."
In reality, he had nothing to say; he simply wanted to see Mikasa wearing a skirt again.
Eren's brain, which only operated at level three, worked at lightning speed. Finally, he opened and closed his mouth before blurting out words that even surprised him:
"About having children."
Mikasa understood what he meant and immediately lowered her head.
She said nothing, but rested her little head against Eren's chest, replying in a voice only he could hear:
"Mmm…"
Eren trembled, feeling warmth in his nose, and quickly covered it, using his Titan powers to evaporate the blood.
Holding his future wife in his arms, feeling her warmth, a sensation overwhelmed him—the feeling that dying there today would be worth it.
Historia hesitated at the door; the headache had returned.
She did not know why, it only happened once or twice a day.
After the headache eased, she stood on tiptoe and knocked on the door.
"Gale, are you still busy?"
Footsteps could be heard from inside, and the door opened with a creak.
Historia had to look up at Gale, who appeared quite exhausted.
She looked at his calloused hands and held out the box of pastries she was carrying.
"Uhm… These are cookies I baked myself. It's very late, are you hungry? Do you want some?"
"Thank you." Gale smiled at her and took the box. "Historia, you should go to sleep. I still have work to do."
"I can't sleep." Historia shook her head. "Is there anything I can do? Let me help you."