♥︎ 𝑩𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒂 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚 ♥︎

Chapter Seven

Jean couldn't believe what she was saying. He'd been turned down. Jean couldn't shake the bad feeling in the pit of his stomach as he sat in his favorite chair in his favorite spot in the town tavern - right below the wall with all the antlers and trophies he'd won. Even Marco, who sat by his side and told him how lucky he was, couldn't make him forget how sad he was.

"Imagine it, Marco," Jean said, swiping a large swig from his beer. He made a gesture with his hand in front of him. "A lodge in the woods. My most recent kill, roasted over an open fire. Adorable children run around us while my love rubs my tired feet."

"Oh, wow! What's cooking over an open fire?" Marco inquired as to if he had a captive and willing audience. "It's the little things that make a big difference."

For interrupting his monologue, Jean gave the smaller man a look. "But what does Y/N say?" he inquired, the image in his head clear enough. "Jean, I would never marry you." In a fit of rage, he slammed his drink down.

Marco remarked, "There are other girls." As a group of such girls approached, he nodded over his shoulder. Jean just gave them a fleeting look, but it was enough to make them burst out giggling.

Marco was absolutely right. Any of the girls in the village - or the next village - may be Jean's option. Or, for that matter, any village. That wasn't the issue, though. He wasn't interested in any of the children. He eventually said, "A great hunter doesn't waste his time on rabbits." The girls' flirtatious smiles vanished as his words reverberated across the tavern.

Slumping in his chair, Jean fidgeted with a strand of fraying string dangling from the fraying cushion. He vaguely heard Marco trying to cheer him up, but he was too preoccupied to notice.  Marco's arguments - that he was the bravest, strongest, most admired man in the village - were tired. Jean had heard them all before. And, of course, he knew they were all true. He was outstanding in every way. He was the town hero, the best hunter in the area; he was even good at decorating - antlers, in his opinion, made a room - and there was no question in anyone's mind that he was the biggest and most beautiful man alive.

"But who cares if all those things are real," Jean reasoned as the tavern's door flew open. Erwin took a position in the doorway. His clothing was ripped and his eyes were wild. As a cough racked his body, he grabbed the doorjamb. When the coughing ended, he screamed, "Help! Someone, please assist me! We've got to get going...no there's time to waste..."

Erwin moved into the tavern as he spoke, finding the warmth of the raging fire in the hearth. The tavern keeper attempted to calm the man down after seeing how disheveled he was. He exclaimed, "Whoa, Whoa, Whoa. Erwin, take it easy."

With a shake of his head, Erwin expressed his frustration with the situation. "He has Y/N trapped in a dungeon!"

Jean straightened up, his interest piqued.

"Who's got her?" the tavern keeper asked.

"A Titan!" Erwin answered. "A horrible. monstrous Titan!"

The entire inn fell silent for a brief moment, stunned by the man's words. The potter, Ymir, then grinned as she raised her cup. "Can you tell me what you're putting in this?" She inquired, cracking the ice.

With a shake of his head, the tavern keeper expressed his dissatisfaction with the situation. He retorted, "Don't look at me. He just arrived."

A vagrant who hadn't just got there looked up from the other end of the counter. The guy looked much more disheveled than Erwin, with cloudy eyes and weathered lips. He gave Maurice a sidelong look and nodded, as though he and Erwin were both in on it. "What they don't tell you is that there was once a castle, and we have no recollection of it!" he exclaimed.