In the lord's chamber, time was expected to be on its best behavior. The clock softened its ticking out of reverence for the feeble shape in the bed. After all, time had ravaged this man enough. A withered, age-spotted hand rested atop a velvet quilt. Smacks and grumblings occasionally issued from the invalid's crusted mouth. Lord Viktor Morgenstern, age seventy-nine, dreamed while awake and slept longer with every passing day.
"Pitiful, isn't it?" His younger brother, Siegfried, tsked as he stood beside the picture window, and gazed out at the tree-lined avenue that stretched through the estate's park. Snow had dusted the grounds the previous night. Soon, the gilded gates would open and allow a procession of carriages through, bringing the common people—the Survey Corps, he shuddered at the thought of those madmen. Tonight was the midwinter gala. Below, holly and ivy festooned the grand ballroom. The servants would be decorating with pine branches, crimson ribbon, and the occasional golden bell. The whole downstairs would stink of a forest. Those eccentrics in the Corps would come trouncing in, mud still on their boots and hayseeds in their teeth, amazed at their admission to Wall Sina's luxury. They'd be looking to dance and drink on a nobleman's coin. Only a few, like that Commander Smith fellow, had any touch of nobility about them. And even then, the Commander had the audacity to look for handouts among the upper classes, using these events as opportunities to hustle like some underground conman.
Smith had betrayed his breeding. It was unpalatable.
"Truly disgusting, don't you agree?"
Siegfried asked the question of no one. Viktor was lost to reality, had been for some time.
Still, his elder, idiot brother had some use left. Siegfried slid open a drawer at the writing desk, took out a leather-bound book. Riffling through the pages, he landed upon the one he desired. A smile touched his thin lips.
"Captain Levi," he said softly. "I look forward to speaking with you."
Petra hadn't been a woman in months. That is, she rarely felt like one. This was one of the best reasons to be friends with Nifa; the two were fierce members of squads Levi and Hange, respectively, but when the time came for a party Nifa shed her soldier persona like a secondhand cloak and reveled in everything feminine.
"I wish I had your ability to wear green," Nifa said, sighing as she curled the back of Petra's hair with a hot iron. "We're both redheads, but you're more ginger and I'm more auburn. I know yellow's my color, but it's so hard to make it seasonal for the midwinter celebrations. You know?"
"Yes!" Petra had no idea what she was talking about. "Definitely." She plucked at the forest green of her skirt. The layers of tulle beneath itched at her legs, but whenever Petra turned she swirled. She hadn't swirled since she was a girl. "Thanks so much for lending me your gown, Nifa."
Nifa clucked her tongue as she uncurled Petra with a flourish. In the mirror, Petra found that the curls framed her slight face to perfection. Nifa was a master.
"Please, it's good to get some use out of it. Besides, it's more of an old-fashioned, conservative cut. You know, in the bodice?" Nifa adjusted Petra so that the neckline plunged just low enough for a glimpse of her less-than-ample bosom. "It's more you than me."
"That is definitely true." Petra laughed. Nifa was wearing a gown of deep yellow silk, with slits all the way through the sleeves so that her bare arms flashed with every movement. The skirt was asymmetrical, and hugged her hips. The most cutting edge fashion apparently demanded that women look like their gowns hadn't been properly tailored. Nifa was unusual for a Survey Corps member. She hadn't joined the military out of desperation for a better life. Rather, she was the daughter of a wealthy merchant in Wall Rose. As a result, she was always abreast of the latest looks, and had them sent to her from home. She was handily spoiled, though she never acted like a brat.
"Now." Nifa spun Petra around, and got to work on her makeup. Petra flushed as Nifa unscrewed jars of creams and cosmetics, and began to dab ointments and brush powders across the canvas of Petra's face. "We need to talk about how you're going to make an entrance." She grinned wickedly. "For him."
"Nifa!" Petra shrieked.
"Gah, I just smeared lip color over your chin. Don't jerk around like that!" Nifa huffed as she fixed the error, Petra trying her best not to move. But her chin quivered with suppressed laughter. "Like I said. You need to make sure the captain sees you descending a staircase. This inn has a great staircase, perfect for dramatic descents. I checked," Nifa said proudly. "Then, get him a few glasses of wine and slip away to a bedroom. Or a den. Whichever's closer."
"You're encouraging me to break military law. You realize that, right?" Petra grinned, appling her cheek so that Nifa could apply rouge.
