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One would think that being the Princess of Marley would mean Ymir could do whatever she so pleased, but that wasn’t the case. Unlike a lot of the rulers before her, somewhat including her parents, Ymir actually cared about the people that lived in her country. The King and Queen weren’t bad leaders by any means, but they were of the old generation. Their views were outdated.
Ymir wasn’t even part of the royal bloodline. She’d been adopted very young because the King was infertile and the Queen refused to sire an heir with anyone else. So, they’d found Ymir off the streets of the poverty stricken lower class area of Marley, and made her their heir.
To say that had been a near political disaster was an understatement. But, over time, the council accepted the decision and Ymir was left alone. She only had vague memories of when she’d been on the streets, and was so grateful that her parents had taken her when they did.
Her life had changed so drastically. Perhaps it was with that insight that Ymir was as compassionate as she was. The power and the money, it didn’t matter to her personally. She spent a lot of time in the poorer areas, trying to come up with programs she could fund to uplift the struggling communities. She suggested things such as heavily taxing the high nobles, who of course fought her tooth and nail. But Ymir had her parents backing her up, and they overruled the snobby rich to implement the taxation.
That, and with multiple other laws and programs, Ymir was making a real difference in the lives of Marley citizens. It was exhausting, though.
It was a really hot, stuffy Monday morning and Ymir left the council chamber with the veins at her temples throbbing. She had a bit of a temper problem, but she was working on it. Sometimes she hated that they had to involve the council in every single law and decision—the monarchy was not a single power, they were constitutional. While in special circumstances they could exercise complete power, most times they could not.
This was to protect the system from corrupted individuals. Except, lots of the council members were corrupt themselves. They accepted bribes from big corporations to allow for deforestation and oil dumping in their oceans. Not too long ago, they’d nearly had a goddamn war on their hands when the council pushed for an invasion into Paradis for their resources.
God, Ymir’d had to scramble to meet with Paradis leadership and form some sort of trade agreement. Just as the council had been ready to send a military force, Ymir had strode in with signed contracts and shut them all up.
All of that was to say, Ymir’s job was difficult. Her parents were old, and they left most of the ruling to her. Ymir had just recently turned 25, but she’d been involved in the Kingdom since she was 12. She knew what she was doing.
Ymir sighed heavily as she entered her room, loosening the tie around her throat and undoing the buttons of her shirt. She gleefully untucked the shirt too, and kicked her dress shoes off. She was glad that the old traditions had been disposed of—she would not have taken well to wearing those stuffy, tight formal dresses.
Her head throbbed and it was terribly hot. Ymir went over to her kitchenette area and grabbed a bottled water from the fridge. She went over to the AC panel and set the temperature to cold, sighing in relief as cool air immediately washed down into her room, making her skin prickle pleasantly.
With yet another annoyed sigh, Ymir plopped down onto her couch and pulled her phone out. Her room wasn’t just a room, but a large suite. She had all the facilities she would need on her floor—her room, a very large bathroom, a kitchen area, a personal gym, an office, a small library and of course, her entertainment room.
Ymir lived in luxury, she did, but she made sure to earn it.
She was deep scrolling on one of her favourite brainrot social media sites when Ymir heard the distinct sound of someone saying “ouch” right outside her window. Mildly concerned, she put her phone away and walked out onto her balcony. Right below she spotted someone crouched down, cradling their hand. Upon closer inspection, she realized it was a woman. One of the castle gardeners.
Ymir had seen this woman a few times, but never really paid much attention to her. She always respected her staff, but she always had so much going on and so much on her mind that it wasn’t always easy to remember each and every name and face. This face was new, she knew that much.
“Damnit,” the woman cursed and stuck her thumb into her mouth, sucking off the blood. When it was gone, she scrunched her nose cutely in disgust, then returned to snipping the roses. Ymir found herself grinning.
“You know, a pair of gloves would prevent getting hurt by those thorns.”
The woman startled, glancing up at Ymir on her balcony. Ymir was struck by the most beautiful blue eyes she’d ever seen. This woman was beautiful. Now, Ymir had nerves of steel. She didn’t get tongue tied often, certainly not by pretty women. She was an out and proud lesbian—in fact, so out and proud that in Marley, sexuality wasn’t even questioned anymore. Ymir was still the topic of many gossip sites and magazines though. Women often threw themselves at her, so Ymir kept her heart under careful lock and key. Her body, too.
