Alex tuned it out. The ceiling above the table creaked.
Something was wrong.
He glanced upward—no one else did.
A thin, quivering crack had formed at the base of the chandelier. It was massive—iron-framed, layered with polished glass and dangling crystal—easily half a ton.
It groaned.
And Mikasa—still watching him—moved.
Before Alex could speak, before anyone else noticed, she was already out of her chair, moving in a blur.
The chandelier snapped free.
Someone screamed.
A heartbeat later, Mikasa grabbed the collar of Alex's coat and yanked him back with such force that he stumbled. The chandelier crashed down exactly where he'd stood, exploding into a storm of glass and twisted metal.
The room erupted—shouts, dust, chairs scraping.
Alex hit the ground hard, breath knocked out of him—but alive.
Unharmed.
He blinked at the ceiling, pulse thudding in his ears.
"Is he alright?!"
"Shit, get back!"
"Check for injuries—!"
But before anyone could reach him, Mikasa stepped between him and the crowd, voice flat and calm.
"He's fine. I saw it first."
She didn't glance at Alex. Her eyes stayed on the others.
"I heard the chain groan. Saw the fracture. He didn't move in time—so I pulled him."
Jean stared. "That fast?"
Levi narrowed his eyes, saying nothing.
Mikasa crossed her arms. "If I hadn't, he'd be dead. That's all."
Alex sat up slowly, brushing a shard of crystal from his lap. He looked at her.
Mikasa held his gaze for a beat before stepping back, letting the tension ease.
Historia cleared her throat. "Is anyone hurt? We need to continue."
Jean exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "No injuries here. That was too close."
Levi sheathed his blade. "Have the chamber inspected. No distractions."
Kiyomi's tone smoothed again. "A hazard—but let's not let it derail our purpose."
Armin rubbed his temples. "Right. Back to the matter at hand."
Mikasa returned to her seat. Her eyes didn't stray far from Alex, who now stood quietly by the wall, arms crossed, gaze distant.
He side-glanced at her—only to find her still watching. Their eyes locked for a second—sharp, unreadable—before he looked away.
Why is she still staring at me...?
His chest tightened.
He shifted, trying to look nonchalant.
The meeting resumed, burdened with tension. The near-death moment hung over the room, unspoken but palpable.
Eventually, Historia rose. "We've covered the key points. That will do for today."
Kiyomi nodded. "We'll prepare our proposals."
Jean stretched, easing the formality. "Finally. Thought my head might explode."
Levi gave a curt nod. "Stay alert. The chamber gets swept tonight."
As the others filed out, Mikasa lingered. At the door, her eyes met Alex's one last time—then she turned and left.
Alex stood still, the weight of her gaze lingering. Why is she so fixated on me? The question gnawed at him, but answers would have to wait.
That night, the castle was quiet. Faint footfalls of guards echoed through stone halls.
Alex sat on the edge of his bed, a candle casting long shadows on the walls.
A soft knock.
"Alex? It's Historia."
He rose and opened the door. She stood there, simply dressed, her hair loose, eyes steady.
"Can I come in?" she asked.
He smirked lightly. "Do queen need to ask permission before entering ?"
She stepped in without replying, closing the door gently. But tension laced her movements.
Her eyes swept over him—arms, face, legs.
"Are you hurt?"
Alex blinked, caught off guard by her worry. "No. Just tired."
She didn't look convinced. "You don't look fine."
He shrugged. "The chandelier nearly flattened me. Mikasa saved my ass."
She crossed the room, sitting beside him.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then she leaned gently against his shoulder, resting her head.
"You don't have to carry it all alone, you know."
Alex let out a breath, slow and quiet. He wrapped an arm around her, steady, warm.
They sat like that, still.
Then she whispered—something on the edge of confession.
Before she could continue, he turned, cupping her cheek. His lips brushed hers—tentative at first, then deepening into something fierce.
Her hands found his chest. His fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her closer until they were pressed together at the bed's edge.
When he finally pulled back, her breathing was unsteady.
"I know what you're about to say," he murmured. "And... I'm with you."