Attack on Titan Fanfiction – The Stowaway: Chapter 8

The Dinner Party

“Oh my most darling Mother, please, I beg of you,” Geraldine wheedled.

The Gainsborough family had a tradition of holding a formal dinner each month, inviting guests from all over the world. It wasn’t uncommon for the five sisters to be dressed to the nines and sat beside politicians and diplomats and military officers and famous writers and captains of industry and salon-approved artists, not to mention wealthy socialites and other members of the nobility, the crème de la crème of society. 

Geraldine was trying to use her charm to convince her mother that Jean should be invited to one of these occasions. 

“Eldians are the scum of the earth,” her mother liked to say. She did not approve at all of the fact that her prized daughter, the youngest and most beautiful among her brood, could be so taken with an Eldian man. 

It was her husband’s fault. When her daughter had asked if Jean could call on her, she flatly rejected the request. But Admiral Nicholas Gainsborough didn’t see anything wrong. 

“Jean Kirschtein is the very best we’ve ever had in the war college, someone that comes along once in a hundred years,” he told her. “Surely speaking to such a stellar student would be good for Gerry’s education.”

So Lady Elizabeth relented, but with much reluctance. Each time he visited, she made sure to watch them like a hawk from the veranda as the two strolled in the garden below. She hoped the disapproving gaze from her furious eyes would eventually drive the young man away. But alas! Now her daughter wanted to invite him to her famous monthly dinners. 

An Eldian for a dinner guest? Preposterous! Her dinners were much sought-after by every member of society. Getting an invitation was like being given a stamp of approval, an endorsement, a validation that one had made it to the pinnacle of his or her career. Only successful people or brilliant youth of great potential were deemed worthy of the Dudley-Gainsborough dinner table. 

There were exceptions, of course. No matter how successful, Eldians as a whole were persona non grata in the eyes of Lady Elizabeth, given their nasty, evil blood. 

But Geraldine was relentless. She pleaded and begged. “Please, beloved Mother, as my spring equinox gift,” she entreated.

One night Jean found himself invited to this formal dinner. It was somewhat overwhelming: the dining room was the size of a grand ballroom, the guests were mostly pompous, snobbish and self-important assholes, and he was seated at the far end of the seemingly mile-long table. It was as far away from Geraldine as her mother could manage. 

Dozens upon dozens of servants circled the room, pouring the choicest wines, serving dish after dish of the finest cuisine, with butlers making sure no one was in want of anything. 

One of the topics at hand was the latest agricultural disaster. The Noblanian Minister of Agriculture was talking about the potato blight that wiped out half of the annual continental crop. But tonight, he said proudly, they were having the finest potato salad on the planet, as he’d manage to acquire first rate spuds imported from the continent of Silartsua, halfway around the world. It cost fifty times per bushel than the usual, making the potatoes akin to wool, an exorbitant price.

“But nothing’s too expensive for my dear old friend,” the man crowed, looking meaningfully at Lady Elizabeth. The noblewoman beamed approvingly, making everyone see how delighted she was by the minister’s generosity.  

Jean glanced at Geraldine. She, of course, had been listening politely. Expertly handling conversations all around her, laughing vivaciously and coming up with just the right witticism, she was at her element. All the while she played with her food. She did it in such a way as to seem she was eating, but in reality she was just pushing the food around in different directions with the silver cutlery. Each plate the servant took away to replace with a new one had been full. 

One of the butlers, Lars Oppenheimer, had become friendly with Jean during his weekly visits. Most of Geraldine’s other callers were haughty, snobbish and did not hide the fact that they looked down on the humble butler. But Jean was different. Lars felt they could be friends, the kind he could banter with and chug a beer or two at the tavern. They were close in age and the young butler knew that, despite his title of admiral, Jean was a commoner with humble beginnings. It was this affinity he felt with him that made him tell the admiral things he wouldn’t dream of telling her other suitors.

“You’re really fortunate, sir,” the young man had told him once as he let him into his master’s house. “Lady Geraldine is always so well-mannered with all of her suitors, but she’s just being polite. With you, however, her face truly lights up when you arrive. Lucky guy!”

The Oppenheimers were fourth generation servants of the Gainsborough family. Lars’ great-great grandfather had been their head butler, and afterwards his grandfather and father. Lars and Geraldine grew up together and they were close, within the bounds of a servant-master relationship. She called him by his first name. 