"I would break so many laws if I could find out how firm his ass actually is." Nifa whispered the last part in Petra's ear. She nearly leapt out of her chair.
"Stop. I won't be able to look him in the face ever again." Petra was almost crying with laughter now. Nifa and she had bonded during their last year of training, when the girls had circled in their bunk and voted on the most attractive man in the Survey Corps. Commander Erwin had won in a landslide; Mike had garnered a few votes; at some point, Oruo had burst in and yelled that he was the best and could prove it before a couple of the boys dragged him out by the armpits. But only Petra and Nifa had thought that Captain Levi was the most attractive.
"He's so short," one of the girls had said, lip curled in disbelief.
"No. He's well-proportioned," Nifa had shot back, and something about that particular phrase had set the whole room into a frenzied uproar. "You're the only one with taste," Nifa had whispered in Petra's ear while a fistfight started between two girls in the corner.
They'd been friends ever since.
"All I'm saying is that most men get weak for a pretty girl in a dress. The captain's a man."
"He's not like most." Petra suppressed a sigh. She'd never seen the captain with any woman—or man, for that matter. It was a well-known secret that Mike and Nanaba had routine assignations, and that occasionally the Commander would head to the interior for a few days to "meet with noble benefactors." But Levi never left the barracks at night, and he did not sleep.
Petra's heart picked up pace as she imagined walking down those carpeted steps to find him standing there, gazing up at her with a soft expression of shock. She didn't delude herself that the captain returned her feelings, but if she could see him lose his composure for one instant on her account, she'd hold that memory forever.
"You're a romantic." Nifa said it fondly. "If I were on his squad, I'd have screwed him by now. Well, no, I wouldn't." She winked. "I know you like him more."
"You're a good friend." Petra grinned as Nifa spun her back around, and her mouth dropped open at the sight of herself in the mirror. Nifa had faintly lined her eyes with kohl, widening them; her cheeks appeared fuller and rosier than ever; her lips were coral and expertly shaped. While Petra stared, Nifa dropped a kiss onto the crown of her head.
"Don't you fall in love with yourself."
"You're an artist."
"I know. Sometimes, I think I'm wasted in the military." Nifa tsked, pinning back a section of Petra's hair and adding a light spritz of rosewater. "Squad Leader Hange is the nicest person in the Corps, but she has the hygiene of a pigeon."
As if on cue, the door to their room burst open and Moblit stumbled in. The poor man was wild-eyed. His shirt was only half buttoned, his pants on backwards.
"The Squad Leader's vanished!"
"Calm down, Moblit." Nifa dealt with the man every single day, and clucked her tongue. "She can't have gone very far." It was a well-known fact that the poor fellow doted on Hange…and had developed a few ulcers from all the stress of being her second in command.
"But she left her underwear in my room!"
"Is that why your pants are on backwards?" Nifa deadpanned. Petra's eyes filled with tears from withheld laughter.
"Where's the rest of her?" Moblit shrieked.
"I'm going to deal with this." Nifa squeezed Petra's shoulder, and whispered, "I think he's downstairs now. Time to descend."
"See you in the carriage." Petra smiled as the door shut behind Hange's soldiers, and stood. She twirled once for good measure, grinning as the skirt belled around her. In the mirror, framed by candlelight, Petra Ral knew she was a romantic vision. Nifa's dress suited her perfectly, from the swirling skirt to the bodice lined in green velvet boning. Her shoulders were bare, the neckline a cunning V, the sleeves poofing just a little as they extended down to her elbows.
You're a lady, Papa would say. She could picture him wiping a tear.
Petra inhaled, placed her hands upon her stomach. What she dreamed of tonight was not quite so ladylike. It wouldn't happen, of course, but still. A girl had desires.
The inn was one of the finest in the capital of Mitras, a "romantic destination for a cozy getaway" as Oruo had said dismissively. He'd been reading an advertisement for it in the paper as they'd stopped to water their horses on the journey. He'd scoffed, handed the paper to Petra, and scowled.
"Why is it we have to stay in the MP barracks," he said, indicating himself and Gunther and Eld, "while you and the captain shack up at a posh inn?"
"We are not shacking up," Petra had snapped, rolling the paper and whacking Oruo. "It was just luck. The barracks can't hold everyone in the Corps plus the MPs, so some got selected to stay in town."
