For Erekuri/Erehisto week 2014. Day: 1/7, prompt: Royalty

Disclaimer: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin

A silver crown rested on her brow, the metal in contrast with her gold hair. Lights from the chandelier bounced off the cut gems of the crown, making it seem more dazzling and beautiful. Historia Reiss stands in front of a pair of thrones, watching as guests danced and whirled in the ballroom to celebrate their new queen.

Her back is straight, scanning the crowds for a face, a familiar, reassuring face. There is none. Of course there is none. Only special people are allowed to see the new queen at her coronation, and apparently many of her comrades weren't special enough. It may be for the better. They are already under such scrutiny, and to stay alive they need to keep appearances. Coming here may only add to the risk.

"Queen Historia," says a voice beside her. She turns as a boy with green eyes bows before her, the delicate gold chains hanging off his shoulders as he kneels. She had almost forgotten he was also going to be here, meaning she wouldn't be alone as she took on this role. Historia fidgets a little under her blue cloak, remembering the agreement between her and Eren Jaeger: In the public eye he will address her as Queen while when it's the two of them, she prefers Historia.

"Eren Jaeger," she acknowledges, already assuming a proper form of addressing company. The formality in her voice rolls off her tongue with ease, as if this really was meant for her.

"Is everything alright?" he asks her in a quiet tone, rising up to look at her.

A blue sash runs across his left shoulder to his right hip. Gold chains hang from the gold collar to his right shoulder with the Survey Corps badge resting over his heart. His red uniform clashes with his green, green eyes, she thinks.

"I am . . . fine," she says, turning to look back at the dancers. She tries not to think of the expensive cloak wrapped around her shoulders, the silver crown that rests on her head or the chains that decorate Eren's suit. She tries not to think how the two of them are really pieces on a chessboard, pawns in this long, long game of war.

He takes one step closer to her. They make eye contact before he turns to face the crowd, eyes hardened as he watches the ballroom. Briefly Historia lowers her eyes to the ground. There is too much pressure, too much risk that now hangs on her. How can she handle this? She is still so young! To stand here in front of these thrones is a cruel punishment in itself. She fears one day she will crumble. She would not wish this on anyone. And yet Eren Jaeger stood right here, at her side, arms straight and shoulders set, with that determined gaze from their training days.

How weak she is compared to this boy, this man. How he will jump to action so quick while she hesitates and loses precious time. His resolve is strong in everything he does while she wavers. He will continue to stand tall, and she will be crushed.

"The ball is almost over," he says. "Just try to hold on until then."

"Okay."

She is grateful to have him here. Eren is a fellow trainee, a comrade, and a friend. With him here, she doesn't feel all of the world's eyes on her. Maybe that's a horrible thought of hers, that he also has to carry the weight of everything. Then again, he carried it longer than her. Yes it is a horrible thought, but reassuring too. So she will change. She vows to herself that she will learn to stand as tall like him one day. In the meantime he will be the one she leans on as she learns to grip her bearings. It's just like back when Ymir was here, Historia reflects. But with Eren, she will learn to stand on her own and become strong queen.

Historia reaches for Eren's hand. "Thank you," she says.

Eren says nothing, squeezing her hand as they continue to watch the ballroom dancers.