During the dinner, Jean asked him with concern, “Lady Geraldine doesn’t seem to be eating at all. Is she not feeling well?”

“Ah no, sir, the lady is always like that with food. Hardly ever eats, is what she does,” he explained, before leaning down to whisper, “There’s a price to pay for that tiny waist.”

The stricken look on Jean’s face must have made an impression, because the butler whispered some more, “Don’t worry, sir. The lady gets a special meal delivered to her room. She only likes to eat a very pricey type of meat soup, light leafy salad and exotic fruit. Head chef prepares them especially for her. Really upscale. So she’s not starving, no sir.” 

Something broke inside Jean. 

He had eaten everything set before him, to the last spoonful. The food was incredibly delicious, obviously prepared with great care and much planning, with the best ingredients sourced from around the world. It was like eating at an ultra expensive, exclusive restaurant. He savored every bite, belly full of thanks that the Gainsboroughs were giving him this cultural and culinary experience. He could never afford such a feast on his relatively meager salary. The potato salad, in particular, had been so good as to make it memorable.

Somehow, his mind went back to that time when the Scouts were running away from the military police, hiding Eren and Historia at a remote cabin in the woods. One day, he and Mikasa were on kitchen duty, peeling potatoes together. He watched, fascinated, as she deftly handled the task, her long, slim fingers expertly handling the knife so that only the thinnest peel came out. The speed, the precision, the lack of waste! He stood motionless, finding himself enthralled as he stared at her working hands.

“Jean, the potatoes won’t peel themselves, you know,” she had chided him. 

Why was he remembering Mikasa at a time like this? It wasn’t like Geraldine reminded him of her. They were both tall women, about the same height, but that was where the similarities ended. 

For Mikasa, food was a gift. He remembered her shoving bread into Eren’s mouth, or scolding him for not cleaning up his plate, or getting mad at Sasha for stealing a roll from the scant food supply that needed to be carefully rationed. As for herself, she made sure not a grain was left on her own plate. 

Between the ages of ten and twelve she, along with Eren and Armin, had worked at a plantation. It was backbreaking manual labour. Mikasa knew personally how hard it was to raise food, and so she wasted none of what was in front of her. 

What a completely different world the two women he loved inhabited. 

Jean took in the Gainsboroughs’ high ceiling masterfully hand-painted with stunning frescoes, at the ornate millwork covered in gold leaf, the bespoke tapestry on the walls depicting the Dudleys’ ancient aristocrat roots and the Gainsboroughs’ militaristic one, the massive chandeliers the size of small cars, became aware of the intricate parquetry on the floor. He heard the tinkling of crystal goblets, caught the glint of silverware polished to perfection. Even the glorious flower arrangements on the table must have cost an arm and a leg. 

His reverie was broken as dessert was served. The head chef had come out of the kitchen to explain what it was. Nouveau frozen chocolate sundae, he announced with great pride, containing a blend of two dozen cacao, including six of the most expensive beans in the word. The confection was accented with edible gold and presented in a fine crystal bowl lined with even more of that gold. Served with a golden spoon decorated in ruby chocolate jewels, the sweet treat was a work of art.

“You may take the golden spoon home with you, if you wish,” Lady Elizabeth announced benevolently, “as a souvenir from our humble home.”

As Jean ate the decadent treat, all he could think of was Mikasa. She would have liked this special sundae. He could never forget the amazed look on her face as she ate her first ice cream cone when they arrived as spies in Marley. 

She’d have enjoyed the entire full course meal, for that matter, chewing slowly and savoring every bite. Unlike their dear Sasha, who shoved food into her mouth like a starved pig, the girl with the dark amethyst eyes ate with both manners and gusto.

Ah, yes, from the entrée to the dessert, Mikasa would have liked the food, very much so. He found himself wishing he could share the sumptuous meal with her.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Geraldine asked him as they danced the slow waltz after dinner was over. A live chamber orchestra was playing for the well-fed, contented guests. 

“Very much, thank you,” he replied, smiling at her. “The meal was absolutely divine.”

“Is that so?” she replied half-heartedly, before pouting at him, “What about me? Don’t I look divine?” 

He gazed at her admiringly. She was wearing a blue silk gown of the latest fashion, studded with pearls and adorned with voluminous amounts of delicate lace. There was a tantalising hint of cleavage, just enough to entrance but not scandalise. Sparkling diamonds adorned her ears and neck. Family jewels, he surmised. Her shiny golden hair was piled high on her head and held in place by matching diamond pins, with pretty ringlets falling over her shoulders. 