Of course, Petra was not naïve. Upon arriving, she'd noticed that those staying at the inn were high-ranking officers, their aides, or—to put it delicately—attractive, young female soldiers. Petra didn't understand exactly how the Commander's mind worked, but she could guess. He always brought potential benefactors and backers to his lodgings for a drink after the formal gala event. She imagined it would be easier to show them the Survey Corps' "best face" with lovely girls bustling around. Look at her. So young, barely twenty. Can you imagine that beautiful face tighten in horror when her ODM hook fails to latch? Faulty equipment, tsk. Your gold could spare her that fate.
Petra knew, without a doubt, that the Commander wouldn't turn into, well, a pimp. The women would be quite safe from anything salacious. However, he knew the men in this town, and he knew what they liked. The captain had said Erwin Smith was nearly too clever for his own good.
Petra stilled her hands and closed her eyes. Yes. The captain was waiting.
She could picture descending the stairs, one hand on the banister, the other lifting her skirt the tiniest bit to avoid tripping. The captain would turn, and freeze when he saw her. His normally hooded eyes would widen. His perpetual scowl would slacken; his mouth would open slightly. He might even stumble a bit, but…no, she quickly erased that image. The captain was a physical genius. It was like imagining one of the walls suddenly tumbling down, an impossibility.
"Time to go," she whispered as she opened the door and left the room. The hallway carpet was so lush that her heeled shoes sank into it, nearly putting her off balance. Striped purple and gray silk papered the walls. The place smelled heavenly, fresh with midwinter pine boughs. Petra gazed over the railing to the ground floor below, now teeming with Survey Corps members resplendent in their absolute finest clothes. Mike was sniffing every server as they passed, "getting a feel" as he'd call it. Nanaba, close by his side, tugged on his arm to get him to stop.
It was so bewildering to see everyone out of uniform. Petra caught sight of the Commander in a fine, tailored suit of midnight blue. She could certainly appreciate why the girls in her training year had been so drawn to him. Tall, broad-shouldered, with the most immaculate cheekbones and blue eyes, he was nearly every woman's dream.
Nearly. Petra bit her lip as she noticed the captain speaking with the Commander. Erwin Smith was one of the few people in the world who could get more than two terse words out of the captain. Levi had his arms crossed over his chest, his inky hair in lank disarray around his face. He cut his hair himself; he wouldn't trust anyone else with sharp objects. He wore an old suit she'd seen before. Fashionable, yes, but utterly black. The shirt was a dull gray, the cravat tied with no special flare. In this bright, bustling sea of party gowns and sharp suits, he looked like an irate raincloud.
Petra felt herself weaken just gazing at him. She grinned. As the captain turned from Erwin and strode towards the stairs, her moment had come. Petra emerged onto the landing, placed her hand on the polished banister, and began to descend. Her heart sped up as the captain tracked his eyes up…and up…a second and he would see her… He…
Yawned. And turned around, scratching the back of his head. Petra halted on the stairs, and in the crowd managed to snag Nifa's eye. The two women had an invisible conversation with their gazes. Nifa all but glared daggers at the captain, as if willing him to turn. Petra felt frozen, until someone knocked into her from behind.
"Hey! Move along," a man with a bored, drawling voice said. Someone rich. Wincing, Petra hurried down the stairs. The moment had been crushed. Damn.
I mean, he doesn't even care one way or the other. Petra's spirits lagged. Honestly, what was wrong with her? The captain didn't share her feelings; she already knew that. His dour expression rarely shifted around her. Levi did not care for her as a woman. There. The truth. It was a punch to the stomach, but… Anyway, she didn't want him to want her. That would make everything so difficult, really. It'd jeopardize their work as comrades, as captain and subordinate. Petra loved her life. It was all so wonderful. As wonderful as being chased by fifty-foot monsters could possibly be, that is. And sleeping in a barracks filled with spitting, cursing men.
Well, at least she had her own room. That part was wonderful.
"Try again at the front door," Nifa hissed in passing. A liveried servant called that the ladies' carriages had arrived. It wasn't an exercise in sexism or chivalry; none of the Survey Corps women had sidesaddles, and riding on horseback with their fancy skirts rucked up wouldn't look right. Okay. Petra straightened her shoulders, and floated over to the captain. He stood still in the crowd, an obstinate rock in the party's flowing stream. Petra drew up behind him, teeth clenched. She could touch him on the shoulder, but that was too obvious.
Instead, thinking fast, Petra cleared her throat. "Captain?"