She was in too high a position to carelessly sleep around, and she didn’t trust those around her to not seek her out for personal gain. In her entire life, Ymir only had a small handful of real, meaningful relationships. They’d all failed, of course, because Ymir would always choose the kingdom first.
She’d been single for years and hadn’t even thought about another woman like that in just as long.
So her heart gave a hard, heavy skip when those eyes locked with hers, and Ymir felt herself flushing deeply. The woman quickly dropped her face, her own cheeks darkening.
“My apologies, Your Highness.”
Ymir snorted loudly. “Oh god, please just call me Ymir.”
At that, the woman blinked up at her once more. “But, you’re the crown Princess.”
Ymir leaned on the balcony railing, grinning. “So I have the power to bestow upon you the privilege to just call me by my name. Take it.”
The woman didn’t seem all too pleased by that, which Ymir found adorable.
“Okay, Ymir. That’s an honour I don’t deserve, thank you.”
Ymir frowned. “Who says you don’t deserve it?” she asked. “You work really hard in the gardens. Plus, we’re both just people.”
Blue eyes widened. “You know of me?”
“I noticed you, yeah. What’s your name?”
“Oh! My apologies Your—uh, Ymir. My name is Historia.” She bowed her head slightly, hands folded neatly on her lap. She was smeared in dirt even up to her cheeks, but she was still somehow more proper and formal than Ymir would ever be. “Historia Reiss.”
Ymir was the one to blink then. “Wait, Reiss?”
Historia nervously scratched her cheek, getting more soil on there. “Yes. I’m the bastard daughter of Rodrick.”
Ymir frowned deeply. “Marley does not believe in that barbaric bastard title.”
“I know, that’s why I decided to move here.”
Had Ymir herself not made peaceful treaties with Paradis, she would have worried Historia was here as a spy. But the castle would not have hired her if there was even a suspicion of it, so Ymir allowed herself to relax.
“Did you grow up under the crown?” she asked.
Historia went back to tending to the roses, carefully snipping them with a pear of gardening sheers. “No,” she answered. “I grew up on a farm with my mother. She was a prostitute and got pregnant with me on purpose, thinking it would grant her favour with the king. It didn’t.”
Ymir rested her chin against her palm, elbow on the balcony. This was some juicy drama she never knew existed. “And you’re just not recognized under the Reiss bloodline?”
“I was allowed to take the name, but I have no claim to the crown or its assets. I’m basically just a normal citizen. Unless something were to happen to the entire Reiss family.” Her nose wrinkled again. “Goddess forbid. I’d hate to have to become Queen.”
Fascinating. Ymir was bubbling with so many more questions, but she was keeping Historia from her work, and she knew this feeling in her chest, in her stomach. It was attraction. She could allow herself to find a girl pretty, to admire her deep blue eyes and the soft curve of her smile, but that was where it had to end. Getting to know Historia was dangerous.
Ymir could sense that this woman would draw her in whether either of them wanted it or not. So, she made the smart decision to step away.
“Well, thank you for the gossip, Historia. I’ll leave you to it. Careful with the thorns.” Ymir winked after that, not able to resist. Historia just blushed again, and Ymir was left thinking about that last look on her face for the rest of the day.
Even long after the princess disappeared off her balcony and into her room, Historia’s heart was still racing. She couldn’t believe she had just spoken with Her Highness, or that she’d been granted the privilege of using her first name. Back in Paradis, that would not have been permitted.
Historia had to try very hard to focus on trimming the roses. Her mind kept straying back to thinking of Ymir. Goddess, she was so lovely. All of the palace staff gossiped about her—good things, of course. All of the young women lusted after her terribly and they weren’t shy to talk about how attractive she was when they all dined together in the staff cafeteria. Historia stayed out of that, too embarrassed to partake.
Because in all honesty, she didn’t think anyone there was as down bad for their princess as she was. Back in Paradis, Historia had become obsessed with Ymir. Just something about her made Historia’s heart ache in her chest. She kept posters of her on the walls and consumed every bit of media on her she could. When the job position for grounds keeper opened up, Historia applied without hesitation. She was still shocked that she’d been hired.
