Historia Reiss.

She never knew the the unholy bond between her parents. She never understood the toxic relationship within her home. Her innocence was something to treasure, yet the cruel world had to destroy that as well.

People would always look to her mother and question just why she was so young yet was married with a child. The secret answer was "wedlock" and "hidden mistress". She was just a young soul wooed by the wiseness of Lord Reiss. His current wife was as easily thrown away as a candy wrapper once this mistress moved in and bore a child the first night.

The blonde was born premature, her small stature still showing today. A young pastor by the name of Nicholas would often take the infant into his own hands. He worked under Lord Reiss' hand at a popular church. Despite never even having a lover, Nick was always great with kids and loved them with a passion. Any and every time he would hear the parents were preoccupied, he would jump at the opportunity to care of their daughter. The man didn't want to admit it, but he knew he was a more fit parent than the both of them combined.

They lived in a large, beautiful house. Inside, Mrs. Reiss' parents lived in the house with them. Their bodies were tired with age. It was only safe to keep them under the watchful eyes of their family. However, Mr. Reiss was often absent with his duties as a Lord. Mrs. Reiss chose to spend her youthful years in the embroidered chair of the front room, bathed by the sunlight that poured in with a thick book in her hands everyday. This left young Historia to take care of her grandparents from the moment she was able to walk and just barely communicate. The elders' bodies may have been tired, but not their minds. They were not blind to the injustice the young blonde had to put up with. Nonetheless, they were undeniably grateful to have such a kind-hearted, honest girl who did so much without thinking ill of anyone.

Historia's tiny socked feet slapped on the carpet as she hurried to the gray-haired woman in the rouge robe sitting in her rocking chair. The woman smiled upon setting her blue eyes at the blonde with the bottle of water in her hand.

"Thank you so much, Historia," she said, accepting the bottle while softly rustling the pure golden locks. Her hand stopped when her ring finger lifted a lock of hair that revealed an area of purple discoloring by her ear. Her pale lips formed into a sympathizing frown "Historia, what happened? Did you get hurt?"

The girl, who had kept an unbothered neutral expression, said plainly "I wanted to go outside and play, but some boys started throwing rocks at me."

A sharp gasp escaped the old woman's lips. The wrinkles on the corners of her eyes showed a deep amount of pain upon hearing this. How dare anyone harm her precious granddaughter? Had she had the energy she did when she was a hot-tempered teen, she would have shown those boys a thing or two. Sadly, Father Time had other plans. She could no longer be the spunky woman she used to be. It would just be a challenge to get up from her chair now and heal Historia's bruise.

As Historia aged, she decided to mimic her mother's habits of literature. She began to read. Several tales filled Historia's mind, most of which she didn't understand because she obtained the books from her parents. However, one thing stuck out to her in most of them. Most characters, no matter what age or gender, always had a connection with their parents. Historia always thought it was normal for mothers to refuse to talk to their children. She always thought it was a sacred rule that as the daughter, she was not allowed to talk to the woman of the house. It never bothered her until she realized that was not normal.

One day, the seven-year-old stepped into the front room. She was unaware that her mother's annoyed gaze abandoned the text of her book to assure that the presence she felt in the room was indeed Historia. Upon returning her eyes to the book, the girl leaped at her mother with a gleeful cheer. At this exact moment, the grandmother had been navigating her way through the house on her cane. As if by both cruel fate and perfect timing, the grey-haired woman had approached the front room just in time to see her daughter violently slap Historia.

This was almost enough to make the elder collapse. Never had she felt such horror in her life and never would she ever suspect to encounter such horror. "Historia!" she cried, sizzling tears springing in the corners of her eyes. Upon hearing her mother, Mrs. Reiss turned around with frightened eyes. Historia's grandparents knew all too well that their daughter was ashamed of her wedlock. They also knew how horribly neglected she would leave the girl, but still, they supported her throughout the marriage and pregnancy. They would not allow their daughter's mistakes to break the hearts of her lover nor her child. However, they could not make her show the same respect. They could not force her hand to caress her daughter's cheek at night. And now that was showing again. The elder couldn't force Mrs. Reiss' hand not to hurt her baby.

However, the naive Historia surprised both women by sitting up and releasing a playful round of giggles. She held her belly in glee as a tiny trickle of blood poured from her nose. She was happy. Why? Because for the first time in her life, her mother had finally interacted with her. She was finally able to feel her mother's touch.

All of that is a forgotten memory to Historia now. She was immediately taken into Pastor Nick's care that exact day. Her grandparents profusely fought for the right to take her into their own home, but time was only wearing down more and more on their bodies. Eventually, they had to settle for living an a retirement home close to the church with daily calls and frequent visits. Even after all of this time, her grandmother still admires the girl's honesty and lack of ill thought.

"She truly is an angel."

The blonde eagerly poked her head into the room "Hey," she said "How's Emory?"

Ymir lifted her head up from the infant nuzzled against her bosom. Exhaustion laced her eyes, but a smile remained on her lips, nonetheless "Hungry, as always," she joked "I swear, he's got Brause's appetite."

Historia laughed as she walked into the room, loosening her business tie "I guess that's what we get for letting her babysit."

She reached for the remote control on the coffee table and sank into the chair adjacent from her wife and child with a soft sigh.

"Did they overwork you today?" inquired Ymir.

"Not as much as I'm sure Emory did for you," commented Historia as she flicked on the plasma screen television before them.

The slender brunette rolled her eyes "Please, I've got motherhood in the bag," she bragged "It's got nothing on your job, Mayor Reiss."

Historia's inclined her head with a bashful smile.

Ymir sighed "Yup, I think if I had to choose between losing sleep over my son or a group of uptight old men, you know I'd have to pick this little miracle."

Historia caught sight of the brunette lovingly looking down at the baby in her arms. Wispy brown hair just barely covered the top of his head. The freckles on his skin matched those of the woman holding him. Milk stains were encrusted in Ymir's green sweater, and a brightly colored baby toy was hooked onto her belt loop.

Ymir's eyes met Historia's "Huh? What are you all googly-eyed for?" she laughed.

The blonde shook her head "I was just thinking about how happy I am."