"Mmm?" Levi turned and looked at her. And he…
Did not react. Not a twitch of the eye or lip. In fact, he looked like he might yawn again.
"You want something, Ral?" He sounded indifferent.
"I…I wondered if you'd be joining us in the carriage." She kept a smile plastered on her face even as she withered inside. Levi looked away, scanning the stairs and the second level. Probably checking for stragglers.
"Fuck no. You women are all soaked in perfume. Gives me a damn headache." Sniffing, he stepped aside. "Off you go."
He was as neutral as any other day. It wouldn't matter to him whether Petra wore a beautiful dress or was covered in a Titan's blood.
Actually, he'd be more interested if she were covered in blood. He hated anything dirty.
"Thank you, sir," Petra said softly. She headed for the door, her heart sinking, and came to a sudden halt when she found Oruo standing there, wearing a look of soft astonishment. In fact, it was the exact look—the widened eyes, the dropped jaw, the wavering balance—that she had wanted from Levi. "What are you doing here?" Petra asked before she could help herself.
"W-We're escorting you. P-Petra. You…you look…uh…" Oruo's usual air of smug superiority had utterly vanished. Normally, Petra would've given anything for that bliss.
"Thanks. You too," she said, nodding at his suit of red velvet and shined shoes. Gulping, Oruo trailed her to the carriage. She let him help her in, the horses blustering up front. Nifa sat across from Petra, their knees touching as the door closed and they pulled away from the inn. Snow fell softly as they took the main road out of town, headed for Lord Morgenstern's residence.
"You look really beautiful," Nifa said, her eyes soft with commiseration.
"Thanks to you." Petra smiled, though she didn't feel like it. Out the window, she saw Captain Levi riding on his horse, his cloak's hood pulled up against the weather. He escorted their carriage as it headed down the cobblestone streets.
Petra wanted to close the window. It was so childish to be upset, but…she wished he had at least noticed her. Stupid, stupid to want something like that. Petra leaned back against the leather cushion and closed her eyes. She jostled side to side as the carriage hit a bump in the road.
Don't be a baby. You're going to a gala. The food, the music, the dancing.
And there would be many handsome young men to dance with.
Petra wasn't the sorrowing type. The thought of laughing with friends and dancing with handsome strangers lifted her spirits at once, and she beamed at Nifa, who winked.
"We're going to have a wonderful night," Petra said. The other women she was with, both only sixteen, cheered at that. Nifa laughed, and Petra joined her.
She looked forward to their destination, and gradually forgot about the captain.
Well. Almost.
Levi rode through the night, blood hot in his veins. He cantered beside the carriage, allowing its lamps to light his path through the darkness. He focused on the road ahead, the starlit night, the tips of his horse's ears, the smoke of his own breath in the midwinter chill. He focused on everything but the woman seated in the carriage window. Petra's laughter sounded like a bell, stoking the fire within him.
That girl. That woman. That damn, fucking goddess.
Levi hissed as his horse stumbled on a patch of ice. Frowning, he pulled up and got the mare back under control. She steadied instantly, and caught up with the coach. Petra leaned out the window, her hair tumbling in the wind.
"Are you all right, Captain?" She sounded frightened.
"Mmm."
He waited until she was back inside, then sped up next to the window. He clenched his jaw, narrowed his eyes.
Levi had been attracted to Petra from the moment he first saw her. For nearly three years, it'd been a minor persistent sensation, a pain right behind his eye. Probably not right to compare desire to pain, but then again, Levi knew little else. Bad idea to want to sleep with a subordinate. He'd nearly passed over her for his squad for that very reason, but had decided that she shouldn't be penalized just because he wanted to get his dick wet.
For two years, she'd served him faithfully. The wanting never went away, but it never got unbearable. The midwinter galas—Erwin's stupid fancy dress parties—were always the worst, because she'd wear a gown and that would inflame his lust, but it was always manageable. She was a girl, after all, barely more than a kid, and he was too old for that shit.
But a couple weeks ago, she'd celebrated her twenty-first birthday. Drinks with the guys on her squad, a small vanilla cake she baked herself, same as every year. But she'd seemed more…well, womanly. Not a girl anymore.
And then this dress. The fucking vision of her.