She had only been there for a couple months and in that time, had only spotted Ymir a few times. In all those times, though, Ymir must have noticed her, too.
Did Ymir know that she had dimples? That her freckles darkened under the sun? That her eyes went from brown to almost liquid gold when under the sunlight?
Historia packed up her gardening equipment, mind racing with inappropriate thoughts, and hurried to the staff area of the castle. She got her things packed away, then returned to her room. Even after a lovely, long shower, she could not get Ymir out of her mind.
It was wrong of her, she knew this. She worked for the crown, not to mention she was related to the king of Paradis. They could never be something, even if she was delusional enough to hope. Maybe if she played her cards right, they could be friends. Ymir had asked her a bunch of questions and Historia had been happy to answer even if she’d been a bit flustered.
Inside her cupboard she’d stuck a poster of Ymir, and it was there she stood, blushing. The poster was old. Ripped in several places and creased from a lot of moving. Ymir had been 18, photographed at an event. She had her short hair slicked back, her smile wide and cocky for the paparazzi. Her dress shirt—deep red—had been opened, revealing her freckled collarbones. Historia had frothed at the mouth when she saw this poster in one of the gossip magazines.
If anyone here ever found this poster, she would be mortified. But Historia loved it, and so she’d kept it and even put it up here. Hidden, of course. No one would invade her privacy by opening her cupboard. She hoped. Her living quarters were lovely. Just her room was bigger than any flat she’d lived in after she left her mother’s farm.
She had her own private bathroom with a luxurious, deep tub and a shower that could easily fit a group of people. It had so many settings that Historia was scared to even play around with them, and just stuck with the default spray setting. Her room was large with a soft, comfortable Queen sized bed and a little lounge area where she had her own couch and TV. Her kitchenette area was sleek, modern and equipped with more appliances than Historia even knew existed. She also had a spare room that she had stuffed to the brim with books.
Coming here from Paradis had been an adjustment, but a lovely one. Historia had been given this fully furnished room for free as part of her job, and she was thriving. On top of tending to the thousands of plants around the castle grounds, she also worked occasionally with the royal’s personal crops and with the greenhouse, where they grew various medicinal plants and pretty flowers. Whenever there was an event, Historia helped make the flower arrangements.
The other staff were all lovely people, too. It sounded like the crown did not tolerate bullying of any kind, so all of Historia’s superiors were kind, wonderful people. It felt a little too good to be true, and sometimes she found herself waiting for the other shoe to drop.
That was just a product of her trauma, and she was working on that. For the first time in her life, she could say she was genuinely happy. Her nervous system was allowed to rest—reset. She didn’t need to watch her back or flinch, didn’t need to endure insults and angry palms. It was wonderful. Life changing.
So, openly crushing on the princess was probably a bad idea if Historia wanted to keep this fantastic job. She needed to keep it professional. Ymir probably let everyone just call her Ymir. She was a strong willed woman who knew what she wanted and fought for what she believed in. Historia envied that conviction—and found it stupidly hot.
Maybe some internal fantasies wouldn’t hurt anyone.
Historia had dinner with the rest of the staff, only half listening to them and only adding commentary when they asked for her input. The entire time, though, she kept flashing back to her conversation with Ymir. The husky tone of her voice, the constellation of her freckles, the way she looked dishevelled and sweaty thanks to the heat.
By the time Historia retired to bed, she was a bit of a hot mess herself. She quietly and quickly took care of herself once she’d slipped into her bed, then she felt embarrassed and had to go for another shower, ice cold this time. She fell into a deep, dream-filled sleep.
The next day Historia avoided going near Ymir’s section of the castle, and this time she remembered her gloves so she didn’t prick herself again. She easily got lost in the work of tending to the soil, watering the plants, trimming and pulling and snipping. It was wonderful.
During the afternoon, Historia heard some of the other gardening staff tittering about something and glanced over. Ymir was walking through the garden, her hair wet and a damp towel thrown over her shoulder. She must have been swimming. Luckily she was dressed in her usual formal suit, though it was a little damp. It would dry easily in this heat.
In all honesty, Historia drooled. Halfway through the path Ymir suddenly looked her way, and then she winked and smirked and Historia’s stomach tingled. The other staff sent her curious glances, but luckily didn’t come over to ask what that was about.
