A Devoted Heart (Attack on Titan // LeviHan) - Part 2

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?

"And who are you?" Grandma Clothilde's gaze moved from Zoë's torso up to her hair and back, disapproval speaking from every crevice of her lined face.

"I'm Zoë, Grandma," outwardly patient, she handed the old woman her spoon. "I'm your granddaughter. But never mind, you ignored me all your life, which suits me perfectly well."

"What stupidity spills forth from your ugly face! They should never have let women join the military," the old woman dipped the spoon into the thick green pea soup, and lifted it towards her mouth with a strongly trembling hand. Long before it could reach its destination, she had spilled all but a few meager droplets though. With an indignant huff, she let the spoon drop to the floor.

Zoë sighed. She already regretted her choice to sit next to the old dragon. It was too much work to get the dowager to say a single sensible thing and remain polite at the same time.

"It is a disgrace," the old woman muttered. "Women donning uniforms? They look frivolous with their legs and asses on display! And then they're surprised when they get raped!"

"If women get raped it's not because they put on uniforms, Grandma," Zoë took the new spoon a footman was discreetly holding out to her with a nod of thanks and put it back into the old woman's hand. "It's because some men are violent jerks, whether in the military or not."

"You harlot!" Grandma Clothilde spit into her soup.

"Goodness, how nasty you are," Zoë muttered under her breath. Almost as if the hate inside her father's mother had become even more concentrated after she had shriveled up like a raisin.

The blue eyes turned to her, a shrewd expression in them. "You think so?" Then, as if triggered by this non-compliment: "Where is Elior?" Grandma frowned around the table, sitting a little straighter as her eyes roamed over the assembled party.

"Eating with the guards," Zoë said, coming on alert too. Finally, a chance to get some information! "About Elior..."

"I saw how you looked at him, you one-eyed slut," her Grandma hissed, her face contorted by sudden fury. "But if you think you can take him from me, you're mistaken!"

"Hm?" Now really. Enough was enough. "Take him from you? I don't have to do that, we're already married!"

Grandma jerked back in shock, blood draining from her face, leaving it paper white.

"Elior is... married?" she choked out. "He... he never said so!"

"Yes, we're married. It's been years. He's the perfect husband, so attentive and loving!" Zoë gushed. "And very good in bed."

"You're lying!" The old woman hit the table with her hands, making plates and glasses jump. "Elior only has eyes for me! He promised we would run away together!"

"Is everything alright, Zoë darling?" Her mother called from the other end of the table, looking worried.

"Yes, yes, no problem," Zoë smiled reassuringly at everyone sitting up there. The many candles in the large chandeliers painted the whole dinner party in a warm, friendly light, with crystal glasses flashing and silverware sparkling on the snow white table cloth. Apparently, a royal visitor had to be stuffed to the point of bursting - her mother had mentioned seven courses. What a farce it all was! Clearly, the nobility had learned nothing from their mistakes. They just continued their wasteful existence in exile without even an attempt to rethink their behavior.

Catching Zoë's eye, Queen Historia briefly let her distress show. She was seated between Freddie and Council Hange, wearing a pained smile on her lips while trying to keep up a polite conversation. Playing the haughty royal was clearly exhausting her. Besides, they still did not know what part the Hanges had played in the recent attempt to kidnap her, so naturally, Historia was feeling extra vulnerable, despite Zoë's earlier reassurances that they would protect her. Zoë was confident her handful of Scouts could be victorious against her father's guards, however well trained they were. Levi was worth at least twenty of them after all and the thought of Eren transforming into a Titan and reducing this big, expensive house to a mere pile of rubble was strangely pleasing. However... How did the proverb go? "Pride goeth before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall". She would not make the mistake of underestimating someone as shrewd and ruthless as Council Hange.