When Levi had walked to those stairs at the inn, he'd caught a glimpse. Just a minor glance, but it'd been enough. He'd wanted to rush up those steps, sling her over his shoulder, his arm wrapped around the backs of her thighs. He'd wanted to kick open the door to the nearest room and fling her onto the bed. Captain, what are you doing? He imagined her breathless with anticipation, and he imagined pulling up that damn monstrosity of a gown and taking her, her moaning in his ear, her legs locked around his back, her breasts, her cunt, him riding her until…until…
Levi had no idea about the specific mechanics between a man and woman in bed. He got the general idea, but that was it. His imagination always failed when he mentally penetrated her. The picture wasn't so clear; it became flashes of color and sound.
So he'd turned away from the staircase, and by the time he had to look at her for real he'd schooled himself into boredom.
How was he going to watch her laugh and drink and flirt and dance tonight? Levi could not touch her, not ever. She wasn't for him; he was her captain. He wasn't going to embarrass himself or Petra with his clumsy lust, and he wasn't going to wreck her career because he wanted what he shouldn't.
But how could he watch her in any other man's arms, even for one dance? His stomach soured as he rode through Lord Morgenstern's open gate and led the carriage down a damn field, what the hell kind of person owned this much fucking land?
Rich assholes, he griped.
He was aware of Petra's carriage as they arrived just outside of the giant house's entrance. Servants in black velvet and gold trim arrived to take his horse. He patted the mare's neck, and she blustered and nosed at his hair. "Easy, girl," Levi murmured. He stood with his back to the carriage as it arrived, and as the door opened he tried not to be aware of how near Petra stood to him. She was the first one out, emerging with laughter on a cloud of rosewater perfume. Fuck, Levi's balls tightened just at the sound and the scent of her.
He tried not to be aware as she put one dainty little foot on the carriage step, and—
"Ack!" He felt her slip before he saw it.
Levi spun around and grabbed her, grunting as he bore her weight and broke her fall. Petra clung to his shoulders, her face close against his. He could feel his heartbeat all the way in the tips of his fingers; her breath fanned against his ear. Levi begged the mercy of the three goddesses or some other damn thing, prayed that he didn't start shaking.
He'd never held her before. At least, not like this.
"Captain?" Petra pulled back, her wide amber eyes studying him. Instantly, Levi released her and stepped away. Jerked his chin.
"You okay?"
"Yes sir."
"Good. Careful, it's a bitch of a step." He marched back to the carriage and handed Nifa out, then the other two girls (both of whom were giggling like maniacs.) Fine. All fine. He'd covered for himself. Levi half-wondered if he should wait out here and help all the women out of their carriages, just so Petra didn't think she was special. But the four girls were halfway up the steps to the house, so he was spared that.
Tugging on his sleeves, neatening his damn cravat, Levi stalked up towards the front door.
This house was…well, it was certainly a house. A house that could've held about five other houses comfortably. Back in the underground, Levi had seen people sleep twenty to one room; this monstrosity provided shelter for, what, one guy? Maybe a spinster niece? Their dog? Their dog's gardener?
"Fuck these people," he grumbled, and waved off the servant with a powdered wig when he tried to take Levi's coat.
Levi walked through the hallway, following the others into the ballroom. There, he'd do as he always did during Erwin's fancy parties; grab a corner, have a few drinks, and not talk to anybody. Levi maintained his traditions. The place smelled like pine trees. Already, it was too loud.
Levi wondered how Petra would describe this. He'd like to see it through her eyes.
No. Better to act like she didn't exist, the standard way to get through these fucking events. Levi headed off a spotty-faced brat carrying a tray of wine glasses. Snagging one, he drank deeply as he approached the entrance to the ballroom. He could already hear violins whining some fancy concerto.
Maybe he could climb out a window.
Before he could reach the ballroom door, another servant appeared beside him. Levi glanced up at the guy. He wore a plain black suit—Levi appreciated men who didn't get their show pony act on. His cheeks were drawn, his mouth puckered like he had something pungent on his tongue and was trying not to swallow.
"Yeah?" Levi muttered.
"Captain Levi, is it?" The servant arched a plucked brow. "My. It is rather easy to spot you."
"Trust me, pig. It'll be just as easy to forget you." Levi turned to walk off, but the stork-like man hopped in his way. Levi sighed. "You're cutting in on my drinking time. You don't want to do that."
"Lord Siegfried would like a word with you. In private." The man's lips puckered; maybe he'd swallowed that pungent thing.
"Lord Morgenstern?"