What was that about? Did Ymir wink at her staff often? Probably. She had to. Historia wasn’t special.
Except, when she retired to her room that evening, she found a gift at the foot of her door. It was a beautiful gift box wrapped in a pretty ribbon. Historia was confused as she picked it up, thinking someone must have gotten the wrong room. But the card was addressed to her.
“Dear Historia, please accept this gift as an apology for not replacing your worn equipment sooner. I heard they were old and damaged. Please keep your hands safe, they do important work. Warm Regards, Ymir.”
Inside was a lovely pair of garden gloves, a new hat, a thin scarf and an apron. It was all made from strong, expensive material. And it was all the colour of autumn leaves—Historia’s favourite colour. How in the hell…?
She felt a collision of different emotions. Was Ymir trying to insinuate something with this gift? Was Historia just overthinking this? She knew Ymir was generous, so maybe this was normal.
She had no idea, and it bothered her.
She tried to work as usual, but she was on high alert. She expected Ymir to appear at her door one day, perhaps wanting something in exchange for the gift. Except, that never happened. Ymir would only glance at her sometimes, and each time she gave that sexy little smirk that made Historia’s toes curl. Otherwise, she kept her distance.
Ymir was insanely busy. The more Historia looked out for her, the more she noticed that Ymir was always walking up and down, leaving and returning to the castle and she always had a group of people buzzing around her. Half the time, she looked so harassed that Historia wished there was someone to rescue her from the situation. But she was the princess and this was the way it would be.
As weeks passed without another interaction or mysterious gift, Historia started to accept the fact that she was just wishful and delusional. Her little crush would never be reciprocated, of course not. Ymir had just done something nice for her out of concern for her work equipment. She made sure to do things like that.
Still, it didn't keep her from feeling a sting of disappointment. She’d told Ymir she didn’t want to be a Queen, but in her fantasies she was always alongside Ymir, a crown on her own head. It was ridiculous, she knew that.
Feeling unusually down, after she had dinner and a lonely shower, Historia decided to take a walk through the expansive garden. It was so pretty at night, the pathway lit up by various lights hidden between the shrubs. Above the stars twinkled and the moon sat full and heavy. Crickets and other little critters sang loudly and happily into the night, a sound Historia loved to hear.
This place was so busy during the day but became so quiet and peaceful at night. Taking this route through the garden was one of her favourite things to do, especially with a book in hand. This time she was empty handed though, she just needed the quiet and fresh air to clear her mind.
She’d been obsessing over Ymir too much and it needed to stop. She was just going to break her own heart when Ymir did eventually meet someone and get into a relationship. It was unrealistic and stupid to ever entertain the idea that Ymir Fritz, Crown Princess to the Marleyan Kingdom, would ever get involved with a lowly palace grounds keeper. It was laughable. She could only imagine the headlines, too. Regardless of Historia’s bloodline, she was a commoner. A regular citizen.
A bastard.
She hated that word and its implications, but it was the truth. Even if it had no legal or social weight in Marley, Historia still felt it like a stain on her soul. She thought she had overcome all the emotional bullshit from her childhood, but after she found her favourite metal bench hidden at the back of the garden, she sat down heavily and felt the tears press at her eyes.
They spilled out hotly against her cheeks, dripping from her chin. She didn’t sob, just sat there and quietly cried as her heart cracked and she wondered if anyone would ever love her. Her mother never had. Her grandparents had tried, but the scandal of her existence had been too much. As soon as Historia had been old enough to leave, she fled from that place. She requested to use the Reiss name instead of Lenz, because Reiss was better, even if in some ways they were worse.
The moon silently sat vigil as she felt almost crushed by her own sorrow, and then a voice broke through the silence and startled her.
“Historia?”
Her head snapped up, a gasp dropping from her lips, as Ymir stepped off the path by the bench, her face creased by worry.
Embarrassed, Historia wiped at her wet face with her sleeves. A soft wind blew by, making her shiver. Her cheeks warmed.
“I’m so sorry, Ymir,” she said, almost defaulting to using her title instead of her name, “I didn’t expect anyone to be here.”
