Work Text:
The child is growing.
Historia feels them now, some days, and she passes her hand over her womb, heart swelling with an abundance of maternal affection for this child she has never met, yet feels like she knows so intimately.
It’s the days like these that she thinks of her own mother, of her own loveless childhood, and she wonders how any of it was possible.
Sometimes, these days are enough to fill her with dread.
If her mother had been capable of treating her own child with such callousness, then isn’t she?
What if her child is born and, inexplicably, she doesn’t love them? What then?
“You won’t,” Eren tells her and there’s so much certainty there, that it’s impossible not to trust him. “You’re going to be an amazing mom.”
The fear doesn’t go away. It never does, lying dormant in the back of her mind, but she has hope.
Hope that they can make a better world, that they can end the persecution and extermination of Eldians for good.
And hope that her child can have what she didn’t.
A home and parents who love them.