“You look ravishing,” he said. 

This pleased her greatly, and she went on to do what she did best: captivate every living soul in the room. 

For it was Lady Geraldine, and not the meal, that was meant as the star attraction of the night, the main draw. In the music room, she played the grand piano and sang to everyone’s delight, and was much applauded and praised. In the ballroom, her graceful dancing and sparkling conversations enamoured even the most jaded of men. She worked it, and by the end of the night, except for her older sisters who threw daggers of envy at her direction, all the guests were ready to worship at her feet. She not just enjoyed the attention, she thrived in it.

What an astounding beauty, they said, a true talent, the most perfect flower to grace the face of the planet. How blessed Lady Elizabeth and Lord Nicholas were, they said, to have such a radiant treasure in their family.

This perfect flower made sure to give Jean attention, dancing with him, smiling at him lovingly, throwing flirty glances at his direction when they were apart. It was one such glance, one that asked, are you watching me, are you dazzled yet, that Jean figured out what she was trying to do.

It wasn’t so much as to let him share in her world of luxurious dinner parties and VIP company, that she invited him over. She invited him so that he could see with his own eyes what she was truly capable of. 

Ostensibly, she invited him in order to impress him. And he was, indeed, very much impressed. But not in the way she had wanted.

Geraldine was frustrated with the fact that Jean had not yet made a declaration of love and undying devotion to her. All her other suitors were down on their knees saying they’d do anything for her, some doing so the moment they first laid eyes on her.

But not Jean Kirschtein. 

What kept him from telling her that he loved her more than life itself? She had to invite him to one of her mother’s dinner parties. If being witness to the sight of all these powerful men desiring her won’t increase her value in his eyes, then what will?

She wanted to show him that she was a treasure worthy of the universe, someone so valuable as to make a man throw away everything in order to have her. She wanted to drive him insane with his need for her, so much that he shall willingly face the wrath of her disapproving parents, the wrath of the entire nation, indeed the wrath of the world, just to be coupled with her. Even if defiling her resulted in her father sinking the island of Paradis to the very depths of the ocean in anger and retaliation, she didn’t care. All she wanted was for Jean to desire her so much he’d give up his very life just to have her. 

If the measure of a woman’s power was the degree of suffering with which she can punish the man she loved, then Lady Geraldine wanted to feel all-powerful.

And Jean was impressed. Impressed by her desire for him. But not to the point of throwing everything away.

In the end, Lady Geraldine’s plan backfired. 

Jean took in the ostentatious display of wealth, the maddening noblesse oblige unable to hide the superiority complex of those in her social circle, the vast amounts of money channeled to fund her family’s extravagant lifestyle, and he understood. 

Understood that he and Geraldine were worlds apart. That he could never have a permanent place in her world of lavish dinner parties and master chef-prepared room service. His duty lay with the impoverished, much maligned island that Eren Jaeger gave up his life for in order to give the Eldians there some hope for a better future. 

Understood that while Geraldine wanted him to give up his pride and position to be with her, she would never dream of giving up the power and privilege that a famous, affluent family provided.

Understood that instead of going insane with his need for her, he put duty with honor over lust with terrible consequences. It was hard, because Geraldine was, indeed, incredibly attractive. Nothing, not even the grand ballroom with its shimmering damask wall covering, generous marble moulding, magnificently gilded columns and enormous sparkling chandeliers could eclipse her luminous beauty. Yet something was missing.

Understood that after all these years, despite not being given any outward encouragement whatsoever, he was still very much in love with Mikasa Ackermann, the shy, raven-haired beauty back home on the god-forsaken island of Paradis. Somehow, sadly, painfully, he couldn’t stop loving Mikasa even if he tried.

And, being brutally frank, he understood that his hesitation was based in part on the cruel fact that he could never give Lady Geraldine what she took for granted as her birthright: a life of utter luxury and leisure. 

Most importantly, what he realised he truly wanted was a partner-in-combat: someone who will battle alongside him every step of the way, despite the poverty, despite the hatred the world aimed at them. Against all odds, they’d live and fight and die together. That was his ideal partner. 

Unfortunately, Lady Geraldine did not fit the bill.

After the dinner party, outwardly nothing seemed to change. But inside, everything changed.