Ymir frowned softly at her but didn’t approach, just stood there and watched with her hands in her pockets. She was dressed as finely as usual, but her top two buttons were undone, showing her collarbones and revealing the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her hair was a little longer, reaching the sharp line of her jaw, but it was messy. Like she’d been running her hands through it over and over again.
Even looking tired and dishevelled, Ymir was undeniably sexy. Historia felt a deep throb of desire for her, and that just made more tears squeeze out of her.
“Of course,” Ymir said, her voice soft and hesitant. “I can leave if you’d prefer to be alone.”
Historia wiped her tears away again. “No, I’ll go. You probably want to sit here, right?”
Ymir shook her head. “You don’t have to give up this space for me.”
“I absolutely do, you’re the princess.”
Ymir’s expression cracked at that, shadowed by annoyance. Her hands pulled out of her pockets and then she strode over and plopped down on the bench. She let out a long, annoyed huff.
“Yeah, I’m the princess,” she said and rubbed a hand over her face. “It’s so exhausting sometimes to be seen as just this entity and not a person.”
Historia swallowed thickly. “I’m sorry.”
Ymir sighed again. “You don’t need to be sorry, Historia. I understand. Are you okay, though? You look like you’ve been crying a lot.” She sat back and turned, facing Historia. Her lips were pressed into a thin frown. “Did someone hurt you?”
Historia laughed softly. “That would be a difficult question to answer.”
Suddenly Ymir placed a hand on her shoulder, her touch firm and hot, and her eyes blazed with fury. “Was it palace staff? The council? If anyone did anything I swear—”
“No!” she interrupted, waving her hands. “Nothing happened, I swear. I’m crying about old hurt, I guess. Back in Paradis. When I was a kid.”
Ymir’s hand slid away and her expression eased. “Oh.”
They lapsed into awkward silence, Historia not knowing what else to say or if Ymir even wanted her to say something. She looked really troubled, and so up close, Historia noticed that she had dark bruises beneath her eyes. They let the insects around them fill the silence between them, then Ymir flashed those lovely brown-gold eyes at her and Historia wanted to melt.
“Did you like the gift?”
Historia’s heart skipped. “Oh, yeah, thank you so much. I didn’t know how to thank you, it’s not easy to get in contact with you.”
Ymir smiled softly. “Yeah, sorry. I wanted to follow up with you since then but I’ve been so busy.”
Historia clasped her hands together. “Are you okay? You know, if you need someone to talk to, I’m happy to listen. Promise I won’t snitch.”
Ymir chuckled softly. “Thank you Historia, I appreciate that. I can’t talk about my troubles exactly, secrets of the Kingdom and all that. I’m just tired. I’ve been up late for the past week working on a proposal. The council keeps stonewalling me and it’s pissing me off.”
Hesitantly, Historia reached out and set a hand on Ymir’s arm. She hoped the touch conveyed the comfort she was trying to project.
“That must be so frustrating.”
Ymir’s hand covered hers and gave it a squeeze. “Like hell. I fight tooth and nail for this country and it feels like all the council ever cares about are profit margins and assets.”
“I’m so sorry, Ymir.”
“No bother, I’ll get my way somehow. Are you feeling a little better?”
“Yes, thank you for being concerned.”
Ymir’s hand was still on hers and she gave it another squeeze and still didn’t remove it. Her touch was so warm. Historia’s heart fluttered wildly in her chest. Ymir’s eyes settled on her face and stayed there, like she was trying to read her mind. Historia would let her.
“You know,” Ymir said, her voice almost a whisper, “you’re very pretty with tears on your lashes.” She made a face. “Sorry, that was weird to say.”
Historia’s eyes widened and her mouth opened, then she burst into laughter. She saw the way Ymir’s cheeks reddened, even under the low lighting, and that just made her laugh even harder. When she finally got herself under control, Ymir was pouting at her.
“You’re pretty and mean,” Ymir complained.
Something in Historia’s chest shifted. “Can we be friends?” she blurted out.
Ymir laughed then. “Wow, and bold.”
“It’s just, I can’t just approach you like a normal person. And I want to get to know you, Ymir. As more than just the Crown Princess. If you’d like?”
Ymir’s eyes and smile both softened. She looked exceptionally pleased by the suggestion, and Historia’s heart shot into her throat when Ymir pulled her phone out and held it out, a new contact open.
