Work Text:
My biggest regret is that I never married you.
Are any words more painful?
Ymir’s letter rips open a wound that hasn’t finished healing and it leaves Historia raw and bleeding.
She reads it again, until the words start to bleed.
“So why didn’t you?” she whispers. “Why didn’t you stay?” Carefully, reverently, she folds it again even though all she wants to do is let her fingers trail over the ink, to smooth the parchment in her hands, to touch what Ymir has touched, to memorize every word that was written for her. “You always had to care so much.”
Too much.
Never enough for herself. Not enough for Historia.
If she wouldn’t stay for herself, then she should have stayed for her.