He continued to visit the noblewoman, because she wanted him to, expressly asked for his presence. He greatly enjoyed their conversations. Also, he must be some kind of masochist, clinging to an old crush that went nowhere and now a new love that led to a dead end.

But soon, the rumours started swirling: the most powerful and influential family in Noblain, the royal family, was in talks with the Dudley-Gainsborough clan.

“Are congratulations on the way?” Jean asked.

Blushing prettily, Geraldine shook her head, “No, too soon.” And then, with a tragic sigh, “I can’t bear the thought of not seeing you anymore…”

“War college will be over in a few months. I’ll need to go back to the island.”

“I wish you’d stay.”

“There’s no place for me here.”

“Become a Noblainian citizen,” she proposed. “I’m sure Father can arrange for it. He’s very fond of you, you know.”

“Paradis needs me. I don’t have to explain.”

“Why do you care so much about that little island of yours? One of your men could become admiral in your stead. Father says you and your crew are all so very competent. Don’t you want to live in comfort? Father can get you a position in our Navy, or in one of our family-run businesses. He says your skills and smarts are unlike anything he’s ever seen. I’m sure he can find some good use for you.”

“But even then, we can’t be together. I could become a Noblainian citizen, but I’d still be Eldian by race. Lady Elizabeth would rather die than have us be married.”

“Well, I know Mother and Father are lining me up to marry you-know-who. All my sisters are married to noblemen. But then again, we don’t have to be married to be together. You can become my lover. Mother has lovers. And so does Father. Different races, from different countries, too. No Eldians as far as I know, but I’m sure you and I could figure out a way.”

Jean stared at her in amazement. Only eighteen, but already she was displaying the steely resolve and shrewdness fit for a queen. Already she was compartmentalising in her head: wed, bed and breed for the Crown Prince out of familial duty, bed and keep the man she truly loved on the side. 

“What if I asked you to give up everything and come with me to Paradis?” he ventured, already knowing how she will answer.

Lady Geraldine laughed blithely, dismissively. “Oh Jean, you’re so funny sometimes!” 

It was exactly what he thought she’d say.

All of the above had been part of a lighthearted conversation. It stemmed from their discussion of a piece of classical literature she had been reading. Set in a medieval period, it detailed the life of a well-regarded knight who gave up everything to have an adulterous affair with the Queen. The story ended very badly.

“If you were the Queen, would you have done the same?” Jean asked, by way of conversation.

“As long as you’re the knight, yes,” she giggled in reply.

At the dinner party, Jean recalled the meaningful glances she threw in his direction, and came to the conclusion that she’d been trying to seduce him in her own innocent way. She was trying to see what it would be like to live the daring life of the adventurous women in the literature she read.

Was it his pride that had been hurt, the way she seemed to be willing to have him as a lover, but not give up everything to become his wife? They’d only been speaking in hypothetical terms, the what-ifs and lets-just-say level. And yet it hurt.

At first he felt insulted that she could only see him as a paramour, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized she had done him a great kindness. Instead of putting him in a difficult position, forcing him to offer the option of running away together and destroying both their lives and possibly the lives of everyone in Paradis, she chose to face reality head on.

Her reality was a future royal marriage. She was the  Dudley-Gainsborough family jewel. Instead of rebelling against her fate, she chose to accept it. She made it easy for herself, and thus for him, too.

Even at her young age, she was already realistic and practical. He admired her for it. He was relieved she didn’t force him to choose between his love for her and his duty to the island. Perhaps it was indeed hurtful to his pride, but what it showed most of all was that they had contrasting dreams in life. 

What Geraldine didn’t understand was that for Jean, it simply wasn’t enough for him to be the sexual partner of the woman he loved. He wanted to be that woman’s husband, and the father of her children. That was the life he dreamt for himself.  

As for extramarital affairs, it seemed something the bored leisure class indulged in, what with their sprawling manors and country houses and vacation villas and hundred-room mansions, their excess of money and free time. Theoretically, he decided, as long as both halves of the couple were amenable to an open relationship, then there should be no harm done. 

But for him, he didn’t want it that way. What decent man would have time for paramours when he had a beautiful wife and adorable children who needed 100% of his attention? He just didn’t see it as a plausible lifestyle for himself. 

In other words, he wanted a monogamous relationship. Once they put a ring on it, whatever fantasies he and his life partner had of sex outside of marriage should remain just that: fantasies to spice up their love-making.