“Alright, Miss Reiss. Give me your number. That way, you’ll have exclusive access to me whenever you want.”
Fingers shaking, Historia accepted the phone and typed her details in. When she gave it back, Ymir sent her a message and she felt her phone vibrate in her dress pocket. She didn’t look at it.
“Thanks,” she mumbled, shocked she’d been accepted so quickly.
Ymir’s phone started to ring then and she groaned. “Goddamnit, they never leave me alone when I just want a moment to myself.” Her gaze went to Historia. “I’m sorry, Historia, I’ve got to go. Will you be okay?”
As if Ymir would reject her duties to sit there with some commoner. But for some reason, Historia felt like if she’d actually asked for Ymir to stay there and comfort her, she would have. That was absurd, of course, so she nodded.
“I’m okay. I’ll head back as well.”
Ymir seemed overly concerned, but then she nodded and answered when her phone started ringing again. She strode away, back straight, and sent Historia a lingering glance just before she disappeared from view.
Historia would think about that moment for the rest of her life.
Ymir was completely and utterly fucked.
Sending that gift had been an impulsive decision, and she paired it with healthy distance to make sure Historia didn’t get any ideas about Ymir’s intentions. Except, she found herself thinking about Historia constantly after that.
Every morning she glanced out of her balcony, hoping to see blonde hair, but didn’t. The few times she did see Historia tending to the garden, she wasn’t able to go over to talk to her. There were too many people around them and she didn’t want any rumours to start about Historia. But, fuck, she longed so badly to get to know Historia. Romance was a bad idea, but she could use a friend.
Bumping into her at the bench that night was pure coincidence, and if Historia hadn’t asked for her friendship first, Ymir definitely would have made the suggestion herself. She was still salty that one of the councilmen had called her away. She wanted to stay longer and make Historia laugh more. See those tears dry and her gorgeous smile bloom. It was intoxicating, hearing Historia laugh.
She was so fascinating. Ymir looked her up online, but besides one article that had exposed her as Rodrick’s daughter when she was around eight, there was nothing else about her. She had a few social media accounts, but she rarely posted and when she did, it was usually just a nature shot. There was one picture of Historia tending to the royal garden, her one hand buried in the soil, her grin big and wide and the sunlight making her eyes bright and endlessly blue. The caption had been about her first day at a new job and prosperous future, and Ymir couldn’t stop staring at that picture for days on end.
She had cautiously asked the head grounds keeper about Historia under the guise of making sure everything was still running smoothly with the new employees, and she got a little bit of info, but not much. It was apparent that Historia was a hard worker, though. Well liked, mild mannered. She got along with everyone but generally kept to herself. She was the only Paradisian, so that was probably why.
Historia always seemed content, whenever Ymir glanced at her across the grounds. That night she’d been crying was the first time Ymir was really concerned about her. So, as soon as she was done with the impromptu meaning with the councilman, she sent Historia a text.
Historia only replied in the morning, and that was the beginning of their frantic texting. Ymir had so many questions and she wasn’t shy about asking them. She made sure to let Historia know that she wasn’t obligated to say or do anything, and if Ymir ever crossed any sort of boundary, that she was absolutely welcome to tell her to fuck off. Historia had been horrified at the prospect, which Ymir found hilarious.
Through weeks of texting and glances across the yard, Ymir realized too late that it wasn’t a matter of falling, but she’d already fallen, hard. Historia seemed so soft and demure at first, but she was actually pretty prickly. The more they chatted and got comfortable, the more Historia revealed her real personality to Ymir.
She learned all about Historia’s terrible childhood, and it had taken an exercise in control to not track down her mother and kick her ass for the abuse. Historia didn’t want that, though. They’d gone no contact and she hadn’t seen her mother in years, and Ymir would never be so disrespectful, or be so arrogant as to take matters into her own hands and overstep. But she let her feelings on the matter be known.
Halfway through all of this, Ymir started to suspect that she wasn’t the only one catching feelings. She often caught Historia staring at her when she was distracted as she crossed the yard. Whenever she winked her way, Historia blushed so cutely. There was nothing platonic about the way they flirted over text, either.