"No, Lord Siegfried, his Lordship's younger brother."
"Sorry, I'm not up to date on who's more important than who. Bad habit of mine." Levi glanced at the door, but the sour-faced man seemed like he was gonna start squawking if the captain tried to make an escape. Besides, Levi got the feeling that Erwin might want him to play nice. And much as he wanted to stare at Petra from the safety of a corner, even his desire had to take a backseat to duty.
Even Petra Ral had to come second to Erwin Smith.
"All right. Lead away." Levi stalked after the storky guy, silently calling him every foul name in his impressive arsenal.
They had to hang a right and take the stairs to the second floor, padding down a carpeted hall before arriving outside two large double doors. The stork knocked, and a muffled voice called for them to come in.
"Erwin there yet?" Levi asked. The stork blinked. "The Commander? Tall guy? Eyebrows like caterpillars?"
The stork simply opened the door and bowed him through. Levi walked inside, and searched for Erwin. He was not there.
Levi had been led to a bedchamber. The curtains had been drawn against the night. On the wall, a clock ticked. In the center of the room, a bed with velvet hangings lurked like a creature ready to pounce. In that bed, an old man lay asleep, his mouth hanging open. He snored, twitched, and hacked like a cat with a hairball. Appetizing.
"Uh. Lord Siegfried?" Levi blinked.
"Apologies," said someone by the window. Levi watched as a tall, rail-thin man with curling gray hair and eyes like ash approached. This guy's face was long, the cheekbones sharp as daggers, his nose crooked. But Levi could read intelligence in a person's face, and his gut told him to be wary. "I am Siegfried. That," he said with a nod to the bed, "is your host, Lord Viktor Morgenstern."
"Aha." Levi looked back at the old, senile lump. "He's…fun."
"Indeed. Thank you for agreeing to meet me."
"Well, I thought your boy back there was gonna piss himself if I refused." Levi focused on the gray, intelligent man in front of him. "So. What do you want?"
"Direct, aren't you?"
"In my line of work, it's better to cut the shit."
"I see. That's a very…robust…vocabulary you possess, mister…I'm sorry, I realize I don't know your last name."
He narrowed his eyes. "Levi. Just Levi."
"So, no family name?"
"Captain, if you want to be special."
"I see. I see." The man tapped a finger to his pale lips. Levi liked this less the longer he stayed. "Your abilities, your mannerisms, your language…is it safe to say that you come from the underground, Mr. Levi?"
"Captain," he growled. "I wouldn't assume safety, if I were you."
"Is that a threat? My, my."
"If you have something to say, fucking say it. Either that, or get my Commander in here, he likes playing guessing games with you people. I don't see what I get outta it."
"Captain, you stand to get a great deal." Siegfried looked solemn. "A very great deal."
What the fuck was going on?
"Find the point, or I'm leaving."
"Are you from the underground, Captain?"
It was a sucker punch; Levi winced.
"Why does that matter?" he seethed. He knew the rumors, knew they were true. It was why fathers wanted their daughters safely away from him, no matter what a big damn hero he was for humanity. He'd always be a slum piece of shit. These Wall Sina types looked down on him more than anyone else. And consider, they'd all been neighbors. Levi had grown up under this fancy guy's feet, ass deep in shit. His eye twitched.
"When is your birthday?"
"What is this stupid shit? You're talking more riddles?"
"I will explain all," Siegfried said evenly, "but I need you to answer. Please. I promise, there is no trick here."
Levi paused. He wanted to slam the door and get the fuck out, let Erwin deal with these rich assholes. But…but he found, against his better judgment, he was curious.
"Yeah. I was born and raised in the underground. My birthday's December 25th."
The guy's eyebrows shot up. "Indeed? Then tonight's very auspicious, wouldn't you—"
"Why. Are you. Asking this?" Levi said through his teeth.
"One last question, and once you've answered you may leave if you choose." Siegfried walked over to a writing desk, picked up a book, held it to his stomach. "Was your mother, by any chance, a prostitute named Olympia?"
Everything froze around him. The sounds of the party died. Levi could hear nothing, could see only this man's thin, ambiguous face. It was like looking at the sun and closing your eyes; the afterimage playing against the darkness, that's all Levi saw now.
"How'd you fucking know that?" he rasped.
Siegfried stepped beside the bed. Lord Morgenstern shifted in his sleep.
"Captain," Siegfried said, gesturing to the lord. "Meet your father."