Therefore, in the end, instead of that luxurious dinner party impressing Jean, it only helped drive home the fact that he and Lady Geraldine were worlds apart, living in divergent spheres of reality. “And never the twain shall meet,” as the poetic line went. 

She was a product of her environment, and so was he. He soon realised that having been raised in a totally dissimilar milieu led them to have hugely contrasting life experiences, and as a result, possess clashing values.

After the dinner party, despite a warm and flirtatious send-off from Geraldine, it was Mikasa he dreamt of that night.

He dreamt of her in that log cabin, with her short black hair, peeling potatoes like a pro. Not merely showing off her knife-wielding skills, but peeling so precisely that there would be as little peel removed and as much potato left. That way, everyone could have more to eat, especially Sasha, who never seemed to have enough. 

Then that dream morphed into another dream, of a long-haired Mikasa in a home she shared with Jean. Their children played at her feet while she peeled potatoes, still in that precise way of hers, even if by then they could afford all the potatoes they could ever want. 

When he woke up the next morning, the first thought that occurred to him was: Lady Geraldine had never peeled a potato in her entire life. What a thing to be reminded of! 

Lady Geraldine’s parents were both very ambitious people, thus when Crown Prince Stephen formally asked for their daughter’s hand in marriage, they were all too eager to relinquish the family jewel, even if the prince was known far and wide as a total cad. 

The crown prince’s most famous hobby was sleeping with married women right under their husbands’ noses, while the couple’s children slumbered in the room next door. It wasn’t just merely taste—a preference for the forbidden—that led him to indulge in this ‘hobby.’ It was the ultimate power trip. Seldom did the cuckolded husbands protest on behalf of matrimonial integrity. 

But now that the prince decided to marry a sweet, young, virginal girl, this power tripping took on a new meaning. He was marrying Geraldine not because he cared for or was interested in her, but because he merely wanted to deprive other men from having her. Such was his depravity that he could only find pleasure in using his wealth, power and influence—not to mention the security of his highborn status—to laugh at other men’s faces.

The Noblainian royal family was the largest and wealthiest in the world, but had a history brimming with one scandal after the other. A great family that had more skeletons in the closet than any other aristocratic family, it masterfully used pomp and circumstance to cover up its dark underbelly. A part of Jean feared that Geraldine was merely exchanging one gilded cage for another. 

Ever the dutiful daughter, Geraldine acquiesced to the arranged marriage. Her parents served her up on a silver platter with an apple between her lips. She didn’t utter a word of protest.

“I love you, Jean Kirschtein,” she told him on his last visit. “I wish things could be different.” 

The light from the setting sun formed a halo around her already shining golden head. There had always been a storybook quality about her, from the perfect profile to the unbelievably tiny waist, but never so much as that day. 

Jean took in the vision and said, “Goodbye, Lady Geraldine. It was the greatest of honors getting to know you. I wish you well.” 

He knew he wouldn’t see her again.

Jean wanted to believe that Geraldine was diving into the marriage with both eyes wide open. He hoped that she knew exactly what she was getting into, and was prepared to hold out her own against such a philandering husband. While Jean couldn’t give her what she wanted, he prayed that she find the strength to navigate, with grace and dignity, her newfound status as the most beautiful and powerful royal in the world. In his heart, he cared for her and wished her well.

And that was how Jean’s relationship with Geraldine ended. It only lasted for six months. But Jean treasured her memory. 

For she wasn’t merely pretty, she was also very generous and kind and eager to listen to others. Having the best tutors in the world made it so that her mind, from a very young age, was instilled with the capacity for learning. She was smart and sharp-witted and, despite her old money and privilege, genuinely down-to-earth. Her knowledge of music, art, literature, world cultures, languages and other fields went far beyond his own. He learned from her as much as she learned from him. For that, he was grateful. 

That was it. That was all there was to it. He tried to explain it to his wife.

But none of that mattered to Mikasa. There was only one thing that mattered.

Thank you so much for reading! Please consider sharing a thought or two in the comment section below. Your comments give me life and are a real source of encouragement. xoxo, hana

Thank you to bobdesu_ga for encouraging me to develop Geraldine’s character! She first appeared in Chapter 6 of Between a Rock and a Hard Place (Part II of the novela).

Next – Chapter 9: To Leave or Stay

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