But neither of them made an actual move. Ymir was hyperaware of their different stations. She didn’t believe she was better than Historia at all—they were still both human beings. But she had to consider the social ramifications for Historia if they were to get involved. At the end of the day, Ymir would date and marry—if she ever chose to marry—whoever the hell she wanted. What worried her was the implication of Historia’s heritage.
Would their entwinement harm her country at all? She was afraid about that. But still, she yearned so hard. By all accounts, Historia was ordinary. She was just part of the palace staff. Ymir should most certainly not be in love with her.
What should be was irrelevant, because Ymir couldn’t control the feelings that had developed. In the beginning she should have just pulled away and treated Historia like everyone else, but when she realized how much she cared, it was too late. No matter what, she couldn’t pull away from Historia, not ever. Even if all they ever got to be was friends.
Slowly, Historia started to intertwine with her life. Ymir invited Historia to hang out with her in her room—they just watched movies or played games—or outside of the castle. It was nerve wracking when they did go out, and Ymir had to make sure they were never followed, they were well concealed with hats and glasses, and that the places she took Historia to were discreet.
The media would have a field day if they ever caught wind of Ymir spending time with anyone and they wouldn’t believe any statement Ymir made that it was just friendship.
Because it wasn’t. Her every waking thought was Historia. She wanted Historia more than she’d ever wanted anyone or anything in her life, to the point that Ymir was losing her mind. Before all this, she never felt so conflicted before. Letting a relationship go for the better hadn’t been so hard. Maybe that was cold and cruel of her, but she couldn’t say her love for someone was greater than her duty to her country.
Except this time. Because this time… fuck, Ymir actually worried that she’d found the one person she’d burn her kingdom down for. It was terrifying.
In meetings, Ymir found herself tuning the council out, her mind faded away to the place where she remembered the curve of Historia’s smile, the floral scent of her hair and the soft lilt of her voice. She hardly slept because of the stress of all of this.
The proposal she’d worked on finally got approved after her fourth revision and argument with the council. She was so relieved to have that done, but the real work was ahead of her. They were trying to implement free, universal schooling. The crown had more than enough money to build the extra schools they would need, and Ymir would need to go into the poorer areas herself to speak with parents who never put their kids in school because they couldn’t afford it.
So it was with the excitement of this, the joy of one of her dreams coming to fruition, that Ymir didn’t even second guess herself and walked straight from the council room to the staff courters, and found herself knocking on Historia’s door. She was thrumming with energy, fists opening and closing at her sides. When Historia opened the door, she was shocked to see Ymir standing there.
Running on pure happiness and adrenalin, Ymir scooped Historia into her arms and hugged her tight, twirling her around.
“Ymir!” Historia exclaimed, laughing. Her arms went tight around Ymir’s neck. “Oh my goddess, what are you doing here?”
Ymir laughed happily and twirled her twice more before finally setting her down. Historia pulled away from her to quickly close the door, eyes cast down the hallway to see if anyone had seen that. They hadn’t.
But suddenly, Ymir didn’t care if someone had. What did it matter if she visited Historia late at night? Why did she allow herself to be so strung up about this?
“They approved it,” Ymir blurted out, cheeks hurting from her grin. “My proposal. It was just signed in.”
Historia blinked at her, then she was in Ymir’s arms again, hugging her tight. The loss of Ymir’s breath was not from the hug, though.
“Holy shit, Ymir, that’s amazing! I’m so happy for you. You worked so hard for this.”
Ymir stared deeply into Historia’s eyes when she pulled away. Like always, she drowned in those depths. She wanted to. Never wanted anyone else to ever look at her the way Historia did. Maybe she should have waited until she was less hyped on adrenalin and pure happiness to be in Historia’s space again, because one moment she was standing there, their hands linked softly, and then she had Historia’s face cradled in her hands and they were kissing.
Historia’s hands grasped at her shirt, small fingers tightening against the loose fabric. Her lips responded immediately, and the taste of her kiss made Ymir dizzy. Her knees actually shook and her heart felt like it would burst right from her chest. No one’s kiss had ever made her burn or yearn the way Historia’s did, and Ymir realized her mistake the moment she pulled Historia against her front to feel the solid warmth of her.
Gasping, she pulled away, horror dawning on her. Historia looked just as horrified, and the look on her face made Ymir’s chest constrict.
