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She has Eren’s eyes.
That’s the first thing Historia notes about their perfect, perfect daughter.
She cradles the infant in her arms, speechless with wonder.
Eren is right beside her, but, for a moment, he doesn’t exist.
She has eyes only for her daughter.
“She’s perfect,” she breathes, afraid to speak any louder lest she shatter this illusion.
Could this be real? This happiness? After everything?
She’s afraid to let herself accept it.
Eren’s grip on her shoulder flexes as he wrestles with his emotions, bringing him back to her thoughts.
She knows him well enough to guess that he’s struggling with the same thing she is.
She can’t think of the right words to reassure him.