To My Duke, Dearest| j. kirschtein

xxi. Lies As Thin As Glass

Winter had a much better aftertaste than the summer. The summer contained a lewd and damp coating that Jean despised, whilst the winter was modest and cool. Frosty pines breathing out delicate exhales of fragile flakes that coated the roads and passages like the soft linen lining of a regal corpse. Dismally poetic in the way that evokes inspiration from the most troubled of artists. In fact, the only negative thing Jean could blame winter for was its darkness. It plunged its victims into a deep well of obscurity that felt bottomless and soul deserting, the type of terror that had you holding your sheets tighter at night.

Currently, there was a heavy darkness that lingered outside as Jean squinted through the windows. It was indecipherable and not much of an ailment to the rapid thumping of his heart. If he shifted close enough, his breath fogged up the glass and mistified his reflection even further. Somehow, it was warped and twisted: his lips melting into to his eye socket and his nose gaining an aquiline property that stretched it to his chin. Hastily blinking, Jean snapped out of the mirage to see his reflection return back to his natural sharp nose and low-set eyes.

Turning his attention back to the guests and royalties, he tore his gaze away from the window and the withering glance of his soon to be fiancee Lady Mikasa. They were sat adjacent to one another, the surrounding socialites sharing generous sips of wine and agriculture tips whilst the two teenagers sat dejected amongst them all. His father's glossed and drunken glower still met his over the table, but he twisted his fingers together to avoid the punishing accusation. What could possibly be more important than this pre-engagement party for the very crown-prince to be behaving so distractedly?

All evening he had fumbled his words, crossed his speech and bit his tongue, struggling to invest even a second of his attention to the well-meaning but snobbish council and the woman he was meant to be courting. He had tipped some wine down Duchess Nanaba's gown, which in his mind he had done a favour to due to its horrid colour, but the atmosphere had soured nonetheless. Lady Mikasa had hardly said a word to him, for she most definitely knew the reason for his mind's absence by now. Her slate grey eyes examined him but he pretended to be indifferent to her glance. He needed a way to leave...

His topaz eyes seized on the stalling figure that was boredly scanning the guests, observing which of the young women would be the most suitable to flirt into submission and have a grand night with. That had come close to his custom now, whenever Lady Mikasa was visiting. Steal a lucky girl and have his way with her to force his romantic frustrations into a sexual punishment on his own heart. Eren Jaeger was not one for forgiving; Hell would freeze over before he ever so much as looked at Lady Mikasa with anything close to affection in his eyes.

Subtly jerking his head, Jean flagged the attention of his gentleman-in-waiting. Begrudgingly, Eren meandered towards his superior, dissatisfied with the pickings presented towards him. Nothing but older married women, no daughters or private companions to romp with. Slowly but surely, the dark haired boy shuffled towards Jean, folding his arms over his chest as Jean deftly covered his mouth with his hand, whispering his enquiry to his inferior. After a second or two of thinking for a response, Eren shook his head, snuffing out the brief candle of hope that he harboured in his heart as means of escape.

"The roads have been quite dangerous tonight, Jeanie-boy. The cobbles are frozen over. Perhaps they have rested somewhere for the night, do please try to look alive." Chuckled Eren, picking up on the disappointment in the taller boy's eyes.

Dangerous? What if instead of resting for the night, the carriage had been flipped over and abandoned. The rider left for the dead and passenger struggling in a futile fight for his life? Panic seized his chest like the devil seized the soul of a sinner and agitation blossomed all over his body as he watched Eren return to his idle position at the door. He felt a delicate hand at his wrist to stop him from all out combusting into smithereens.