“Historia, fuck, I… I’m so sorry.”
Historia lifted a hand to her mouth, fingers tracing her lips. “You kissed me,” she said softly, eyes rounding.
Ymir’s cheeks burned. She raised her hands. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t… I mean, I did mean to but like, I shouldn’t have done that. Things are so complicated, I didn’t even ask and I—”
“Ymir.”
Historia interrupted her racing words and stepped forward. She gently took Ymir’s hand and intertwined their fingers. Her strange calm helped to bring Ymir down from the panic. She ran a hand through her already dishevelled hair—she needed to get it cut—and let out a long breath.
“Calm down,” Historia told her. She stared up into Ymir’s eyes. “It’s okay, I’m not mad at you.”
Ymir frowned. “You should be. I kissed you.”
“And I kissed you back.”
Ymir studied her expression, really took in the softness there. Historia seemed to be holding a big smile back and her cheeks had gone dark. Her eyes were shimmering with emotion. The horror from earlier had not been disgust—she’d probably felt the exact same thing Ymir had. Because she wanted this, wanted Ymir, even if it was maybe a bad idea.
“Oh.” Ymir said at last. “Yeah you… you did.”
Historia tugged her hand and Ymir went with her until they were sitting on her couch. There, Historia turned her palm up and lightly traced the lines across her skin. “Talk to me,” Historia said softly. “You wanted to kiss me, right?”
Ymir sucked in a breath. The ghosting of Historia’s fingertips made shivers break out over her skin. “Of course I wanted to kiss you,” Ymir all but sputtered. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since the day you pricked your finger on those roses. Historia I… fuck it, I’m in love with you.”
Historia closed her eyes and her touch stilled, but she didn’t pull away. Nervousness made Ymir’s stomach clench. It was an awful feeling.
“I’m a commoner,” Historia said evenly. “And I’m also related to the Paradis royal family.”
“I’m aware.”
“It would probably cause some kind of political incident.”
Ymir shrugged. “I kind of don’t care anymore.”
“I… I’m just a gardener, Ymir.”
Ymir cupped Historia’s cheek in her hand and turned her face so they could look at each other again. Even if Historia seemed happy about the kiss, she seemed so conflicted too. It made Ymir’s heart ache.
“Do you think you aren’t worthy of me?”
Historia swallowed and looked away, but Ymir brushed her thumb against the top of her cheek and those lovely eyes returned. “I don’t,” she admitted softly.
Ymir sighed. “Do you love me too?”
“Am I allowed to be honest?”
Ymir tilted her head and smiled. “Historia, I want you to lift your head and be proud of yourself. I fell in love with you. I love you so fucking much that you’re all I can think about. I wouldn’t have made it through this proposal without you. You’ve become so much more than just a goddamn gardener, or a friend. I’m so tired of always overlooking my own happiness for the Crown. Before you, I never felt like that. Now I… I want it. I want happiness.” Her voice wavered with emotion. “I want you.”
“You want me?” Historia asked. Tears gathered in her eyes. “But I’m… I’m nothing.”
Ymir sighed in annoyance. “Oh, my love, you’re everything.”
Slowly and gently, Ymir bent down. She made sure Historia could stop her or pull away if she wanted, but she didn’t. Their lips met, and it was home. Historia kissed her back, just like she had earlier. There was no hesitance in the brush of her lips, and then Ymir had her flat on her back, hovering above her, their kisses turning heated, bruising.
She stopped and pulled away, kissing Historia’s wrist with all the love she could muster.
“Would you take on the world with me?” Ymir asked her softly.
Historia should say no, but Ymir wanted to be selfish. She wanted this woman in every capacity. Still, she was nervous about the answer. So worried that all of this would get turned on its head and it would ruin both of their lives.
Historia’s yes came in the form of her fervent, desperate kisses and the way her fingers traced the line of Ymir’s jaw.
When they’d first met, Historia had said she never wanted to become Queen. Yet, when she knelt down at their joining ceremony to accept the crown, she was radiant. When she straightened and looked at the crowd, Ymir’s hand clasped firmly in her own, she looked confident and powerful.
Historia’s eyes turned to look up at her, and like always, even after so many years, Ymir got lost in them.
And she’d continue to do so for the rest of their wonderful lives.